This one comes to us from Michael Usinger of the Georgia Straight:
Who would bring a toddler to Virgin Fest?
By Mike UsingerJust a question–who drags a toddler to these things?
The answer is obvious: ask any Aztec. You can’t have a virgin festival without a single virgin! It’s probably a City of Vancouver licensing requirement.
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Long have we at the ol’ raincoaster blog known of the subtle, nefarious schemes of the meerkat conspiracy. The sadistic subjugation they plan for us would make servitude to the Great Old Ones look like a vacation on the Riviera, yet humans persist in thinking them harmless. Now, finally, we have proof that the meerkat anti-fairy forces are no myth, but instead a strong and active military force boasting snipers of cruel and relentless efficiency.
Click, and watch a little something I call The Death of Glinda:
Thank god fairies have nine lives, and Glinda made a full recovery.
Meerkats. Cutesy little standy-uppy weasel lookin’ bastards. Never take your eyes off those motherfuckers.
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Not just because it’s a Polaroid (which I love, and which are always bouncing onto and off of the endangered list) and it’s beautiful, but also because the photographer is using the nom de shutter of Squidfingers. And you know how we love our tentacles and our squid. In fact, in our experience, only good things come of making the acquaintance of people with the word “squid” in their names. Why, it was HappySquid who invited us to the Bombay in Vangroover event, and when you combine squid with gin, you make raincoaster very, very happy.
Shaken AND stirred.
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I could swear I’ve blogged this video before, but perhaps not. By this point in Blogathon, I’m doing a LOT of swearing, as you can imagine. Nearly halfway through and I’m four posts short. Time for some quickie YouTubes, methinks.
This one happens to be one of the most popular things on Twitter; every damn time I post it I get 300 new Followers, for reasons which will become obvious about the time Mylene Farmer here starts undoing the garter belt. Enjoy, and know that you can enjoy with a clear conscience, Farmer being somewhat renowned as a post-postfeminist in good standing (for details of which, click on her name and watch that video, Fuck them All).
Love is nothing/ Mylene Farmer
Obsessed with the worst
And not very verbose
The least of my sighs
Turn metaphysical
I have in my heaven
Tons of stars
Hanging on my wings
And down falls the angel GabrielObsessed with the worst
A little too physical
The desire to quiver
Is pharaonic
Fed up with asceticism
My life is wrapped in darkness
For me without the tongue
Wihtout sex I get weakLove is nothing
When it’s politically correct
You like one another
You don’t even know when you hurt them
Love is nothing
When everything is sexually correct
You get bored
You yell for it to stop
Life is nothing
When it’s lukewarm
It consumes itself and shakes your blood
In cigarette ashes
Life is good
It’s made of honey
When it’s acid with dynamite
Those who love me, follow meObsessed with the worst
And not very verbose
The least of my sighs
Turn metaphysical
I have in my head
Tons of pirouettes
The leap of the angel
Doesn’t seem strange to meObsessed with the worst
And not very verbose
To share my laughs
Rather plutonic
I have in my sphere
A greenhouse effect
My blood’s boiling
I’m seething about everything
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First, there’s this:
After a bit more blogging, I decided to become “internet famous”
And after awhile in the Internet Famous game, I decided to get a real life.
Boy, was I in for a rude surprise.
Notice how the lives are getting smaller and smaller as time goes on? Eventually, I will become a pixel.
But it will be a pixel in The New Yorker!
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raincoaster 