We are developing the social individualist meta-context for the future. From the very serious to the extremely frivolous... lets see what is on the mind of the Samizdata people.
Samizdata, derived from Samizdat /n. - a system of clandestine publication of banned literature in the USSR [Russ.,= self-publishing house]
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Samizdata quote of the day 
– Photoed by me last week in the window of a shop in the Burlington Arcade.
It sounds to me like something a gangster would say in an old black and white movie. He would then be proved wrong, by another gangster, with a machine gun.
That would certainly seem to be the era that these words were supposed to evoke. Because it turns out they are the title of a song, recently written, but featured in the 2013 movie of The Great Gatsby.
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Who Are We? The Samizdata people are a bunch of sinister and heavily armed globalist illuminati who seek to infect the entire world with the values of personal liberty and several property. Amongst our many crimes is a sense of humour and the intermittent use of British spelling.
We are also a varied group made up of social individualists, classical liberals, whigs, libertarians, extropians, futurists, ‘Porcupines’, Karl Popper fetishists, recovering neo-conservatives, crazed Ayn Rand worshipers, over-caffeinated Virginia Postrel devotees, witty Frédéric Bastiat wannabes, cypherpunks, minarchists, kritarchists and wild-eyed anarcho-capitalists from Britain, North America, Australia and Europe.
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I fully endorse this promotion of diminutive meat-and-potato-filled pastries.
(Wait, what?)
Unless that ‘little party’ was the communist party… 😉
Richard, your suggestion of having pasties works fine for me. Bring over a platterful, and we’ll share. I’ll supply the ice-water. :>)))
I find it impossible to overlook the double negative. A little party never killed nobody, meaning that at least one person dies every time.
@Richard… & @Julie… ‘gangsters’ not ‘ginsters’.
Stony,
Everybody loves my baby, / But my baby don’t love nobody but me. :>)))
Ok, I can’t let that go . . . .
With apologies to Prince Buster AND The Specials AKA:
(Beef calzone, guns don’t Hargue . . . .)
Why must you reheat my pasties?
Are you planning a bootleg pork pie?
You said you’ve been threatened by ginsters
Now it’s food, that’s threatening me
Can’t fight corruption with toasties
They use cole slaw to commit crime
And I dread, dread to think what the future will bring
When we’re living in ginster time
(Don’t call me pie face . . .)
Can’t interrupt while I’m eating
Or they’ll confiscate all your bangers
And catch 22 says if I sing the truth
They won’t make me an overnight star
Don’t offer us legal confections
They use cole slaw to commit crime
I dread to think what the future will bring
When we’re living in ginster time . . . .
llater,
llamas
llamas, you are familiar with Miss Lanchester’ doubles-entendres, no doubt?
“I’m glad to see you’re back, Heléne ….”
Bette Middler used to boast about her famous triple-entendres! Did anyone ever see one, and what were they like?