Monday, December 23, 2019

Don't Tax the Turkey

Lucky we got to JFK early, the gateway to the Free World was always going to be jammed at 6am on Thanksgiving morning.


See clouds are for losers who pay taxes son.



Mommy, shall we hit the beach or set up the offshore reinsurance vehicle first?



Oh you mean it's actually an island? I just assumed Caymen was the code name for an anonymous shell company. Turns out the shells are like real.



Cheers to a warm Thanksgiving. Sure beats standing around waiting for that infernal turkey thermometer to pop up.



Pip takes a dip.


Free popsicles for all, delivered straight to the pool? With no tax increases? What is this, the Democratic Convention?



Just like a Warren plan there's always a catch. Can anyone say resort fee?


If you're going to be an influencer you've got to have your own camera crew.


Thanksgiving dinner on the beach in a tax haven? Sure, why not. I mean those intrepid Pilgrims didn't brave the frigid North Atlantic so they could fill out Form 1040.



Was the Mayflower Star Alliance or Sky Team?



Is that how Pocahontas said to do the turkey? No, not you Lizzy, the other one.



These island turkeys are fattening up nicely.



Ah, the Caymen variation of the classic Sicilian Defense opening. What it lacks in subtly it makes up for in brute force.



That's the kind of maneuver we pull when the IRS is on our tail.



Oh when you said structure it as a Dutch Sandwich I assumed it came with fries.



What do you think Pip, time to open Cahan & Cahan LLC's offshore subsidiary?


Hang on, Cahan & Cahan is already registered.



I dare you to try that again after the kids eat free breakfast buffet.


200 years old and counting. Nothing has changed son, these strange two legged creatures still come to lose all their treasure on our island. Gold doubloons, magnetic strip, same thing, it's always squandered on grog in the end.



Mommy I really think you need the floaties more than me.


Here comes the toy wagon! Resort fees never looked so good.



There are worse places to be dragged out of bed at 6am.



Raise a spinnaker. Actually raise a champagne glass, it's time to sail like you own a wine cave.




So Ryan, is it true your Dad failed Minnows class? And you're definitely letting him take you swimming with the stingrays?




So puny human, did you hear the one about Steve Irwin?



Put on a brave face kids, time to head back to snow, sleet, JFK holiday traffic, and the IRS.


Saturday, December 14, 2019

Ramen World Cup Part 5: Hedgehogs and Hakas

Will my Japan Rail Shinkansen pass work on your train sir?


Wider than the All Black's game plan against the Irish.


Hey, welcome to the I Should Have Brought a Second Stroller club.


That's not the sushi roll you're looking for.



No asking for Paw Patrol vehicles on the prayer boards, that's for Santa not the Big Guy.


Daddy, Mommy, I'm not an Instragram prop.



Hey at least the seaweed is vegan.



Speaking of seaweed, here we have a girl of discerning taste. Only the crispiest nori will do.


Oh, you mean you don't eat the hedgehogs in a hedge hog café? Sorry Pip, back to the seaweed.



Hang on, here's a spot where you actually do eat what you catch. Which given the lack of success off the dock back home could be a pretty cheap meal. At least there's the worms on the hooks if things really get dire.


Let's be honest, this guy must have found a trawler net in the corner because there's no way he actually caught that thing.


These days Brooklyn is the go-to destination for counter-only omakase.


Pre-gaming on some classic Whittaker's hand-delivered direct from New Zealand.


Grandpa, is this a bullet train? No, it just seems like that because you're used to the 4/5/6 line.


For a country with just about the lowest birthrate in the world they sure do know how to look after the kids. Starting with a gigantic indoor playground.



Ok kids, remember, if your train is one minute early you must bow in apology and if it happens again, well, you probably should borrow a samurai sword from the Tokyo Museum...


Game time! Team Palmy is ready to pack down the scrum. Now where's the halfback when you need him? Roll in a couple of Sapporo bottles before the ref blows another arbitrary penalty and we have to reset this thing.



Don't worry folks, if Savea pulls a hammy the replacements are ready to roll. I mean look at those silky skills as they pass the Heinekens down the line.



Party like it's the Woolshed.



Victory is sweet. Let's drag race down Fitzherbert Avenue.


There's one game the Irish will definitely win: the post-match drink-off in Shinjuku.


The calm before the storm.


The storm.


Grandpa, is that a tui?


So HP, did you hear the one about the parents who dragged their kids to the opposite time-zone on a 15 hour flight?


Quarterfinal number two pits the plucky hosts Japan against the mighty Boks. It also pits Team Palmy against bags of steaming karaage chicken en route to the stadium. Talk about a rout.



Go Brave Blossoms! Nothing strikes fear in the heart of the enemy scrum like a flurry of Instagram-worthy cherry blossoms.


The after party leads Team Palmy deep into the Golden Gai, a warren of ancient alleys lined with tiny, six-seat bars. Whisky sours into the early hours is the right way to see in the Rising Sun.



No, don't believe the Fake News, that's not Rock.


Daddy, can we ride the R2-D2 plane? Sorry young Padawan, you're relegated to the BB-8 jet.


Fifteen hours of Paw Patrol coming right up.


Mommy, I thought you said United was the place where dreams go to the back of Group 5 to whither away at number 32 on the upgrade list? This isn't so bad, I my seat is turning into a crib.