HEADLINE – DONALD TRUMP SAYS “VENGEANCE IS A CHRISTIAN VALUE”

 

“Jesus wants me to take vengeance against my hair stylist.”

MUNCIE –   During a speech on Monday at the Lynchburg, Virginia Christian college, Liberty University, Donald Trump gave the assembled Christian students some advice: “Get even.”

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“A few of you may say my advice is anti-Christian. Wrong!” Trump said.

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A student pointed out that Trumps advice conflicts with Christ’s Sermon on the Mount recorded in chapters 5-7 of the Gospel of Matthew, where Jesus tells his followers to reject the Old Testament rules on eye-for-an-eye justice and, if slapped, turn the other cheek rather than retaliate.

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 ”Don’t believe any of that malarky,” Trump responded.  ”Jesus was being misquoted by the liberal media.”

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The liberal media makes Jesus very, very angry.

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“Believe me, the central message of Christianity is “every man for himself” and “always kick a man when he’s down because there is no better time to do it,” Trump said.

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Trump, married three times, then advised the assembled students to get prenuptial agreements before they get married.

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“Jesus wasn’t married and I know why,” Trump said.  ”It is because they didn’t have prenuptial agreements in those days so if you got married you were screwed if you wanted to get out of it, especially if you had a lot of money and the woman seduced you because she wanted your money.  But Jesus avoided all of that by not getting married. I’m not saying he didn’t play the field. He just didn’t get married.  I am absolutely sure that, if Jesus had access to a prenuptial agreement, he would have been married. At least once.”

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Maybe more than once.

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The university has posted a video of Trump’s speech on its website, noting that Chancellor Falwell introduced Trump as ”one of the greatest visionaries of our time.”

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CREATURE TAILS?

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On Wednesday my blog traffic shot up suddenly.  I looked into it and found out that hundreds of thousands of people found this blog via the following search term:

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CREATURE TAILS

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Can anyone explain this?  Is there some weird sexual fetish trending out there that I am unaware of?

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AN UNFORTUNATE MISTRANSLATION

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PICTURES FROM MY TELEVISION

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I love my iPhone, especially the camera.  It is easy to use and takes really good pictures.

So I tend to take a lot of pictures, and I take pictures of everything – even my television.

I don’t know how you watch television, but my television allows me to pause any program or movie showing on the screen.  So if I want to answer the phone, or get a beer, or any number of things, I pause the program, go do it, and then resume viewing when I am done.

My iPhone allows me to take photographs of the stilled image on the screen.  And I do because some of them appeal to me.

Here are some of the photos I’ve taken from my television over the last few months. If a person’s television viewing habits reveal anything about the person, then perhaps I am showing the world something I may regret.

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SOME PARENTS SHOULDN’T BE PARENTS

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“Pout, baby, pout! Give me all you got! Oh yeah… Yeah! That’s it. Now walk slower. No, slower….”

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At least they didn’t dress her up like a pot of honey.

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A GRIM FAIRY TALE – Free Among the Monkeys And Elephants

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"Hello, children. Would you like to hear a story?"

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I just saw a ten minute preview of the new movie John Carter, and it got me thinking.

I’ve met a lot of professional writers, many of which I admire as artists who have skills I cannot and could not possibly match.  But not all the writers I’ve encountered in my life fit that description. The simple fact is that being a good writer and being a successful writer are often different things and depend on factors that have nothing to do with skill.

So I see the John Carter preview and it looks great. And I am reminded of the book and the author that inspired it back in 1912 – exactly a century ago. And I realize, again, that no one can say what is good or predict with any accuracy what will last.

What follows isn’t exactly a grim fairy tale, but it’s close enough to fit in that category.

So, without further faffing, I give you…

FREE AMONG THE MONKEYS AND ELEPHANTS

On night in late October, 1913, in Dover, England, in a pub at the bottom of a hill, in the shadow of Dover Castle – walking distance to the beach where Matthew Arnold heard ignorant armies clashing by night – George Bernard Shaw was working hard to persuade Lydia, an aspiring American actress, to have sex with him.           

“Should we be going?” Lydia asked.  The piercing cry of gliding seagulls sounded loudly throughout the thick seaside darkness. “The train back to London leaves in ten minutes.”

 ”We can catch the next one,” Shaw responded. 

 ”Do you really think you can get me a reading for Liza?”

 ”I am the playwright.  Of course I can.”

 ”But I don’t know how to do a cockney accent.”

 ”That’s won’t be a problem,” Shaw said.  “I can teach you.  Look, since we’re waiting for the next train, why don’t we take a walk down to the beach?  Matthew Arnold wrote his famous love poem there.”

  “Who? Lydia asked.

 ”Never mind,” Shaw said, taking her hand and guiding her out of the pub.  They passed where James Joyce sat with his traveling companion and lover, Nora.  Joyce listened to Nora and watched her face as she drank pint after pint of bitter, dark, thick beer.   He listened as she talked about her sex life prior to meeting him.

“I think he made them a bit firmer sucking on them so long,” she slurred, nourishing her thick Irish working-class accent each time she lifted her glass and gulped beer. 

Joyce and Nora were on their way to Paris from Dublin by way of London.  Joyce was struggling to find a publisher for two books – a collection of short stories and a short semi-autobiographical novel.  At that moment, in the middle of her beer-sodden reminiscence, Nora could not have cared less.

 ”He made me spend the second time tickling my behind with his finger,” Nora laughed, red eyed.

Joyce smiled and nodded, encouraging her to continue. 

 ”I tried it with the banana,” she confessed. “But I was afraid it might break and get lost up in me somewhere.”  Joyce looked concerned, but wasn’t.  He listened carefully, trying with all his might to memorize every single word.

In the same pub, Edgar Rice Burrows sat with his friend and fellow writer, William Seabrook.  Burrows eagerly described a novel he was writing.

 ”Thuvia is this voluptuous Martian princess,” he began

 ”Are there any other kind?” Seabrook asked.  He genuinely liked Edgar, and admired his success as a popular writer, but nevertheless believed that Burrows was an idiot.

“She is in love with the son of John Carter, the Warlord of Mars -” Burrows explained.

“The Martian princess?”

 ”Yeah.  So she’s in love with this big warrior type who can jump really far and high because his father is from the Earth.”

 ”He can jump high because his father is from Earth?”

 ”Yeah.”

 ”Sort of like a handsome, muscular grass hopper.”

 ”Look, do you want to hear about this or not?”

“Yes, I’m sorry. Please go on.”

“So Carthoris – that’s the guy – he has the hots for Thuvia -”

 ”Carthoris and Thuvia?”

“Yeah.”

 ”Sounds like a bad Shakespearian play.”

 ”So she’s got the hots for him, too, but bad guys kidnap her and make it look like Carthoris did it.”

 ”So he sallies forth to rescue her.”

 ”Yeah. What do you think?”

“Charming.  But tell me about that ape-man novel you are writing.”

“Sure.  It’s based on the short story I published.  Did you read it?”

 ”No, but I’m still interested. It is about a man who is half man, half ape, if I remember correctly.”

“Not half-man half-ape.  He is an ape-man named Tarzan.”

“Whatever.  You say that your publisher is willing to pay you in advance to write it?”

 ”Yeah.”

 ”Well then, why waste your time with your Martian Romeo and Juliet until you’ve finished the Tarzan novel?  What are you going to call it?”

“Tarzan.”

 ”I should have guessed.  Sort of a foreign adventure piece I take it?”

“On, yeah. Lots of adventure.  Tarzan is a guy who was raised in the African jungle by apes.”

“It sounds ghastly.  Are you sure they’re going to pay you for this?”

“You bet.”

“I wonder what the appeal is?” Seabrook pondered.

“Every guy wants to be Tarzan,” Burrows explained.  “Tarzan has everything a man could want.”

“Fleas?”

“Tarzan doesn’t have fleas,” Burrows said, irritably.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not going to give him any,” Burrows said. “I’m giving him a great life.  He’s king of the beasts, lord of the apes.  He can talk to elephants.” 

“Elephants?”

“He can call elephants if he needs them.”

“Why would he need elephants.”

“If he needs a ride, or if he needs help.”

“How helpful can an elephant be?” 

“Lets say he’s surrounded by bad guys, and there’s no way out.  Well, he calls to the elephants and they come and trample the bad guys.”

“Deus Ex Elephant?” Seabrook asked.

 “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “The point is that Tarzan does what he wants.  He is totally free from the pressures of the modern world.  He could have been anyone, any one of us.  And that’s my point.  I want the reader to think, ‘Hey, if I had been dropped into a jungle, I could have been Tarzan.  Tarzan and me are the same guy, we were only brought up different.”

 ”You see this Tarzan as leading some kind of idyllic life?”

 ”Not idyllic – ideal.  Idyllic lives are boring lives.  Tarzan faces plenty of danger to keep things interesting.  And there are things missing that he really needs.”

“Soap and water?”

“No.  Women.  There aren’t any women around.”

“What about native women?”

“Oh, yeah, plenty of those.  But there are no white women anywhere.  So he meets this beautiful explorer, and she shows him the ropes -”

Seabrook smiled at the reference.

” – and brings him back to London.  Good stuff.  But the biggest reason why my readers are going to admire Tarzan is his total freedom, so it won’t surprise anyone when Tarzan would rather be in the jungle instead of in civilization.”

“Free among the monkeys and elephants?”

“Exactly.”

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Elmo Lincoln, in the first Tarzan film (1918)

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William Seabrook

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Nora Barnacle

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James Joyce

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George Bernard Shaw

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Lydia Atherton

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Edgar Rice Burroughs

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Thuvia

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Cathorsis (the one doing the stabbing)

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PUTIN ON THE RITZ

I know I shouldn’t, but I just can’t help myself.

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click on image to activate GIF

Meet My Oldest and Youngest Sisters

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My father married three times.

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He producing three sons, of which I am the second, and five daughters. I recently realized that my oldest sister shares inexplicable similarities to my youngest sister.

My oldest sister is Marea. We share a mother and a father.

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As is apparent, Marea is in love with the American culture exemplified in the 1890′s through the 1920′s.  Her passion for that era extends, in particular, to its music.  I personally am amazed that Marea has found a variety of fora to express her appreciation through performance in front of audiences of people equally passionate about such an esoteric historical period.  Here is an example:

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Jump ahead a generation to the results of my father’s third, and most lasting, marriage.  This is my youngest sister, Eileen.

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Like her oldest sister, Eileen has embraced the theatrical.  She is actually a fairly accomplished actress, which you can see byhclicking here/or by watching this film preview:

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I am very proud of all my sisters, but Eileen possesses a talent that excites me more than any other: she is a talented graphic artist and there is a possibility she will collaborate with me to illustrate one of my Grim Fairy Tales entitled The Vulture Who Thought He Was a Person.

Stay tuned.

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Headline – Newt Gingrich surges

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I certainly hope he cleans up after himself.

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Apparently, they’re glad she’s dead.

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WEBSITE OF THE WEEK – A peek into the past

We live in a amazing place in time and space.  Never before in the history of the world has so much esoteric information been literally at our fingertips.  For most humans there is little value in an instant – almost godlike – ability to access information.  But for people like me – who see the entire purpose of existence as a desperate devotion, an inevitably futile lifelong quest to intellectually and emotionally grasp the absurd – living in the Information Age provides a spiritual high every time we go online.

Which brings me to my new favorite website, List of the Day.  Check out great-olan-mills-photos.html  for a taste of what is offered.  On this one page someone went through the significant trouble of collecting together stock photos from some of the photography studios that proliferated in the United States during the 1970′s.  Here is a small sample of what is offered:

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These photos were displayed as advertisement for a photo studio’s photographic services.  My, my, my, how times have changed.

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HEADLINE – Strict security in place for birth of Beyoncé’s baby

MUNCIE, Indiana - Beyonce’s delivery of baby Blue Ivy was not some haphazardly thrown together ordeal — it was an elaborate plan involving a big security force.

The hospital held a meeting leading up to the delivery to discuss a security plan for the birth. The meeting between execs and security was held Friday afternoon and strict security was in place almost immediately, preparing for Beyonce’s late night delivery.

The goal – i.e., keeping Beyonce’s baby from killing and eating anyone or escaping the specially prepared cell by teleporting out into an unsuspecting world – succeeded admirably.

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Source:  http://www.tmz.com/2012/01/08/beyonce-blue-ivy-baby/#.Twp5OpgzLzI

New Feature – FORGOTTEN MEDIA …………… First up – THE CORE

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Let’s face it: most of what is created to tempt us into wasting time and spending money, with the hope of being entertained, is crap.

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It wastes our money. It insults our intelligence. Books, movies and television are engendered more often than not with the foundational assumption that the consuming public is composed of people with very low Intelligence Quotients and very, very low standards.

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When media executives think of us, this is what they see.

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And so much of it is fraudulent.  How many times have you seen a movie preview, grown excited by the prospect of a new movie, only to discover that the preview previewed a movie that doesn’t exist, like emphasizing characters and plot points that are incidental in the actual movie?  It happens all the time.

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I often encounter media, the excellence of which surprises me.  I’ll watch a television show, read a book, listen to a radio play, watch a movie and ask myself “why didn’t I hear about this sooner?”

When I look into it, I often find out that virtually no one has seen or heard of what  just surprised me.

I call it Forgotten Media – popular entertainment that wasn’t popular enough to make it into the popular conscience.  And there is a lot of it.  I was thinking that my legion of blog visitors might be interested in knowing more.

Today, quite by accident,  I saw a movie entitled The Core.

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The Core is a science fiction adventure film, and one of the best I’ve ever seen.  The plot is based on the simple question “what would happen if the earth’s core stopped rotating?”

If that question doesn’t create both interest and terror, then you probably don’t know how important the question is.  Simply put, all life on earth is possible only because our planet has a molten iron core that spins in the opposite to the earth’s rotation.  So if the earth rotates from right to left (east to west) the earth’s molten iron core spins left to right (west to east).  

Not all planets do this.  Mars doesn’t do it, which is why it will never be possible for humans to live on Mars.

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Never gonna happen.

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Here is how it works:  the earth’s molten core, spinning in the opposite direction to the earth’s rotation, generates a huge magnetic field that surrounds the earth like a force field.

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This force field prevents solar radiation from hitting the earth and killing every single living thing on the planet.

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So, if the earth’s liquid iron core stops rotating, it would cause the earth’s magnetic field to collapse, allowing solar radiation to hit the earth. And if that happens, everything from the smallest microbe to the largest blue whale dies.

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Very early in The Core, the main characters learn the earth’s core is slowing down, and the rest of the movie is a race against time to save the planet.

The cast – put together by the best casting director in the business, Tricia Wood – includes Aaron Eckhart, Hillary Swank, Delroy Lindo, Stanley Tucci and Alfre Woodard, with a stand out performance by D.J. Quails as a computer hacker whom the US government  asks to “hack the planet” to keep the whole thing secret to avoid worldwide panic. 

The Core is directed by Jon Amiel, who also directed another of my favorite forgotten movies, Tune in Tomorrow.
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So what you have here is a well-written, well-acted, well-directed adventure film that nobody but me has seen (and maybe a few of you) and, if you haven’t seen it, I recommend that you do.

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A Grim Fairy Tale – BOXING DAY

Hello, children. I am Brother Grim. Would you like to hear a true story?

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BOXING DAY

Once upon a time there was a young woman named Jennifer. Jennifer lived in a place known far and wide as the City of Angels, which Jennifer liked because she considered herself a Born Again Christian, and living in a city of angels was fine by her.

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Jennifer lived with a man named Robert.  They met in church and were married a year later.  The day after their first Christmas together, she found Robert’s secret briefcase hidden in the apartment bedroom closet.

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The briefcase was large, hard shelled and had a combination lock with three numbers on rotating dials set side by side.  It was very heavy. She shook it gently, but didn’t notice any peculiar movement. She had no idea what was in it.

She tried to open it (of course), but it was locked and she could not open it. That is when she realized the brief case belonged to Robert, because she would have remembered buying something that could lock.  

She put the briefcase back where she found it and walked away.

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But the next day she was in the closet again looking at the secret briefcase. She looked closely and noticed that the numbers on the combination had changed. She didn’t know how she knew, but she knew. She memorized the number combination showing – 0-8-7 – and placed the briefcase back in the closet.

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A week later, she checked and saw that the numbers had changed to 4-2-7. This meant that at least twice in as many weeks, Robert had opened the lock, gone into the briefcase, and jumbled the numbers when he relocked it.  So Jennifer began to check the briefcase every day. Every day she tried to open it, just in case Robert forgot to jumble the numbers to set the lock.

One day the briefcase opened.

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Inside, Jennifer found a pair of musty, sweaty boxing gloves, a stack of magazines and some video cassettes. Tucked into one of the organizer pockets inside the briefcase, Jennifer found a bunch of letters from men addressed to Robert at his office.

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Jennifer read the letters and looked through the magazines. She even watched one of the videos. The magazines and videos showed men – and sometimes women – boxing and wrestling.

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Jennifer learned from the letters that Robert would regularly go to the Olympic Gym near Downtown L.A., rent a boxing ring, and box with strange men—rarely the same man twice.

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The Olympic Auditorium then.

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They’d punch and pound and smack each other and then afterwards they would perform unnatural, sinful acts upon themselves as the other watched.  The letters would end with promises that the writer would inflict great bodily harm upon Robert the next time they met at the gym.

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Naturally Jennifer confronted Robert about her awful discovery. She let him come home to find her sitting on their bed with the briefcase open, reading his letters.

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Robert admitted everything—the boxing and the unspeakable, sinful acts. He admitted that he lied to Jennifer – that when he said he was working on weekends he was really meeting strange men at the Olympic Gym.

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Robert admitted lying about playing rugby as a subterfuge to explain the injuries he sustained boxing.

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That night Jennifer slept at her friend’s house and the next day she moved her things out of the apartment she shared with Robert.  She resolved that her marriage with Robert was over because lying, Jennifer knew, is a sin. 

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The Olympic Auditorium now.

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My Bananahead Nightmare (continued)

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Apparently, some of you out there misconstrue my prior post’s serious nature.  I really am not kidding.  There is something about people putting bananas on their head that creeps me out. Big time.

I felt the GIF of Freddy Mercury fondling a bunch of bananas on his head would be horrifying enough. But it wasn’t.  So I am forced to show you the true extent of this sick perversion.

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HEADLINE – Lady Gaga Terrifies Baby

Lady Gaga holds up crying baby after yelling "boo!" and shaking the infant.

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MUNCIE – For the third time in two days, pop star Lady Gaga has frightened a small child.

“So I like to scare kids. So what?” Gaga said on Wednesday.  ”Everyone has their peccadillos.  Mine happens to be frightening children,” the singer added.

“I hate the little bastards,” Gaga concluded.

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Source:  http://www.people.com/people/article/0,,20546230,00.html

TOTALLY DIGGING GAME OF THRONES ON HBO

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I feel the need to start out clean and admit I have neither read the books nor intend on reading them.  And I am well-aware that the fanboys hate what HBO has done to their beloved ersatz Shakespeare fantasy.

But I’ve watched every episode broadcast thus far and feel very sure that the fanboys have their heads shoved deep within their singular and collective fanboy rectii.

Game of Thrones is a wonderful show and is some of the best television I’ve ever experienced.  It grabbed me from the very beginning and has me wanting even more with each chapter shown. It has become an event in my household.  I open a California pale ale and grow slowly buzzed as the show progresses.  And it is always, always, always over too soon.

I know what you’re thinking, especially Moko, Therbs, Barnes and the Rhino.  All of you are saying “oh, we know  you, Boylan, and we know that it is the proliferation of naked women that persuades you to overlook narrative flaws.

Yes, it is true that I have already expressed a favorable opinion about the series engendered solely by the plethora of buck naked women displayed in each and every episode. However, I have transcended this consideration.  This last episode included no naked women – none at all – and it was the best episode to date.  So shame on any of you for judging me so shallow and callous as to value a video experience merely for inclusion and depiction of naked women.

Which is always a plus. Seriously.  From a purely artistic and utterly intellectual frame of reference, there is no art – low, pop, or high – that cannot be improved with naked women. Especially attractive ones. For example, Roman Polanski’s Macbeth (1971) included naked women, but they were repulsive and did not really enhance the viewing experience.  Trust me on this. Repulsion may be what Polanski was striving for, but not what I pay precious money to see.  I adore my European brothers and sisters, but their appetite for repulsive imagery leaves me cold and confused.

 But I digress.  I am trying to say that, even in the absence of naked women, Game of Thrones is great television.  And I cannot recommend it more highly.

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A Grim Fairy Tale – THE NOVICE

Hello, children. I am Brother Grim. Would you like to hear a story?

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THE NOVICE

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Once upon a time in a city carved out of the Central American jungles,  a novice priest of the Feathered Serpent sat on a stone bench in the High Priest’s ante chamber, waiting for the High Priest to finish with a sacrifice.

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The novice rehearsed in his mind what he was going to say to the High Priest. Suddenly, the door opened, and the usher – resplendent in his brightly feathered robes – came out and beckoned the novice into the audience chamber. The High Priest was standing at the window, looking down at the bustling metropolis.

“Praise the Feathered Serpent,” the novice intoned.

The High Priest looked away from the window and barely acknowledged the salutation.

“Please sit down,” the High Priest said. He gestured to a stone bench by the wall. Both novice and High Priest sat down together.

“How long have you been a novice here at the temple?” the High Priest asked.

“Two years, Excellency.”

“Two years. I talked to the faculty about you. They tell me that you are a good student. Hard working and spiritually gifted.”

“Thank you, Excellency.”

“So what went wrong out there today?”

The novice expected the question, but not the bluntness of its delivery. He swallowed hard before answering.

“I have no excuse, Excellency.”

“I’m not looking for excuses. I want an explanation. You’ve been here two years. You’ve probably assisted in hundreds of sacrifices. Today was your first unassisted solo. So what went wrong?”

“I really don’t know, sir. Everything was going fine. I recited the prayer, made the first incision and reached into the prisoner’s chest cavity. I felt the Feathered Serpent watching over and guiding me, I swear. I’m sure the crowd felt it too. I found myself holding the beating heart up high, showing it to the crowd. It was glorious.”

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“And then…” The High Priest prompted.

“And then the heart just slipped out of my hand and went flying. I think it hit someone in the head.”

The novice sat silent in his shame and disgrace. But then, to his utter amazement and relief, the High Priest laughed.

“You know,” the High Priest said. “many in the crowd hope that the priest performing the sacrifice will slip up.”

“You really think so?”

“It’s human nature. Heck, its cheap entertainment. The peasants even wager on it.”

“They do?”

“Yes. We tried to stop it once, but we gave up. I’m sure the betting was rather heavy on your first solo.”

“And I am thoroughly ashamed -”

“Don’t be. It happens to the best of us. I know.”

“To you?” the novice asked.

“No, but it happened to my great and noble predecessor.”

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“Really?”

“Sure. I was there. The old coot hadn’t performed a sacrifice for over ten years, you know, being busy with administrative duties. But it was the Feast of the Flatulent Twins and he decided to do it himself. I’ll never forget it. There he was – on the sacrificial platform at the top of the pyramid – he made the cut, reached into the chest cavity, pulled out the heart, and lifted it up – still beating – to show it to the crowd below on the steps. And then, pop! It shot out his hand and up into the air. You never saw an old man move so fast. He tried to catch it with his other hand, but that heart shot into the air again. This went on for about five grabs when he finally missed and the heart plopped onto the steps in front of him. Talk about embarrassing.”

“It’s hard to believe.”

“Believe it. But the next day it was forgotten, and my old master served as high priest for another ten years, and even performed – successfully – a sacrifice or two. And that’s my point. Don’t let this little mistake shake your confidence. When you fall off of a llama what do you do? You get right back up on that llama and ride it!”

“Yes sir!”

“You have potential, young man. You might even have my job one day.”

“Oh, no, I’m not -”

“Sure you are. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Anyway. There’s an opening for tonight’s sacrifice. Interested?”

“Yes, of course!”

“That’s the spirit.”

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But it happened again. The Novice slipped at the evening sacrifice and the heart went flying.And the novice was banished from the priesthood forever.

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Website of the Week

If you’re feeling blue, a little down, check out  

http://www.wrongcards.com/

where you will find fake greeting cards like:

and

and

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You can read them or even send them to someone, and all for free.

What’s not to like?

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The Funniest Poster Ever

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HEADLINE – Serial killer sentenced to death dies in prison

Warden Henderson learning the news.

COLUMBUS, Ohio — An elderly Kentucky con man who pleaded guilty to five slayings in Wisconsin and Ohio — and was on death row for his most recent crime — has died in prison of natural causes, an Ohio prisons spokesman said Friday.

Edward Edwards, 77, died Thursday night at the Corrections Medical Center in Columbus, where he was being held, spokesman Carlo LoParo told The Associated Press. An autopsy determined that he suffered a heart attack during the night and died peacefully in his sleep.

“Edward’s untimely death is nothing less than a tragedy,” said LoParo. “The Warden is totally bummed.  He had an outfit picked out for the execution. And the deposit on the post-execution luncheon is nonrefundable, so that’s gone, too.”

“This may ruin my chances for a modeling career,” said Cindy Henderson, Queen of the Execution Day parade. “The Execution Day parade organizers said I have to return the tiara.”

“We just gotta figure out a way to fry these guys faster,” said Skip Obrien, Director of Justice for All, a pro death penalty advocacy group. “This guy died in his sleep before we could throw the switch. It is really embarrassing.”

Source: http://www.ajc.com/news/nation-world/serial-killer-sentenced-to-904064.html

Declaration of Sentiments and Resolutions – and Ray Gun Girls

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By now you know I kind of dig Space Chicks.

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In addition to writing substantively on the historical, sociological and geopolitical aspects of Space Chicks, my purely scholarly passion led me to become the worlds leading authority on subject.

Professor Boylan presenting a paper on Space Chicks at the University of Johannesburg, South Africa, in 2006

When I first determined the importance of Space Chicks as a pop culture phenomenon,  I soon observed that there is an important Space Chick subset that is best described as “Ray Gun Girls.”  Simply put, a Ray Gun Girl is a girl often, but not always, wearing a space suit in close proximity to a ray gun, often, but not always holding the ray gun.

Like Space Chicks in general, Ray Gun Girls first appeared on the cover of pulp magazines.

And when Space Chicks migrated from pulp novel covers to film and television, Ray Gun Girls began showing up there, too.

In all honesty, most Ray Gun Girl images are fetish driven manifestations of arrested male adolescent wish fulfillment, amounting to little more than soft core pornography.

However, as the years went by science fiction matured, and Space Chick images began to include strong, capable women who were fully realized heroic figures as complex and detailed as any male hero. As this happened, the images of Ray Gun Girls also evolved into something more serious and less sexist.

To me, the entire phenomenon is really quite fascinating. I don’t have the time or inclination to explore in this blog why there is such a driving interest to depict women holding ray guns.  The psycho-sexual implications alone would fill more space than I have to work with here. However, it is worth noting that the Ray Gun Girl concept is distancing itself from sex object utility and is increasingly being seen as a sign of feminist empowerment.

I’m taking the time here to provide you with the opportunity to judge for yourself.  Below is a gallery of Ray Gun Girl drawings and photos representing only what I was able to download in a few minutes before I gave up and went on to more serious business.  Nevertheless, this incomplete sample is the most comprehensive collection of Ray Gun Girl pics anywhere on or off the internet.

I present them in the order my computer imposed due to file title.

[If you don't see any gallery below, then you need to go back up to the top and click on the link entitled something like "The Ultimate Ray Gun Girl Gallery."

I take no responsibility for any offense that may result from anyone accessing and scrutinizing any of the photos in that gallery.]

The Ultimate Ray Gun Girl Gallery

To access an image, click on it. When it comes up, click on it again to see it in its full size.

HEADLINE – Will Kate Middleton wear a tiara for the royal wedding?

Yes, friends, this is a real headline. Don’t believe me? Click here and see for yourself. WRk

But, in all honesty, who really gives a flying f**k?  Anyone?  Really?  If you do, you desperately need to get a life, or a hobby, or something to occupy your abysmally vacant mind.

HEADLINE – Will Paul Boylan wear a tiara when he eats breakfast tomorrow morning?

Posted in Anyone enraptured by royal weddings is an idiot, dada, disembodied heads of the rich and famous, Hapax Legomenon, Headline, Headlines, I have a bridge for sale you simply must purchase!, I’m not kidding, morbidly obese celebrities, News, Paying Attention, Pop Culture, Post Modern Knock-Knock Jokes, Semi Fake News, Stupid People, The Wilhelm Scream, Travel, What are you sick or something?, Why do people in other countries talk funny?

DAVIS - Should Paul Boylan don a tiara tomorrow when he eats his customary morning bowl of bran cereal, he will be joining a tradition which goes all the way back to the leaders of ancient Persia. “The upright tiara, the privileged head-dress of the Persian Kings while eating breakfast,” quotes the Oxford English Dictionary from a 19th Century history book. The word comes from Greek, and partly Italian, via Latin. As if it matters. Which it doesn’t, but we put that bit of trivia here because, well, just because we have a lot of space to fill and very little to say and wikipedia is just so darned easy to access, even though it is likely it isn’t very accurate or even truthful.

But we digress. What were we talking about?  Oh yeah, tiaras.  According to wikipedia, notables from popes to princesses have been wearing tiaras for centuries when they eat breakfast, and it is rumored that Boylan has a treasure trove of tiaras that have been passed down from generation to generation of some notable family that one of Boylan’s ancestors robbed blind sometime in the early 18th Century. Tiaras are properly worn not only while eating bran cereal – because bowel health is important, especially for the elderly – tiaras are an essential part of anyone’s breakfast wardrobe. There’s the spectacular “Indian” tiara, made for Queen Victoria, and worn by Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother when she ate a large bowl of stewed prunes for breakfast during her State Visit to France in 1933. The bowl she ate from was chinese porcelain from the Ming Dynasty period, or at least that is what it says on wikipedia. It is widely rumored the Queen Mum ate those prunes using her hands with great gusto, audibly manifesting her pleasure, and the resulting mess caused undue embarrassment due to French ridicule over the brown goo covering the Queen Mum’s face and hands coupled with the loud “yummy sounds” she made as she ate, resulting in a pivotal loss of British prestige and influence and quite possibly contributing to Hitler’s rise due to the resulting European power vacuum, but those rumors cannot be verified.

NEXT:  Gaddafi performs puppet show for children.

The broken wall, the burning roof and tower, and Agamemnon dead.

HEADLINE- Rep. Chris Lee resigns after reports of Craigslist flirtation

MUNCIE, Indiana - Rep. Chris Lee of New York abruptly resigned after a gossip Web site reported that the married Republican had allegedly sent flirtatious e-mail messages and a shirtless photo of himself to a woman he met online.

“In February of 2011 Representative Chris Lee was found to have been posting personal ads on Craigslist looking for women and lying about his age and marriage after e-mails and risque photos he sent to a woman were uncovered.”

“The liberal media is at it again,” said Shirley Blond-Bigbreast, Fox News anchor and GOP apologist.

“The real story here is that this latest incident is proof that the Republican Party is making progress solving right wing sex scandals,” Blond-Bigbreast said.  ”Sure, Chris Lee solicited multiple strangers on the internet for sex and lied to them about his age and marital status, but least he isn’t gay.”

Sources:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2011/02/09/AR2011020906912.html

http://gawker.com/#!5756377/craigslist-congressman-resigns

Filed Under: Republicans, Congress, Repressed homosexuality among conservatives

Tagged: chris lee, chris lee craigslist, chris lee resignation, chris lee shirtless, chris lee trying to look buff to impress what he clearly hopes is a stupid woman

A SHORT CONVERSATION WITH MY WIFE

So I was in bed last night watching television with my wife and we were discussing gun control.

There is no more divisive issue sui generis to the American experience and national psyche than the question of gun control.  I am often asked to appear as a guest speaker on topics touching on constitutional rights.  I always begin those talks by quickly describing my travels and experience living and working with people from similar and vastly different cultures.  Because of my exposure to different cultures I am very much aware of what makes Americans different from anyone else on earth. I also know that very few Americans are aware of that difference.

So I ask groups of people whenever I can what it is that makes Americans different and distinct as a culture.  It often isn’t easy for them to determine because they’ve never considered the question before. Most of them have never been more than 50 miles from where they were born and most of them live near people who look, talk and think the same way they do.

But eventually the Socratic method succeeds in helping my audience discover the truth – i.e,  that it is the rights we enjoy as Americans that makes us fundamentally different.  Americans experience a level of freedom no one else in the world can exercise.

Which prompts the inevitable follow-up question. I ask “What freedoms are uniquely American?”

The answer I get varies from audience to audience, but I am always surprised how often the answer is the right to bear arms.

Those who believe this, of course, are wrong.  The right to bear arms isn’t fundamentally or uniquely American.  The Taliban in Afghanistan believe the same thing and are willing to kill anyone who attempts to compromise their right to own and use fire arms.

I bring this up only to illustrate how important it is to own firearms to many, many Americans.  It is so important that millions of Americans value the right to bear arms above the rights of speech, assembly and movement.

I am not that extreme in my views, but I do feel the right to bear arms is an important right if for no other reason than it is expressly mentioned in the American Constitution.  My wife disagrees.  She believes that the American Founding Fathers’ viewpoint is important, but not controlling because time has made their worldview – their original intent – absurd.

You can see her argument best expressed here:

http://www.examiner.com/video

 

Gun control is a fairly hot topic, which is why my wife and I were discussing the topic while watching television last night.

The recent horrific shootings in Tuscon, Arizona are at the forefront of all of our minds. My wife is upset and believes Arizona should have more potent gun control regulations.  In the heat of our discussion she said “guns kill people.”

I was ready for that argument. “Blaming guns for killing people,” I retorted, “is like blaming spoons for obesity.”

I felt pretty good about that statement. It was eloquent and elegant, bordering on poetry.

We sat in silence a while, me feeling a bit smug, and then my wife said:

“Yeah, but if crazy people were running around killing 9 year old girls with spoons, I bet we would have some spoon control laws pretty quick.”

God, I love my wife.

‘Tis the Season

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Many Americans shop for Christmas gifts using catalogues. At this time of year, my home mail box is stuffed-full with catalogues and brochures trying to sell me everything and anything.

And I do mean anything.  Here is one my wife pointed out today:

I would never buy this item. Ever. But the catalogue producers think someone will rush to get theirs before they are all gone, and I bet they have thousands of units on hand to meet the expected demand for vodka shot glasses featuring the pictures of four Russian leaders – and not even the most interesting ones.  I might think twice if I saw an advert for vodka shot glasses featuring the faces of Czar Nicholas, Ivan the Terrible and Joseph Stalin. Now those are vodka shot glasses I can appreciate, and I don’t even like vodka, but I would be too frightened not to drink it. But the glasses offered just don’t create any impulse for me to part with my hard earned cash. The thought of drinking out of a Boris Yeltsin glass actually makes me slightly nauseous.

When  I review catalogues featuring Christmas shlok I also am always on the look-out for the inevitable attempt to sell something via an inappropriate visual mechanism.  And today I wasn’t disappointed.  In a different catalogue I found an add for an “Tickle Me Elmo Extreme.”

Everyone knows what Elmo is: it is a cute doll with an infantile personality. Most recently, the “Tickle Me Elmo” version was a huge commercial success.

That version giggled with you tickled it.  How very cute.

But what on earth could be “extreme” about Elmo?  Take a look at the advertisement and see if you can’t determine the audience it is targeting and the prurient interest it is seeking to exploit for monetary profit:

 

Apparently, the “tickle me” theme has taken an extreme and somewhat dark detour.

Extreme tickle, indeed.

WEBSITE OF THE WEEK – Engrish.com

Once again, I owe my “Website of the Week” to my wife, Lori. Here is what happened:

As I sat reading the news and drinking coffee on this bright, clear, crisp Northern California winter Sunday morning,

my wife’s sudden sincere and heart-felt laughter interrupted my peace and tranquility .

I tried to ignore it.  After all, I was in the middle of reading the news on my computer and drinking strong, hot, honey-sweetened coffee on a bright, clear, crisp Northern California winter Sunday morning and the last thing I wanted was for my Wa to be interrupted.

But then it happened like it always happens – my wife came into my office carrying her computer and insisted that I interrupt my sojourn into relaxation. She thrust her MacBook in front of me and gave me no choice but to look at http://www.engrish.com/.

I’m glad she did. Engrish.com is a website devoted to non-English speakers attempting to communicate with English speaking person through written messages.  The results can be very funny,

but not for the reasons immediately apparent and often presumed.

The lowest form of humor is laughing at someone because they made a mistake.

It is a Schadenfreude that seems to be hardwired into every human. A slip and fall, a pie in the face or a photo of someone who inadvertently wet themselves when riding a particularly frightening rollercoaster will make any human being in the world laugh regardless of race, religion, culture, language, sexual or political orientation, or geographical location.

“Man” isn’t the animal that laughs. “Man” is the animal that laughs at errors, mistakes or misfortune experienced by others.

But that isn’t what makes Engrish.com so entertaining.  It isn’t just the mistakes revealed – which are more than understandable: English is a god-awful language, incredibly difficult to use if you weren’t born into a culture speaking it.

If our non-English speaking cousins have trouble with our highly contextual pastiche doggerel/ Creole /gutter language, then it really isn’t their fault.

They are doing their best, and far better than most of us, who seem to insist they speak English if they wish to communicate rather than us learning to speak their language.

Engrish.com is funny for the mistakes it shows, but is fascinating beyond a mere laugh at the expense of others because it reveals that much of the difficulty is rooted in the inescapable fact that our non-English speaking cousins don’t think the way we do and their values are not the same as ours.

It is what they are trying to communicate more than how they are trying to do it that keeps me reading.  Perhaps it will do the same for you.

WEBSITE OF THE WEEK: Nietzsche Family Circus

I don’t know if this is taking place in any other part of the world, but here in the U.S. of A. virtually every newspaper has featured a daily cartoon entitled “the Family Circus.”  Here is an example:

I hate this cartoon strip.  Please note that I am using the word “hate” in reference to the Family Circus cartoon series.  First, it isn’t funny.  At most, it is merely cute, and cuteness doesn’t sustain any meaningful interest. Second, and more importantly,  the  Family Circus cartoon series represents – and works to reinforce and therefore perpetuate – just about every evil that slowly works to subvert American greatness.  The cartoon strip champions mediocrity.  It laughs at – and accepts – idiocy in thought, attitude and behavior.

The Nietzsche Family Circus pairs randomized Family Circus cartoons with randomized Friedrich Nietzsche quotes, and by doing so, not only is wonderful parody but brilliant and piercing satire, e.g. -

Man is something to be overcome. What have you done to overcome him?

And, from my very limited and idiosyncratic viewpoint, the random parings are also very dada, which, for me, provides added value and elevates the Nietzche Family Circus to art.

Please enjoy:

http://www.losanjealous.com/nfc/

And, as a bonus for my mate, Flinthart, here is a Family Circus cartoon quoting H.P. Lovecraft:

MY BLOG IN GERMAN!!

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THIRTY-FIVE people just used google to translate my blog into German:

http://translate.google.com/translate?hl=de&langpair=en%7Cde&u=http://paulboylan.wordpress.com/page/3/&twu=1

Überraschen! Unglaublich! Wunderbar! Es macht mich fühle wie ein kleines mädchen.

I hope it isn’t these people:

 

Studious and thoughtful Germans.

I would, however, welcome this fine individual being among them:

From the 2003 Berlin Love Parade.

Ich habe auf Beleidigen von meinem teutonischen Bruder und Schwestern nicht vor, aber wenn ich Zeit mit Ihnen verbringen muss, zu sein, bevorzugt ich dann, mit schönen Frauen. (Entschuldigen Sie bitte mich; mein Deutsch ist sehr, sehr schlecht. Fair dinkum.)