Yellow and Black Do Not Mix As Evidenced by Our Grandparents and Bees

Let me just start this out by saying there was a column in AsianWeek, "The Voice of Asian America." by this Asian guy, Ken. It was called "Why I Hate Blacks."

Eng's "reasons" for hating black people include:

-- "Blacks hate us. Every Asian who has ever come across them knows that they take almost every opportunity to hurl racist remarks at us."
-- "Contrary to media depictions, I would argue that blacks are weak-willed. They are the only race that has been enslaved for 300 years."
-- "Blacks are easy to coerce. This is proven by the fact that so many of them, including the Rev. Al Sharpton, tend to be Christians."

I don't want to get to involved in this because, well, we all know it happens all the time. I'm just surprised they printed it...for black history month. And that on Drew Curtis's Fark they described the news item:
"Asian corumnist wites wacist articre about bracks"
Which is an equally bitchy move.

To move away from the crap, let's look at what global warming has done for us instead. Now that all the polar ice caps are melting, scientists are finding all sort of cool fishies and such. Makes me wonder, do they make good sushi? Cause they look like good eatin.


Hmm. Maybe we are still on this whole Asian thing. We do like the taste of raw fish. And having koi ponds and such. And we do think fish are lucky. And that is why we eat them with reckless abandon.

So as a rebuttal for the Asian-hating-Black issue, I will leave you with a few comments and you can duke it out for yourselves.

1. The chair of ethnic studies at UC Berkeley said in response to Kenneth Eng (Also author of "Why Whites Inherently Hate Us." and "Why I Hate Asians") that Asian-Americans cannot underestimate the impact the African American struggle had on paving the way for other minorities in US history.

2. A friend of mine was watching basketball one day, and her Chinese grandmother says" Why do you even bother watching? They're so dark you can't even see them."

3.

BEIJING (Reuters) - A Chinese businessman has advertised on the Internet for a stand-in mistress to be beaten up by his wife to vent her anger and to protect his real mistress, Chinese media reported on Monday.

"When the woman found out her husband had a mistress, she insisted on beating her up," the Beijing Youth Daily said, citing the advertisement posted on a popular online jobs forum on sina.com.

More than 10 people had applied for the job, the newspaper said. The "successful" candidate would be 35 and originally from northeastern China and would be paid 3,000 yuan ($400) per 10 minutes, it said.

Many Chinese businessmen keep mistresses in second homes, a trend banished after the Communists swept to power in 1949 but which has made a comeback with market reforms in recent decades.

CLEARLY, WE HATE EVERYONE.
But especially women.
We like misogyny greatly.
But even women hate women.
So maybe that's just universal.
Or women suck.
Or men suck.
And that is why I love the period.
Not the puncuational kind.
The hormonal kind.
It's sticky.
In a figurative way.
In my brain.
More on that later.

Have you heard the story of the Chinese empress that cut off all the limbs off one the Emperor's concubines, put her in a large urn, and then kept her in prison, only to bring her out on occasion so she could spit venomous remarks in her face?

Where is my mistress? I would like to offer her up for you to beat her. Don't worry. Asians love pain. Remember. Oranges in a towel or tube sock will cause a nice amount of internal damage without bruising. Cause I would still like my mistress to be purdy.

We love appearances.

And money.
But within reason. $10/hour.
Affordable price for good time. I don't take personal checks. Cash only. Or PayPal.

Have I told you we are very tech saavy as well?

Random Happenstance: Water Cooler Talk at Happy Fun Kitty Heaven

So, let's get a little personal since I never really do and just rant about random news items instead.

Here are some strange musings that have occurred in the span of an hour.

My strange friend, we'll name he/she "D," had a conversation. Also, when I call someone strange it can be one of three things. 1. A term of endearment. 2. A compliment of sorts when you really have nothing else to say. It's more interesting than "Interesting." and of course, 3. Honestly batshit crazy.

We had a quick Google conversation about the colloquialism (Wow, I spelled that correctly on the first try. It's not that complicated but it looks it. Appearances mean a lot and you know it.) Ok, let me try that again. I have a tendency to get a little off track. We had a discussion about the phrase "American as Apple Pie."

As it turns out, apple pie, is not American, which really isn't a very big surprise. Here is the rest of the conversation verbatim.

D: is apple pie american?
me: i actually have no idea
11:29 AM D: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apple_pie#Apple_pie_in_American_culture
looks like apple pie was invented in england?
hmm.. a recipe from 1381.. i wonder if it's any good
no sugar tho :p
me: "america" was also invented by england.
11:30 AM D: america was soooo not invented by england
me: uhm.
11:31 AM me: pretty much.
D: it was invented by americans!
the british colony was invented by britain
me: no, we wiped out most of the native folk
and by we I mean white people
Dennis: no, we wiped out the INJUNS
i'm not white!

Right before then, I went to the Deli and the Korean guy who was serving me soup, nice guy, mind you, says to me "It takes a lot of balls for an Asian man to have that haircut." To which I replied "Uh...ha. Thanks." and proceeded to pay the $3.50 for a large soup and free bread (I usually take the one with olives and rosemary in it. Warm tasty goodness.) He filled the cup extra chunky. Good man. Good man.

And of course, right before then I Googled a list of influential Asian Americans. You get your usual suspects...Maxine Hong, Jessica Hagedorn, IM Pei, Yo-Yo Ma (who kind of looks like the soup man at the deli.) The surprising thing was that the list of Asian-American business men and scientists were pretty short. Threw me for a loop. Hey, I can't help but function in blanket stereotypes and generalizations sometimes.

So that was my morning. Not all that fascinating. So I leave you with this last quip.

There is a Japanese TV show where these people in Tokyo are challenged to live for a month off 10,000 Yen. That roughly converts to $82.74 by today's exchange rate. (I checked.) You pay for your food and what not and then at the end of the month, they calculate and subtract your utility fees. One guy had a live chicken hatching eggs.

Gotta love the Japanese.

Nosferatu Family Vacay: The Undead Indestructible Gay Meth Queen Slips into Dar Es Salaam. And a Little More to Boot(y).

Continuing news filtering in from the animal kingdom -

Breaking news? Not really. But it broke a few things, mainly my steely exterior of undeniable fortitude. And now, as a result, I have a grin that stretches across my face like that newscaster lady in the first Batman starring Michael Keaton, Kim Basinger, and the ultimate joker of all time - Jack Nicholson.

Let's see if Heath Ledger is up to scratch. (He's going to be the new Joker for those of you who aren't keeping up on the comic agenda.) Heath, let it be known that if you fail, which you might because broody Christian Bale Batman is so much cooler than you, I will eat your baby. Mathilda Rose, or Baby-Lou Eatme or whatever the fuck antiquated name you and your hipster wife named her while you skated on your skateboard in Brooklyn with a big ole hemp beanie on your noggin. Might I remind you that before people thought you were legitimate, you graced the screens as a turd-monkey jouster and a priest who liked the feeling of that thing up your butt. (What thing is it? Multiple choice for all! A. Broomstick B. Crucifix C. Jesus D. The Hand of God)

Anyway, back to my original plan of attack. Here is a new news item from the BBC. I think it shows a lot of journalistic integrity.

Men in parts of Tanzania's main city, Dar es Salaam, are living in fear of a night-time sex attacker.

A BBC correspondent says the attacks are being blamed by some on a demon called "Popo Bawa" meaning winged bat.

Some men are staying awake or sleeping in groups outside their homes. Others are smearing themselves with pig's oil, believing this repels attacks.

Reports of the demon's existence have been common for many years in Zanzibar, where locals claim it originated.

The BBC's John Ngahyoma in Dar es Salaam says not many people actually believe that the demon exists and there have been no sightings.

But Mbaruku Ibrahim, who hails from Zanzibar, says the story of the demon is common there and people in his village on Pemba island sleep beside a huge fire outside their houses whenever it is said to appear.

The story goes that the bat is able to transform itself into a man at night and it has also been blamed for rapes of women.

Sheikh Yahya Hussein, a prominent astrologer in Tanzania, claims that the demon is a spirit that is unleashed by witches to torment their opponents.

Belief in witchcraft and superstitions is widespread in Tanzania, especially in rural areas.

So, check it, first off, the BBC is posting news about an evil Transmogrified Man Raping Bat. That has to make you wonder if FOX News might, just might, be a little more legitimate than we previously assumed. I know, a little far fetched but think about Mr. Ledger and then answer the question truthfully. Ok, yeah, I see your point.

Secondly, the men are afraid of getting it up the butt. So they decided to sleep in groups with each other? In Pig's oil? I think there's more than meets the eye. Something tells me an old White wrinkly colonial Freemason started a conspiracy many years ago so that men could fuck each other under the guise of an ass demon. If you hold a blacklight on the victims you'll find the next clue. Or cumstains. or both. or cumstains in the shape of a clue. Or a clue in the cumstain. Either way, Tom Hanks, you know you love it.

Thirdly, "the story of the demon is common." Do I really need to say more?

Now for a little sex ed. (And I am not your gym teacher. But I am friends with many "Friends of Gym Teachers" if you get my drift, but that's not the point.)

Anal intercourse is not a gay thing. According to Wikipedia, anal sex is "often used to mean the insertion of the penis into the rectum." Furthermore,

There is a common misconception that anal sex is practised almost exclusively by gay men, but this is not true. It is thought that an estimated one third of male couples do not include anal intercourse in their lovemaking. About one third of heterosexual couples try it from time to time. It is thought that about 10 per cent of heterosexual couples have anal intercourse as a regular feature of their lovemaking. In absolute numbers, it is hypothesized that more heterosexual couples have anal sex than homosexual couples.

As all people should know is that when it comes to anal penetration, you have the option of using a synthetic penetration device - whether you are on the receiving or giving end. Or both.

Just remember, if you are curious, just take it slow and safe. And you will be a happy man, woman, intersex, trans, MTF, FTM individual. (At some point, there are just too many to include to be inclusive.)

For more info regarding safe anal play, visit babeland to seek out a good introductory guide

For your amusement regarding the stupidity of the world, visit here or here.

BUT! The Bat demon knows all the intricacies of analplay: He's all inclusive! "It has also been blamed for rapes of women." The main thing it forgets is the whole notion of consent.

BUT! If the Bat is an animal, then technically the human end is committing bestial sodomy, so really, who is the victim?

Ahh, all these conundrums in life brought forth by one little article about a horny Tanzanian bat (or man wearing bat wings made of canvas.)

We ask, in conclusion, are you enriched? Can YOU get a PopoZao? If you know what I'm referencing, then it's time the Popo Bawa pays a visit in your bunghole. Or it's time to get all Popo Bawa on your ass.

I slay me. And my Joker grin lives on.

Whole Heartedly Sad Day in the Wildlife Kingdom Threatens My Existence.

It's been a long while since I posted. Mainly because I got a holiday and I'm not at work. But now i'm back. This was the last post but it might be a tad strained.

New Fangled Ideas!
Twenty years ago, a lonely animal lover watched penguins fluff some feathers and decided that there was something more to this...

Valentine's Day is the time of year when zoos around the nation seek to woo a new adult audience with risque tours that couple champagne, chocolate-covered strawberries and candlelight dining with impressive facts about how animals do the wild thing.

Credit for the concept goes to Jane Tollini, a former penguin keeper at the San Francisco Zoo. Tollini conceived the idea two decades ago while watching her penguins' courtship ritual, which culminates in what she describes as "bowling pins making love."

SAMPLE ANIMAL FACTS:

Male pigs have a unique corkscrew endowment and impressive, um, output; manatees have orgies and don't really care if their partners are male or female; and a male porcupine has only one four-hour window a year to mate.

Also, apparently, male manatees aren't really particular about what hole or what partner to stick it in. And porcupines do it cautiously. Can't get pricked with the wrong thing.

Uhm, guys. This is common knowledge. No? Just me? Damn.

Furthermore, some of these Valentine's Day Dirty Animals Get It On Packages have planned events where for example the guy side of the date (if were are assuming the whole hetero-normative thing) can participate in a mating danceoff. Which is equal parts awesome and sad, I think.

Picture it. Guys, doing their white boy over(under?)bite (for some reason, I feel like this event adheres to a predominantly white frat boy aesthetic.) trying to get the women all hot and bothered. Next thing we know is that they'll just walk up on stage quietly and calmly and just whip it out. No. Too evolved and coordinated...maybe in a few more hundred thousand years...yes, we'll still be going to zoos to watch animals do it then.

The human race is moving in an onwards and upwards direction.

How the hell did they get this oh so genius idea? (Me, sitting in my apartment naked, watching the National Geographic channel.)

Oh. Alright, I'm penciling it in.

Your Childhood Foodstuffs are Coming Back to Haunt You in So Many Ways. They say Boo.

First spinach rears it's ugly head with E. Coli
Then spring Onions in Taco Bell (Or maybe it's just Taco Bell)
And now Salmonella in Peter Pan Peanut Butter.
Steven Colbert in Ben and Jerry's..but that sounds like a tasty morsel.

But really, who in their right mind eats Peter Pan Peanut Butter. You know as a kid it was all about the crunchy Jif.

And I'm almost certain that there is a scientific link between the consumption of creamy peanut butter and serial killers. Who likes it smooth? Ted Bundy, Son of Sam, John Wayne Gacy Jr. (of particular note) loved it smooth, that's who.

So if you want to one day raise children to become evil deathspawn, give them the smooth stuff and Poof you'll have 30 dead bodies hidden in the rafters.

Speaking of other things that don't belong, I give you this news item from the AP.

NEW YORK - Anne Frank's father tried to arrange U.S. visas for his family before they went into hiding, but his efforts were hampered when Allied and Axis countries tightened immigration policies, according to papers released Wednesday.

Otto Frank also sent desperate letters to friends and family in the U.S. pleading for help with immigration costs as the family tried to escape the Nazi-occupied Netherlands.

Now you see, Anne, dear Anne, you realize that because we didn't want you in the US, you hid in an attic and wrote in your little diary about sickness and youthful hope and tortured generations of grade schoolers who dribbled snot and coughed on mass produced copies of your diary and didn't think twice about the fact that you were rotting away like the John Wayne Gacy's boys and then grumbled at the fact that they didn't want to read your filthy diary and just wanted to go home and play the Nintendo? I didn't think so. You hurt us so good. If this were a Sado-masochist convention, you would win the grandaddy of all prizes. Or a lifetime achievement award. That's impressive for a sheltered 15 year old chick.

Currently listening to: John Cougar Mellencamp's "Hurt So Good"

(Did you also recognize the parallel that this news item was pretty unannounced and hidden like the Frankster until my Nazi-self found it sitting in some random news website which is like the proverbial attic? I deserve a medal. Made of children.)

Editor's note: The views stated above do not reflect the writer's genuine views on the Holocaust, Nazi Germany, or the horrible tragic events that occurred during the time period, which include but are not limited to: Jewish people in ovens, Homosexuals having their brains dissected, and the beginnings of equating masculinity with German women.

Annelies Marie Frank (b.June 12 1929 - d.March 1945) succumbed to typhus in the Bergen-Belsen Concentration Camp. May she in all sincerity rest in peace.

Accompanying articles: Nut Butter
Franks' Grilled Franks Family BBQ (I know. Inappropriate. I apologize.)

Addendum RE: Vasectomy-related Dementia and Femi-nazi Castration Tactics

In response to my statement that women should not castrate men for fear of ending up with a swarm of demented drones I say this:

I suppose it would be easier to manipulate large masses of ball-less blubbering idiots off a cliff like in that game "Lemmings." Game on! Remember the Sheep bomb? Classic.

Furthermore, if you do feel the urge to castrate the men in your life, please remember to send a memento to honor the moment the nuts go flying. You can purchase a pair of nuts for his SUV, Flatbed truck, or sports coupe here.

BUT! May you be warned. If you come within inches of my nuts with a sharp implement, I will counteract with the meat carving knife sitting on the magnetic knife strip in my kitchen. Ah, nothing like the joys of simulated bourgeois life to purge oneself of 4 years of social justice laden schoolyard antics.

Some knives - Santoku, paring, cleaver, bowie. All good for slicing off a piece of that. So back off, bitch. I cut you.

Bowie knife...Bowie...David Bowie...The Labyrinth...nut-centric.

For the full article on the case of the Missing Nutless Crazies, please visit these nutjobs (Reuters)

Also: to return to happier times,
To roast your own 8 to 10 servings of nuts in the comforts of your own home:
1 1/2 to 2 lb whole chestnuts in shell
1 teaspoon vegetable oil
1/4 cup water

Special equipment: a chestnut knife (optional); a large heavy skillet (preferably cast-iron) with a lid

Make a large X in each chestnut with chestnut knife or a sharp paring knife, cutting through shell. Toss chestnuts with oil in a bowl.

Heat dry skillet over moderately low heat until hot, then roast chestnuts in skillet on stovetop, covered, stirring every few minutes, for 15 minutes total.

Add water and continue to roast, covered, stirring occasionally, until water is evaporated and chestnuts are tender, about 5 minutes more. Serve hot.

HOT NUTS! HAPPY VD!

Buyer Beware: Kid Safe Scissors Can Still Cause a Painful Snip Snip

Dear friends,

It has come to my attention today that, unfortunately for all the femi-nazi gestapos that I had the privilege of attending school with, the male sex does in fact think with their external genitalia. So all of you out there who thought men should be castrated to be clear headed or whatever, I present you this case. Now, let it be known that I am aware that most experimental studies have their fallouts, inconsistencies, and inconclusiveness, which is the science equivalent of "Dude, I suck my best friend off when we're drunk, but that doesn't mean I'm not, I mean, doesn't mean I'm gay."

Straight from the horse's mouth (and by horse I mean press and by press I also mean piggish man. Yeah! Cooter is the fine fruit of the masses! Taste the succulent! Without an anatomical nutbag in our way, FEMALE can rise above the patriarchal society that holds us down! May all men burn in hell, NEIN!, die slow grisly deaths from pus-seeping Ghonnerea!) Sorry, got carried away by all the propaganda.

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - Men who have had a vasectomy may face an increased risk of developing a rare type of dementia marked by a steady loss of language skills, researchers said on Tuesday.

Researchers at Northwestern University in Illinois, writing in the journal Cognitive and Behavioral Neurology, linked this male sterilization surgery to a neurological condition called primary progressive aphasia, or PPA.

Therefore, let it be said that if we are to lose our balls, we could potentially prove to lose the little cognitive function we possess. So don't roast our nuts, coddle them. Fondle them like you would a baby giraffe.

Harlot! You Deserve a Good Whipping For Not Explaining Yourself to the Fullest Extent.

The birds you see in the previous post are called...wait for it...

BOOBIES!

Oh yeah, and carrots it seems, also can be made into warships.
Once again, who is surprised?

Japan = Bilk
Scotland = Fibers extracted from carrots that can be made into warships and fishing rods.

Okay, I'm surprised.

ANS? Still biting it.

Drink Bilk It Does a Body Good and Wasted. Clever Japanese People Are At It Again

In the news, a small liquor shop/brewery in Hokkaido, Japan released a new drink: Bilk.
From Reuters:

Nakahara's new brew, "Bilk" -- a combination of "milk" and "beer" -- is about 30 percent milk. It also contains hops, and the production process does not differ much from that of regular beer, he said.

His shop started selling Bilk, which apart from a slight milky scent looks and tastes like ordinary beer, on February 1 after spending about six months developing the product with a local brewer.

Now we can have strong bones and damaged livers! Awesome. Although there might not be any nutritional value after the brewing...so...we have damaged livers. And thus we ask, has anything really changed at all?

It does entice me to do a little gastronomic home experiment. This is the challenge for you. (If I involve you in some excitement, it makes you more likely to do stupid shit for me.)

Take a pint of beer of your choice (I would recommend a dark beer.) Pour it in a glass 70% full, then fill the remaining 30% with whole milk. Taste it. If you live to see the day, and it tastes pretty good, I'll financially back your endeavors and start marketing it at some suburban kid's lemonade stand. We'll make a killing. Fruity fun in the Sun! (Bilk apparently tastes fruity. I'm not saying completely unfounded nonsense all the time. Although, one must admit that as you read these entries you ask: Does he, in fact, have Tourette's? I'll never tell.)

While we are on the topic of milk, it seems that the top news of the day at The Sun in the British Isles, are two equally lame things.

1. Robbie williams is in rehab. He was in a boyband. (Pasty, white, like milk.)
2. British girls apparently have the largest average boob size in Europe. Which can only mean one thing-- in the evolutionary long run of things, all people gain one evolutionary advantage. Heightened brain function, honed mental capacity, increased muscle dexterity, quicker neural synapses, and bigger boobs to distract from all the ugly.

And Anna Nicole is still dead.

Now I Have a Crick in my Neck From Looking At the Asian Folk On an 11 Degree Diagonal

HAPPY CHINESE NEW YEAR: Feb 18. Year of the Pig. You know who you are.

Since we're on this subject, I give you this. You've seen it. You love it. You give birth to scaled fishy friends.

All the Slanty Eyed Folk Make Me Look at Things with a Perpetual Head Tilt

Let's just set something straight before I move forward on what I am about to say. I am Asian. Moving forward now. (By the way, the name of that picture is main_asian_baby.jpg which I enjoy.)

Back in 2002, I was living in North Adams, Massachusetts, which is basically the back water Berkshires all the way up in Western Mass. Just over the summer. When it rains. And is humid all the time. And I would walk to my internship at the contemporary art museum and rig a few things or hang lights...oh the good old days when I didn't have to sit in front of a computer all day long.

Anyway, on a lunch break, avoiding the Brewhaha (a sandwich/coffee shop. It was pretty good. I just hated the name. Who says that? Brouhaha. The offspring of incest, that's who. Which by the way, I heard a rumor that North Adams was the incest capital of the US. Let's think about this. 1. I find that hard to believe since it's in MA. 2. I probably heard it from a disgruntled intern at the museum...trust me. It's a small quiet town.)

Now this is where it all goes down. My friends and I were sitting in some random Chinese buffet because, well, we thought it was an okay idea at the time. or cheap. That's right. It was cheap.

All of a sudden out of nowhere like a bat out of hell, the door opens, the light breaks in in shafts, and a herd of little Asian children come charging in like a herd of... what was that movie with the strange furballs that eat people? Critters? It was kind of like that.

Here is the kicker. Behind all this little Asian children, (Yes, Asian, although most of them were little girls so I'm guessing they were from Mainland China. You know how that goes down.) Yes, behind all these Asian children come all of these White folk, that I can probably only assume to be the adoptive parents of these little Asian cannibals (We eats the dogs, it ain't much of a stretch. And if you have ever been to a mildly shady restaurant, I would say you have had your share of Old Yeller too.)

How twisted is that? As if once a week they would get together here at lunch time so that their Chinese Munchkins could get in touch with their cultural heritage? With a a crab rangoon?

On a similar note, can I just say that a crab rangoon is a deep fried wonton of sorts with crab and cream cheese. ( I found this out recently.) Asians don't really eat cheese. Americans eat cheese. Some Asians like cheese though, but the crab rangoon is a purely American thing. You can add fortune cookies to that mix.

Anyway, story time is over. Remember, if you have an adopted child, don't find stupid ways for them to get in touch with their culture. Babies have no culture except the one they were brought up in. And if you want to take them to their manufacturing country, please,, by all means, do so.

What was is that Angelina Jolie said once? Something along the lines of "I want to adopt a child from several different countries so they can grow up together and share their cultures with one another."

ARGH. If you have any doubts that Zahara and Maddox will smother Shiloh in her sleep then you're an optimistic wunderkind.

For more info on taking the child that doesn't look like you on vacation, click here

People at Your Job Make Your Job Tolerable So Rise From the Pits of Despair, Kiddos.

I stole this from another blog that took it from the Guardian. I know. Lame.

Edward Hallowell, a doctor in Massachusetts, said that a failure to switch off from work was driving stress levels up, a problem exacerbated by the modern addiction to gadgets such as Blackberrys. One patient asked if it was normal for her husband to put his Blackberry on the pillow while they made love. "Just as we learned how to drink responsibly, so we need to learn to use technology," he said.

Other research is slowly revealing some unusual tricks to relieve stress. Tests by George Preti at the Monell Chemical Senses Centre in Philadelphia found that female volunteers felt less tense after sniffing armpit sweat, although he has so far been unable to explain the discovery.

Oh yeah, Anna Nicole is dead.

I Demand a Recount, I's Got Eleven Toes, Not Your Standard Ten

This is the work of Thomas Demand, a German born photographer who creates environments with cardboard and paper and then photographs them.

The meticulous, obsessive nature is so evident in his photos - unsoiled, haunting vacuums of familiar environments.

It's perspective within perspective. A fully realized world captured within a second frame.

Go you.
I sound too serious. I don't like it.

Romeo and Juliet, Trapped in a Love Nest Outside Verona, Could Be Related

From the Associated Press.
It's pretty.
So I am sharing.
Just the image.
Not the sentiment.

Fossilization makes you want to cream sometimes. By you I mean me. And by sometimes I mean all the time. Although this might not be fossilized. Meh, it does the same thing.

Oh yeah! I guess this qualifies under dancing skeletons! CELEBRATE.

The Space Race: A Cosmonauts' Actions are Monitored by the Kremlin. An Astronauts' are a Whole Different Story

Lisa Nowak, astronaut, I'm sure you have heard, drove 900 miles in a diaper in attempts to kidnap her romantic rival, Air Force Captain Carolyn Shipman.

I was going to talk about how batshit crazy this chick is and don't get me wrong, it's not like I changed my mind about that but the prosecution just decided to make this an attempted murder case. Which is probably the right thing to do considering the knife and the mallet and the garbage bags and rope and the disguise she bought for herself - all in cash.

It's sad. For her husband (not the Spaceman who was her love interest) and her son, and her twin daughters. See? Marriage works!

But I think what I really want to talk about is this: This lady drove 900 miles in a diaper so that she could avoid bathroom breaks. A diaper. And the press says something along the lines of: Astronauts wear diapers in space all the time.

THE LADY AIN'T IN SPACE.

Although I guess if your name is Lisa Marie, you can't expect too much. The other famous one married Michael Jackson. Who is the real nutbag, you wonder?

Cause you know she probably wore diapers with him in Neverland.

Psychic Calls from the Other Side Usually Encounter a Busy Signal

So! A day after I posted something about faggots - the pork liver meatballs of the West Midlands in Great Britannia, we get some news of an actual case of faggotry (the food) and the perils of a person of the homosexual persuasion in a homophobic wasteland that is the world. Do you ever think, though, that maybe people take things a little too seriously? You decide. I'm just riding high on my moment of psychic clarity.

From The SUN

Pies and prejudice anyone?
By JOHN SCOTT
February 07, 2007

A PUB sparked fury by serving a ‘Barrymore Pie’ — and describing it on the menu as: “Faggots swimming in gravy.”

Gay rights groups called for the dish to be scrapped at Mad O’Rourke’s Pie Factory.

Peter Tatchell, co-founder of Outrage! said: “This may have been intended as a joke but homophobia is not a subject of fun in the same way racism is not appropriate for a joke.”

Customer Karin Thompson dropped plans to eat at the pub after reading the menu and wrote to the owner to complain.

She stormed: “It is an offensive use of language — a cheap jibe that is not even funny.”

But defiant boss Peter Towler vowed to keep the crusty favourite on his menu at the pub in Tipton, West Mids.

The 47-year-old said: “It’s been on the menu six years during which time I have had hundreds of thousands of customers and not a single complaint.

“Why don’t these people worry about something important — like the National Health Service.

“These people say this is not funny but their behaviour is turning it into a joke. I am sorry that they are upset but I will not be bullied.”

Mr Towler added: “I will not bow to this pressure. I sell about 100 Barrymore Pies a week. I suppose I could change its name to Politically Correct Pie.”

Faggots are a traditional meatball dish particularly popular in the West Midlands.

A party at comic Michael Barrymore’s Essex home in 2001 ended with guest Stuart Lubbock, 31, being found dead in a swimming pool.

Absolve Thyself from Unnatural Sin, Puppet. Although the Lord JC Hung Like A Puppet on the Cross...Alright. We Cool, We Cool.

Sometimes its hard to keep on top of themes or current features so here I return us to dancing skeletons. Anyone who knows me knows I have some sickly relationship with puppets. So, this is kind of appropriate. Enjoy. Or don't. I'm not sure I do. I'm so conflicted. Dancing skeleton = bliss. Dancing puppet = wrath. Dancing skeleton puppet = a lost lamb.



Puppets are always fucking dancing. Okay. I get it. Jiggling looks like dancing. Dancing is jiggling. It's simple. MR. Skeleton here is definitely more coordinated than most, but once you start buying into or reinforcing stereotypes, people will start shit. They'll be starting shit like...

"You ain't nothing but a dancing puppet."

or

" You like it up there, don't you, you fuckin' puppet."

or

"Puppet, PLEASE!"

So let's stop perpetuating the stereotypes, guys. The dance is evil. All puppets from around the world are asking you to help stop the dance. Except shadow puppets. They shady bitches.

Steaming Hot Faggots Smothered in Pea(s): It's What's For Dinner

The world is my favoritest place ever. And this is why.



Notice how faggots are produced and packaged by a company called Mr. Brain and served with a "rich West Country Sauce." It's these little details that slay me. After a little research, here's how you can create your very own faggot in the kitchen.

Ingredients

* pigs liver
* onions
* breadcrumbs
* suet
* chopped sage
* salt
* pepper

1. Mince the liver and onions together into a mixing bowl.
2. Add the breadcrumbs, suet, and sage, and season with salt and pepper according to taste. Ensure that enough breadcrumbs are added such that the mixture can be shaped.
3. Shape the mixture into balls and place onto a greased oven tin.
4. Bake in an oven for approximately 30 minutes.

The juices in the tin can be combined with boiling water and flour to make gravy to accompany the faggots.

I think it is safe to say that we are privy to the fact that faggots are shaped like balls. Many thanks to the Faggot family. Please refer to the BBC

Law and Order: Special Victims Unit: Jerry Orbach and the Case of the Missing Optical Organs

Okay, I know this is old news but I figure something is worth mentioning if and when every single time you see this advertisement you feel a little funny inside. Breaking it down in fractions - One fifth disturbed, one fifth intrigued, one fifth in amazement that this was the campaign they decided to go with, and two fifths mild embarrassment from the semi-hard you're sporting from witnessing this work of sheer genius.

If an ad campaign about the death dealings of our beloved keeper of the NY Justice system can channel enough electricity to spark that slight tinge of excitement and arousal, then they must be doing something right.

Or perhaps its just the talk about eyes.

OCULOLINCTUS: Look it up. Lick it up.

On a more serious note, a donated organ can be used to save lives that are unfortunately cut short. You can visit the government for more information.

However, if you are seriously religious then this probably isn't an option afforded to you. Or if you are a chain-smoking booze hound. Or a meth addict. Or if you just aren't in great shape. Still, it's always worth a shot.

Orbach staring at you from beyond the pearly gates would agree. The subway smells a little less like old cheese today.

Drinking OJ is Forever Tainted by the Memory of Nicole Brown Lying Dead on the Kitchen Floor. And Now I Love it More Than Ever. Bottoms Up!

It was brought to my attention that I had something very specific to discuss but suffice it to say, I forget.

Papercuts hurt like a mother.

Perhaps, while we are on the subject of tainted goods, I will begin with a few tainted things.

Modern dance. Tainted forever by the silly screeching noises of experimental music which ultimately end up sounding like a cat in heat peeing through the pain of a urinary tract infection atop a steel drum being scratched up as it writhes through the supreme hurt of a burning pee.

Steel drums. Tainted forever by white boys with dreads. And the sound of steel drums.

A Liberal Arts education. Tainted forever by the overwhelming population of kids with trust funds who think they know everything there is to know and like to quote Borges and are constantly in a fight to the death for having the most eclectic tastes in music and rightly and firmly believe in anti-establishment and anti-capitalism while sitting around in a room smoking an eighth of $60 weed bought from a delivery service out of a $100 glass bong and then watching pretty screensaver patterns on their laptops.

I pushed that one a bit far.

Lou Gehrig. Tainted forever by the disease.

Jesus. Tainted forever by religion.

Condi Rice. Tainted forever by birth.

Theater.

Taint. Tainted forever by the word "taint"

Swimming pools. Tainted forever by the urge to pee in the water to stay warm.

And yet, we love them for their flaws. Except for Condi. She can go.

In an ideal world. I will be watching dance-theater to the strains of electronic music, rubbing Jesus' taint in the swimming pool while discussing Nietzsche as we laugh and chortle like little girls witnessing Condi Rice twitching from Lou Gehrig's disease (Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis)

A progressive, fatal neurodegenerative disease caused by the degeneration of motor neurons.

Once again, a bit far. But this is the place to do it.

And let's cherish this moment with a critical milestone in history.

Monkey Spackle: Spank Your Monkey Ways Right Out Onto the Floor - $3.95 with Proof of Purchase

Thinking back on the good old days, of dancing skeletons and 16bit computer games, one always comes to mind - Monkey Island. Young Guybrush Threepwood comes to Pirate Island in search for Monkey Island, an isle of insurmountable treasures. Standing in his way is the Pirate Captain LeChuck. It doesn't really sound all that entertaining when you talk about it like this but all I know is that if one of the objectives in the game is to steal a large basset hound from a house and smuggle it away by shoving him down your pants, then you have yourself a pretty sweet deal.

But, this is about one of our favorite cultural (alas, not my culture) icons, the dancing skeleton. See below for details.



This post is probably just a personal fetish but I figured I can make an appeal to other like minded fools.

Although Not November 1st, (Dia de los Muertos, you gringos) Commemorate with Dancing Skeletons!!

We open the festivities with a little video by Miho Hatori, the singing half of disbanded Alt-something group Cibo Matto. This is her single, Barracuda, off her solo album, Ecdysis. Brilliant album and album title. See below for definition, courtesy of Merriam-Webster online. I love you.



Main Entry: ec·dy·sis
Pronunciation: \ˈek-də-səs\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural ec·dy·ses
Etymology: New Latin, from Greek ekdysis act of getting out, from ekdyein to strip, from ex- + dyein to enter, don
Date: circa 1854

: the act of molting or shedding an outer cuticular layer

HOW COOL IS THAT? Skeletons and arthropodic shedding! My life is complete. No, too bold. My life has been handed the hall pass so that I can take a piss and wander the halls for a few sweet minutes.

More skeletones later, cajones.

Calendar Happyness, or, if you like, Jesus Saves, You Heathen

IT'S FEBRUARY!

And can someone explain to me why in that book about the struggling homeless dude with a child it's spelled "Happyness?"

You know when you read a book (Novel idea, I know. Hey...that's a pun.) and then they come out with a movie it's practically impossible to shake the image of the actor as the character in the book when you think about it[the book] in the future? Or, God forbid, go back and read the book again? Reading? Really.

I think we can all say for sure that when you read the Bible [THE book,] Jesus doesn't look like Jim Cavahsomething (The Passion of the Christ, 2004, also known as the guy from failed J.Lo vehicle Angel Eyes and the airline clerk from My Private Idaho [Internet Movie Database, James Caviezel]) but from now on when you're sitting in your church pew, Jesus/Jim will be the one who is speaking to you from way on high. And judging from his past role with Gus Van Sant, we can safely assume he is also a gay.

In reality, which is, given, very, very detached from religion, Jesus probably looks/looked (Do any of us know for sure?) more like [insert famous Israeli/Middle Eastern tv/film star here. I'm shooting blanks...drawing a blank.]

Or Will Smith.

Thank you and good day. February First. First Day. End of Days.

Damn you, Jimmy. You could have given me the heads up.

(You know...end of days...damn you jesus....jim caviezel...
jimmy...damn you, jimmy...end of days... no? Forget it.)

Emo is not my Native Country but I Speak the Language of its People Well

From my last recording:

"Gathering the wax from my ears to mould tealights so that you and I can wax nostalgic and talk about the future in the flickering glow. Forever."