Very much coolness from this bizarre and beautiful site.
Sorry for English, have made watch Borat. Go make watch neat Halloween-appropriate spook/creeptastic artsy scary story Flash site I lift from Boingboing.
Monthly Archives: October 2006
Frisk Me Elmo, drug mule
Now, this just does not surprise us here at the ol’ raincoaster blog. As you may be aware, we’ve never hesistated to expose the truth about the house of sordid, bent, and blood-soaked cards that is the superstar known as Elmo.
No indeed: whether he’s making a top-rated (although willing to bottom on a slow night) gay sex tape, high-hatting his erstwhile castmates, or descending gleefully into the warm, greedy embrace of malevolent pagan cults, El ‘mo has been, for those in the know, a touchstone of Hollywood excess for more than a decade.
Now, however, his decadent lifestyle has finally come to a grand finale, full of words, and tickles, and signifying nothing. His career in a shambles, his comeback Fall Over Drunk Elmo doll a dud, and desperate to pay for a crippling substance abuse and alimony habit, El ‘mo has turned to two-bit drug-running.
The Smoking Gun is there.
OCTOBER 26–A Colorado drug operation hid large quantities of methamphetamine inside Elmo dolls, according to federal investigators who yesterday announced the indictment of 21 alleged members of the ring, which transported the drug from California…
When investigators opened up the plush doll’s skull, they discovered the drug stash inside wrapped in plastic (as seen in this evidence pic). While Elmo has never previously been linked to narcotics distribution or use, the Sesame Street character appears to have no teeth, which frequently is seen in heavy meth users.
El ‘mo, unable to make bail, is currently being held in Corcoran State Prison, where he takes perverse satisfaction in the fact that he occupies the cell vacated by Robert Downey Jr.
monster chiller horror theatre with Count Floyd presents Ingmar Bergman’s Whispers of the Wolf
So it’s not Doctor Tongue, so what. Here’s my Canadian Content for the day. Remember Count Floyd? The only Transylvanian vampire with a Torontonian accent and a turtleneck. They couldn’t afford a werewolf, so he did the howling, too.
Hit Play and enjoy your trip in the Wayback Machine; also, join me in wondering why Andrea Martin isn’t swamped with work. She owned Hedwig and the Angry Inch.
Miss Manners on the war between the sexes
Cross-posting this from ArchieArchive, where he’s posted the entire “women are meat” speech from everybody’s favorite bastion of multiculti sensitivity and carnivorous reptile-baiting, Australia.
If you’re looking for sensible takes on the subject, you can’t do better than the US’s Miss Manners, who was written to by a concerned reader claiming that he didn’t have a question of etiquette, exactly…
See, he just felt that these “girls” who wear revealing clothing, go out on dates without chaperones, drive their own cars, live in apartments alone, etc, were making it really easy for some man to rape them. He wanted Miss Manners to lay out the exact restrictions that would properly prevent such an occurrance.
I don’t think he was expecting her to say “it makes more sense to lock up the men than to lock up the women” but she did. She’s pretty good at making a sharp point when she feels like it.
I’ll post the exact quote when/if I find it, but don’t hold your breath, cuz I’m lazy and it means combing through the books for it, they all being over 500 pages. But ya gotta luv Miss Manners. When Americans are both intelligent and down-to-Earth, they are the most sensible people on the planet.
When they’re not, they’re…
strangers in the night
from the Archive
Once, I went out in the middle of the night for a long run. I stopped by Shanghai Alley to do my stretches. There I was, huffing and puffing with my face a nice rosy pink like the nether parts of a slutty baboon and bent over in any number of undignified and unflattering poses, thinking about the way my greasy hair was sticking to my forehead and the way I looked in my baggy sweats. Along came a hooker, skinny the way they all are, with the bones sticking out and that look like they would shatter if you gave them a sharp rap. She was very reluctantly following a customer into the bushes in the little park and when she saw me she called out,
“Way to go, girl, way to be healthy. Not like a sick junkie hooker!”
I replied, “Yeah, but I’m fatter than you,” to keep the interaction going. I mean, I wasn’t going to take her for dinner, but you can’t just drop it; that makes people feel so small. When they reach out of The Life you have to support them and not turn your back. Hell, it’s the least you can do.
“No, no, you look good, lookin’ healthy! You keep going, girl!” and she went. Never seen her since.
raincoaster 