Stole this one from Defamer, who stole the pic from Towelroad. Take this adorable picture of Cute Overload-level scrumptious sweetie Jake Gyllenhaal napping on a train and use your lolgoth-honed skillz to photoshop additional and preferably amusing things to it.
The #1 thing I’d want to put on Jakeypoo is, of course, myself, but that might startle the poor lad into wakefulness. Them tentacles is a-cold!
Let’s see what ya got. Because you can’t post images in comments, drop a link to the sordid product of your twisted desires and we shall happily post it here, properly blam- Attributed! As always, the prize is eternal raincoastery glory in all its tentacled fabulousness, rather than, say, cash or actual proximity to said Jakeypoo.
But you have to wonder if it hadn’t, or, if it had, who it was who got to make that call.
This song has haunted not my dreams but my waking for nearly ten years, ever since Mister Natural played it for me.
The story is this:
Gavin Bryars, an interesting fellow if ever there was one, was working on a film about the homeless people who populated the neighborhoods of Elephant & Castle and Waterloo Station, a very Hogarthian scene even if gin is not as cheap as it used to be. Not being used to starring in films, the populace enjoyed the attention and in some cases hammed it up for the cameras with appropriate ruffles and flourishes and not a few belts of song or even something stronger.
One of those singers, a teetotaller in fact, came out with this.
I’ve heard it in both the unadorned and orchestral versions, and I must say I prefer the starker one. Adding Tom Waits to the mix is gilding the lily: surely Tom Waits is nothing but an haut-Boho imitation of something the old man was a true original of.
With nothing but this creaky old voice rattling out a single-line message of faith and hope for twenty solid minutes, one can’t help but meditate on it.
This man’s whole life is there, in the tension between his circumstances and his message. He, at least, believes he has never been failed by Jesus (and who are we to say he HAS?) and yet there he is; why, he wouldn’t have been recorded at all if he had not been the very embodiment of society’s lowest castoffs. And so, his cruel circumstances are themselves what enable his inspiring voice to be heard in the first place, yet his moving faith seems so wildly unjustified.
Somewhere between the impossibility of the truth and the impossibility of anything else lies the human condition.
When I copied the loop onto the continuous reel in Leicester, I left the door of the recording studio open (it opened onto one of the large painting studios) while I went downstairs to get a cup of coffee. When I came back I found the normally lively room unnaturally subdued. People were moving about much more slowly than usual, and a few were sitting alone, quietly weeping. I was puzzled until I realized that the tape was still playing and that they had been overcome by the old man’s unaccompanied singing.
This demonstrated to me the emotional power of the music, but also alerted me to the need to approach very carefully anything I did to the tape. I had already thought about a gradually added orchestral accompaniment and I realized that this needed to be simple, to gradually evolve, yet at the same time respect the tramp’s humanity and simple faith.
This is public access tv host Alexyss K. Tylor discussing vagina power and penis addiction with her mother.
Seriously, would YOU talk to your mother like that? If I did, my mother would take notes!
Uh, this is really, really NSFW. Duh.
Lessons learned in this episode:
(Read AFTER you watch the video!)
– If the man ain’t comin’, he gonna be goin’ somewhere else, puttin’ his penis in someone else.
– A lot of women will laugh and talk about a man if his penis is small.
– Just because a man is in love with your vagina doesn’t mean he’s in love with you.
– A lot of us get caught up on the dick.
– Dick will make you slap somebody.
– The penis is a heat-seeking missile, like a rocket. Information is encoded in it making it do what it do.
– Men launch their penis up in the vaginal canal. As a woman relaxes and breathes and sits on that penis and rock and move and rotate and find her rhythm and go up and down and back and forth and around in a circle, she starts getting her groove back.
– When the parts of penis hit them vagina walls, harmonizing and making them sing, a woman feels like she’s in church jumping and shouting.
– Dick’ll make you lose control.
Well, he will if you ask him nicely. And then you can slap him; he likes it that way.
But seriously, what kinda church does this woman go to? I think I saw an Emmanuelle movie like that once…
It seems so long ago that legendary beauties Kate Moss and Sophie Dahl were discovered in England; things are apparently very different now.
Ladies and gentlemen, stop what you’re doing. While we have all been going mindlessly about our daily business, perhaps dropping a dime into a beggar’s cap, writing a cheque for Darfur, protesting the Iraq invasion,or tithing to Greenpeace, a silent crisis has been brewing in the United Kingdom.
Your dollars, your rubles, your rupiahs: they will not solve this terrible problem. Indeed, they seem to have pounds galore, more than they know how to spend properly: this commodity is more precious. Money cannot solve this. There is only one thing that can.
Gentle readers, click upon the link I shall give you, and as you do so, realize that in the land that gave the world the Spice Girls, this is what currently rents for £640 an hour. Keep the eyewash handy, people.
Book your flights now: do your part for England. Or at least, share your parts with England.
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raincoaster 