1.16.2010

Literacy Time: Song of Solomon


This wonderful painting by Micheal Aviano is still available for auction...give him some money people.

 

The Song of Solomon, in case you've not read it, is one of the most sublime, sensual pieces of poetry written in antiquity. Some versions of the Bible do not carry it, but it does feature quite prominently in certain Jewish traditions. Estimated to be written in a Northern Hebrew dialect about 3000 years ago, there are many explanations for why this deliberately non-religious book wound up in holy texts. The worst one, but by far the most popular explanation, is that the short tale of unrequited love, courtship and consummation represents the relationship between god and man. I for one, however, do not buy it...



When I read the Song of Songs, I think of Lebanese beauty, Haifa...

 

Chapter 7: Song of Songs

  1. How beautiful are thy feet with shoes, O prince's daughter! the joints of thy thighs are like jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning workman.
  2. Thy navel is like a round goblet, which wanteth not liquor: thy belly is like an heap of wheat set about with lilies.
  3. Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins.
  4. Thy neck is as a tower of ivory; thine eyes like the fishpools in Heshbon, by the gate of Bathrabbim: thy nose is as the tower of Lebanon which looketh toward Damascus.
  5. Thine head upon thee is like Carmel, and the hair of thine head like purple; the king is held in the galleries.
  6. How fair and how pleasant art thou, O love, for delights!
  7. This thy stature is like to a palm tree, and thy breasts to clusters of grapes.
  8. I said, I will go up to the palm tree, I will take hold of the boughs thereof: now also thy breasts shall be as clusters of the vine, and the smell of thy nose like apples;
  9. And the roof of thy mouth like the best wine for my beloved, that goeth down sweetly, causing the lips of those that are asleep to speak.
  10. I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me.
  11. Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in the villages.
  12. Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see if the vine flourish, whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud forth: there will I give thee my loves.
  13. The mandrakes give a smell, and at our gates are all manner of pleasant fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved. 




Pretty steamy, and beautiful, huh?



Free e-text of this entire, lovely duet can be found here.



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In serious withdrawal, here...


no...not that withdrawal...



Moment of whininess here. I will be completely upfront. I do not watch much television...usually just stuff on History International, Nat Geo, The First 48, and college football. The latter is my particular love. The year is spent in anticipation of those 12-15 Saturday afternoons, where I can cook elaborate meals, drink cheap beer, and plop down to watch the boys of Autumn. And, it doesn't too much matter who's playing.




Mostly empty stadium, featuring two teams from the North Atlantic to which I have no ties, affiliation or rooting interests? Sounds great: Sign me up!



But now, my friends, now begins the long winter of my discontent, for there is no more College Football to behold. And, maybe that's a good thing, after an undefeated season, the University of Alabama's first Heisman winner, the SEC title and the National title, perhaps I just need to get back to the real world and savor the accomplishments.


But, that still doesn't explain what the hell I'm supposed to do until September 2010 rolls around...




Heisman-winner Mark Ingram's second TD iced the National Championship for Alabama this year...Great, now what the hell am I supposed to do for eight months?






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Saturday wonders when metal starting sucking...


Then, I remember when it happened...and it's Korn's fault...
This is Slayer's "Killing Field" from 1994's Divine Intervention. Interesting song with lots of tempo changes and backbeat grooves. While certainly not their best, this just goes to show that Slayer even on an offday kicks the shit out of anything being made today.




You know this...this is the "White Album"* of all things dark and heavy...





* It occurred to me that people might not actually know what the White Album is...Beatles. Considered their masterpiece and a tour de force of production...So, yea, a big deal.

Guitarists: Weird "O" faces, but worth it...



This kid's pretty fucking good...
And, yes, we are totally worth it...




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1.15.2010

The Great Kat Redux....


Safe to say, if my email is any indication, you're still very much worshiped....


When the people speak and all that (psst, it's called "demokratis")... In any event, I heard ya'. Besides me digging on Poland, I've never gotten quite the emails like I did since this morning's Great Kat post: One of which was a terrific honor, as it was from the Mistress of Shred herself




 She went to fucking Julliard, how's the garage treating you?! BTW: If you hate this picture, you hate freedom...


So, for those of you curious, the Great Kat is not only alive, but quite well, and still shredding...



Damn....

I made light of her accomplishments this morning, but I think we should prolly take a second to think about this...when "Worship..." came out, in the height of the '80s, chick guitarists were viewed as a novelty, expecially speed/shred guitarists...that is, unless they were men.

If you were a guy in the late '80s, you were hailed as a genius of blaze




Yes, Yngwie Malmsteen, we get it...you're fast...



O you found, (and found and found) yourself prominently featured on the cover of guitar magazines...




Psst, Joe Satriani, octopus tapping is still gimmicky....






However, the lasses fared worst, and none of the two above shred icons were ever able to capture the raw, balls-in-your face of both metal and virtuosity that the Great Kat was able to deliver....



Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.



But, for those interested, when the rubber met the road, the Great Kat delivers... 



Ummm, yea...50 seconds into it and your mental fingers should probably fall off....



I have to admit it, I'm kind of prejudiced here: by my politics (which are decidedly feminist), and by my past as a professional musician (signed and touring and everything), and as a guitarist (20 years and humming) and as a classical aficionado (I'd totally give Beethoven a non-gay blowjob). That still doesn't change the fact that the guitar world, the classical world, and the boys-only metal world owed her more than we gave.

That said, let's give back --and get back-- to the balls-out NYC speed metal scene, and who the all-time reigning messiah is...



Fuck, still can't hit 1/20th of these notes...nor can you...
Bow down


So, for those of you eager to rightfully give up your notions of free will and freedom, there's hope...Kat is still willing to accept you as slaves to the guitarists' ultimate wet dream:


Great Kat's website and blog

Great Kat's Twitter feed
Great Kat's Facebook




For those unfortunate enough to have lived life without music or composition, you are missing an entire world of sensuality.
Image (c) Metalezed @ DeviantArt 



In any event, thank you, for fueling my metal dreams --among others ;) The Shadow's got nothing but love for ya', Kat.




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Wonder Woman's worst kept secret...


As I told you Monday, Wonder Woman was a constant in my young life...any reason why?!


According to the folks at IO9, Wonder Woman is due for a massive, significantly darker, series of tales which will explore all of those issues that are (or should have been) massive undercurrents to this femme fatale. In an on-stage appearance with clive Barker (HOLY SHIT! CLIVE BARKER!), Grant Robinson, had this to say about our favorite Amazon

The basics of Wonder Woman come from William Moulton Marston, a psychologist who created the lie detector, of all things. His idea was that a utopia would be achieved if men were placed in subjugation to women. So, Wonder Woman is a character where you imagine this very strange mélange of girl power, bondage, and a slightly disturbed sexuality. There is this bondage element; these extremely weird dark elements of Wonder Woman haven't been adequately dealt with. Wonder Woman remains a really bizarre, untouchable character.
 
This is fabulous news, not only for the fan bois and comic lovers, but to we perverts who prefer some encounters to have the edge of power, to be a bit more twisted, to certainly be more time consuming, and ultimately, to have aesthetic gilt....




Shibari anyone?





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Some things write themselves...


Irony, thy name is delicious...



Other things this woman worries about:

-Cost of beluga
-Depreciating value of getaway homes on the Seine
-Jheri Curl hydration
-Vasectomy reversal
-Winner of the water polo match between Stanford and Yale
-Her singing voice
-Barnacle removal







Friday sets the waaaaay back machine to Obedience


The Great Kat from 1986's "Worship Me or Die"...this Julliard-trained violinist made a name for herself in the 80s and 90s with her shredding, particularly of the pure classical variety. I think everyone remembers her breath-taking rendition of "Flight of the Bumblebees" which topped out at over 300 bpm. Insane fast that is...
Also, she's insane, megalomaniacal, great big hair, and has a killer body...what else could you ask for from the 80s? In all earnestness, she remains a first-rate musician, and who knows: Someday those metalheads may realize that the Masters were called that, because they were!






C'mon, did you think I was going to get out of this post without a gratuitous breast shot?






1.14.2010

That's one way to look at the Garden of Eden...

Found this at LOL God, but I'm not sure where they got it originally. Some of the stuff is pretty funny, if not wholly irreligious, over there. Nevertheless, this one really, really makes you think for a moment, especially if you give credence to a literal "Garden"-type scenario....




Just me, God here...Say, you up for some anal probing tonight?

Click to give this image a chubby...it's stunning.


The reason I say this does, or should, give one pause, comes from a few damned interesting Biblical passages:

Exodus 14:19-20 "And the angel of God, which went before the camp of Israel, removed and went behind them; and the pillar of the cloud went from before their face, and stood behind them. And it came between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel; and it was a cloud and darkness to them, but it gave light by night to these: so that the one came not near the other all the night."

Exodus 19:18 "And mount Sinai was altogether on a smoke, because the LORD descended upon it in fire: and the smoke thereof ascended as the smoke of a furnace, and the whole mount quaked greatly."

2 Kings 2:11 "And it came to pass, as they still went on, and talked, that, behold, there appeared a chariot of fire, and horses of fire, and parted them both asunder; and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven."

Isaiah 6:1 "In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord seated on a throne, high and exalted, and the train of his robe filled the temple.  Above him were seraphs, each with six wings: With two wings they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet, and with two they were flying. And they were calling to one another:
       "Holy, holy, holy is the LORD Almighty;
       the whole earth is full of his glory."

Ezekiel 1:4 "And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the colour of amber, out of the midst of the fire."




Knock, knock...God again....Got a stomach you're not using?



All in all, pretty creepy stuff, eh? BTW: the version of the passages I used above come from the King James version of the Holy Bible, the only way that I think God would talk...all pre-Victorian and incredibly passive-voiced. A ton of parallel translations are available at Bible.cc. That said, this was definitely a consciousness-raising exercise...even for bitter atheists like me. Because, with so many creation myths in the East recounting essentially the same story, there may some truth to it...just not the one we collectively want, or socially understand those stories to mean...



I. Want. To. Believe...




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Shadowy Bookshelf: Ice and Fire (again...)


Keep this shit up, George, and you'll live forever beside Tolkien (peace be unto Him).


High fantasy...can't top it when it's done well. Obviously, by well, I'm talking about Duggan, Tolkien (peace be unto Him), Cornwell's Arthurian tales, Moorcock, Hobbs. But, among the modern paragons, none is closer to my dark little heart than George R.R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire books...




Yea, I left you out...this crap is the "Twilight" of epic fantasy...anti-climactic, rambling drivel with all the subtlety and intrigue of a particularly exciting episode of Bob the Builder.*


Which brings me to the brilliant, if not oft-delayed, Song of Fire and Ice series. If you like black and white characters, good guys that survive, a small universe of tight-knit characters going on some epic quest, then look elsewhere...there's plenty of that stuff out there. But, if you want a world populated with nations, and cultures; political intrigue, morally gray characters, slight magic, cynicism, dark humor and genuine "WTF? did that just happen?" then look no further.



This is your reaction about every 100 pages or so...


There are four (so far) tomes in the series, and they are rather long books. Game of Thrones introduces the many great houses, and sets up the conflicts and allegiances that are to endure throughout. Clash of Kings I've always termed the "bridge book", with a wealth of new faces and swordplay throughout. Storm of Swords is by far my favorite, with yet more characters, more intrigue, and so many WTF moments that you'll weep, gnash your teeth, grin and possibly piss yourself. The last, so far, Feast for Crows, starts to put the pieces all together, with a wealth of new POVs --although from familiar faces. Book 5, Dance with Dragons, has been in the works now for 5 years (and that since the rewrite). If I'm alive long enough, I may even get to see all 7 of them published.



Did I mention it has dragons? Not ironic, douchy dragons, but flesh-eating fear machines out of hell...




The third volume of the high fantasy saga that began with A Game of Thrones and continued in A Clash of Kings is one of the more rewarding examples of gigantism in contemporary fantasy. As Martin's richly imagined world slides closer to its 10-year winter, both the weather and the warfare worsen. In the north, King Joffrey of House Lannister sits uneasily on the Iron Throne. With the aid of a peasant wench, Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, escapes from jail in Riverrun. Jaime goes to the other youthful ruler, Robb Stark, to secure the release of Joffrey's prisoners, Robb's sisters Arya and Sansa Stark. Meanwhile, in the south, Queen Daenarys tries to assert her claim to the various thrones with an army of eunuchs, but discovers that she must choose between conquering more and ruling well what she has already taken. The complexity of characters such as Daenarys, Arya and the Kingslayer will keep readers turning even the vast number of pages contained in this volume, for the author, like Tolkien or Jordan, makes us care about their fates. Those two fantasy greats are also evoked by Martin's ability to convey such sensual experiences as the heat of wildfire, the chill of ice, the smell of the sea and the sheer gargantuan indigestibility of the medieval banquet at its most excessive.



Brilliant!!!



At the end of the second novel I could not wait for the next book. Now who cares? Martin has killed every character worth following in the series. By eliminating the vast majority of characters one feels attached to in the first 2 books he leaves the reader with an emptiness that I don't see being fufilled. The plot is now spread in so many directions that following a long complicated novel only to see who you cared for killed seems a waste of energy. This is not to say the thought, detail, and writing are bad, quite the opposite, which makes this book all the more disappointing. By killing or regulating the only people that one cares for to uninteresting circumstances Martin has destroyed the reason for reading the following installments. Normally at the end of a series one looks forward too and genuinely misses the characters, but why should I care about anyone whose left? It is a rare ability to make such a great series into something where I could stop reading right now and no longer care about the story.



Awww, moral ambiguity and people dying make emo reviewer sad....

 
Shadow's Verdict?

Joy, sorrow, bliss, treachery, betrayal, love, lust, madness, ambition, fear...these are the human condition, and Martin's ability to lushly convey the range of emotions in a believable world populated by believable, loveable, detestable characters is where the genius lies...




5 out of 5 Spider Monkeys


*Before the psycho Jordan fans start emailing me, please be aware that, yes, I realized he passed away. To the living one owes respect, to the dead one owes nothing but the truth...



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A modest proposal...butt sex and copyright.


Via Funny or Die, which in turn is via What is On...
Creepy, but damned funny, so I thought I'd share...it seems a modest proposal to me...



Speaking of modest proposals, I have one for the internet: quit slapping your for-profit site's watermark on other people's shit that already has an embedded watermark. In the real world we'd call infringement of the mark...in the anarchic Thunderdome of the 'web, I suppose it's just to be expected. If you want to share, share. If not, get all link-y. But it's not yours...you're just sharing.
 
 


Pssst. Remember me?


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Thursday has been cashed out on surreality


So, um, yea...about yesterday...that was as fucked up as one day should possibly be.  The Shadow's just about cashed out on surreality, which brings us to the criminally underrated Local H, with their rare video for "You High Fivin' Motherfucker"...Obviously, the lyrics are NSFW, but the song is just bizarre...and awesome.
Kinda' like my life...



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1.13.2010

Just because it comes in your size...

From WeirdAsiaNews, comes the latest winning product from Japan....




There's low-cut, and then there's this....




These Sanna jeans aren't just exceptionally low-cut, they are actually dual panties and low riding jeans...in one stretchy connected piece of fabric.  I keep looking at the pictures of these, and trying to decide if they are, in fact, sexy, or if it's just the toned legs and supple butt of the model that makes them look hot....



Then, it occurred to me; there was a girl in law school that I adored that had hips just like this...



While the stretch, bikini jeans seem a good idea, once you see the ones in black and/or vinyl, it will finally hit you that the inspiration for these bad boys is not, in fact, Brazil, rather something far, far into the future, and a bit more sinsister....




Too bad we never saw Charlie Theron dressed like this...


There are just two observations about these. One, it seems that they would pretty damned uncomfortable, not to mention, a little constricting. Every woman wearing these has to, out of necessity, go commando. The second is that it would require the perfect body to pull them off. If you have just one too many egg nogs over Yule, you'll lose the ability to look stunning in them. Of course, just because a person might not be flattered by the garment has never stopped people from trying to encase themselves in way too tight clothing. And that, I believe, is the root issue here. There's too much of that anyway, and these are just too tempting to unleash on those without good sense...or a model's body.




Really, isn't there quite enough of this as it is?




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Wednesday pays homage...


Even though i've had a shitload of nightmares, lately, one thing is a non-terrifying constant: Black Sabbath has been kicking ass since 1969. Say what you want about Cream, Deep Purple, Captain Beefheart, but this band is damn-near responsible for creating metal. New track here, live in Toronto, "Bad Dreams"
Deities, one and all...








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1.12.2010

Of course they'd tell us...

Why does this Tweet from the Boston Police not sound genuine enough for my tastes?



Sure you would...And there wasn't an alien autopsy at Area 51, or a UFO crash in Roswell...








80s Childhood Fantasies: Part One

Even as a child, I had a healthy dose of adrenaline-driven heterosexuality. Fortunately, I was a pure child of the '80s, and, as everyone knows, the 80s had some of the best big-haired, blue-eyeshadowed, permed chicks, ever; sporting their overalls and red plaids, and bouffant pants with Swatch watches. Ahhh, warms my dark little heart.



I am pleased to report that, although my vision has weakened, I am not yet blinded...


But, where was a young lad to get his fix? I lived deep in the Appalachian Mountains, and, even when moving to Alabama, those first few years were largely spent in the boonies atop Lookout Mountain. Accordingly, there just weren't a lot of women around, particularly those that could provide the visual stimulation I needed. Like so many things in life, thank the gods for television...No matter what, the electric glow of sex was just one after school special away...

This is one of those things that's too horrifying to not share, so without further ado, I give you the 80s girls that got me through those formative years.


Nicole Eggert: Charles in Charge



You could tell she was going to be hot from the git-go...

Sweet Summer Powell, one of the few blondes on this list, was one of the very few 80s television icons to just scream "three drinks, and I'll have a threesome". As a result, she always ranked very high in my mental dossier. Eggert, for those living in a cage, went on to take off a lot of her clothes about a decade later in Baywatch. For my money, I never understood what the hell she was doing with those dorks on Charles in Charge....


...and she damn sure was a hottie. 
Some decidedly NSFW pics are out there too, which only affirms what I maintained when I was 12: Three Drinks.
 


Linda Carter: Wonder Woman


By far the prettiest of the 80s luminaries...

Linda Carter was, is, and shall always be Wonder Woman. I don't mean that as in "she's associated with the character".  I mean that until the day that I day, I will believe in an Amazon, with an invisible jet, a kick-ass mind control lasso, and one stunningly beautiful brunette in a gold-red vinyl bathing suit. The 80s may have given us a lot of horseshit, but they also gave us Linda Carter roping guys close to her, talking tough, with her breasts defying gravity and the FCC censors...

 

Damn. Just damn.
 

 
Catherine Bach, Dukes of Hazzard


Jorts have never been this sexy...

If Wonder Woman was my dark dominatrix, and Summer was hoped-for college fling, then Daisy Duke was what I wanted my neighbors to look like. It required almost nothing for Catherine Bach to hoist her breasts up into a tied off flannel shirt and put on the least concealing denim shorts known to man. Interestingly enough, although I lived a scant 15 miles from North Georgia, no one I knew dressed this way...although, life would have been a damn-sight better if they had...



You gotta' think that she never got a ticket...ever.



Up next, Part Two, in which I shamelessly reveal those closer to my own age...



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1.11.2010

Tuesday is totally in charge...


This was on a dare; fortunately, I did love the "Charles in Charge"...

Thank you...


You know who, but you know not what for...In any event, thank you for all of the headtrips, and random drop-bys; thank you for being charming, funny, and even elegant -as occasion may merit; thank you for being beautiful, and staying that way forever in my mind; thank you for the bad, and for good; thank you for teaching me how to feel again. But, most importantly, thank you for something that hurt me so long ago, and which now is a lesson you must learn...thank you for simple contentment with the one who loves you -warts and all, human frailties and all.
That is a far better consolation than the lover we could ever conjure in our minds or fantasies.





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Dear Science: Leave booze alone...


We've been here before...and while there's hell to pay at dawn, the night was worth it...


Let me say, right out of the gate, that I love science. I am not a Comstock or Luddite hell-bent on ensuring that we progress no further than 1476. But, some things are very clearly not mean to be messed with by science, first among them, are our tasty fermented/distilled beverages. After all, 'twas booze which jump-started agriculture, contributing to...well...communities and civilization as we know it...



Let's hurry up and get the hops in boys, so we can get busy inventing literature...


And we love our booze. Whether it's fermented potatoes (Vodka), sugar cane (Rum), grain crops (Beers), or even fermenting beer (Scotch), as long as it give us a tingle, humans are down with it. You'd think that would be good enough, but, no...Some scientists are concerned about the age-old problem of imbibing too much of a poison, namely becoming really shit-faced and/or the ensuing hangover...



Dear Scientists: Hangovers are well worth the price for this...



According to the Telegraph, the new buzz is one that "works like alcohol on nerves in the brain that provide a feeling of wellbeing and relaxation...But unlike alcohol its does not affect other parts of the brain that control mood swings and lead to addiction." Thus, ending hangovers as we know it.




Shit, is that "drunk drug" retroactive?

 

So far so good; you get the buzz without becoming a lush, a wreck the next day and/or thinking we're Batman. You know who this hurts don't you? Tequila. But, the worst part is to come "[Mad scientists] envision a world in which people could drink without getting drunk, he said. No matter how many glasses they had, they would remain in that pleasant state of mild inebriation and at the end of an evening out, revellers could pop a sober-up pill that would let them drive home"




Why yes, the masses would like some Soma, please...


Does that sound good to you? Consequence-free, all-night buzzes, with absolutely no hell to pay...either that night or the next day?

If so, you're wrong. And, here are several good reasons why.




The most obvious reason is the drunk hook-up, but that goes without saying...



First, Pain: we need to learn how to get drunk so as to learn how to pay the piper that night or the next next day. I give not one shit about advanced Ericksonnian stages of development, nothing is a greater motivator than pain. And, there are few greater encouragements to sobriety than the soul-crush of a three-day hangover or running your mouth and getting your ass kicked in a bar fight.




Your humble author's self-perception after half a bottle of Jack Daniels...this has ended poorly on more than one occasion...


 
Second, Regret/Remorse/What the Fuck did I just do? Assume that you're lucky enough to not get into a fight/confrontation/polar bear cage, and the gods show you favor by permitting you to duck the scourge of hangovers, that does not mean that you're in the clear. There's usually a moment, of "Holy shit, what did I do?". Be it pouring out your heart, propositioning your boss/subordinate at the office party, trying to hump luncheon meet, pissing your bed and/or some random person's houseplants...the best highs are accompanied by the panic the next day of "Oh, shit....what did I do....Why did I do that?!" Bonus points if you have to be reminded, particularly with photographic evidence...




Think this would have happened if not for the Long Island shooters?



Three; Contrition.  All that partying, all that stupid shit, all that -well, getting drunk- comes with a price. And, eventually you have to see those folks again. This is a perfect opportunity to do some growing up and sheepishly learn how to say "I'm sorry, I fucked your best friend"; "You know I didn't mean to say that"; "Dude, I'm so so sorry I pissed on your Xbox"; "We shouldn't have done that; I'm sorry it happened...did you at least like it?"




Umm, yea...about last night...that text wasn't supposed to go to you...Sorry, Mom.



Four; Pleasure. In this world where plants can be banned, while other legal ones kill us, alcohol is the one constant. The thing the Government can't take away from us (Damn you, Prohibition), and is one of the few pleasures in life that goes great with our our other pleasures. Be it that glass of wine, that turns into a bottle, over a nice dinner; the six pack that turns into half a case during the game; the one drink that turns into a few at the pub after work...Like Everest, it's there to be conquered, and to be enjoyed, in whatever dose you may prefer. And, I think it goes without saying, that no manufactured beer-pill will ever cleanse the palate, tingle your heart or give you the pure joy of a Guiness 250.


  

Your wife doesn't love you, Arthur Guinness does...


We need our booze, we need the experiences, good and ill, that alcohol provides us. There is a larger cultural phenomenon at play here (besides, it would all but kill the practice of law). More importantly, we need the opportunities to fuck up, to redeem ourselves (or live in regret), that booze provides. These are lessons that can only be taught through the loss of moderation. And, quite frankly, we need the interesting stories that these drunken sojourns tell us about ourselves. And, yes, we even need the hangovers. So, perhaps science should stick to more useful exploits, like stem-cell research, curing cancer, making a 7 foot tall ear of corn, or cloning that will benefit us all...




You gotta' admit; it would be pretty kick-ass. Can we make this happen with a German Shepherd?