Short Attention Span Lemur presents: your Occupy Unicorn Chaser!
A day late and $75 billion short on your Unicorn Chaser good news roundup. After what went down last night in Oakland, I think we could all use a Unicorn Chaser, and the sooner the better.
What went down in Oakland, did I hear you ask? This:
But hey, cheer up!
Occupy Rockettes. If Michael Lohan can do it, you can too!
There! All better! Not quite?
Occu-Pumpkin to be turned into Occu-pie!
Now?
Well, I didn’t want to bring out the heavy artillery, but okay. Here goes. Be careful: better sit down for this.
In the current state of affairs, there is obviously one question and one question only that must be on the minds of all the most intelligent citizens of the world, be they in Ponape or Rhode Island.
His earthly techno-geek duties finally at an end, He’s been called to fulfill a greater purpose: destroying Thomas Kinkade pictures from the inside out.
Somewhere, Steve is chuckling. And rolling up his sleeves.
Jack Layton's immortal words are right there in orange and white
RIP, Jack: one of the greats is gone. You would have been an awesome Prime Minister, and you put that kitten-whoring robot who’s serving as Fuhrer in fear of his political life!
I know what I’ll be drinking tomorrow: The Layton: orange crush and jack!
Before he left, Jack Layton wrote Canada a letter, and never was there better proof that the man held his country foremost in his thoughts and close to his heart. Here it is:
Jack Layton's Letter to Canada
Jack Layton's Letter 2
Artist Stuart Thursby has translated some of Jack’s words into the powerful art you see at the top of this post, as well as others you can download from his site (he continues to update the site with new works). (via Tris Hussey)
And here, because not everything in memory of a man like that can be somber, are the song stylings of Jack “Party for Sale or Rent” Layton. And if you despair of human nature, look at the comments on the YouTube page: that man’s power of nobility is such that it even inspired YouTubers to behave with grace.
because up here the sun does not set this time of year until about 1:30 am and then only in a sort of curtseying manner, bobbing back up again in an hour or less. So you can actually read a newspaper by the daylight at midnight here in Yellowknife.
Which is why the market for spooky stories is somewhat depressed, locally. We’ll see what happens when the 24 hour darkness sets in, and to judge by some of the Inuit Art, whatever sets in then, it ain’t equanimity.
Shaman Drum Dancer by Nelson Takkiruq
See?
So, the market for ghoulies and ghosties and things that go bump in the night appears to be at a minimum now, yet somehow I still managed to drum up a squeal of morbid joy when I saw that the slow-grinding wheels of film production had, at last, released this:
Edgar Allan Poe-ster
for lo, opening night cannot come fast enough for those of us here at Operation Global Media Domination HQ. We are indeed looking forward to watching our old Twitter buddy bring to (unsteady, morbid, doomed) life one of the greatest of American Writers. Ah! If only I had my copy of Closed on Account of Rabies with me, and perhaps a bottle of Amontillado (they don’t sell it at the liquor store, but I bet Chef Pierre could rustle me up some) I could set the mood. For now, these small talismans, the poster and this YouTube of Christopher Walken reading The Raven from that very album will have to do.
Thank you, Charlotte Young, for this interminable (and delightful, once translated for the benefit of civilians) Artist’s Statement, which I have stolen from Gawker.
