Awesome Dirty Hippy Irony

oops. Scratch that.

I had an awesome (IMHO) 1500 word-er on dirty hippy irony. Now, it appears as though my computer has eaten it.

When life hands you lemons, perform anal insertion...it's been that kinda' week. Have a good weekend, and let's hope for just once we can salvage things next week, ok?

 I do, dammit. I do...


Awww, hey there little buddy...ARAGRARAGGGGHGHGHGHH!!

Awww, look at him. His little face, pink noes and cute little ears. Don't you just want to wurzzle him?

I'd advise against it, if I were you, actually. We all know ferrets. The cute little weasels that disaffected stoners always seem to have. They are smart, highly trainable, and, of course, prone to theft...even without encouragement. My best friend and band-mate had one that was trained to steal people's keys, hide them. Then, whilst attention was diverted, would steal their pot.  What a great elongated rat.

 Seriously, look at his widdle whiskers.

But, that's just what they are, these cut little ferrets. They're weasels. And weasels are nothing more than intelligent, elongated, and cute rats. 

And, as we all know, rats can be absolutely vicious when provoked, or hungry. Or, really, for no reason whatsoever, other than the fact they're kind of dicks.

Just like the rat and weasel, ferrets too can have their violent, dickish downside. Case in point, from Missouri (of course)

A 4-month-old baby boy from Grain Valley, Missouri, was in critical condition after a family pet ferret ate seven of the infant's fingers, 

The mother was awakened at 2:30 a.m. Monday to her baby's crying, and she awakened her husband with screams upon discovering what happened, Ambrose said.

The dad killed the pet by hurling it across the house, Ambrose said.

The baby now has only two thumbs and a partial pinkie, the chief said. The ferret was about six months old, a police report said.

A necropsy is being performed on the ferret to examine its stomach contents and determine whether the animal had rabies, Ambrose said.

You can't joke about the maiming of a small infant. And, fortunately, things can be done for the child, such as taking the toes, elongating them, and re-attaching them as fingers (would you rather have orthotic shoes or hands?). But, it is once again a reminder that wild animals are just that...wild. We've spent the better part of 35,000 years trying to domesticate the dog, and even then it backfires horribly when they get all wolfy and do what predators are meant to do.
No different from the ferret.

Best just stick with a puppy for now, new parents.



Thursday took a sanity day...

Personal day today. Been overwhelmed since about December. Going to clear real world things off my plate today, but I'll touch base in a bit with the most ironic thing I've seen in a damned, long time.

For some reason (completely unknown to me), I'm really digging on the Five Finger Death Punch these days. Perhaps because it's what you rarely see anymore: earnest, semi-tolerable, rock and roll.

Doesn't exist much anymore, so when we find it, we should be thankful. The alternative is a world of Gaga and Bieber.



It's a real world Humpday

In fact, February has been all kinds of chaos. Apologies, etc.

So, rather than just leave you with one mingy little vid, thought I'd try to find something special for you.
Lads and Lasses, Whovians, nerds, sci-fi nerds, Doctor Who fanboys and girls, please enjoy perhaps my favorite full episode of Doctor Who v. 2.0., featuring the incomparable David Tennant's Tenth Doctor and, of course, The Master as played by FANTASTIC John Simm...The Sound of Drums. Followed by the second part, The Last of the Time Lords.

Until tomorrow kids.

Here come the drums, here come the drums

Bye bye, Master.
Gone, but not forgotten.


Happy Wednesday...

...yes, I know it's not Wednesday, but this week has been so shitty, I want it gone already. Banished, I say!

I love this one.
Probably b/c of the sweet car, and the fact that she reminds me some of the Fetching Frau Schatten.


Literature time, heathens...

E. A. Poe is, the contemporary wisdom runs, trite and tired. Played out, played over, and a cliche of a cliche. It's become the introductory reading material of choice for baby bats, and really offers little to the mature reader.

But, I wonder if beyond the macabre short tales, and the ballads,we've truly given Poe a chance lately?

Take a bow, you creepy fucker.

Today, you get that chance. Annabel Lee, one of the more obscure offerings by Edgar, is a masterpiece of understated gloom. Melancholy love, kids. Melancholy love.

It was many and many a year ago,
   In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
   By the name of ANNABEL LEE;--
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
   Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
   I and my Annabel Lee--
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
   Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night
   Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
   In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
   Went envying her and me:--
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
   In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of a cloud, chilling
   And killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
   Of those who were older than we--
   Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
   Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:--

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
   In her sepulchre there by the sea--
   In her tomb by the side of the sea.

-E.A. Poe, 1884

Tuesday's reminescing...

about club drugs, button-popping sex with my friends, suede, leather, vinyl, the smell of red wine, candles casting flares on dilated pupils, speakers fuzzing and humming and thrumming, bumping into a crowded scene, knowing everyone and liking most of them.

Sigh.  Homesick.

I haven't been home, home in a very long time. Went in 2009 for a short visit and in 2008 for a week. But, all things considered, I'm missing people and things and places and familiarity of it all.

Enough of me and my concerns. Hope you all enjoyed your V-Day with your special and/or loved one(s).

Today's ditty is for the long-suffering Fetching Frau Schatten, with whom I shared a pleasant, if low-key evening last night.

Echo and The Bunnymen, "Nothing lasts forever", ladies and gents.

Seriously, they just do not make bands like this anymore.
In fact, I'll be a bit more militant, if you don't like Echo & the Bunnymen, you can go suck a fuck.



So, global warming a new phenomenon?

Of course not; it's been creeping on us and Gaia since the dawn of Industrialization. Sadly, it's not that we just learned about this in the 1980s either, or for the Gen Y'ers, with Al Gore's An Inconvenient truth.

No, rather, we've known about the effects of man-made emissions on our atmosphere and ecosphere since...hmmm....about 1958.

Check out this video from Raw

Any questions?


Happy Valentine's Day, my lovelies...

Love is like a red, red rose...and, if you ask Killing Joke, it's also sanguine (and a reminder of our mortality).

Classic band, classic song. If you fools don't have Killing Joke in your auditory arsenal, it's like having to explain who Bauhaus was. And, confession, in the whole classic 80's/90's goth/synthpop genre, these guys always got my vote over The Smiths.

Love Like Blood

 So damned good, you deserve the lyrics
We must play our lives like soldiers in the field
But life is short i'm running faster all the time
Strength and beauty destined to decay
So cut the rose in full bloom

'til the fearless come and the act is done
A love like blood, a love like blood

Everyday through all frustration and despair
Love and hate fight with burning hearts
'til legends live and man is god again
(and self-preservation rules the day no more)

We must dream of promised lands and fields
That never fade in season
As we move towards no end we learn to die
Red tears are shed on grey