blogrolling in our time: the Manolo and Cemeteries!

TIAYes, it’s been awhile since we had one of our patented updates from Operation Global Media Domination, so I know you must all be missing it terribly. I feel your pain. I heal your pain.

In the quest for global media domination, there are many milestones that must be reached: Technorati to make one’s bitch, Gawker commenter status to be gained, getting banned and returning, flamewars to be won, Diggs to be dugg, and most of all, blogrolls upon which to be listed. Yes, having your way with other people’s blogrolls is a critical prerequisite to world conquest, as any link-exchange junkie could tell you. And in the world of blogrolls, well, there are blogrolls and then there are blogrolls, if you know what I mean.

The Manolo has blogrolled me! It is the superfantastic!

Yes, the muse of the mule, the genius of the galosh, the Picasso of the pump, the nemesis of the Croc, The Manolo Shoeblogger has selected yours truly for his blogroll, and has shown us the luv to the tune of about 45 new readers, all of whom are asking themselves what in HELL I have in common with a shoe fashion blogger dandy of delicate sensibilities and refined elegance. Me too, but I’ll take the link, for I loves the Manolo deeply and would never own Crocs: why, for scaring the squirrels out of the garbage I put on a pair of platform thongs with beaded floral straps, I do, even if all I’m wearing on the rest of me is a towel.

TMI. Sorry, Mercury‘s in retrograde or something.

In any case, global media domination is a giving thing, an exercise in community-building at its most basic level (ie I end up owning the community). So in order to keep the karma snowball rolling in the right direction, we here at the ol’ raincoaster blog have added to our own blogroll, and we have done so in the simplest of ways. We surfed around and found neato shit and clicked “Add to Blogroll” (and let no blogger say that WordPress doesn’t have a sense of community; that’s a genius innovation!). So:

Welcome to the blogroll (and not a moment too soon), Cemeteries!

Anna Nicole Smith, angel

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breaking news from the world of great metaphor: Anna Nicole Smith dead of heart failure

Anna Nicole Smith, mugshotNow there’s a loaded expression.

After retiring from a modelling career that went up and down with the tidal shifts in her saline implants, becoming the human trainwreck hostess of the original Reality TV celebrities-more-fucked-up-than-us show, marrying a wizened zombie with one foot in the grave (nip slip in the wedding photos), hosting a poolside wake for him a few months later and nearly knocking the casket into the water with her drunken antics, sexually assaulting at least one personal assistant, and killing off her eldest child by sharing a Barbaro-sized dose of recreational methadone, Anna Nicole Smith has finally done the right thing by her offspring and has died of the both euphemistic and true-on-so-many-levels heart failure at the Hard Rock Casino resort in Florida.

Do you know anyone else who parties so hard they take a private nurse with them to the Casino?

Update: looks like she needed that nurse!

While it’s a shame when anyone so young is taken, I can’t bring myself to shed a tear for this narcissistic hedonist. Her little girl (paternity still a matter before the courts) is better off without her. If Anna Nicole Smith did an honest, generous act in her life the track record would lead me to believe she did it by accident.

Anna Nicole Smith, party girlDefamer, as always, has the best roundup.

Larry King is back, and he’s confident that the legal system will eventually figure out who’s the father of her newborn daughter Dannielynn. He almost sounds cocky about it, leading us to suspect he’s trying to hint the baby is his, just to prove his incredible virility at an advanced age.

King once again falls into reverie, recalling the time she appeared on his show so drunk and incomprehensible that SNL reran the interview without altering it. She’s compared to Marilyn Monroe (for a variety of reasons), called “not the smartest woman in the world,” but also “fun.” King is clearly working through his feelings on-air.

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BEST! BLOG! PLUGIN! EVAR!

100% shit-free, this is the absolute best blog plugin the world has ever known. I defy you to find one with more universal appeal. It’s flexible, with a little imagination it works in any theme, and properly installed it entails almost no risk of spreading a virus.

It’s even compatible with a wide variety of platforms, including Blogspot, the trailer tramp of the blogosphere and WordPress.com, the strict English governess of the blogosphere.

Ladies and gentlemen, we present Blog for Sex!

In an effort to encourage me to revive this blog, my wife has imposed this “No blog, No sex” rule. The rule is simple: I am supposed to blog at least once a week in exchange for love-making. The hornier I get, the more blog entries I get to post.

Note that you must upload your own sexual partner, rather than hotlinking Marc’s. Hat-tip to a certain degenerate horse blogger. You may do what you like with THAT mental picture.

Up and Coming! Shape up or slip out!

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just in time for Valentine’s Day: Squid porn

From a commenter on Pharyngula, shocking new evidence of Squid Troilism.

make calamari, not war

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getting medieval on your astronaut!

How I love it when a loyal reader sends along a piece of web strangeness saying, “Saw this freakishness and thought of you.”

I feel speshul.

A certain horse blogger of heretofore normal inclinations has passed along the following sad and bizarre tale.

Remember when you were little, and you were asked what you wanted to grow up to be? Now, as a little girl I knew “cowboy” was off the table, but I saw no reason not to say “jillaroo” or, indeed, “astronaut.” “Firefighter” was for dumb lugs, sorry to my four cousins who became firefighters; I can only suggest they are playing against type.

Yes, didn’t we all want to be astronauts when we grew up? Everyone old enough to have seen the first Moon landing surely shares my one-time dream. But, as age and marks caught up with us, we realized we’d never have the PhD from MIT that seems to be the prerequisite, much less the Olympic medals, the Saudi princedom, or the College Republican presidency that are just the oak leaf clusters on the dingleberries of your application form.

We felt bad.

Ladies and gentlemen, allow us at the ol’ raincoaster blog to make your day. Allow us, in fact, to make up for decades of feelings of inadequacy. Your life may suck. Your job may involve the phrase “would you like fries with that?” Your love life may be as imaginary as your next vacation. Your socks could have holes, your dog could snap at you, and your shirt could well be tucked into your underwear at this very moment.

But you will never be the country-song-in-waiting that is the trainwreck which is this astronaut’s sorry-ass life.The mugshot goodness!

A NASA astronaut faces her first appearance before a judge this morning after police say she attacked her rival for another astronaut’s attention at Orlando International Airport Monday.

Lisa Marie Nowak drove more than 12 hours from Texas to meet the 1 a.m. flight of a younger woman who had also been seeing the astronaut Nowak pined for, according to Orlando police. She is being held on no bond at Orange County Jail and has a court appearance at 9 a.m.

Nowak — who was a mission specialist on a Space Shuttle Discovery flight last summer — was wearing a trench coat and wig and had a knife, BB pistol, and latex gloves in her car, reports show. They also found diapers, which Nowak said she used so she wouldn’t have to stop on the 1,000-mile drive.

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