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1. Because he's got bored of goats and now wishes to be known as ElephantToucher
Darling poster following me, here are your precious wee questions.
1. Yes, he Hides in Closets, but what is he doing with that bidet?
Yesterday I finished off volume 1 of Robert Jordan's Conan stories, or Pornan the Bare Hairy'un, as I've decided to call it. I've never come across so many nipples since I last read an Andrew J. Offutt book.
I've also started a blog about kakky fantasy novels, which can be viewed here. Anyone expecting Samnellesque levels of research and erudition needs to prepare themselves for a great deal of disappointment.
Clearing out the cupboard under the stairs resulted in a lot of old crap being thrown out, but I also found:
1) Two old issues of Dragon, which was nice.
Also tried reading Montaillou by Emile La Roi Ladurie, which was very dull indeed, unless you like reading about the daily lives of 13th Century Cathar Shepherds
Guess what?:Not a keeper.
They herd sheep. Then eat soup. Then do some heresy. Then herd more sheep, etc etc until your balls drop off from boredom. If you have balls. If you don't, you are at least spared that part of the ordeal
I blame Cosmo for the fact that I have already made a feature-length motion picture of precisely that. Several, in fact, plus a 'Making Of' documentary and a children's animated TV series (with accompanying range of wipe-clean poseable action figures!).
Actually, I haven't done any of those things, which is also Cosmo's fault. If Paizo wants to give me, I dunno, $4.75, though, IT CAN HAPPEN.
It's winter! It's cold! There is rain, and strong winds! Ai! Ai! Cue nationwide panic! (in tabloid media-land, at least). This obviously means that Paizo's Moses of Snow is reaching the climax of some Epic-level ritual in the NYC Temple of Talos, lightning playing about his mass of gold chains as a horde of sexy storm elementals cavort maniacally about him.
Or, in dub reggae terms,
Mythic JMD031 wrote:
Are you comparing me to the Chinese Government?
Not at all, but I am comparing you to the Chin-Ease Groovy Mint, a disco themed breath sweetener which also helps lubricate and protect the area between mouth and throat if you dribble enough. Not sure why.
I just thought you needed to know that somewhere, a pun-free oasis exists where you can water your spiritual camel without being tormented by paragraphs like the above.
When I went to pick up my guttering today (incidentally, if anybody wants about 6-7 inches of plastic pipe, it's yours. Don't all rush), the man at the builders' merchant warned me, 'DON'T GO UP ON THE ROOF!', presumably for the same reasons. Unless Springheel Jack's on the loose again.
More gales, eh? Wonder what'll end up being blown into my front yard this time? Not been anything exciting so far, but hope springs eternal.
I didn't know it was a comic - I'm pretty sure I had the RPG at some point, unless I've just imagined that...
NFSW, since they've decided to illustrate it with some early 20th century porn.
I've never read anything by Wilheim Reich (who was in the KPD, very early on). Maybe the library can get it.
Mythic JMD031 wrote:
Curse you Limey...if I was keeping better track of rant points I would take them from you. WHY WON'T THAT THREAD DIE???!!!!
BARUTHAAHS 'N' SISTAAHS! Four score and seven years ago I had a dream that so much was owed to so few who had in their hayunds a piece of paper and I wanna ask y'all, will we let the hairy beatnik Renaissance merchant man crush our Vision? Will we let him stop our perfumed Glory from waftin' over the world like some heavenleh blast of Febreze? Will we allow the dead hand of repression to clasp us in its clammy, cheeto-stained jaws? Will we? WILL WE?
No, No, No! Baruthaahs 'n' Sistaahs, I want you all to link arms, place a delicate flowah in the button hole of the Policeman standing in front of you and SING WITH MEH!
"OOOOH, WE WILL OFFER PU-HU-HUNS. WE WILL OFFER PU-HU-HUNS. WE WILL OFFER PUNS, TOOO-DAY-YAY-YAY-YAY-YAY" (ad nauseum)
Paizo's own Sissyl was once on the final of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire?', playing against the cricketer Ian Botham. It was the very last round and the contestants were neck and neck. Ian had got his last question wrong - now it was Sissyl's turn. £1m was riding on her answer!
'Sissyl' , asked Chris Tarrant, 'Which lager refreshes the parts that others cannot reach?'
Sissyl looked stumped -Ian looked smug. He knew the answer! Then, Sissyl asked to phone a friend - and called the Boneyard!
'Hello, Pharasma. Can you tell me
YES. THE ANSWER IS HEINEKEN"
Pharasma was correct! The crowd cheered wildly, Cricketer Botham looked furious, and Sissyl laughed delightedly and told him,
"Never go up against a Sissyl, Ian, when DEATH is on the line!!"
Well, if we do communalise women, as accused, you're in there, as you can both pick her; if, as we should, we also communalise men, you're also in there, as she can pick you both!! WIN + WIN = DOUBLE WIN. Socialism at its best.
True Love Waits (until after the second glass of Bailey's), if that's any consolation.
ElfQuest (for ponx):
I have lunch with Ms. Technician next week, as we do from time to time. She asked me out about three years ago; I couldn't hear her due to a tannoy going off, so didn't reply. Then, a year later, I asked her out and she said no. Since then, we meet up from time to time and pretend none of the above has ever happened, which I think is something that could only happen in the UK.
Online has proved to be semi-productive, but generally it's one date and then phut, without developing into anything further. Still, these things happen.
If I wanted to meet women through politics, I wouldn't have joined the League of Cold War Relics. Possibly these things are handled better by the ultra-left.
Apparently there's some new app called Siren, where you (just for heteros at the mo, and just in the US, though they are working on an LGBT version), post your pic and some answers to silly questions and, if you are a woman and you like what you see, you can get in touch and message one another. Men can't message women without prior contact, I think.
They've trademarked the phrase 'Go ahead - charm someone's pants off', so maybe you can sue them if that doesn't happen! Thrills.
I raise a clenched fist in salute to you, and fezzes.
As an interlude, courtesy of last weekend's mega 2nd hand book sale:
Comrade Joker 1: "'Scuse me, but do you have the Enver Hoxha cookery book?"
Me: "No, but in how many ways can you cook Enver Hoxha, anyway?"
That's as good as it's going to get, I'm afraid.
I wondered what the proper name for that sort of hat was, and now I know.
That's my excuse for wearing a fez, too. F***ing internationalism, not to mention solidarity with little monkeys forced to slave away for NOTHING by villainous, capitalist organ grinders all over the world. FOR INTERNATIONAL SIMIAN UNITY!
Oh do look closer at the world of association football, starting with the plight of the guest workers building the arenas for the planned 2022 World Cup in Qatar (and the plight of guest workers in the Gulf states in general), then read a Bill Shankly biography for some red nostalgia, and keep burrowing your way into the rabbit hole
A limerick (not one of mine):
I went for a trial with Bill Shankly
One of the reasons why the 'big' EDL march in Bradford flopped a few years ago was because the Bradford football hooligans said that the Leeds football hooligans were going to attend over their dead bodies. Probably not because they were opposed to the march, but huzzah for poisonous local rivalries nonetheless.
Two words: publuc transport, or rather five words: public transport, no social life. Engrave them on your heart.
Presently, 'Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Mecca and Medinah' by Richard F Burton, in which Dickie pretends to be a Persian doctor, buys slaves, smokes hash and gets very dirty in Suez (so far). Normally, he gets a bit loopy whenever Egypt gets mentioned, but he's managed to hold himself back as of this moment, and it's a very, very interesting read, mainly because he immerses himself completely in the local culture
Based on my experiences of online dating, the following appear to be essentials for the modern Britlander woman:
1) Full set of teeth (tick!)
Of course, American/Serbian/German women may differ completely. IDK.
Don Juan de Doodlebug wrote:
I like the psychedelic gangsta sex Barbie image she has; most things Minaj related get a juicy big PiPu thumbs-up from me, although I prefer the last couple to the sort of mainstream-y dance stuff she's done (like Va Va Voom or Starships, etc). The videos are normally mental, which is v. good.
Do I spend a lot of time listening to this stuff? Nope, but let's face it, NM is a lot more appealing to watch on screen than, say, Robert Fripp, though YMMV, of course.
It's a smasher. I liked that bit too :)
Per the Nicki video, I didn't actually mind the music itself, though as Sissyl said, the lyrics are a bit er..., reading as they do like some sort of x-rated [insert qualification you take around the age of 16] English assignment.
"Pay attention, class! Now I want all you thick b**ches and bishops to write me 300 words on the subject, 'I never f***ed Nicki because...'"
Some of those who smooth horses, are the same that burp croissants!
DURDURDURDURDUR! DURDURDURDURDUR! DURDURDURDURDUR! COOLING INCA GNOMES OFF!
DURDURDURDURDUR! DURDURDURDURDUR! DURDURDURDURDUR! COOLING INCA GNOMES OFF!
F*** YOU, I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME! F*** YOU, I WON'T DO WHAT YOU TELL ME! F***...
And the LORD said unto Dingo, 'Scribeth thou me a Scroll, that the Nations might know my glory'
And Dingo said to the LORD, 'LORD, I cannot, for I am afeared'
The LORD said, 'Of what art thou afeared?' and Dingo replied,
So the LORD commanded Dingo to don the Eucalyptus leaf, and the Hat which hath Corks suspended around the Brim, and some Sand, and a Strategically Placed Duck Billed Platypus, and Dingo was sore aggrieved.
'Fat lot of bladdy use you are, mate', quoth he, and the LORD sayeth in return, 'Talk to the Thunderbolt, 'cos the Macroprosopus ain't listening'
Here endeth the Lesson