Not Safe For Work or Ingrids
So, the other day, I (Dice) found a copy of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier that had somehow sneaked into the country. I (Ingrid) bought it. How could I not?
I had forgotten the very important, and very basic, fact that Alan Moore and I differ in several important respects.
For one, Alan Moore is a crazy hobo genius. I am not. For another, Alan Moore has a giant beard. I do not. For a third, Alan Moore really likes having graphic depictions of sex in his work. I do not.
Luckily, I didn't bring it to work to read on Friday, although I was considering the idea.
So, on the one hand, there are a lot of panels of people having sex, and even more panels of general nakedness.
On the other hand, there are things like "What Ho, Gods of the Abyss" which contain passages like the following:
He rattled on like this for absolutely ages, telling me about all these retired chaps that he knew, "old ones" as he referred to them, who'd apparently been overseas or somewhere, but were anxious to return here "when the stars were right". I believe he mentioned an endearing rogue called something like "Cool Lulu", which to my ears sounded like it might be a Red Indian name, who seemed to lead a leisurely, agreeable old life, sleeping and dreaming at a place called Riley, possibly a reservation of some kind. Peabody also mentioned some old goat who had misspent his youth so badly that he had a thousand young, which to me sounded like impressive going in anybody's book. There were odd morsels of homespun philosophy amidst all this, especially the bits about the three-lobed burning eye and how the screaming tentacles of retribution would surely sweep the human pestilence from off the Earth, but by a large he made what I expect was quite a lot of sense.
(I used to have an icon of Laurie's Bertie Wooster seriously interrogating a rubber duck, which would have been dreadfully appropriate at this entry, but I seem to have lost it. Shame.)
So, all in all, a mixed bag.
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Suffering from excessive sinuses and itchy eyes today. Shall carefully consume spicy food, nurse tea, and try playing FFXII or somesuch.
I had forgotten the very important, and very basic, fact that Alan Moore and I differ in several important respects.
For one, Alan Moore is a crazy hobo genius. I am not. For another, Alan Moore has a giant beard. I do not. For a third, Alan Moore really likes having graphic depictions of sex in his work. I do not.
Luckily, I didn't bring it to work to read on Friday, although I was considering the idea.
So, on the one hand, there are a lot of panels of people having sex, and even more panels of general nakedness.
On the other hand, there are things like "What Ho, Gods of the Abyss" which contain passages like the following:
He rattled on like this for absolutely ages, telling me about all these retired chaps that he knew, "old ones" as he referred to them, who'd apparently been overseas or somewhere, but were anxious to return here "when the stars were right". I believe he mentioned an endearing rogue called something like "Cool Lulu", which to my ears sounded like it might be a Red Indian name, who seemed to lead a leisurely, agreeable old life, sleeping and dreaming at a place called Riley, possibly a reservation of some kind. Peabody also mentioned some old goat who had misspent his youth so badly that he had a thousand young, which to me sounded like impressive going in anybody's book. There were odd morsels of homespun philosophy amidst all this, especially the bits about the three-lobed burning eye and how the screaming tentacles of retribution would surely sweep the human pestilence from off the Earth, but by a large he made what I expect was quite a lot of sense.
(I used to have an icon of Laurie's Bertie Wooster seriously interrogating a rubber duck, which would have been dreadfully appropriate at this entry, but I seem to have lost it. Shame.)
So, all in all, a mixed bag.
---
Suffering from excessive sinuses and itchy eyes today. Shall carefully consume spicy food, nurse tea, and try playing FFXII or somesuch.