How does it go again?
Choose First Class for luxury, Third Class for company.
It’s easy to see where Ganesh stands (sits) on the issue.
How does it go again?
Choose First Class for luxury, Third Class for company.
It’s easy to see where Ganesh stands (sits) on the issue.
So to speak.
Word has come to our shell-like ears of a most delightfully esoteric Japanese custom; indeed, in a land where it sometimes seems as if all the customs are simultaneously bizarre, sexual, and ridiculous, this still stands out as remarkable, largely because it is one of the few that is not only bizarre, sexual and ridiculous, but it’s also low-calorie, tasty and satisfying and no, you’re not horny an hour later.
That would be the well-known “Chinese smorgasbord ritual.”
So what are the twin practices of Nyotaimori and Nantaimori? Nothing more nor less than the practices of eating sushi or sashimi off a naked woman or man, respectively. And we are most respective of our naked sushi bringers around these parts.
These parts in particular… *points*…
What fascinates me are the detailed instructions for preparation of the presentation service. Oh, I agree, proper attention to the plating aesthetics is so, so important.
Before becoming a living sushi platter, the person is trained to lie down for hours without moving. She or he must also be able to withstand the prolonged exposure to the cold food. Body hair, including pubic hair, would also be shaved as a display of pubic hair may be seen as a sexual act. [ed note: oh, perish the thought!]
Before service, the individual would take a bath using a special fragrance-free soap and then finish off with a splash of cold water to cool the body down somewhat for the sushi.
In some parts of the world, in order to comply with sanitation laws, there must be a layer of plastic or other material between the sushi and the body of the woman or man.
Ah, but that’s an entirely different Wikipedia entry, I’m sure…
Ah yes, this is what I look for in a summer camp: tentacles. When deciding which godforsaken pit of vipers you’re going to pay to store your children for a couple of weeks, it’s so, so very important to make sure that you choose one that will teach them skills they will need in life as they’re growing up.
Coping with Cthulhu is, obviously, one of those skills.
The Russians, whose Soviet-era abandoned summer camp this is, were obviously miles ahead of the West in Elder God Preparations; only the fall of Communism put an end to their highly sophisticated program, closing the Appeasement of the Ancient Ones Gap between East and West.
As constant readers know, we at the ol’ raincoaster blog just can’t get enough of the gigantic, icky Jellyfish thang. I think (we thinks?) we’ve been traumatized ever since we went kayaking during the Great Indian Arm Jellyfish Migration and ended up accidently scooping them onto the paddles with every stroke, wherefrom they would sliiiiiiiiiide down the handle and onto our hands YUCJYUCKYIKUGH and then plop onto the spray skirt, where we’d have to flick them off with the back of our hand encased in a plastic bag, ew!
But we’re over that.
In any case, imagine our thrillation and excititivity when we found that according to the Guardian (source of the above flying jellyfish imagey corroboration) Singapore has apparently got an entire festival devoted to giant, flying jellyfish. Well all we can say is, if there were giant flying jellyfish around these parts, we’d be all for The Festival. Festivities? Festivatin’, yo. Gotta keep ’em happy; the specter of a world filled with giant, flying, pissed-off jellyfish is too horrible to bear!