It's Rene Auberjonois - In A Jar!

Okay, I Exaggerated A Little
He's actually on the jar.  
     Admit it, he'd either have to have been cremated or else it was the world's biggest jar. I wanted an image that rhymed with his surname (pronounced "Ob-er-jhon-wah") and there were none of him in a car, or a bar, and "far" is a bit too abstract.
     So Jar it is.

No, I can't explain anything about this picture.

     Given the contents of those jars, I'd have to guess at "Rene Auberjonois The Drug Pushah", for want of a better idea.
     Okay, "On the jar" is still an exaggeration.  Behind the jar.  Happy now?

"Oh yes!"

Okay, Conrad Was Dogsitting
Darling Daughter has been up on Thursday and Friday to dogsit Edna Wunderhund, before getting up and leaving very early on Saturday morning, so it has fallen to Conrad to watch the furry little rascal today.
     When the sun returned this afternoon, I put on my trainers and got my keys, which attracted Edna's attention - she probably recognises this as pre-walky activity.
     "Edna, do you want to go - walkies?"
     "ARF! WHINE! ARF!" followed by a desperate dash down the stairs and chasing herself around the kitchen as I got dog biscuits, poop bags and a letter to post along the way.
     We took a detour into an open field where I let Edna off the lead -

     and that video hopefully shows that she's not moving more than a couple of feet from my feet.

"Because I feel so insecure away from you!"

     If I'd thought to bring a ball she might have chased that, but the ball was back in the kitchen, as were we fifteen minutes later.  Once she was back on the lead, however, she simply dashed ahead as far as possible.
     Fickle.  Female, furry and fickle.
You What?
Yes!  Blog material generated without effort by those feckless idiots the Foobs.  Today we have this bit of arrant nonsense:

"Could I be the next Casino winner?"
NO!

     I don't know how this witless "Suggested Post" turned up on my Facebook, as Conrad does not gamble, has never been into a betting shop and still less a casino.  For one, he likes to have physical evidence of spending his money - books, comics, DVDs, CDs, food or beer, preferably all six in combination.
     "Tired of not winning?" THEN STOP B****Y GAMBLING!    Really, it's not rocket science.

I'm Risking It
Here is the other ghastly mutilated photograph I took last night, of the glamourous, stylish and debonair Roxy.

Conrad's photography after a few jars

     If she sees this then my life will be measured in minutes, as anything less than a perfectly-framed pro-quality photograph is unacceptable to Ms. Kashani.
     So if the blog suddenly stops after Monday, you know why and can alert the GMP murder squad.

A Little Musical Critique
Yesterday we picked on the lyrics to "Blinded By The Light", as made famous by the Manfred Mann Earth Band.  Let us continue to scourge the music industry and especially Bruce Springsteen*!

"In the dumps with the mumps"

I can certainly empathise with this, I've had mumps and it was not a celebratory event.

"As the adolescent pumps"

Intriguing!  Pumping what, one wonders?  Air? Petrol? Water? Iron?

"His way into his hat"

??? <let me check those lines again> Yep, his hat.  I have no idea what Bruce was thinking here.  Hats are not known for needing pumping of any kind.  Unless he means "shoes".

"With a boulder on my shoulder"

TIP IT OFF! TIP IT OFF NOW!

"Feelin' kinda older"

Well, yes, you would feel older, and probably in SEVERE PAIN because you just had a metric tonne of granite sitting on you.

"I tripped the merry go round"

Eh what?  Bruce, what have you been consuming to come up with stuff like this?  No wonder you mentioned tripping.

     Phew.  That's all the tripped-out Bruce the blog can take for one day.

Agatha Christie, I Kill You Deadly
Not really.  For a start, she's already dead.  Secondly, although Conrad is a ruthless alien killer with a plutonium-powered pumping-processor for a heart, he does have a soft spot for female mystery authors.
     It's just that I realised Captain Hastings has no right to call himself such.  As an ex-officer of the British Army, you only kept your rank if you were a Major or above.  And Captain is the rank below Major.

"Only a minor catastrophe, dear boy"

* Because he wrote it, not because I have a down on him.