Sunday Songlist

Worship Cthulhu

Worship Cthulhu

Welcome to Sunday. Sunday is, quite obviously, the most important day of the week.

It is the day the restaurants close.

In an age of over-adequate labour supplies and chefs, sous chefs, and assistant-sub-sous chefs, there can, of course, be only one reason for EVERY FUCKING RESTAURANT I WANT TO GO TO being closed on a Sunday. TWICE IN A ROW.

Everyone on staff has gone off to worship.

Cthulhu worship

Cthulhu worship

For those of you picturing neat rows of Episcopalian pews filled with shiny, freshly-scrubbed food and beverage staffer faces, allow me to shatter your dreams now. Think back to the last time you were at a good restaurant. The bartender, the waitstaff, the chef, the buspersons…did they look familiar from church? Did they even look like the type of person who goes to your church? I think not. I very much think not.

Yet, Sunday closures. Therefore, they must be Cthulhu worshipppers. It’s the only logical conclusion. When everything impossible has been eliminated whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth, and you KNOW those people  don’t show up at your church, now do they? So does it really matter what flavour of damnation they choose, whether it’s Lutheranism or SisterWifeism or Whateverism? No. But restaurant staffers, if they’re clever, know exactly how to play the angles. They know how to pick a winner and glom on to him like there’s no tomorrow, which is why Gordon Ramsay’s busboy is the same as he was twenty years ago, only with more scars.

Hence, Cthulhuism.

Cthulhu Worship for doubters

Cthulhu Worship for doubters

Now there’s a religion that pays out for your investment. The stars are going to align almost any day now and when they do, acolytes of the Cult of Cthulhu such as myself and all non-fast-food restaurant staffers are going to be on the top of the world, along with loathesome, towering monstrosities of which you’ve never dreamed in your worst nightmares. If you really, truly doubt that Cthulhuism has infiltrated, influenced, and irrevocably changed mainstream culture, listen up: has there not been a VAST increase in the number of women insisting on being eaten first?

I rest my case.

Now, let us sing, Cthulhian-hipster style.

The Fishy Song

Hey There Cthulhu

Aquatic Dragon Sighted!

Aquatic Dragon off the coast of Victoria

Aquatic Dragon off the coast of Victoria

What a day for nature lovers! Classic Rock radio 101 has reported the sighting of a rare Aquatic Dragon off the coast of Victoria, BC! Praise Cthulhu, we thought they had been hunted to extinction, along with their distant cousins, the Pacific Tree Octopus. This amazing creature, nearly 100m from its savagely curved beak to its tippiest tentacle, once blotted out the skies in its annual migrations from the Arctic plateaus to a still-undiscovered location somewhere in the South Pacific. Such were its numbers, and its fierce fighting ability, that it seemed unthinkable the species could ever be threatened.

That was, of course, before the advent of aircraft. Their soft, boneless bodies proved no match for slashing propellers and insatiable jet intakes, and for a generation or more the skies were greasy with carnage. You think you know how calamari was invented? Let me tell you, it was the act of a hardscrabble wartime population desperate for protein of any kind. When the planes flew overhead, housewives would run into the streets with buckets to catch the crudely hacked pieces of Aquatic Dragon that fell in a slimy torrent from the skies.

And soon, all too soon, it was all over.

WWII had done irreparable damage to the breeding population, and it is believed that nuclear tests in the South Pacific may have destroyed their traditional wintering grounds, leaving them with an unsustainable, nomadic, and doomed few survivors. This latest discovery is heartening in the extreme, for this juvenile specimen attests to the atavistic survival of at least two healthy Aquatic Dragons somewhere off the coast of Vancouver Island. My old alma mater, Miskatonic University, is gathering specialists in marine biology and herpetology to undertake an expedition in search of the creatures.

Hey, what could go wrong?

Dead Cottingley Fairy discovered

mummified cottingley fairy is mummified, akshuly

mummified cottingley fairy is mummified, akshuly

This time not in Devonshire; this time, it’s a Yorkshire fairy, eeeeh bee goom.

Well, strike me mum! Here’s yet more proof (if any were in fact required, and we are ALL ABOUT PROOF around these parts, as you know) that dead fairies are real. Or. Well. WERE real and are now post-real and in fact mummified, if not petrified, and who knew they had stagefright in the first place, eh?

Answer me that!

Yes, today via Propnomicon comes word that back in the dark days of January another former fairy has come to light from the collection of a prominent also-formerly-alive American archaeologist. Here is the update, via the El Dodo Albino news organization:

Octavius Zedock was a prominent cryptozoologist belonging to the Theosophical Society in New York who dedicated his life to the study of creatures whose existence has been denied by science for years.
His research was extensive and in his lifetime collected a large number of specimens not officially classified, and that for years have been kept by the Company. Today, the silence was broken and the specimens come to light for the first time … is time to learn, it’s time to discover the truth behind the myths.
The specimen collected in the city of Cottingley , England in the 20’s, shows the reality of the existence of fairies. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was right, there was something magical in the forests of that place…

There is more, but I can’t read Spanish anymore than I can read Elvish (somewhat less, thanks to a miss-spent youth, actually) so you’ll have to Babelfish it yourselves.

The emergence of this long-lost mummy raises interesting questions about the cultural heritage of the UK, particularly in the age of the EU. Can the country prevent its fairies from slipping away to foreign shores in the company of shifty Yanks in khakis? Only time, at about ₤300 an hour, can tell.

This forms the latest in our ongoing scientific investigation of the very real, and very hushed-up, phenomenon of dead fairies. If you have or are a dead fairy, or even a live one, you are encouraged to contact the editor of this blog via the comments section here or on the original Mummified Fairy post, where you will have lots of company. About 2200 iterations of company, in fact.

Keep Calm and Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn

Keep Calm and Hail Cthulhu

Keep Calm and Hail Cthulhu

I think this will look very nice painted on the wall of my new place. over and over. in human blood.

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.

Word up, yo.

GPOY

Steampunk Stainless Steel Cthulhu is my spirit animal

Steampunk Stainless Steel Cthulhu is my spirit animal

Okay, technically this is a GPOYSA, gratuitous photo of your spirit animal. I think finally, after a lengthy search with candidates as impressive (and bizarre) as Sexually Oblivious Rhino, Courage Wolf, Greek Riot Dog, the raven, and a carnival Carousel, we finally have a winner.

Unless…

Yes. Yes. Looking over all 4178 posts and an estimated 1,044,500 words here on the ol’ raincoaster blog, it seems we have a strong rival to the Stainless Steel Squid here: the Oxford Comma.

The Oxford, Comma

The Oxford, Comma

From TheDailyWhat:

Who gives a f*ck about an Oxford comma? Not Oxford University’s branding style guide, which instructs its readers thus:

As a general rule, do not use the serial/Oxford comma: so write ‘a, b and c’ not ‘a, b, and c’.

It should be noted that an exception has been made for sentences where an Oxford comma would “assist in the meaning of the sentence or helps to resolve ambiguity,” such as when “one of the items in the list is already joined by ‘and’.”

So, that clears that right up, then. What, Ever. Any fool can SEE I am in love with this thing. SAVE THE OXFORD, COMMA! I’m a sucker for lost causes.

Help me out here, people.