Daniel Radcliffe’s Peter Joins Penis Protection Program

For several months now, all the world, or at least, all the world that can afford New York theatre tickets, has been eagerly looking forward to the Broadway debut of Harry Potter’s wand. We at the ol’ raincoaster blog have not failed to cover the blow-by-blow as Daniel Radcliffe and his Nethers of Strange Hirsutity have triumphed in London in Peter Schaffer‘s intense psychodrama Equus, but as the day approaches when all (and we do mean ALL) will be revealed to the notoriously insatiable, cellphone-camera-equipped American audiences, Radcliffe‘s handlers are getting nervous. They fear his peen may fall into the wrong, presumably sweaty, hands.

Says the star, on the possibility of his privates being made public via a quickie Flickr: “It will be amazing but I will be terrified!” And no doubt so will some of the more shrinking violets in the audience, from what we hear!

Just how amazing it will be, fans who cannot affort the high price to share his physical presence may never know. His handlers have taken every precaution to prevent leaks, going so far as to equip the theatre with infra-red defenses, like in that capoeria laser dance scene in Ocean’s Twelve, you know the one, to sniff out and, presumably, stun or even vaporize overzealous cellphotogs. Who knows?

Cool.

His personal security has been increased as well, and let me tell you, these people do not mess around.

Daniel Radcliffe and his peen protector

Image sources: Uli Weber, Hollywood Standups, hat-tip With-Malice

article hat-tip to dissfunktional

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Do you KNOW who I AM?

Another too-true toon from Married to the Sea. And I just noticed you can order PRINTS! Birthday coming up…

Married To The Sea

In related news, this sad tale.

  1. mark Key Master April 24th, 2008 at 1:59 am

    For one day – more if you can tolerate – sit in the same place all day.
    You can only move for the toilet, nothing else.

    One chair all day.

  2. raincoaster Member April 24th, 2008 at 2:03 am

    Dude, that’s what I do for a living: I’m a blogger!

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Mass Ejaculations!!!

We at the ol’ raincoaster blog did not just fall off the squid trawler, ya know. No indeed, we were not hatched yesterday nor even the day before and are perfectly well aware of the mass moist madness that erupts when you get groups of excited, vigorous young people together in a consequence-free and water-and-stain-resistant environment stocked with bottled beverages.

Behold the world’s largest Mentos and Diet Coke experiment:

Ejaculations of delight

Honestly, it looks like an orgy at Hogwarts to me. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen ’em all!

There’s not a raging snotload of things to do in Belgium, if you don’t rustle mussels or brew beer for a living, so these enthusiastic, yet two-years-behind-the-meme students decided to go for mass quantities, rather than attempt to duplicate the balletic elegance of the original experiment. For this monumental achievement, they gathered in historic (and, presumably, easily hosed down) Ladeuzeplein Square in Leuven, Belgium. Note please, that Coke does not work as well and regardless of what the Torygraph article linked to above tells you, it must be Diet Coke.

Fritz Grobe and Stephen Voltz were the famed mad scientists whose hypnotic Aesthetic of the Absurd video, covered extensively in this blog and millions of others, set the tone for memes to come, from the inexorable rise of lolcats up to and including Anonymous‘s current campaign against Scientology.

Not-Fleshed-Out-Yet-Really-Quite-Inescapable Conclusion: The dominant vernacular of civil engagement today defines itself directly against the current structure and forms of terrorism and is absurd in every sense, self-aware, positive in tone and gesture, meta-(not post-)intellectual, and a helluva lot of fun.

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Quote o’ the Day: Toby Young on Fame

Toby Young, once again the least attractive in a group photo

It’s rare indeed to find someone whose fascination with the phenomenon of fame exceeds my own storied obsession, but I have indeed located one such sick and deluded soul, and his name is Toby Young. And here is the smartest thing he has to say on the subject, shamelessly stolen from his book The Sound of No Hands Clapping(oh, but before we get to that: when his book launch was broken up by a lubricated brawl of some degree of violence and spectacularity his pregnant wife tried to break up the fight, but he stopped her, saying, “Are you crazy? This is fabulous publicity!”):

There are so many different varieties of fame these days we need to develop a whole new vocabulary to describe them. At the moment, the best we can do is to rank celebrities according to whether they’re A-list, B-list, etc. But even if we use every letter of the alphabet that still only gives us 26 different types. That’s surely not enough. Eskimos have 47 different words for snow. Shouldn’t we have 47 words for celebrity?

Selah.

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Kids!

humorous pictures