Your Country is Fucked: America. All of it.

Just a tease; just a tease. This not truly a "Your Country is Fucked", not really, in the sense that it includes painstaking, meticulous research.

Rather it's just a quick hitter to show each and every one of you, from no matter whence you hail, that not only is our entire country fucked, but the constituent parts thereof --even if taken in individual portions-- still represent their own unique font of suck, with varying degrees of fucked.

Awesome, I was born in the State with the Lowest teaching salaries, but was raised largely in the States with Highest deaths by motorcycle, Highest incidents of Stroke, and Highest HIV/AIDS rate. I was educated in Stroke-land, and the Most Corrupt, and Rape-iest States.

Professionally, I have worked in Strokes-ville, Most Sickly, Most Obese, and Rape-iest States. Also representing are Highest incidences of women-beating and the Oldest states.

I am presently employed, and loving, the State with the Highest Cost of Living.
(play along, it's fun).


Friday gives you true gothic metal...

An oft-tossed out phrase, for a genre that is already ill-defined, but --much like Potter Stewart's pronouncements on pornography-- you know it when you see it...

And, boils and ghouls, Tristania frankly fits that bill. This little ditty is off of the latter "Ashes". However, their better albums, to these ears at least, have to be the earlier, "Widows Weeds", "World of Glass", and especially, "Beyond the Veil".

See you peeps soon, until then, enjoy. Won't you?



Happy Fappin' Thursday

Good lord, that should be criminal...


Lowest Common Denominator: Part One

Morning folks (hell, it's even morning on the East Coast....so, hello, my fine Yankee friends). Anyway, just thought I'd do something a bit different, or -like so many of my projects- at least make a yeoman's attempt.

This joint has been around now since 2006, and as a stand-alone since 2008. I thought therefore that I'd try and hit the highpoints. It seems as though I'm getting about 6000-8000 hits per day (shiiiiiit, I should monetize this, but then the Bar would be all up in my business, and copyright issues would pop up, and I really don't want to make money anyway...I just want to vent/rant.). In that spirit, I can't fully expect you to trawl through 900+ posts and look for the good shit.

That's like finding the one non-pedophile, sexually normative Catholic priest: You can try, but it will be painful, time-consuming, and can lead to rectal itch.

Let's call it a worst of, then, shall we..or, really, a smattering of what goes on in these here parts? On to Part: The First


Thursday may have had Captain Trips

Got sick as a fucking dog yesterday, but as soon as it hit me, it was over.
Then, Kleph, tweeted about an industrial accident at, and subsequent lockdown of, a biological/chemical weapons base in Utah. 

I therefore believe on the basis of no evidence whatsoever that it was Captain Trips

Anyway, got something different on tap for you today, and over the next couple of weeks. Hope you enjoy it.


Something to offend everyone...

I don't know how I missed this, the Jesus is a Jerk Tumblr. Needless to say, it is probably one of the funniest, yet wholly inappropriate places on the web.

Pay them a visit, or play along, but, in the meanwhile check out some of this...and, yes, you're going to Hell...

h/t Coastal Cowbell.

Alphabetical of Simple Pleasures: P-T

Alas, we are reaching the end of the Alphabetical of Simple Pleasures; those items for the discerning Goth-Professional, all priced at or under $30. I've tried to hit all phases of the milieu: clothing, accessories, liquor, smokes, beauty, sex toys, hair dyes, entertainment etc, just things to pamper yourself or a loved one.

So, let's get to it, shall we, featuring the last of the non-difficult letters of the alphabet. In the meanwhile, A-D is here; while E-J lurks in these shadows; and you can unearth K-O by going to this crypt.

Patricia Day Punkabilly Barbie

It's what I get for hooking up with a psychobilly chick. Predictably, the Horrorpops are one of her all-time favorite bands...

I do not own this doll; nor does the long-suffering Fetching Frau Schatten own this. However, her birthday is coming up, and I fully intend to purchase this item for her. Technically it's just a "rocker" Barbie (tm). However, it does not take too much imagination (or eyesight) to see that this was modeled after the Horrorpops' Patricia Day. So much so, in fact, that the lovely Mrs. Nekroman sued Mattel over it. Get it at TIAS.com for exactly $30, before it's the subject of a permanent injunction.

Nope, no resemblances there. 
Not even down to the hearts and blue birds...


Simply stated, if you've never heard Qntl, you're missing out on some of the loveliest darkwave this side of Faith and the Muse. Hailing from Germany, this medieval electronica evokes spanning shires, a quiet sexiness, and -- especially for that softer side in you, or for that special lady in your life -- is some of the most "feminine" gothic music being made today.

Entre moi et mon amin.

Be prepared for a linguistic warm-up, though, silly Americans. They are damned lingual, with tracks in High German, French, Latin, Italian and English. It's also very hard to find in most cities, but can be purchased/located at Euro Amazon for about $16 Euros ($27) per album.

Rick R. Reed

Der Schatten knows that not all of you are purely hetero-normative. That's cool. Not my thing, but then again, unless I'm the fuckee, whomever folks choose to share their genitals with is actually pretty banal fare. And, just because one swings for the fences or sword fights, doesn't mean that a lil' dungeon play can't be added to spice up your sex life/inner fantasy.

To that end, I give you Rick R. Reed, probably the most well-known of the Gay BDSM authors out there. But, oh no, it's not just kink. The man is the Stephen King/Barker of Gay Kink Horror (although, I think the comparison to Thomas Harris is probably more apt).

Obssessed, Available at Abebooks for about $25 w/shipping, is by far the darkest one.

"I kill, therefore I am Voices slam through the corridor of his wounded mind. The words of his dead sister cry out."

Seven Samurai (Collector's Edition)

Akira Kurosawa's 1954 masterpiece, and deservedly one of the top 100 films of all-time, Seven Samurai is like the Bible...you cannot be truly culturally literate until you've spent three hours meditating upon the bygone feudal Japan, from the mindset of a post-war Japanese director. Comradery, honor, bravery, and protecting weaker for nothing more than a little food, and the knowledge of a job well-done. It doesn't get much better than this.

$22.99 at eBay. 
Or, instant queue with your Netflix Subscription.


The wonder drug that works wonders. Technically a non-opiate painkiller, it is very effective in that role. For those dealing with chronic pains, aches, nagging issues, you can't beat it. It's non-sedating, non-euphoric (usually), and possesses an exceptionally low dependency threshold. 

Even better, it's got some nice off-label uses as well; particularly for anxiety, depression (one of the metabolites is an SSRI), and restless leg syndrome. At peak plasma level it also provides a sound night's sleep.

Best part? It's not a controlled substance. You can buy this shit off the internet for about $27/monthly supply (do your own Google searches, people!).

Better living through chemistry....

 We'll wrap it up next week, folks. Until then, consume!

Wednesday is for Whimsy...

Had a dream last night about that horrific, fascist trope "Enders Game". I don't care whether it's clever Hitler Apologia or whether it's means justifying the ends, non-Rawlsian utility arguments, it remains one of the most overrated, frankly frightful, books of the past quarter century.

Rather than dwell on the horrors of tortured kids engaging in morally "acceptable", first-strike, galactic genocide, let's have some whimsy, eh.

I can't think of anyone more whimsical than Germany's Knorkator.

Ok, this isn't terribly whimsical; still, don't underestimate the power of top-shelf Euro-trash industrial to start your day with a stiffy.

Bonus: Headbanging, mitten-wearing, Tuetonic Pianist!



For no particular reason...

The death of my favorite American city, New Orleans, produced a series of calamities. Among them were already-destitute people reduced to looting grocery stores to survive.

Obviously not all looting was condoned or necessary. But, sometimes it can be morally justified. That said, here are some random images after the fact of people trying to protect what they acquired in this dystopia in our borders, and on our own coastline.

Again, no reason particularly. Just got to thinking about the complacency and mind-fucking incompetence that let a city of a million people die. 


Lookie who won an award...

I totally misapprehended the concept of "boobie prize"...

Der Schatten is pleased to announce the vesting of a "Stylish Blogger Award" upon him by Siouxsie Law, (who in turn received it from Lady Euphoria Deathwatch --which is a fantastic little place, btw...both of 'em).

The ground rule for nomination are nearly as daunting as those secret Phi Beta Kappa machinations my professors confessed to whilst I was at Alabama (suffice it to say, my then-girlfriend got the nod, while I was left alone, in the cold...as usual. Although, that's probably a poor turn of phrase: Since A) it's hard to be cold in Tuscaloosa, and B) I don't really have to suffer through the whole 'alone' thing. But, you get the point).

Ground rules people:
  1. Thank and link to the person who gave you the award.
  2. Jot down 7 random facts about yourself.
  3. Give the award to 15 other bloggers and let them know about it.

Taking these in turn

#1. Check. Thanks again Siouxsie...

#2. Seven Random Facts:

  • In college there was a pack of us who specialized in moderate drug use, serious alcohol abuse, and sleeping with one another at various times, named immodestly "the Seven". For some reason, we all wound up waiting tables at the same restaurant. Five of us went on to become attorneys. One is a professor of English Lit in Germany. The other is a professor of Philosophy at Wash U in St. Louis. And, the saddest part is that we don't speak to one another any more.
  • I play the guitar, the bass, drums, piano, sing, and was a professional musician in a past life (signed and toured and everything). 
  • I have the distinction of being on good terms with nearly every lover and/or serious ex who've passed through my adult life (High School FWBs do not count, as we're still larval adults then). I think it comes from A) honesty about motives, B) honesty about why shit is/was breaking down, and C) humor. Try those some time, you might find they work.
  • I love women of varying ethnicity and hues. If there were an 'ideal', it would be a cross between an Ukranian and a Latina. Yet, for some reason, I've dated Irish girls almost exclusively. 
  • I really, honestly do not take myself seriously. I take what I do seriously, when the occasion requires it, but you're more than likely to find me making juvenile quips while running around in boxers, than you are to find me in "polite society" being self-serious. So, take what I say with a grain of salt...it's just my natural revulsion towards, and reactions against, Republicans I think.
  • Siouxsie is afraid of Libertarians (with good reason). More than that, I'm terrified of "unschoolers" and the "unschooling movement".
  • If brevity is the heart of wit, then I'm witless.
 #3. Linkie-Linkie Nominations (some of these will be familiar names).
  •  Jack Balkin's "Balkinization" for serious con law nerds.
  • Glenn Greenwald's Corner on Salon
  • The various lovely ladies and their photo blogs at Dirty Angels
  • Dark Circle Room
  • Dark Lyrics
  • Doug Gillette's "Hey, Jenny Slater", a/k/a/, the Chancellor of the Sexchequer.
  • Orson Swindle/Spencer Hall's paradigm-shifting "Every Day Should Be Saturday".
  • Nico, Todd, OTS at RBR
  • Nico's music joint, "Hear the World".
  • Kleph's recipes, Andean reminiscing on Peru, journalism and football
  • Josh Marshall's investigative, center-left "Talking Points Memo/TPM Muckraker".
  • My current fantasy (all of 'em), at the Pinup Post.
  • Wahoo Corner...simply brilliant. Painfully, honestly brilliant.
  • Most of you law students won't get firm jobs (and 1/2 of you won't have a job within 9 months of graduating). Don't read the ABA's pie in the sky shit, start practicing immediately with Carol Elefant's My Shingle 
  • Violet Blue's delicious blog on all things alt-sex (sorry, perviness is inherent, I fear).

Anyway, thanks again, and remember, folks: It's a major award.

I hope it's not fra-geel-ay.


Tuesday's got some work today...

So, sing along, shall we, and watch our pitiful fucking economy collapse around us. We were the first fiscal casualties...I don't believe that we will be the last.

So good, it deserve the lyrics
Yeh, this one's for the workers who toil night and day
By hand and by brain to earn your pay
Who for centuries long past for no more than your bread
Have bled for your countries and counted your dead

In the factories and mills, in the shipyards and mines
We've often been told to keep up with the times
For our skills are not needed, they've streamlined the job
And with sliderule and stopwatch our pride they have robbed

We're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die
The first ones in line for that pie-in-the-sky
And we're always the last when the cream is shared out
For the worker is working when the fat cat's about

And when the sky darkens and the prospect is war
Who's given a gun and then pushed to the fore
And expected to die for the land of our birth
Though we've never owned one lousy handful of earth?

[Chorus x3]

All of these things the worker has done
From tilling the fields to carrying the gun
We've been yoked to the plough since time first began
And always expected to carry the can


Say it ain't so, Jack!

RIP, Jack LaLanne; fitness expert and a man who --even in his dotage at age freakin' 96-- could still kick the Predator's ass.

Jack, at age 95.

NPR's got your story

LaLanne, who died Sunday at age 96, became the fitness conscience of the nation after his daily TV show on exercise and nutrition debuted in the 1950s. Although the show aired for more than three decades, he is a distant memory for many Americans, a quirky part of cultural history. But up to the end of his life — he died of respiratory failure from pneumonia at his home in Morro Bay, Calif. — he remained as dedicated as ever to getting the country in shape.

You know, if you're like me, your only real memories of Jack are juice commercials, late night shows, obscure punchlines and the like. But, remember, for nearly 6 decades, this man epitomized fitness in America.

Seriously, do you know what he looked like at 40 years old? Without the benefit of modern training, medicine, techniques, enhancements, nutrition? It will put your ass to shame.

At 40.

Anyway, gentler oceans, Jack. Gentler oceans...try not to kick too much ass on the other side.


Monday didn't walk away...

Speaking of which, can you friggin' believe the Dropkick Murphys were on Conan? I really want to see these guys live, but I'll bet they are dreadful.

Still, great song.

Even punks grow old and grow up.