Sekathral, having loaded his pistol, cleaned the crab-guts off his rapier and stowed away everything he needs to stow away, turns around to stare at Khaz.
Think back to when you were married! This sort of situation came up all the time! Think back, and remember to do the exact opposite of what you did then!
"Mate, we've got too used to you looking gorgeous, I suppose, and we obviously ain't been too clear about things so far. Still, Sarenrae'll take care of your temporary indisposition and I bet you'll be able to get some new togs and what have you in Farshore, so chin up, eh?"
He gives her a brotherly hug, winks, then carries on, humming tunelessly to himself.
Well, that's my next six months' reading sorted out :D I especially like the sound of 'Satana Enslaved' and 'The 24 Hour "Thing" '
The Soft Rock Wars plod into their third year, and in the trenches of the 41st Hall and Oates, Lance Captain Longears and his ten eels are in Dire Straits!
"ELO? ELO? ELO?! Drat this Telephone Line! Private Dancer, is that you? Is it your Tina Turner as Comms Officer? Listen, we're under attack by Night Rangers and they've already overrun our John Cougar Mellencamp, which means ALL OUR JOHN COUGAR MELONS ARE IN ENEMY HANDS!!! Hold The Line and Lieutenant Love will be along in five minutes? I'll have you know that Love isn't always on time! We're out of ammo - we're down to using Styx! What's that - you'll send over some Carpenters, in that case? Very funny - don't make me Christopher Cross, Private! We need Cher support, and fast! Over and out!"
Then, through the clouds of dry ice and over the boom of Simmonds drums , a sound can be heard...
It's obviously Cosmo's fault that I had to learn 'Time After Time' by Cyndi Lauper, but that wasn't enough for him, oh no. After the second or third run through, I started to find it affecting and got vaguely tearful at the point in the video where she leaves the caravan, hugs her mommy and goes off to the train station, Cosmo's high-pitched sadistic giggle playing over the top. Or that may have just been Cyndi emoting.
Blame Cyndi Lauper for all Cosmo's problems here.
Beasts! Inhuman fiends! Leeches! Vampires, gorged on the bleeding corpses of a ravaged, exhausted proletariat! File, file and file again, brave worker, until the chains fall from your struggle-tempered limbs in a glorious cascade of broken steel and the oppressor is hurled screaming from his golden throne! Your cause is ours, comrade!
My Saturday read this week was 'Prisoner of the Horned Helmet' by James Silke. Oboy. Sample paragraph below:
...Gath stepped out of the enveloping darkness, like a sword drawn from a scabbard. He was darker than she remembered. More brutal. Hard dry scabs were turning to scar tissue. His fur loincloth bristled slightly in the breeze only slightly.... A new suit of chainmail, his belt and a Kitzaak helmet were slung over his shoulders. A bright steel axe rode his right fist. His chiselled features were mottled with dark shadows, and wore an expression of dark invitation. To a bed of MURDER!!!
Caps and exclamation marks were my own. Also features a warlord called Klang.
Now I'm imagining SnowJade as a sort of blend of Jane Russell and Bast, reclining on a chaise longue with a Martini in one paw and an ivory cigarette holder in the other while Doodlebug/Drejk/FHDM/assorted other Paizonians spoon caviare into her mouth or give her pedicures/backrubs and so on. Clearly I have too much time on my hands.
I'll take your gefilte fish golem and raise you a certified kosher pork flavoured goose golem. What a wonderful world we live in.
LET THE GOLEM WARS COMMENCE!
Doodlebug Anklebiter wrote:
And then the All Clear sounds and it's safe to come out, picking over the wreckage of our homes as the Donovanwaffe retreats back over the North Sea.
Those Tribe Called Quest videos were fantastic, so thankyou DA and DN. Lots of fun sample hunting, too, since I haven't been at work, which has led me to Weldon Irvine and the Michal Urbaniak EDIT: Band.
And one by a band from Singapore called The Bee Jays *snigger*. There appear to be a few bands called The Bee Jays, one of whom does erotic versions of Bee Gees songs. Good work, chaps, but no links for you. Standards must be maintained, and we don't want to over-excite the goblins on a weekday evening.
I was tired and hungry after a day Bertrand Russel-ing, so I tied up my Bertrands in front of the Philosopher's Saloon and moseyed on in. I had Derrida da menu, and decided to have a Plato Heidegger chips for my Sartre. The waiter asked what I wanted for a main. I asked for his recommendation, he gave it, so I replied, "I think, therefore, spiced ham, although Egon Ronay only gave it half Marx"
This infuriated the waiter, who snapped, "In that case, you get Foucalt!", then threw me out!
Well, public opinion seems to be against me; if fey Scots and/or monks of great reknown are your thing, who am I to argue?
Can I just say that linking to Donovan tracks without a clear warning is the absolute height of irresponsibility?
An hour's practice with a scimitar followed up with Conan The Defiant (or 'Threesomes with Zombies', as it should be known) left me completely unprepared for that
It's impossible to write a non-cheesy song about Atlantis, as proved by Eloy
Also,this is nothing to do with anything literary, but it does have a man in lipstick shooting down a slide and going 'Ha ha ha ha'
That was ace.
Here's a version by Arizona Swamp Company with a boss riff, which they might have nicked from someone else. Not sure.
Late to the Beatles-fest, but my top five faves are:
1) Strawberry Fields Forever
My favourite Who track is 'The Kids Are Alright', my favourite Kinks track is probably 'Days' or 'See My Friends', my lucky stone is topaz and my turn-ons include zebra stripe prints and a negative quantity of coleslaw.
Because I'm now getting prog withdrawal symptoms, here's Mack Sigis Porter - Sunday in Neon Lights
I think my mum preferred John.
A few examples from the Infernal/Abyssal songbook:
'Daddy's taking us to Pazuzu tomorrow'
I bought 'Throne of the Crescent Moon', after the slew of recommendations it's received on this thread, and it's more than living up to its billing so far. I'm also having a go at the Decameron, which is quite fun. Mine's an ex-library copy, and has a big sticker in the front saying
'The reader is warned that the language used or the incidents described in this book may be considered objectionable by some, and, therefore, the librarian has been asked to issue this book with discretion. NOT TO BE PLACED ON THE OPEN SHELVES
Presumably in case the mere sight of it sent the inhabitants of 1950s Darlington into some sort of slavering erotic frenzy.
I also found 'Thongor of Lemuria' when clearing out my bookshelves, which I don't think I've actually read before. Thrills.
Deap Vally was the tops. Like (a much better looking) Blue Cheer in places.
Meanwhile, some stuff I heard on Jarvis Cocker's show last week:
And (not on the show) 'In Ale Gasn' Farshlept lebn galt!
EDIT: Etron Fou Le Loublan. Good gracious.
Storm Silverhand: "Why is that lump of hash hooting at that creature with the body of an ox and the head of a wild boar which can kill with its gaze or breath?"
Manshoon: "I don't know, why is that lump of hash hooting at that creature with the body of an ox and the head of a wild boar which can kill with its gaze or breath?"
Storm: "That's just the pot calling the Catoblepas! BOOM BOOM!"
Manshoon: "Shut up and put some clothes on"
From Robin Gibb's late 60s? Early 70s? solo album . Trembling Bells covered this one.
It combined 'Go Ride the Music' and 'West Pole' and was brought to you courtesy of Ralph J. Gleason and his enviable moustache.
EDIT: Also, super live footage of Agitation Free!
Debbie Does Duergar?
Don Juan de Doodlebug wrote:
Sounds like very informative reading.
HTFAM-&MHKY! is extremely informative; it recommends going out and pushing around a goldfish tank on a trolley as a way to meet men, and also starting conversations by going up to prospective partners and saying, "Hello, sailor. New in town?" And buying your boyfriend porn mags, which I don't actually believe any woman has ever done, even in 1978. Very spiritually uplifting.
Comrade Anklebiter wrote:
Ha ha, I'm immune to the lures of the 4th International, from frequent exposure to more of the 57 Varieties than you could shake a Staff of Permanent Revolution at ;) I've still got his autobiography on my shelves, though, next to the Collected Works of Swinburne, so there's hope for me yet.
The English are also famous for being ignorant of other languages, despite being steps away from the rich and varied tongues spoken on the continent (not to mention Welsh, Manx, Gaelic, Cornish and so on), no doubt a hangover from the days when we could just bellow at people until they gave up and did what we wanted (still a popular tactic) or else we'd send in the Navy.
The Spanish are supposed to be similarly monolingual, though I don't know whether or not that's at all fair.
Something close to a joke:
An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman are about to be executed by firing squad. The officer in charge comes up to speak to the three:
"OK, scum - you've got one last request before I send your miserable souls to hell! What'll it be - you first, Paddy!"
"I'll have a girl and a crate of Guinness"
"You only get ONE request, pig-dog!"
"Just the Guinness, then"
The officer gives the order and an orderly goes off to fetch the Guinness. Then he turns to the Scotsman: "Well, Jock?"
"I'll have a punnet o'strawberries"
"But it's December! Strawberries aren't in season for another six months!"
"That's OK. I can wait"
At last, he turns to the Englishman. "And what about you, Tommy?"
"I wish to join the Conservative Party"
The officer looks stunned. "Why?"
"Because then I know, when I die, that the world will be rid of a *******!"
"We're all sophisticated savages here!"
Literature's different, but with music, anything can be consumed passively, no matter whether it's high, low or middlebrow - Vivaldi being piped down the phoneline while you're being put on hold, Birth of the Cool as an unobtrusively hip background noise in a shop, etc. Betrayal of the artist's vision, possibly, but it's all product. The more complex/skilfully put together a work is, the more it *rewards* interaction - unless you have a particularly specialised interest in pop music production, you're always going to get more out of repeated listens to, say, Zappa or Bach than you are to darling Miley's oeuvre.
But then again, that's not what her records are for, so it may not be a problem. Nobody expected Frank or J.S. to start twerking, after all.
Kirth Gersen wrote:
New track by Sigmund Blue, "Carbon Copy." Starts standard pop, gets goofy, then turns into classic (early 70s Gabriel Genesis Era) sounding Prog Rock from about 02:33 to about 05:30. Right on!
That was neato - the end section especially so. There's a band (other than Genesis) that the first bit really reminds me of and I cannot for the life of me think who it is. Aagh!
I've also very much enjoyed all Doodlebug's Marty Robbins tunes and Zapp and Roger, too.
"Bow-tied uncle" strikes me as a good all-purpose insult, though
"Damn you for a parcel of bow-tied uncles!"
"I mean, I'm broad-minded, but that sort of bow-tied uncle Hentai stuff... Euch!"
"Gold booty shorts... That weird twin-hairy-eggs hairdo... grinding up against Robin Thicke and doing goodness knows what with a foam finger - what a bow-tied uncle she is..."
Klaus van der Kroft wrote:
Stands outside Klaus's bunker, bayonet fixed and pikelhaube cocked at a jaunty angle, repelling all-comers in a wild boar and magic potion-fuelled battle trance
Matt Thomason wrote:
They're all German anyway. Maybe we could lease them out in return for having a beer pipeline built under the North Sea!
I love a new prog find.
Also, and most importantly, Inner Babylon by the Sons of Kemet - amazing new British jazz with super Seb Rochford on drums and a (very) mildly sexy video.
Did you mean to say 'masterwork tool bonus?
I sure hope so.
Boob plate bothers me in the same way that stupidly oversized/spiky weaponry bothers me, i.e. pointless nitpicky nerdsome fun-smothering. Is it possible to design armour that is both sexy and practical? When will equal-opportunity rubber nipple provision become a reality? What did Joan of Arc wear when she went into battle?
Here's a rant about autumn
Autumn, season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. What the **** does that mean? It means that the Poet Keats has been on the laudanum again, and Mighty Thor could come down from the sky and start firing lightning bolts up his winkie-woo before he took any notice of what's happening in the real world, namely rain, cold and encroaching darkness. Yeah, sometimes it's crisp and bright and clear and the apples are ripening and the jolly farmer beams as he reaps the bountiful harvest and all that ****ocks but that's the frosting on the turd, to be honest. The clammy, chilly turd.
Of course, I always associate September with going back to school after a glorious summer spent hangin' 10 crunchy hodads on my woodie while shooting the curl (or at least that's what the undercover police officer told the judge she saw me doing), so it always has a melancholy, depressing aura about it, especially as I'll be doing nothing but sweeping up leaves from around now until December. Bastard leaves. Bastard Autumn. Bloody bastard seasons, the lot of them. Why can't we hibernate, that's what I want to know. Bah. Mgrh. Feh. Poot. Ni.
Freehold DM wrote:
Speaking about ridiculously outdated, I grew a handlebar moustache a couple of years ago (which wasn't too hard to maintain - no Afro, though - wrong genes :) ) for that sought-after Lemmy stroke General Gordon look.
And doesn't that conjure up a lovely image...
As the steaming Comte has pointed out, I am still reading My Apprenticeship and enjoying it very much. I also finished 'Stormlight', by Ed Greenwood, in which the Bard of Shadowdale investigates some mysterious slayings in Cormyr and sometimes keeps her clothes on for up to two pages at a time.
Kirth Gersen wrote:
I'm getting spirit messages from Wolfe Tone
"Wooo, wooo, I bring messages of hope from Beyond. Remember 1798, and why the feck can't Protestants be Irish ?!"
Back in the Land of the Living, I tend to prefer Laphroaig, or Lamb's Navy Rum with hot water and lemon. Or tipped into a nice dark beer for a Harlot's Breakfast (thankyou, Paizo). Possibly will try the black tea and rum thing which I can't remember the name of come winter.