the hooker index

for external use only!!! 

Some people, although not all people, and certainly none of the people who post around these parts, hold the major New York media outlets in esteem which almost amounts to veneration. They have, perhaps, confused New Yorkers with The New Yorker.

And there are those, among them us, who revere the Washington Post for the achievements of its past; it is the ultimate journalistic coaster, except maybe for Carl Bernstein.

MediaBistro’s FishbowlDC is chipping away at the tiny amount of reverence we still have for the paper, with ongoing coverage of the hooker index, tracking the change in escort/massage ads in the WaPo over time.

Hooker indexThe chart is flat for the week, but the high-water mark came on Wednesday with 10 ads.

Far from agreeing with Fishbowl‘s diagnosis of “sale” we at the raincoaster blog would just like to point out that there is a reason that Wednesday has its famous nickname.

suffragettes died for this? mid-Atlantic update

The title I stole from Guido Fawkes, as I also stole the invitation below; a more missable evening of patronizing “entertainment” and ugly bridesmaid shoes I have never seen. This is what the Brits think will engage women voters and have them rushing the polling places like they were selling Manolos at half price! If you vote Green, do you get 10% off Birkenstocks?

if I vote Labour, do I get birkenstocks?

However…

This is what Gawker unearthed today, and it shows the Americans to be equally stereotypical, issue-free, and patronizing.

Seriously, I think I need a girl drink

size matters, but not how you think

I got this from Mainichi.com via Fark. It appears that, along with infantile, pervy accessories, giggling behind their fingers, and platform shoes, Japanese women just cannot get enough really, really tiny…

 Huge! Rod! Sale!

sushi.

From the land that gave the world such tiny treats as bonsai, midget submarines and shiploads of quaint consumer goods comes, according to Shukan Bunshun (10/19), the latest example of Japanese miniaturization — single grain sushi!

Single grain sushi is not the latest diet fad to hit the country, it’s just the latest item on the menu at Omoroi Sushiya Kajiki, a sushi restaurant with a sense of humor in Fukuoka

Single grain sushi is sold in plates of 10 or 12 (arranged in a circle with a couple of strips of leek in the middle to form the hands of a clock) and features all the typical sushi, including makimono, tako, tamago, ikura, kohata, anago, ebi, ika, Otoro and kanpachi…

“I do it because the girls love it,” the crafty itamae tells Shukan Bunshun. “I tell ’em I’m gonna give ’em a full serving of sushi and then bring out a plate of the single grain stuff. They laugh and then go on about how cute it looks. Some of ’em take photos of it with their mobile phones. More than anything, though, I do it because I like nothing more than seeing a woman’s smiling face.”

So they laugh and tell you it’s cute? That hasn’t changed any; nobody can get those words out with a straight face.

iPod iPorn

Saudi single seeks same…if not same species

A boy and his goatSo I’m cross-posting this from a comment on Guido’ s site. As he says, if you don’t like it take a full refund and don’t come back. But it was my comment anyway, so I shall paste it here unabashedly, not that I’ve ever been abashed, cuz you all know I’d-a bashed him right back.

My mother worked in the King Fahd hospital in Saudi Arabia back in the 80’s, and one day an unmarried Saudi fellow came in with a diagnosis of a ruptured penis. And for several days he remained in the hospital, taking wincingly painful daily walks in the hallway, drawing a fair bit of attention, as he walked so slowly anyone else could have run a marathon in the time it took him to do a lap around the ward.

Now, unmarried Saudi men are not supposed to be doing anything with their penises that could rupture them. They’re not particularly supposed to notice that they have penises until they’re married, except to ensure the pee isn’t dribbling down their legs.

So the medical transcriptionist was curious. And so was the entire pool of medical transcriptionists. So they asked my mother to find out how it happened, my mother being an unabashed sort (acorn not falling far from tree and all that).

So she did.

She walked up to the doctor who’d examined the patient and asked him point-blank, “So how did that patient rupture his penis? All the typists are dying to know!”

The doctor rolled his eyes, then looked left, looked right, waited till the coast was clear, then leaned in and whispered:

The goat bolted.

sigil of Baphomet

Cthulhu Cthild Cthare

Hello Cthulhu vs Hello Kitty 

Iä! Iä! Cthild nafhtagn!

Suddenly a cry erupted from the miniature prison, and I perceived a thrashing and a shuddering within. Swallowing terror as best I could, I peered over the rim of the cage.

There it lay!

I…I cannot continue. I hear them upon the stairs…when I am gone, this blog must be burnt, and the ashes dissolved in aquae velvae

Hello Cthulhu! I mean, Hail Cthulhu!