Il Troubadore Klingon Music Project & Deserae the Bellydancing Wookiee

Yes, you read that right. Authentic Klingon Bellydance Music.

From their YouTube description:

Deserae dancing to an excerpt of the Shyriiwook Bellydance tune, “Muaarga” (Peace), as performed by the il Troubadore Klingon Music Project at the Viaduct Theater in Chicago (3 August 2012).

The Klingon Music Project is a real thing, as apparently is Deserae the bellydancing Wookiee and now they are both going viral. What can I say? She’s got the nous if not the Nad’s.

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Why it’s called “Meatspace”

Oh, Elsie is in for a rude shock

Oh, Elsie is in for a rude shock

Have you noticed that we have no difficulty believing we are spiritual beings, but we simply cannot wrap our heads around the actually demonstrable fact that we are, in fact, made of meat? Why, even on this very blog, we’ve had suggested wine pairings for cannibals, whom we have also covered. Repeatedly, in fact. We’ve even covered fake me-meat, as well as munch-by-munch reports of ursine-sapien dining and a scientific investigation into just how Modest a Proposal Jonathan Swift‘s little suggestion really was.

Well, it’s time for a refresher. We are nothing but wetware in meatspace, and even the aliens abducting and probing us, anal fissures first, find it distasteful. Observe:

Close observers will observe the observer observing them observing us; he is the Venusian Martian from the original 1961 Twilight Zone episode, Will the Real Martian Please Stand Up;

I for one am relieved he got away. And more relieved not to have the gory details.

On the Morally Ambivalent Robin Hood Criminal Archetype in the Early Twenty-First Century OR Julian Assange is a Big, Fat Stainless Steel Rat

which is nothing less, although possibly nothing more, than a comparison of Julian Paul Assange, founder of Wikileaks, recipient of the Sydney Peace Foundation medal, the UK Media Award from Amnesty International,  the Sam Adams award, the Martha Gellhorn Prize for Journalism, (etc etc TK already) and the minor sci-fi character James Bolivar (“Slippery Jim”) diGriz, aka de rat van roestvrij, aka die Edelstahlratte, aka El Escurridizo, aka un criminale al nichel-cromo, aka (my favorite) Ratinox, aka the (you thought we’d never get here, didn’t you?) Stainless Steel Rat, protagonist of Harry Harrison’s The Stainless Steel Rat books, a moderately popular but enduring series of science fiction comedy-adventure serials.

Harry Harrison on OK Cupid oh and Cupid is SO NOT OKAY with using a fake name

Harry Harrison on OK Cupid oh and Cupid is SO NOT OKAY with using a fake name

Did I say “Harry Harrison?” Gee, it’s awfully early in the post to be that confused: of course I did! That name should ring a few bells for Assangeologists, particularly those of a fangirlish turn, for it is the usernomdeplume that Assange employed on sites as High Nerdy as delicious and as decidedly non-nerdy as OKCupid (come for the casual sex, stay for the quizzes!).

That’s so funny: every guy I know calls himself “Steve” on dating sites.

Well, it occurred to one (and that one this one, this one right here) that, worthy as Mr. Harrison’s screenplay for Soylent Green undoubtedly was, that sort of thing won’t get you far on a dating site (although it is a people business, come to think of it but now that I have, I wish I hadn’t. Not to say it doesn’t explain a whole lot about my dating life, but ENOUGH of that line of thinking, moving ON! What? What? STOP LOOKING AT ME) dystopian dramas really don’t pull the chicks like being a dashing James Bond villain-type.

Viva Julian the TinTinja, but that's a whole OTHER post.

Viva Julian the TinTinja, but that's a whole OTHER post.

Of the type typified by the above-mentioned and highly morally ambivalent Stainless Steel Rat. So I’m thinking, Golly, if I were a dashing James Bond villain-type of man who was strongly identifying with the works of Harry Harrison (not Harrison himself, because that would be creepy and somewhat self-defeating on a dating site as he is well out of Top Pulling age range although I’m sure a charming enough man in person and with some advantageous lighting) I would be identifying with ol’ Slippery Jim, you bet your sweet bippy I would, whatever that is, because whatever Harrison’s other books, Return to Eden, West of Eden, and Winter in Eden are about, I’m relatively sure they are NOT related to the rather tedious Anne Rice erotic novel, and believe me, there’s nobody in there you’d actually want to identify with, particularly if they could be played convincingly in a movie by Rosie O’Donnell, as none of them were, according to the reviews. And Clan of the Cave Bear, which I imagine to be much the same, didn’t get anybody laid. So, that.

And here, an interlude, because my English teachers taught me you can never have too many references in a scholarly work of this nature.

DiGriz himself, although an accomplished liar and a notorious intergalctic thief, did have values, he saw his exploits as not only a means to get rich but also as an entertainment for the masses which caused his plans to get bigger, brasher and bolder…he had a reputation to uphold after all. He was also quite proud of the fact that he never took a penny from anyone without insurance cover and his intended targets were usually powerful institutions with little scruples themselves.

But where was I? Oh yes, introducing Ratinox. Did you ever see the old Batman tv series? Stick with me here, this is good stuff. There’s a payoff, I promise. So, “Batman” was my sister’s first word, but no, that’s not the payoff (unless you’re the proud parent who can swan around the play group for weeks like a queen because YOUR little girl’s first word had two syllables and was a superhero besides; OR you are The Sister, in which case you’re used to this bullshit but are glad it’s you-centric for once). In those old Batman series, as rich a guide to the world of comic comicbook criminality as existed, just before the villain tried to kill off Bats and the Boy Blunder, he’d tell them the whole plan from start to finish, slowly, presumably for those in the audience too stupid to riddle out the riddles (which meant everyone who couldn’t afford the kinds of drugs the writers were on at the time). And so it is with the comic comicbook criminality of Slippery Jim diGriz, who will tell you just everything about himself if you read far enough through the books, and you will, if only to see if his wife finally does kill him or not.

So, let us read. All excerpts below are just from The Stainless Steel Rat for President, the most political of the books (yes, this is going to be a whole series; there are a LOT of books):

Spockthulhu!

Spockthulhu says Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn

Spockthulhu says Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn. It's only logical.

via JanKarlsbjerg

Oh my god, this makes SO MUCH SENSE! The Vulcan/Romulan split is nothing more than an interplanetary manifestation of the extra-cosmic conflict which rages eternally between the Great Old Ones and the Elder Gods. No wonder I always had a crush on Spock…and just imagine what he can do with all those flexy, flexy appendages! At last, the secret of Pon Farr is revealed: revealed to be nothing more and nothing less than a rite for the summoning of CTHULHU!!!

Does this mean we should ally ourselves with the Romulans to suppress the Great Uprising, or does it mean we should just, you know, like, go with it?

WILL YOU BE EATEN FIRST?

Cthulhu sez Om to the nom nom, baby!

Cthulhu sez Om to the nom nom, baby!

It RISES!

Cthihuahualu rises! HE is coming!

Cthihuahualu rises! HE is coming!

Cthuahualu rises, ravening, from the black abyss whence he was confined untold ages ago. Slavering in his untameable, gibbering madness he will not be satisfied until he has utterly ravaged the Earth. The barren, scarred rock, sprouting lava pustules, swept by odourous winds of the star-spaces borne on the wings of the Hounds of Tindalos, will then be ready.

For Him to poop on.