Weekend Link Dump

Strange company is thankful this is the end of the week.

But that's nothing compared to how the cats feel.

This week's Panorama of the Perverse:

So what the hell happened to Carol Chase McElheney?

So, what the hell is everyone hearing?

Mickey Mouse, drug cartel kingpin.  I'm not at all surprised, are you?

1960s Afghanistan.  A sobering reminder of the fragility of civilizations.

The strange, amazing mind of Daniel Tammet, living proof of how very little we humans understand about ourselves.

Some people buy food for the pets they keep.  One fellow in Japan buys food to keep as pets.

Yesterday was Lammas Tide.  Hope you celebrated accordingly.

If you think Detroit has gone to the devil now, you should have seen the place in 1905.

Baby bats.  Damn it, I want a baby bat.

A guide to reading very old books, if you'd rather not just cut to the chase and stab yourself in the eyeballs with a fork.

The following Victorian-era photograph thoroughly traumatized all my Twitter followers, so naturally I couldn't leave my blog readers out of the general horror.  LOLcat, meet WTFcat:

Goosing up the Saratoga race track.  Honk!

"Berenice" fans, this link is for you!

It turns out that Richard III had company in that car park.

Out: King Tut's Curse.  In:  Oetzi the Iceman's Curse!

JFK assassination conspiracy theory of the week.

Quote of the week: "Cats are not new zombies of the apocalypse."

PSA of the week:  The London fire brigade advises us that putting highly private body parts in toasters is maybe not such a great idea.  Who knew?

Local oddity of the week:  After all these years, it was only the other day that I learned that three great horses from the past (Lamb Chop, Roving Boy, and Quicken Tree) are buried in a sadly unscenic corner of Santa Anita's backstretch.

I've been told that Quicken Tree's groom is here, as well.  He had asked that when he died, he should be cremated, and his ashes scattered with his beloved horse.

I just wish they all had a cheerier-looking resting place.  What added to my general feeling of gloom at this spot is the fact that Santa Anita is doing some major renovations during their off-season, (including, as part of their current business model of "let's do really stupid and expensive things no one wants," building a nightclub, God help us,) so all the horses normally stabled here have been moved elsewhere.  The backstretch is completely deserted, probably for the first time since they reopened after World War II. There's a very eerie atmosphere around SA right now, reminding me of all the many ghosts--equine and human--that must walk there.

I'll see you all Monday, when--speaking of ghosts and WWII--we'll look at the very puzzling case of two vanished naval aviators.