Putting the “Party” into Politics, we present (courtesy of the esteemed Dr. Boli) the League of Surrealist Voters; note that while the votes are real, the voters themselves must be surreal. And that describes everyone around here!
Category Archives: Weird
Quiz: Star Trek Character or Erectile Dysfunction Pill?
We will refrain, for lo we are way tactful, bychez, from pointing out that the nomenclatural congruity here is somewhat … what? Ironic? Perfect? Obvious?
Well, actually, some Star Trek characters themselves function as erectile dysfunction medications, if you believe some of my friends, and I wouldn’t, particularly late on a dark and stormy Friday night. Because they’ll say anything to get you out of the house so they can get back to WoW or Battlestar Gallactica or their nightly recitation of the entire Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (I am SO not getting invited over for Red Dwarf now, eh?).
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Everyone needs an editor!
Literati are perhaps the least respected of professionals. Oh, sure, every doctor gets hit up at parties for a snap diagnosis freebie (Miss Manners’ advice? Reply “certainly, now if you’ll just disrobe I’ll examine you.” Hey, it WOULD liven up a party) but how many of them get “I’ve always been good with cutlery, probably would make a pretty snappy surgeon, doncha think?”
Writers? Editors? Every feeb who knows the alphabet has internalized that old “Everyone has one novel in them.” Yeah, maybe. But whoever said that (Confucius? Hesiod? Boccaccio? I wanna give that man a swiftian kick in the legpit region, I’m telling you) was careful not to claim it would be a good novel. Or even a novel one.
You see what I’m getting at here?
Few indeed are even the true the classics of literature that couldn’t be improved by the judicious exercise of editorial oversight. Think, for instance, how much better most of Thomas Hardy would be with a restrained sprinkling of snappy musical numbers. Think of how much more eagerly students would tear through The Canterbury Tales if they were a Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys mystery instead. Think: The Gulag Archipelago With Zombies.
Oh hey…
Where was I? Right, editors and improvement. Longtime readers of the ol’ raincoaster blog (for what crime can this be the inhuman sentence? I ask yez) will be aware that we at raincoaster HQ have long cherished a fondness for the old-fashioned Yankee consumptive Howard Phillips Lovecraft; fewer, however, will realize that in addition to being a talented author of eldritch tales™ Lovecraft was also an editor and collaborator of prolixity and profound talent.
Climb with us into the Wayback Machine, set the dial for “Arkham,” and behold the birth of a career:
WaHo Ya Know
Ladies and gentlemen, presenting the gayest video of all time (including ElektronikSupersonik and all of the Village People):
WaHo (waffle house) by the Athens Boy Choir
Did you know that the Waffle House is a religion in parts of the US, and has its own Shrine? I did not. And did you know that there are significant numbers of songs called Waffle House? I did not. And it’s really late, I should have been done two hours ago and sleeping by now, and so I’m not going to root through the whole intertubes for the lyrics to this one. I’m sure you’ll be singing along in a couple of replays anyway.
And then you’ll turn gay!
Boy, oh Boytaur!
Um. Wow.
And I’m not even sure if that’s in a good or bad way.
No. No, I am sure.
It’s both. As in, I think when I looked at this my brain was broken into tiny pieces, but I kind of liked it. And that’s probably illegal, somewhere.
Surprisingly few Harry Hamlins or even Harryhausens, all things considered. Pervs nowadays just have no sense of tradition!
I should explain.
After all, that’s what the blog is for: for you to come here and have bizarre things explained by me, as if they were entirely normal and if you were raincoaster, they would be, trust me. Remember, a poisonous spider bit me once and it died. We are very far indeed through the looking-glass here at the ol’ raincoaster blog, yessir.
One of the first blogs I really became addicted to was an innocent little cooperative blog called Chimera House. There were five or six posters there, and although at first it was confusing, eventually it became clear to me that all of these people lived in the same house and had schedules which never overlapped, so they were using the blog as a digital way of leaving notes on the kitchen table for one another. So far, so simple.
So you’d think.
Now, as anyone who’s ever lived with roommates knows, things can get heated, especially when one has to rely on the old note-leaving thing, and it doesn’t help when they’re posted on some server in Cupertino or wherever and getting a couple of hundred hits a day, either. Things did, indeed, get heated, heated to an extent far beyond anything Gawker or most of the civilized world‘s ever seen. Two of the posters ended up having an affair and then a nasty breakup when the girl switched to sleeping with a different roomie and leaving him heated mash notes on the blog for all to see and then deciding she might be lesbian after all, since it was “less work”. But this was as nothing compared to the drama when a clueless outsider appeared and the talk on the blog was all, should we let him post or not, and all he doesn’t know and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, but then ultimately it became clear to everyone that, as much as they were having a blast ragging on him in the blog, it was just not practical to have one roomie so out of the loop, so they looped him in.
And at that point the blog began to get, in the way that blogs that are microcosms of society will eventually get, a little bit of what you’d call media attention.
At which point, the blog owner made a new Page explaining that this was the blog of a person with multiple personality disorder and it was the way that all the various personalities, who obviously could not communicate face-to-face, would keep in touch. The blogger said, I am a person who is like this; some people consider it a disorder, but I’ve recognized it and learned ways to manage things so that while the situation isn’t resolving to anything approaching normalcy, it’s working for us. So the rest of you can just fuck off.
Which I thought was pretty damn sane.
Which brings us, in a roundabout way, to Boytaurs. See, Furries are one thing, and costumes are all very amusing for awhile and so on, but the thing about Boytaurism, if I may coin a term, is that it refuses to be constrained at all. You’re not zipped into some cheap fursuit that smells faintly of chemicals and strongly of the guy who sold it to you on eBay. You’re not wearing a corset you can’t wait to rip off at the end of the night. Boytaurs and their ilk exist completely online; they are avatars in the purest sense of the word. You can literally be any form you want in the boytaur universe, although you’re obviously going to be more popular if you have a face like Orlando Bloom and a body like David Beckham (with some extra legs or a tail or whatever). And you know what? You can have those things. Who needs a magic wand when you’ve got photoshop, eh? Zeta Male no more, in the universe of your own creation.
So, what is a boytaur?
boy·taur \’boi-tawr\ n 1 : a guy with four (or more) legs 2 : a guy with any of a variety of multilimb or other transformations 3 : a guy who enjoys the company of boytaurs, and is thus a boytaur in spirit
There’s something wildly, almost primally, attractive about a guy with four legs: the crowding of long, sculpted thigh muscle, the four calf muscles bobbing and working in rhythm with his four-legged walk, the four strong male feet supporting his powerful boytaur body. Boytaurs know this attraction well, and it is our constant joy, both to have and to share.
Of course, many boytaurs don’t stop with four legs. Some add more legs, going six-legged or more. Some add extra arms. And many, enjoying all their boytaur feet, decide to go wristfooted as well.
Other boytaurs have completely different transformations, or none at all, but are still boytaurs in spirit, enjoying their augmented bodies, and sharing that joy freely. boytaur.net is dedicated to helping that sharing go on across the internet, all around the world.
Brought to you via AtomicFez, the only person on the internet whose surfing habits are even stranger than mine.
raincoaster 