The last post was rather heavy, wasn’t it? You should SEE what blew up on Facebook; there must be 40 comments on that and the related posts. So it’s time for a little unicorn chaser, to reset the mood: in this case, weird, anxious, and generative of tense laughter. Behold DEATH GOAT:
Mohammed demonstrates REAL Radical Islam on Draw Mohammed Day
This would make an AWESOME tapestry, dude.
UPDATE: Facebook has taken down the Page of Draw Mohammed Day; apparently the Farmville revenue from Pakistan was worth more than their reputation as a platform for nonviolent groups to communicate. Who knew? (we all did, deep down). I’ll give five juicy Canadian dollars to the first person to do an image of Mark Zuckerberg as the Prophet Mohammed. I mean, it makes sense, right? It explains collusion, right?
Chris Crocker sez leave mohammed alone on Everybody Draw Mohammed Day
UPDATE UPDATED: The WordPress.Com blog is still up, and holds nothing sacred (most particularly not the English language, but you don’t see Shakespeare telling Hamlet to off them, now do ya?
Update UPDATE UPDATED: I grabbed a cached version of the FB page, but it’s gibbled a bit gibbled to the point I had to delete it, sorry.
And here is an archive of images of Mohammed through history, including Islamic images of him. Is it like the Catholics and celibacy? Sometimes it’s in, sometimes the Pope has grandkids?
Yes, today is the day we stand in solidarity with terrified Danish ink addicts everywhere and scrawl out our best portraits of the Prophet Mohammed, a day born of controversy, of conflict, of (apparent) confusion. I mean…
Nihad Awad says “freedom of expression does not create an obligation to offend or to show disrespect to the religious beliefs or revered figures of others.”That is quite literally correct; it is important to note that freedom of expression does not create obligations: it creates freedoms.
Here I am exercising mine at Bunk’s invitation by posting this fine image by AdamCrazyPants (I hope I haven’t just sentenced him to death!) of a modern Mohammed, kickin’ it old skool, laying down the radical Islam. Paging Ali Eteraz…
and, last but not least, this. Because it needs to be said as often as possible to those who would interfere with our fundamental freedoms.
there’s irony in those lyrics, if the fascists of one kind or another haven’t killed it off too
Today it isn’t so much what I’ve done as what I’m going to do; I’m going to give the keynote speech tonight at the AGM for the Federation of BC Writers. I’m also going to take the opportunity to pimp out my intensive, 10-week online Blogging for Writers course that starts next week, and my June 19th Social Media Self-Promotion for Writers half-day workshop.
Dud my nails for the occasion, too! Sparkly!
Posted an announcement about my new linkblogging service for celebrity/gossip or fashion blogs:
$100 a month gets you a list of links three times a week, minimum 10 links to different blogs. More links, or more frequently, more money, obviously. Every blog that buys into the monthly link service is automatically included in the links, of course, and the more blogs that buy the service the more powerful in terms of Googlejuice and visibility each link will be. Completely custom link lists are also available, but if I’m going to spend two hours looking for links already day in and day out, you’re gonna hafta make it worth my while. Send Viggo with cash.
I also blogged:
Dropped a couple of quite pointed comments, even for me:
Answered about 20 questions in the Support forum.
Threw about 12 items on the Tumblr for possible later use.
Outlined the Vancouver Social Media Club event on the 27th, for which I hope not to be in town, actually, and emailed several places to arrange a venue. And roughed out the announcement, which cannot go out until I get the nod from the venue, UGH, even though the Straight deadline is tomorrow.
Applied to be a speaker at 140 Character Conference, a Twitter conference run by the very cool Jeff Pulver. My proposed topic is using Twitter to initiate offline action in your readers.
Took the exit survey from Northern Voice.
Grocery shopped like a fiend. The shelves at London Drugs will never be the same; seriously, if you’re flexible, buying food from drugstores in the middle of the night can save you shitloads, because they’ve always got SOMETHING they’re trying desperately to get rid of, less than half-price. I’m eating packaged, microwaveable Indian vegetarian meals and canned fish for the next three weeks, it would seem.
Realized the Shebeen Club is NEXT FREAKING MONDAY which means all the invites have to go out via social media tomorrow, and we’ll miss the papers. This is what I get for booking a speaker who promptly takes off for Malaysia. “Pull a topic out your ass” night it is then! Thank god it’s Zombie Awareness month.
Noted that my first post on Sami Salo’s testicles has 666 hits. Hmmm. Does that mean he’s cursed? Or that the devil loves to read interviews with social media gonads?
Bitched endlessly on Twitter about the two drunken hipster chicks who sat in our doorway so they could loudly conduct a “private” conversation. If it had been more interesting than “Oh my god I totally don’t wanna be your friend when you’re like this! I’m not like this? I mean, I’m like this now, but I’m totally not, like, LIKE this, you know?” I’d have liveblogged it. Must. Get. Webcam. “ZOMBIE HIPSTERS OF VANGROOVER” sure to be a Youtube smash!
Neglected (once again) to blog the fantastic Bombay Sapphire event I went to Monday. Oh well, so far I’ve posted it on Twitter 12 times and that’s 12×5500 readers, so I’m sure they’re okay with me taking my sweet time.
Somewhere in all this I went for an hour-long walk around my neighborhood, which is always a rewarding experience, particularly when I run into the kitten I rescued on Christmas Eve a few years ago, all grown up and haughty. And get to chat with the cute guy who works at Union Market. Suddenly, yeah, I LOVE talking about the weather.
Decided on the spur of the moment to do the Shebeen Club press release right now…see ya l8r!
Appalling, yet undeniable. Even Mighty Cthulhu, devourer of souls, ravenous feaster of darkness who thrives on terror and the shrieks of the innocent, has fallen this low. I mean, crabs had to come from somewhere, amirite?
First, Cthulhu goatse photos leaked to the internet. Now, a blurry, night-vision sex tape. I ask: Can a reality show be far behind?
Those aren’t snakes, boyo.
Yeah, honey, don’t even THINK about going to the Labour Board with this. IF YOU VALUE YOUR SANITY!!!
Bonus: here’s a cute little tune, Hey There Cthulhu, which is a handy-dandy pronunciation guide to all the Cthulhu Mythos’ most baffling terms, in an attractive, neo-folksy package.
HEY THERE CTHULHU
(Lyrics from the Evilbore forum, but [ahem] spelling corrected; what? are you afraid of summoning Him?)
lyrics copyright © 2008 by Eben Brooks and Allison Lonsdale
Hey there Cthulhu down there in your sunken city
You’re a billion light-years distant and the stars look very pretty
From R’lyeh
So close and yet so far away. Ia Iay.
Cthulhu fuh-TAH-gun, or is that Cthulhu fuh-TINE?
I can never quite remember ’cause I’m not in my right minds
Since I met you
No one corrupts the way you do. You know it’s true
(Chorus)
Oh, it’s what you’ll do to me
Oh, and all humanity
Oh, you’ll rise up from the sea
Oh, kill everyone slowly
Except the one’s like me
Hey there Cthulhu, I’ve been studying your gospel
The Necronomicon, it gives me nightmares something awful
Where I see
The death of all reality. It fills me with glee
So when the stars are right, you’ll come and do your worst
But that’s okay because I know you’ll eat the cultists like me first
When you get here
I know that day is drawing near. I have no fear
(Chorus)
A billion light-years seems so far
Below the sea, beyond the stars
Of these humans’ putrid souls you’ll drink your fill
The fools will all make fun of me
But I’ll just laugh maniacally
‘Cause no one’s ever suffered like they will
Chthulhu, I can promise you
That by the time this cult gets through
The world will never ever be the same!
Praise your dark name!
Phn’glui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wagn’nagl fhtagn
Boy, that’s really quite a mouthful, can’t quite cram it in my noggin
Not today
I try to say it anyway
I feel my soul being to fray
Still I await that frabjous day
Cthulhu calay!
(Chorus)
Oh, kill everyone but me
Everyone but me
OW OW OW OW OW OW OW OW!
Yes, Sami Salo’s not-quite-ruptured-but-seriously-slapshotted testicle has spoken. And to me, no less! Now get your ass over to TheCelebrityIndustrialComplex at TrueSlant and read the article in which I quiz Sami Salo’s ball! It’s the first time I’ve ever interviewed a celebrity testicle. Hell, it’s the first time I’ve ever seen balls that speak for themselves!
raincoaster 