The world is full of sacred heart of tentacle images. Wasn’t the sacred heart of tentacle a full chapter in John Dee’s book? I’m pretty sure it’s one of the major arcana at least.
UPDATE: forgot to say that this marvelous image, from the Ben Lawson gallery, was emailed to me by MasterCowfish. To enjoy similar linkie luv for your own blog during raincoaster’s Internet Interruptus period, simply email blog fodder to raincoaster at gmail dot com, as my time is rather severely limited lately and I’m needing all the help I can get until internet access is restored to raincoaster global headquarters.
In retrospect I must say that I really couldn’t have picked a better fashion choice than Farmer Zombie for the street fight.
A little background, perhaps?
I live on the Downtown EastSide, an area where the average life expectancy has been estimated as low as 33 years, thanks to AIDS, Hep-A, Hep-B, Hep-C, tuburculosis, and a whole epidemiology text of diseases that were thought to belong to Victorian novels about impoverished chambermaids, not to mention the street fighting.
A 76-year-old man died last year when he was stabbed in an argument about a spot in line at the Food Bank a block from my house.
People on the things people are on down here are touchy.
But they are, as a rule, paranoid about people who look respectable. They know damn well you’ll call the cops on them and the cops will pay attention to you, so the violence is pretty much street-on-street, not street-on-norm, if you know what I mean, and if you don’t, perhaps I’ve lived down here too long.
But I was on the West Side. That’s the thing: the West Side is where we keep the Yuppies, the Preppies, and the Really Rich People From Hong Kong.
I’m never going west of Carrall Street again!
So, there I was on the West Side, minding, very much, my own business, as one does when one has a lot to think about at ten o’clock at night, Continue reading →
If they could somehow work jazz hands into this, it would be just about perfect.
NSFW if your boss is really, really uptight about cross-sectional illustrations of gay sex, or maybe also wooden dildos
Here, via The Manolo, is the singingest, dancingest Bollywood-fabulousest subtitlediest condom commercial you’ll ever lay eyes on. They’re like the Teletubbies of the prophylactic world!
It’s remarkable that somehow the Third World got the jump on us in this regard, but here is the proof. Surely, surely, if North Americans had condom commercials featuring Paula Abdul choreography and Celine Dion vocals, maybe throwing in some Sigfried and Roy or Zac Efron for the boys, we could eliminate unintended pregnancy overnight! Up With People and the whole celibacy movement just haven’t got the showbiz pizazz to pull it off. I mean, what can you do when Blair from Fats of Life is the best you’ve got? We need to ramp up the production values if this is ever going to work…as they said in Earth Girls are Easy, Southern California has the cosmetology equivalent of Stealth technology. The same can be said for its entertainment. What’s the first step?
First, we sign Bob Evans. Then, we wait, baby. Then we wait.
First, some motivational music. Preeeeeee-senting the Arrogant Worms performing their breakout hit (Arrogant Worm nerds: no backtalk, please) Carrot Juice is Murder. Stolen from Seismic Twitch, and cross-posted in a couple of days to TeenyManolo. Lyrics over the jump, philosophical thesis statement, below.
And now, to the debate.
I’d like to introduce as a concept the proposition that quality of life impingements can be a justification for euthanasia. Now, I’m just saying that it is widely accepted that, if one’s quality of life were to decline to a point at which one could not move freely, think clearly, or make oneself understood with the inherent dignity which is humankind’s birthright, a painless form of euthanasia is an option which the majority of people believe should be made available to one within the framework of the law.
Not only are they vegetables, but they have no hope of becoming anything else within their lifetimes, free-roaming creative raw foodists who are dab hands with a smoothie notwithstanding.
Conclusion:
We should do our part. We should find the vegetables, wherever they are, and we should put them out of their suffering. We should do it now.
Animals, on the other hand, have no difficulty moving around and comporting themselves with greater elan than your typical celebutard. Like the inspirational blogger BeastFeaster, sworn to consume 52 species of the Animal Kingdom in 52 weeks, I’m switching to a renewable flesh-based diet. Perhaps I shall consume only limbs amputated on the field of battle, as a kind of recycling initiative.
Meat: the responsible choice. the moral choice. the only choice.
raincoaster 