I was bitten by a poisonous spider

Shelob

and it died.

Think about that the next time you try to get in my face about … anything at all.

I’m just saying.

PS: so there are black widow spiders here in Vancouver. You learn something new every day, eh?

Give me my footie pjs, put on my cat; I have
Immortal longings in me: now no more
The juice of the Okanagan‘s grape shall moist this lip:
Yare, yare, good CG; quick. Methinks I hear
Viggo call; I see him rouse himself
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock
The luck of spammers, which the gods give men
To excuse their after wrath: baby, I come:
Now to that name my courage prove my title!
I am tentacles and marabou; my other elements
I give to baser life. So; have you done?
Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips.
Farewell, kind CG; blog readers, long farewell.

What, I’m still here? Damn, now what am I gonna do with this soliloquy? I h8 anticlimax!

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weirdest. penis. ev-ar!

Duck Dick

From Picture of the Day.

Seriously, is this how they make Innsmouthers?

I knew ducks were pretty kinky, but this is just sick.

Funny, he doesn’t look Jewish.

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subservient chicken rules!

No, it’s not the regulations for a new kind of kink party. It’s a trip in the Wayback Machine to deepest, darkest 2005, when Burger King, of all monarchies, rolled out perhaps the awesomest, gob-smackiest, rootin’ tootin’ time wastin’-est website in the entire history of the Intertubes.

Subservient Chicken

The Subservient Chicken.

The deal is this: You type in something for the chicken to do, then you Submit (it’s a Subservient website; what would you expect?) and the garterbelt-clad-yet-otherwise-nekkid-as-a-jaybird chicken performs whatever act your devious mind can come up with for her.

Strangely, the list of actions seems to have shortened since last I frequented the site. She can no longer, it seems, remember the Macarena. She now does Half Lotus position when you type Yoga, rather than the Warrior pose she used to do. Air Guitar is no longer in her poulexicon.

And just try typing “show us your boobs”. Someone with more hacker skillz and patience than myself will have to let me know if the dirty chicken hacks still work. All I got was the stern e-cluck and fingerwag.

I recall with pride that I was probably the first to type in “Destroy Tokyo” and that it still works.

Supposition as to the identity of the masked chicken abounds to this day. Given the Oscar-worthy effort of the immortal Subservient Chicken routine “Perform Shakespeare” I think there can be no doubt that we are dealing with an actor of rare quality and subtlety, one who had fallen upon hard times, if only momentarily .

Yes.

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Fish heads, fish heads…by Barnes & Barnes

Eat them up, yum.

Well, this is a weird one. People always look at me funny when I talk about avant garde art in LA, but I tell ya, there are a lot of former art and fine art grads out there with soul killing nine-to-fivers, money to toss at their dreams, and memberships at Beyond Baroque. They’ve got to do something with their spare time.

Say hello to Barnes & Barnes. You get a sense of just how far out these guys really are when you realize that Dr Demento plays the straight man.

How are my darling little Spazchow heads? Fine? That’s swell! It’s 2007. Time is passing us by quickly. We’re getting older. One day we’ll all die and go to heaven. Or perhaps hell. You never can be too sure…Ya know, the internet is a wondrous thing. It makes me wanna say TOOMP!…

Man, is it ever a great time to be a B & B fan, or what?! And be nice to Billy Mumy, he’s really not a bad fellow. I mean it was touch and go there for awhile, but he got through it and now he’s just fine! Make sure to shout out a Down Hetta Hetta to him every once in awhile. Be sure to eat your vegetables and change your socks. Wash your hands after using the toilet and don’t leave the seat up. And fellows, when you drip, clean the rim, will ya?

Thanks and be sure to stay in touch and try to patronize Mr. Mumy and buy his music. He needs cash real bad.

Your extra special pal,
the ever reclusive Artie Barnes….

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some days you’re the eagle; some days you’re the deer

I’ve been about ready to go all golden eagle on somebody for a couple of days now.

 

  • My phone died.
  • My Gmail is frozen. I cannot send from my account.
  • I have 500 invitations and 1000 press releases to send out…today. And see above.
  • My blogging course announcement went out and I’ve got phone messages and emails from people who’d like to register. And see above.
  • I can’t write the press release until an author gets back to me with her bio, for which I’ve been waiting three weeks. At this point I’d be tempted to make shit up (she was raised by jackals on the African veldt…studied alchemy under Paracelsus at Tokyo Polytechnic) if indeed there existed the possibility I could send the emails in the first place, which there is not. See above.

 

On the bright side:

  • a friend promised not to commit suicide for at least two weeks, and
  • my father’s apparently haunting the CFB Borden Flying Club, so at least he’s having fun.