[I didn't make this.]
Update : In predictable fashion, the lawyers have jumped in to fux0r the fun. *sigh* Hope you had a look while the pics were still there.
An aside to that annoying bastard (you know who you are) who made me nearly blow a gasket recently when he described Daddy Bush’s incursion in the Gulf a dozen years ago as a justified battle of Good Versus Evil, a righteous mobilization to displace “Saddam Hussein, who was, uhhh, like, a new Hitler” : read this, you clueless propaganda-lapping dipsh-t. And this too, if your attention span can manage it.
Art. Nature. Blues. Play more spaceship and Satan music! Monsters. Travel. World’s Best Bars. Return of the stubbie. Sex with Chickens. f–k Microsoft. Sleep Sex. 800 lashes! weblog.f–k.org. confused, disorganized and maddeningly tiring to read. Mmmm Gyros! Indestructible sandwich plus muscle-building pill = well, who f–king cares, really?
This weblogging sh-t gets tiresome, you know. Never gonna do that again.
*goes back to whatever it was he was doing before*
(Uhhh – read the above as stream-of-link-consciousness, I guess. Puts me in mind of my first trip to London at 22, sleeping on sweatsoaked foam mattresses on the floor of a gymnasium for a quid a night, wandering the streets in a boggled, eyes-wide and mind-racing haze, gobsmacked, with my taciturn-but-dependable university buddy Stiffy more or less trailing along, me spewing random stream of consciousness poetry as we walked, wheeling to look at him every once in a while and say ‘write that down!’, only half in jest (You think I’m arrogant now, you shoulda know me then!), returning at night, after 10 or 20 kilometres of diesel-fume footsore random dogsh-t wandering, back to the King’s Cross Youth Club or whatever the f–k it was called, and bedding down on the foam mats we pulled out of the closet near our Finnish poor-but-happy temporary road-buddies, Sockhead and Son, listening to the proprietor of the flophouse-gym scream ‘yoo fookin’ coont!’ at whoever was annoying him that evening. But, as I say so many times, that’s a story for another day, perhaps…)
There are some great writers around the virtual neighbourhood, and this man is one of them. I recommend you visit him daily…His latest gave me an erection. What higher praise can a wonderchicken give for a writer’s work?
None, I tell you! None! Well, other than offering to buy the author a beer. That too, is wonderchicken kudo-giving most emphatic. Eeksy-peeksy, I owe you one.
Synchronicity. This would be an amusing meme, if it propagated, I reckon. Not that I’m suggesting such a thing. As I’ve mentioned before, deliberate meme-propagation annoys me. Chafes my…well you know what it chafes.
Many thanks to Jonathon for a fascinating essay on writing and reading in Japanese. In tribute, though my corresponding knowledge of the Korean language is dwarfed by his knowledge of Japanese, I hope to offer a mini-essay on the simple elegance of the Korean alphabet. Soon.
I find it revealing (although perhaps because it seems so obvious, it’s also facile and misleading) to contrast the Byzantine complexities of written Japanese with the simplicity and directness of Korean, and muse on the corresponding characters of the peoples.
Via Visible Darkness, an interesting mental journey, begun, as it were, with a single step, as all journeys are. Worth your time, whether or not you’ve any abiding interest in gender equality issues, or Japanese women, or their shoes.
“Can one assume that the mostly domestic position of Japanese women in their society influences the way they walk? Maybe, since the political unconscious is precisely that, unconscious, when Japanese women walk with their feet pointing to the inside – to uchi – they are marking with their bodies the space of the traditional Japan –the time when the men went out and the women stayed in. Of course, there is no proof that such time ever existed. Most likely, someone can object, what I am trying to do here is orientalize the Japanese, and find in the feet of the women, in the way they walk, a kind of last bastion of old Japan, a sign of the exotic. And yet, it is possible to suspect that, since the traditional Japan – whether it ever existed, or has just been imagined–is becoming more and more distant from the actual conditions of daily life of the majority of the people, the position of women’s feet may also be marking a renewed choice for pleasures located before, beneath, or beyond the regulations of the cutthroat corporate world occupied by men.” [more...]
This comment was left recently by B. Rai, in reference to a half-remembered post I made some time ago at Metafilter which mentioned the amusing and odd TV commercials for Malacca Rattan :
I just did a google search on the old Rattan To Go ads and I’m afraid to say that you seem to be the sole authority for info on this on the net. Only four results were found, and I read your comments on metafilter.com. I’m glad such a television treasure has not been forgotton!
I am an ex-pat Vancouverite living in London and working in animation. I saw these ads when I was a kid, but strangely they’ve stuck in my mind. The reason I’m writing is because I remembered this ad a while back and am basing a sitcom character on Blue Mancune, the star of the ad, who I believe lives in Vancouver. Unfortunately I cannot fully remember the lyrics to the tune. I’ve got:
Malacca for the money
Wicker for the show
——– to get ready baby
Rattan, to go
I’m trying to finish a script and this is driving me nuts. Any help at all would be greatly appreciated.
I can’t remember, but perhaps there are some other Vancouverites-of-the-80′s who can. Leave a comment if you can help, and perhaps the mystery lyric can be unearthed!
Tangentially, it pleases me greatly to be the sole authority on the net for something.
OK, the newish layout is live. With IE 6 it looks like crap at 800 by 600, and is still a little wonky at 1024 by 768, but my brain hurts, and I need a break.
Please let me know if the new layout is killing your browser. It would be much appreciated. Thanks.
I’m really starting to feel old…
[found at the 'pile]
This thread at Mefi is worth following. Unfortunately, I am way too drunk at the moment to add anything worth saying to it, or process adequately what’s being said, but I’m also sober enough to want to bookmark it to read tomorrow when I’m more coherent. Please enjoy the words. Linky-dinky.