Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Everyman's social science
One man's emetic is another man's fetish. A third man's fetish is another man's ejecta.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Bring your scepter, bring your thunderbolt
Ray Manzarek, Solar Boat. From album The Golden Scarab, 1974.
Monday, October 26, 2009
How to masturbate a crab, part 2
Missing the connection? Try harder, people.(warning: connection may not exist)
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Smart little hat
via fed by birds
"The costume for the Wolf was a glorious mix of realism and imagination, the mask intensely realistic, allied to a chain-mail tunic and tights, with a very smart little hat. This wolf's head was a superb example of animal headdress-making. It was devised by the great mask-maker Rostislav Doboujinsky"
"The costume for the Wolf was a glorious mix of realism and imagination, the mask intensely realistic, allied to a chain-mail tunic and tights, with a very smart little hat. This wolf's head was a superb example of animal headdress-making. It was devised by the great mask-maker Rostislav Doboujinsky"
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Feast of the Circumcision
St. Catherine of Siena reportedly wore the foreskin of Jesus as a ring on her finger.
Austrian nun Agnes Blannbekin (1244-1315) became obsessed by the holy foreskin, dwelling on the loss of blood and pain Christ must have suffered during his circumcision. Such thoughts led her to a revelation. While celebrating the Feast of the Circumcision (traditionally held on January 1), Agnes suddenly "felt the Lord's foreskin on her tongue, thin as the membrane of an egg, and swallowed it with great sweetness 'about a hundred times'. Christ then revealed to her that his foreskin had been resurrected with him on Easter." Because of this revelation, Blannbekin's writings were banned by the church.
Then there's this: the 17th century theologian Leo Allatius, in an essay, "De Praeputio Domini Nostri Jesu Christi Diatriba," he speculated "that the holy foreskin may have ascended into heaven at the same time as Jesus himself, and might have become the rings of Saturn."
Excerpted from "The Circumcision of Jesus Christ," Journal of Urology, 2007
Austrian nun Agnes Blannbekin (1244-1315) became obsessed by the holy foreskin, dwelling on the loss of blood and pain Christ must have suffered during his circumcision. Such thoughts led her to a revelation. While celebrating the Feast of the Circumcision (traditionally held on January 1), Agnes suddenly "felt the Lord's foreskin on her tongue, thin as the membrane of an egg, and swallowed it with great sweetness 'about a hundred times'. Christ then revealed to her that his foreskin had been resurrected with him on Easter." Because of this revelation, Blannbekin's writings were banned by the church.
Then there's this: the 17th century theologian Leo Allatius, in an essay, "De Praeputio Domini Nostri Jesu Christi Diatriba," he speculated "that the holy foreskin may have ascended into heaven at the same time as Jesus himself, and might have become the rings of Saturn."
Excerpted from "The Circumcision of Jesus Christ," Journal of Urology, 2007
Don't touch my neck!
"Transported from New Orleans to Paris by a Capuchin in 1727, this squirrel aroused much curiosity and amusement at the French court, where, according to this manuscript, "its favorite thing was to jump onto the Ladys' necks and hide." By virtue of its small body and beautiful coat, the squirrel had a seductive effect on the courtisans."
--courtesy of Ruth
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Absolut Tampon
"Whether anyone is actually boozing in this fashion, the rumor has become attached to the Scottish rock band Mogwai. According to lore, while trapped in a European tour environment where hooch was hard to come by, the band members soaked tampons in vodka and inserted them into their rectal cavities in order to facilitate the swift and efficient entry of the small available stock of alcohol into their bloodstreams. The group maintains they never did this, and the belief that they did arose from an innocent conversation with a journalist in which mere discussion of the practice was subsequently misremembered by that reporter as the group's having claimed to have participated in the activity themselves." via
literary aspirations
Found in a photocopier in the Political Science department at the University of Pennsylvania ca. 2005:
"Perhaps it was simply the evolutionary dominance of more quantitative approaches, reeking of nomothetic reasoning, intentionality, and equilibriums, wielding their calculus and parsimony like astringents in order to weed out and straight-jacket as many variables as possible, shrinking them down into their elements like germs at the bottom of a bathtub, rubbing out the residues of culture and methodological incompetence as if human character were a type-error to be corrected with shorter, crisper wording, algebra and binges of linguistic monotony. Certainly the discipline of politics had grown curt and paranoid, sucking in its lips as the taste of anything that resembled the raw, unspeakable nature of a gristling lust, preferring to severe such sentiment at the root, pretending that any such heathens delighting in the hedonistic antics of more literary pursuits were somehow so defiled with subjectivity that their theoretical barometers were rendered impotent, if not sterile, as is the fate of the more nihilistic spirals of pomo, critical theory, etc..."
"We'd dated briefly the year before. His was a lithe frame, toned through genetic luck, thick mane on top and sparsely populated with a few wiry tufts of hair from the waist down, and otherwise as smooth and as pale as an albino baby. His goatee appeared unattended, and his clothes draped his slimness the way they hang effortlessly on models in fashion magazines."
"Beowolf and the Canterbury tales were enough for a lifetime. If I was going to read any poetry that old it was going to be in Hindi, Urdu or Persian. Old English didn't float my boat. The idea of being sequestered in such a class alone gave me a feeling of literary eczema."
"Perhaps it was simply the evolutionary dominance of more quantitative approaches, reeking of nomothetic reasoning, intentionality, and equilibriums, wielding their calculus and parsimony like astringents in order to weed out and straight-jacket as many variables as possible, shrinking them down into their elements like germs at the bottom of a bathtub, rubbing out the residues of culture and methodological incompetence as if human character were a type-error to be corrected with shorter, crisper wording, algebra and binges of linguistic monotony. Certainly the discipline of politics had grown curt and paranoid, sucking in its lips as the taste of anything that resembled the raw, unspeakable nature of a gristling lust, preferring to severe such sentiment at the root, pretending that any such heathens delighting in the hedonistic antics of more literary pursuits were somehow so defiled with subjectivity that their theoretical barometers were rendered impotent, if not sterile, as is the fate of the more nihilistic spirals of pomo, critical theory, etc..."
"We'd dated briefly the year before. His was a lithe frame, toned through genetic luck, thick mane on top and sparsely populated with a few wiry tufts of hair from the waist down, and otherwise as smooth and as pale as an albino baby. His goatee appeared unattended, and his clothes draped his slimness the way they hang effortlessly on models in fashion magazines."
"Beowolf and the Canterbury tales were enough for a lifetime. If I was going to read any poetry that old it was going to be in Hindi, Urdu or Persian. Old English didn't float my boat. The idea of being sequestered in such a class alone gave me a feeling of literary eczema."
Hungry Hungry Hair Weave
On tumbleweaves: A haiku
I skeeve the weaves that
gather like autumn leaves in
our ass-haired city
for this one you need your imagination
Dr. Peter Hughes of Trinford (1862-1908), in addition to his humdrum duties as a smalltown medical practitioner, was also an enthusiastic amateur taxidermist who constructed a vast quantity of novel and elaborately detailed tableaux featuring dressed and posed stuffed animals.
Dr. Hughes favoured the recreation of scenes from literature and fable, and current events, and his tableaux were immensely popular for a short while, being featured in contemporary popular publications such as Pearson's Magazine, and The Strand Magazine and similar publications. His most well-known was his 'House of Commons', which featured over three hundred vigorously gesticulating rabbits and kittens (representing Liberals and Tories respectively), and which can still be seen by special request at the Trinford County Museum, while his monumental diorama, 'The Battle of Isandlwana' - which sacricifed no less than 112 black kittens to represent Cetewayo's Zulus - met with considerable popular acclaim.
But there was a darker side to Dr. Hughes' taxidermy, which did not come to public notice during his lifetime. He had a number of wealthy admirers of his work who were willing to pay handsomely for various 'special' tableaux to be constructed to their particular specifications. These custom works were never intended for general viewing, and included the following unconventional examples of the taxidermist's art:
* A series of dioramas inspired by De Sade's 'Juliette' in which the unfortunate heroine is represented by a tabby cat and her tormentors by sadistic rabbits, constructed for Lord Bangor, and sadly destroyed in 1917 by order of Lord Bangor's widow.
* Twelve scenes from the works of children's author Beatrix Potter, constructed for a Mr. Hertz of Iowa, which depicted the author's familiar squirrels and bunny rabbits being imaginatively abused by foxes and cats (five of these scenes are known to have survived, but have disappeared into private collections).*
*The author writes "I am informed that "The Ravishment of Miss Jemima Puddleduck" was sold at auction in 2002 in Columbus, Ohio, USA to an anonymous buyer who paid $3,500."
Excerpted from http://www.sottisier.co.uk/victoriana/hughes/index.html
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
dead people's letters
I went back over my mail and I blamed you for confusing me--but I was a bit cautious. And when I tried to reach you and failed, I left word for you to forget yourself, meaning that if word reached you that I thought you had misled me, you were not to blame yourself.
Warren S. McCulloch to D. Knight, March 13, 1969
Warren S. McCulloch to D. Knight, March 13, 1969
WS McCulloch papers
American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, PA
Foot long hoagie
--Your wrist will look much better with a classy hoagie on it
--Your hoagie will be screaming about your luxury
--Your hoagie is bound to catch everybody's attention
--Your hoagie will never fade like a flower
--Your hoagie will understand you better than anyone else
--Your weight problems are over with hoagie herbs
--Your hoagie caught naked
--Your hoagie will be perfect for her
--Hoagie issues are not your fault
--Hoagie pills available on free trial
--Erase the memories of your hoagie failures
--Empower your hoagie adventures
--Adult hoagie enhancer
--All men need this (hoagie)
--All you need is a blue hoagie for bed
--All your friends will be jealous of your hoagie
--Hoagie for you
--Ancient hoagie
--Antibacterial hoagie to fight infections
--Any chick can look like a hoagie and we can show that
--Are you sick because of the size of your hoagie? (yes, yes I am)
--Are you always hoagie?
--Are you in the hoagie now?
--Are you thinking of losing hoagie?
--Great autumn hoagie
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