The bathroom was a terrible place to be. All the stall doors were slightly ajar and the terrible placement of the typical office fluorescent lighting gave the shadows life that they certainly wouldn’t have possessed on their own. I kept turning back in terror from what I assumed was a malevolent face in the handicapped stall. The wall by the sink provided me something to look at to occupy my mind, but this too became a source of vile fascination. Whether the talk was all in my mind or if there was someone there I do not know. Kindly and reassuring it spoke to me of demons, and angels, and paths to power sometimes being fraught with dangerous-looking things. There was no need to worry though of course, not if you were prepared. Read the rest of this entry »
Tales written for discerning young ladies with a keen admiration of the manliness of the male half of the species, this volume deals with heart-pounding tales of men performing stunning feats of self-surgery and suffering such injuries as would surely destroy men of lesser manliness. Yet never fear! For these manly men always get the better of every trial and tribulation that comes their way! Read on for more exciting stories of the manliness of men!
Mark was a willowy, handsome young lad, with shoulder length flaxen hair which he brushed into his pale, rosy-cheeked face often to cover his sparkling, glassy blue eyes in impish defiance of social mores.
One fine summer’s day he sat on his back porch, clad in his favorite jean shorts. This in and of itself was nothing significant. Yet the story behind his reason for sitting thus when there was action, adventure and, yes, even danger to be had out in the wide world is indeed a stirring tale.
Being as clever and crafty as he was, Mark had made these shorts himself when his favorite pants finally ripped so significantly that his girlfriend at the time had insisted with the venom only a lifelong student of modern fashions could that he do away with them. Yet young Mark would not be denied pants so well-worn that they had become something akin to a companion. Indeed, many was the week which had passed without him parting with them long enough even to wash them. He simply couldn’t bear to part with these pants! No, this was a man of deep concerns in his life who simply would not give up the familiar comforts of the threadbare pockets, nor the subtle sophistication which came with the various inked designs which turned the faded denim into a black and blue patina which echoed his triumphant past’s loves, hopes, and outstanding feats of stunning bravery. It was as grave a sin as asking an honored crusader to part with the finely wrought chain mail which had saved him from savage and ignominious death through countless battles with fierce and pitiless Moors and Turks!
So passionate had our young Mark been when confronted with the possibility of losing this treasure, he had snatched up a sizable blade from the kitchen counter in heated desire for swift yet just resolution to this disgraceful feud between aesthetic schools of thought, and with such fervor did he hack away at the offending lower portion of his beloved jeans that it caused him several injuries. Indeed, he was not mindful of such lacerations! An impassioned and bold man such as this could have no room for outward manifestations of pain when there was a battle of wit and craft at hand.
So deep was his anguish at the mutilation of this jewel of his possessions that he hurled the remnants of the pants - along with the now crimson-stained blade - as far as his slim, tight-muscled arms could manage with a pained howl escaping his chest. Regrettably his then-girlfriend hadn’t the presence of mind to clear herself from the path of the flying objects, and suffered a nasty shock as sharpened metal pierced the drywall beside her head.
What woman can understand the true nature of such manly displays, when the depth of feeling must manifest itself in a true man’s course of action? Few can, and alas this was the last he ever saw of or heard from that young lady. Indeed, though he had won a victory over an intractable situation, she simply couldn’t understand the depth of his sincere heartbreak, nor his truer, sentimental nature. In his woeful mourning over losing both his love interest and a significant portion of his most treasured pants, he neglected to care for himself and the injuries he sustained during the confrontation.
As a result, he found himself sitting on the back porch of his home in a grim and pensive state. He had moments before prepared himself for the task which lay before him in that golden afternoon. The slanting sunlight pierced the smoky air around him and cast a beam better than a surgeon’s lamp on the site of his concern. One of the the wounds he had sustained during his heart wrenching episode of confrontational tailoring had taken a turn for the worse. Such a strong believer in independence was he that Mark was not employed and could not provide the sum necessary to visit a trained medical professional. Nor did he believe in such ridiculousness. As a true student of manliness he felt strongly that anything which could be accomplished by his own hand should be! Oft was he praised for such, and oft chided by those who did not understand. Nevertheless he was prepared for the task ahead of him. His anesthetic of choice was taking hold, calming him adequately for the work ahead.
The wound in question was a clean slice whose depth had allowed all manner of dirt in, and despite having been liberally (albeit indirectly and not deliberately) splashed with cleansing alcohol during the last two weeks it was now a very angry shade of red. The protective layer of dried blood was flecked with dirt and a clear fluid leaked from beneath it with only the slightest pressure. If it was painful to look at, it was surely more painful to actually have and feel, yet young Mark showed no pain or fear. With a trusty pocket knife in hand, he paused only once to take a deep breath and hold it in before exhaling in a great rush. A sagely expression came over him, making his heavy-lidded eyes seem cloudy and distant. With a dazzling quickness he sliced open the hardened surface of his grave injury and Oh! what happened then! A rush of milky fluid rushed forth, gleaming wetly under the light of the afternoon sun. Unfazed by such Mark quickly wiped it away and proceeded to squeeze with the all the somber detachment of a true warrior. Once the rupture in his smooth skin was running with the pure crimson of a clean cut, he wiped his hands off on the comforting cloth of his shortened jeans and simply sat. Clearly this quiet contemplation was his way of cleansing his spirit as well as the site of his bodily harm.
His phone rang and with all the unhurried grace of a seasoned general, Mark reached in his pocket, saw that the name on the phone simply said “Cunty Whore That Dumped Me” and thumbed the silencer with unperturbed ease.
This concludes our first installment of Heart-Pounding Tales of The Manliness of Men Vol. 1: Wound and Infection Treatment Stories! Won’t you join us next time for more thrilling, fascinating and stirring tales of manly men and their aplomb in the face of mortal wounding and dire infections?
It’s a two for one special! Come for the paraphrasing of a pretty funny BBC article, and stay for the hook up on ancient cannabis usage!
I happened to pop my head into the ectochat and what to my wondering eyes did appear but a BBC article link!
Upon following it I discovered that this story was indeed lol-worthy as had been indicated.
A rather dedicated but less-than-thorough customs official at Japan’s Narita airport hid a 142 gram baggie of weed into the side pocket of a traveller’s suitcase. The goal was to test the sniffer dogs in a real-life training exercise.
The dogs, however, failed their exercise by not detecting the baggie at all. To make matters worse, the official who hid the 142 gram (that’s 5 ounces for those not familiar with metric) bag couldn’t remember in which suitcase he’d hidden the weed!
That’s right, some lucky schmuck walked out of Narita airport with 5 ounces of free marijuana! Awesome right? Not really, when you consider Japan has rather strict laws against possession which could net this traveller a prison sentence. Officials admitted their mistake and are encouraging the person who got the baggie to come forward in order to avoid unnecessary legal troubles.
In my search for more specifics about the laws, I came across a really interesting history of cannabis, beginning with its place in the ancient world. Which is admittedly far more entertaining than the original BBC story I mentioned. After discussing the knowledge - or lack thereof - by the Greeks, and the ancient Japanese and Indians, it moves on to an entire passage on the history of cannabis in the Arab world.
One of the most fascinating ways to explore the ancient world, I think, is to track a substance or supply through the ages. It brings to light ancient trade routes, how information was shared, which cultures were accepting of new things and which closed themselves off. Following marijuana in such a way is a two fold path. On the one hand you get to see which cultures adapted the plant for use as hemp fibers, and how as a valuable supply the plant travelled the world. You also get to track its history when grown and used as a psychoactive substance, and the attitudes of the cultures which were aware of those properties.
All of that and much, much more at druglibrary.org. If you’re someone who visits Erowid frequently for reference on drug-related matters, I might suggest adding this to your repertoire also.
This guy is AWESOME! Amy might not agree (and my apologies for ganking your series title for this) but I have to say that this is some of the most amusing and amazing nerd rap I’ve heard in a while. Why is it nerd rap? Well, watch for yourself.
Ignoring his awkward posing, this is by far the best lyrical treatment I could think of to describe the role of design in SEO. Everything he puts forth here is exactly correct, from clear navigation, use of standards, browser testing, and a clear call to action.
The SEO Rapper has it right, and even though you may feel like this is perhaps in the same league as the anti-drug rapping of the 80s-90s (yo yo, kids don’t do drugs, stay in schoo’, be respec-ful of your parents, ’cause no one likes a fool!), those who are new to the whole “SEO” thing might want to pay attention. For those who have had an education on the subject already, you’ll definitely get a kick out of this approach to the core concepts of search marketing.
Props to antifuchs in #ectomo for pointing this out to me.
In this mix, for your listening pleasure, I thought I’d slow things down, and stretch things out a little. Kind of get you all in the mood for some late night philosophy and spooning. I’m too cheap to ply all of you with booze so I thought I’d make you a mix tape, kind of give you a little something to ruminate on before I discuss the merits of an open view of love in this century and bum drinks off you all night. Hope that’s cool, ’cause we’re totally friends right broham?
Anyway, the background image for this tape is Sisters G from Gatochy’s flickr stream. I can think of no nicer image to go with the theme of “everything is better in pairs”. Except for maybe some extra-adorable mittens, but it’s Spring now and no more of THAT! Anyway, for the sake of not writing all over the lovely ladies’ faces, I just titled the tape “Pairs”.
Pairs are exactly what you’ll get on this tape. Let’s explore the contents, shall we?
Jesus and Mary Chain - April Skies
I listened to this song the other day on the way to work and it improved my mood like nothing else could at that very moment. Music to soothe the savage neurotic.
Jesus and Mary Chain - Darklands
The second J&MC track is one of my favorites. “I wanna move, I wanna go, oh I wanna go, do-do-de-do-do-doo…”
I went with one I’m unfamiliar with, to avoid the folly of ignoring deep tracks. It’s got a bit of a Velvet Underground feel. Check the pedigree though!
Jonathan Richman - Satisfied Mind
I chose this track because it’s a classic (1955 by Porter Wagoner), and Richman’s treatment of it is a great introduction to his style.
Jonathan Richman - Springtime in New York
Truth be told, all I can think of when I read this is Stephen King’s The Wastelands. It’s all those dreams about NYC they have.
From the sounds of this song, you can see where he fits with Richman and Donovan. Rich metaphor paired with a bare-hearted, literal approach combine for maximum enjoyment.
Rounding out this mix is Jeff with the rest of his usual band, Wilco, in a tune off of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. The opening violin reminds me of Yoshi’s Island.
I hope you all enjoy this! What are some of your favorite pairs of songs?
Anyone who’s read Neuromancer will recall the use of dermal patches for the administering of drugs. At the time it seemed like a far-flung vision of a technologically advanced future. No pills, no needles, just slap it on and go about your business.
HP and a company named Crospon are developing that very thing. A device that looks a bit like a CPU is covered in “microneedles” which are only .5mm long. The article has photos of the device as well as diagrams displaying how it is intended to work.
Current patches, such as the nicotine patch, rely on the fact that nicotine may be absorbed through the skin. Being able to get past the epidermal barrier for chemicals which aren’t readily absorbed could mean wonders for people whose medication regimen requires regular injections, or in some cases could prevent the need for pills. The developers intend to control dosage via microchip, which can protect patients from overdose and expands possibilities of time-release drugs as well.
While this can certainly revolutionize medicine, it also has the potential to revolutionize reacreational and dependency-based drug use also. Look ma, no track marks! This concern is years in the making, as scientists are still working to determine the safety and affordability of such a delivery method.
And now on a related note, for your listening pleasure:
“Hide Your Old Pills in Poop, Government Says” - That’s the title of the Reuters article. It includes tips from government officials on how to hide old, high-powered prescription pills in foul substances for purposes of disposal.
Use them or lose them, people. If there is someone you know of who might steal your old prescriptions either from your house or from your TRASH unless it’s smothered in cat shit, then maybe it’s time to have a talk with that person. Either that or call the police because someone’s rifling through your trash.
I’m not going to get into a big huff over how I feel about the War on Drugs - not today anyway - but I am going to point out a line which really highlights the absurdity of government solutions to social issues.
“Ferret waste, like nearly any other form of pet waste, can be effectively used to help prevent the abuse of unused prescription drugs,” SAMHSA spokesman Mark Weber said.
“We need more laws with stiffer penalties to rid our community of drugs,”
Says an innocent pawn of Eris. To be sure, these laws make smuggling and selling and buying drugs more risky. That, in turn, drives up their prices - thus making them more profitable. So more money and work goes into expanding the market for the contraband - in keeping with the Law of Eristic Escalation.
Or, as the Taoist sage Chuang Tzu simply said:
“The more laws there are, the more crime there is.”
(Identification and elucidation of anerisms is a favorite pastime of politically conscious Discordians - who note that the whole text of my “Epistle to the Paranoids” on page 00069 is a psychological anerism. Goddess punished me for it, about five years later, by turning me into a paranoid myself. A conspiracy helped Her.
As of this writing, I am still paranoid - according to my friends.) (Or are they my enemies?)
Proliferation of crime in the wake of multiplication of laws is more than a matter of expanded definition. Governments are impositions of order designed to discourage theft and killing. But they wind up taking more in taxes than all the freelance crooks around could steal. Their wars involve more killing than all the meanest toughs and hoodlums can hope to rival.
You have passed three degrees of 23, the magick number 69, Discordian. As Pope I initiate you into the Fourth Degree of the PARATHEO-ANAMETAMYSTIKHOOD OF ERIS ESOTERIC, or POEE. Henceforth, you shall be addressed as a High Priest/ess, until such time as you get your Shit Together and graduate to the Next Degree.
My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender:
Some kids play in the sandbox. We play in the.... litterbox??? The RKNet staff is pleased that you decided to stop by. Currently this is a multi-author project, with a rotating cast of totally kooky characters. Contact giania [at symbol] gmail [dot] com if you'd like to play here too.
