Via Pajamas media, but from Petcaretips:
Male reindeer generally shed their antlers long before December 25, whereas the females retain theirs until at least January. The reindeer pulling Santa’s sleigh are always show[n] as having antlers, so Santa’s reindeer must all be females
At least Santa’s a man.
-wolfe
@wolfe
Cute piece.
Sorry I’m not around much. Not been well.
Merry Christmas to all.
Or maybe they’re “confused” about their gender identity. Have you solved your posting problems yet?
Merry Christmas, Wolfe!
Sorry to hear that Gwallan. Hope it’s nothing too serious and that you’re feel better soon.
@Diesel no, posting problems are still pretty bad. It seems reasonably clear that it’s not a local problem.
My only two guesses are that it could be the database is getting pretty full — this is certainly the largest blog other than Dick’s hosted at mabtw, or (as some at Wordpress have suggested) it’s a version problem.
Dick’s busy over the Holidays with other stuff (as am I to a degree) so it probably won’t be til just before or just after the New Year that there’s a resolution.
Happy Christmas, Happy New Year to all.
-wolfe
Real reindeer are rather disappointing “in person,” being short and shaggy, and not at all lithe and graceful as depicted in most Christmas propaganda. Those must be whitetail with better press agents. I’m not too surprised that Santa’s crew were female, though. Only women would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.
In the spirit of Christmas, I shall not respond to that scurrilous attack on male direction-finding.
A virtual hug to Z (who is quite right about real reindeer. Since they mostly grow up in Finland, I think socialism makes them weak and puny.)
Best,
-wolfe
In reality, I’ve met the nicest people when I was quite thoroughly (though never hopelessly) lost. Last year I had a stick-to-the-dash compass in my Christmas stocking, and this year my younger son whispered solemnly that “Daddy says he’s sorry Santa couldn’t afford a GPS for your car.”
Scurrilous, indeed. That’s a new one.
In reality, I’ve met the nicest people when I was quite thoroughly (though never hopelessly) lost.
I agree, I’ve been adopted many times when thoroughly directionless (most often in France!) and had complete strangers spend their day with me giving me a free sightseeing tour (some who couldn’t even speak more than 5 words in English, while I bumbled along mispronouncing French sayings). What is it about travelling that allows you to meet the nicest people?
Men miss out a lot because they usually won’t ask for directions. Though my children didn’t accompany us to Italy, they still imitate ME imitating their DAD refusing to even TRY to speak Italian, but rather just shouting “ticket” louder and louder, then giving up and storming off to point at gelato, while I went up and apologetically mispronounced “bigletti” or whatever the word is for ticket to get us back to Venice from Murano.
I swear, had he been left to his own devices, he would have swum back to the hotel in that bilious green water. Would have served him right, too.
Venice, so beautiful, but I don’t have the best memories of it (but at least the square wasn’t flooded). My travelling companion and I had a big fight there; we got harrassed by ravers to attend a ‘ouse party as it was some big festival or something; I got fined on a boat because I didn’t buy a ticket and miraculously starting speaking Italian in a pathetic attempt to get out of paying the on the spot fine ($22 Euro, ouch, poor Aussie dollar). I took a day trip to Lido, walked across it in the rain to see the beach and Adriatic sea on the other side and it was ugly. I missed Australia.
We fought in Florence, as I recall. I didn’t even know anything was simmering until he flew into a snit and said, “if I have to eat bread and tomatoes one more time I’m going to scream” and off he flounced and I didn’t see him for a couple of hours. A couple of hours in Florence without the quintessential ugly American? Could be worse.
I did, however, manage to lose the combination to the locker that held all our luggage at the train station in Bologna - I’d tucked it into my guidebook, which was pinched by a waiter at a cafe. When my husband retraced our steps and asked, he’d no idea where it was … when I went back, crying, he felt so guilty that he miraculously found the papers, though not the guidebook. Sometimes it pays to be a girl.
My only question is why a waiter in Bologna would want my copy of “Italy for Dummies.”
Noticeably it’s the women discussing how easy it is to get help and, further, instructing men about it. Unfortunately ladies, most men don’t have these positive experiences when they do seek help in this way. A man, particularly if he’s on his own, will often be viewed with suspicion.
In this I can genuinely say you simply don’t get it.
gwallan, from my own experience of being a woman who has been approached by male strangers, I would say that yes, there is a degree of suscipion, but that is simply normal. It has nothing to do with feminism or sexism. My generation grew up with Neighbourhood Watch and Stranger Danger and there are plenty of crazies around, so to be suscipious of strangers (male or female) before you can better ascertain their intentions, is normal. Let me reverse this and pose you a question, when you have been approached by women you don’t know, is your first thought, “how can help these lovely damsels?” or is it, “what does she want?”.
Z, I think perhaps it’s easier to meet people O/S because that is one of your primary intentions for travelling in the first place. You are therefore open to new experiences and open to meeting new people.
@gwallan: Please re-read my post. I do “get it.” I acknowledged that it sometimes pays to be a girl. In that instance, I felt that the waiter took pity on me BECAUSE I’m a woman. (Or perhaps the guilt of stealing my guidebook had sunk in).
As a man, lost in a foreign country, I wouldn’t approach a lone woman to ask directions - that could be construed as menacing - that’s just common sense. I would think, however, that it would be just as easy for a man to consult the guidebook, try to pronounce the local word, and approach an official to purchase a ticket. THAT’S what my husband refused to attempt.
You’ll have to find something else to accuse me of “not getting,” gwallan. I’m sure you’ll be able to do it.
Happy New Year, everyone!
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Buy viahra online….