I can hardly wait to see what some of my more testosteronaceous readers get on this one.
Stolen from the theftworthy max.
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You’re a Victorian-era corset. How refined.
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via Daily Kos. Twain would not permit this to be published until after his death, and given the potential for blowback I think we can all understand why. It reminds me of nothing so much as William S. Burroughs’ Thanksgiving Prayer. Watch the film on YouTube here.
O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle — be Thou near them! With them — in spirit — we also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe.
O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writhing in pain; help us to lay waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire; help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief; help us to turn them out roofless with little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sports of the sun flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it — for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet!
We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is the ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen.
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You tell me. Presenting Pat and Mick, of whom I have never heard, performing their apparent non-hit I Haven’t Stopped Dancing Yet. Note omnipresent ambiguous, yet powerful, sexuality, along with the presence of two Robert Palmer dancers, a great number of apparently gay boys with great asses and pleated pants, and perhaps the most heinous unironic mullet I’ve ever seen. As one of the commenters said, “Looks like an Afghan Hound trying to have sex with a Geography Teacher.”
The only real competition for this title that I can see is this classic. We are strong, dammit, and we have fabulous accessories!
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Am I being sensationalistic here? Perhaps a tad.
After all, the destruction of the 60 year old towers at the Chapelcross Nuclear Power Plant in Scotland was scheduled, professionally carried out, non-nuclear in nature, and the towers were out of commission not to mention enriched Uranium- and Plutonium-free.
But they blowed up good. They blowed up real good!
Here’s the BBC slideshow, should the YouTube prove too zippy a perspective for your nuclear tower blowing up pleasure.
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You’ll shoot your eye out with that!
Let’s all celebrate the birth of the Babby Jebus with happy volleys from our brand new weapons! Maybe we’ll make CNN like those trigger-happy Middle Easterners!
Actually, I’m relatively sure that even in Canada you don’t get 7-17 for anything less than manslaughter, though, and possession of a bb gun would be more like “laughed out of the legion” when it comes to punishment. Okay, so I’m still bitter I never got one of these…
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raincoaster 