Yo, ho, Sebastian, let's go far away, somewhere where the captain won't be mad
So, two days ago we had about eight inches of snow dumped on us, and roughly two minutes after the first flake descended, I lost power and cable at the house. Half a foot of snow later, we started hearing ominous cracking noises, and ventured out to discover our neighborhood trees and tree branches going down like drunken frat guys, and causing comparable damage-Louise lost her whole rear windshield to a branch. My own car rested perilously under a Sword of Damocles-esque branch, with nowhere to move it. After a while, we went out to one of the main roads and strolled down, watching the efforts of dozens of stalled cars and more branches come down. There was snow lightning too, which was beautiful and eerie and probably completely fucking dangerous to be wandering around in.
After shoveling whatever could be shoveled, and hucking fruitless snowballs at the overloaded branches, we eventually, we went back inside and spent the time playing endless rounds of "Fuck, Marry, Cliff" and debating which US President we would punch in the face if given access to a time machine, a quick exit plan, and assurance that no harm would be done to the space-time continuum. (She chose LBJ, I chose Andrew Jackson.)
I think we may have had differing motivations; mine was rooted more in the concept of taking down someone tough I'd have no hope of ever beating otherwise; she was going more by who would have the better reaction and/or facial expression. Intriguingly, neither of us had punitive measures as the first reason. (Though it did help in terms of Jackson. Guy was kind of a douche. Interesting, important, but definitely also a jerk.) We both agreed that Bush would be too easy, but if we had to pick a Bush, it would be the elder not the younger, because we still might get our chance for the latter choice.
There was a brief flurry of discussion regarding John Quincy Adams' appearance, as every single portrait of him looks as though he's contemplating ripping out one of your kidneys with his teeth. Other debate sidebars included that Louise has some weird inexplicable beef with Gerald Ford, I have the same thing with Reagan, neither of us could remember Polk's first name (not being able to charge to wikipedia was driving us crazy), a lengthy reenactment of the Jimmy Carter swimming rabbit story, and some kind of father-son tag-team cage match event between the John Adam and John Quincy Adams, William and Benjamin Harrison, and the Bushes. (I think we all know that the Adams duo have that one in the bag.) We also came to the decision that repeated historical parody exposure, plus the cartoon head portrayal on Futurama, has ruined us for ever punching Richard Nixon.
The whole discussion was concluded with a rousing singing round of The Presidents by the Animaniacs. I am not ashamed to admit that I have learned a lot of history from the Animaniacs. The previous video is also notable for containing beefcake!Lincoln.
Anyway, when we woke up and still didn't have power, we did what any responsible adults would do, and decamped back to my parents' home, which had heat and power and internet. Which is where I am now, waiting for Pepco to get back in the saddle. So, let's put off Los Angeles recaps and more hockey blather until after the All Star weekend, and just clear some links.
Cosmo Jarvis Isn't a Gay Pirate. He Just Plays One in His Amazing New Video: Leading with the best link, which is courtesy of one flidgetjerome, who just whips this shit out all the time. Video. You have to listen to the actual lyrics being sung in the video (which admittedly is hard, when you're both laughing and swooning in glee) and respect the fact that they're singing about love and violence and gang-rape and death in such an upbeat, hopeful manner. Check the rest of the article out as well as watching the vid.
"Not only is the subject matter of "Gay Pirates" wildly different from any of the songs from the above artists, but Jarvis also plays the part of the gay pirate in his own video. In addition, he conceived of the video’s concept, and directed and filmed it himself."
The Pope Would Like You To Be Yourself Online: Pope Benedict XVI warned against "excessive exposure to the virtual world" in a statement released by the Vatican today. And he advised people to avoid giving "in to the illusion of constructing an artificial public persona for oneself."
Dear Pope, here is the problem: I am myself online. Far too much myself, in fact. If I can't vent the majority of my personal bizarre tics, quirks, kinks, opinions, comments, and so forth in the relative vastness of the cyber-community, believe me, I'd get arrested every time I tried to walk out my front door into the real world.
Besides, if I can't represent myself with a 100x100 jpeg image of you as Crcodylus pontifex, what good is life anyway?
Japan's 'convict' monkey stages daring cage break: A marauding monkey that terrorized resort towns in central Japan last year by biting nearly 120 people has escaped captivity... Lucky has proved a tough catch in the past, avoiding citywide monkey hunts during its previous two month biting spree.
Two month biting spree. I don't get to use those words together like that often enough.
'Steampunk Palin' Comic More Insane Than You Imagined": I got this off my brother, initially, and then five other people winged it at my head the next day. This book contains fifteen pages of story, followed by eight pages of pin-ups of Sarah Palin.
It is made of so much "WTF?" and "AsjkkldghjOHGODNO!" that I don't even know what to do with it. Aside from all the creepy Palin cheesecake and attempts to marry steampunk to politics in the same Jane Austen/zombies/sea monsters and Lincoln/Vampires trend, there's also Robama and other things to make your brainmeats trickle slowly out your ear in a warm, gelatinous ooze.
Where Do Mob Nicknames Come From?: I admit, I had not wondered about mobsters specifically, but I have spent a lot of time pondering the evolution of a good or sticking nickname. The article gives a brief round-up on the mob, asking, "Where do mobsters get their nicknames? From family members, childhood friends, business associates, newspaper reporters, or the police. Not every mobster has a nickname, and some have more than one."
Childhood Nightmare Fuel: 21 scenes/characters/pictures/etc from movies or books or television that probably warped your childhood as well. Me, I was never scared of the boat ride in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; I got all terrified by the sudden blueberry transformation. Folks, it is a terrible idea to make your kids think you can suddenly become fruit, and weird little men will roll you around. Terrible. And I agree with their number one pick, because those also fucked me up but good. Go see.
My current favorite Hungover Owl: Pretty much the exact conversation held in our household right after our recent Saturday night party.
The Weirdest Dating Website: Just for Sea Captains: Courtesy of Louise, who told me I could use this if further adventures in dating didn't work out, or if I had a shortage of lemons-the only website dedicated to Sea Captains and the women (or men) who love them.
Emu terrorizes Calvert County, MD: Vid. Also courtesy of Louise, who felt the need to share a video addressing all the local fixin's and a-doin's from where she originates. She asked me to include the note, "The name of our Sheriff is MIKE Evans, not Bob Evans. Bob Evans is a restaurant chain." 10-4, good buddy.
Actually, I could go for another game of "Fuck, Marry, Cliff." Who wants to play with me? Or argue further to punching world leaders?
After shoveling whatever could be shoveled, and hucking fruitless snowballs at the overloaded branches, we eventually, we went back inside and spent the time playing endless rounds of "Fuck, Marry, Cliff" and debating which US President we would punch in the face if given access to a time machine, a quick exit plan, and assurance that no harm would be done to the space-time continuum. (She chose LBJ, I chose Andrew Jackson.)
I think we may have had differing motivations; mine was rooted more in the concept of taking down someone tough I'd have no hope of ever beating otherwise; she was going more by who would have the better reaction and/or facial expression. Intriguingly, neither of us had punitive measures as the first reason. (Though it did help in terms of Jackson. Guy was kind of a douche. Interesting, important, but definitely also a jerk.) We both agreed that Bush would be too easy, but if we had to pick a Bush, it would be the elder not the younger, because we still might get our chance for the latter choice.
There was a brief flurry of discussion regarding John Quincy Adams' appearance, as every single portrait of him looks as though he's contemplating ripping out one of your kidneys with his teeth. Other debate sidebars included that Louise has some weird inexplicable beef with Gerald Ford, I have the same thing with Reagan, neither of us could remember Polk's first name (not being able to charge to wikipedia was driving us crazy), a lengthy reenactment of the Jimmy Carter swimming rabbit story, and some kind of father-son tag-team cage match event between the John Adam and John Quincy Adams, William and Benjamin Harrison, and the Bushes. (I think we all know that the Adams duo have that one in the bag.) We also came to the decision that repeated historical parody exposure, plus the cartoon head portrayal on Futurama, has ruined us for ever punching Richard Nixon.
The whole discussion was concluded with a rousing singing round of The Presidents by the Animaniacs. I am not ashamed to admit that I have learned a lot of history from the Animaniacs. The previous video is also notable for containing beefcake!Lincoln.
Anyway, when we woke up and still didn't have power, we did what any responsible adults would do, and decamped back to my parents' home, which had heat and power and internet. Which is where I am now, waiting for Pepco to get back in the saddle. So, let's put off Los Angeles recaps and more hockey blather until after the All Star weekend, and just clear some links.
Cosmo Jarvis Isn't a Gay Pirate. He Just Plays One in His Amazing New Video: Leading with the best link, which is courtesy of one flidgetjerome, who just whips this shit out all the time. Video. You have to listen to the actual lyrics being sung in the video (which admittedly is hard, when you're both laughing and swooning in glee) and respect the fact that they're singing about love and violence and gang-rape and death in such an upbeat, hopeful manner. Check the rest of the article out as well as watching the vid.
"Not only is the subject matter of "Gay Pirates" wildly different from any of the songs from the above artists, but Jarvis also plays the part of the gay pirate in his own video. In addition, he conceived of the video’s concept, and directed and filmed it himself."
The Pope Would Like You To Be Yourself Online: Pope Benedict XVI warned against "excessive exposure to the virtual world" in a statement released by the Vatican today. And he advised people to avoid giving "in to the illusion of constructing an artificial public persona for oneself."
Dear Pope, here is the problem: I am myself online. Far too much myself, in fact. If I can't vent the majority of my personal bizarre tics, quirks, kinks, opinions, comments, and so forth in the relative vastness of the cyber-community, believe me, I'd get arrested every time I tried to walk out my front door into the real world.
Besides, if I can't represent myself with a 100x100 jpeg image of you as Crcodylus pontifex, what good is life anyway?
Japan's 'convict' monkey stages daring cage break: A marauding monkey that terrorized resort towns in central Japan last year by biting nearly 120 people has escaped captivity... Lucky has proved a tough catch in the past, avoiding citywide monkey hunts during its previous two month biting spree.
Two month biting spree. I don't get to use those words together like that often enough.
'Steampunk Palin' Comic More Insane Than You Imagined": I got this off my brother, initially, and then five other people winged it at my head the next day. This book contains fifteen pages of story, followed by eight pages of pin-ups of Sarah Palin.
It is made of so much "WTF?" and "AsjkkldghjOHGODNO!" that I don't even know what to do with it. Aside from all the creepy Palin cheesecake and attempts to marry steampunk to politics in the same Jane Austen/zombies/sea monsters and Lincoln/Vampires trend, there's also Robama and other things to make your brainmeats trickle slowly out your ear in a warm, gelatinous ooze.
Where Do Mob Nicknames Come From?: I admit, I had not wondered about mobsters specifically, but I have spent a lot of time pondering the evolution of a good or sticking nickname. The article gives a brief round-up on the mob, asking, "Where do mobsters get their nicknames? From family members, childhood friends, business associates, newspaper reporters, or the police. Not every mobster has a nickname, and some have more than one."
Childhood Nightmare Fuel: 21 scenes/characters/pictures/etc from movies or books or television that probably warped your childhood as well. Me, I was never scared of the boat ride in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory; I got all terrified by the sudden blueberry transformation. Folks, it is a terrible idea to make your kids think you can suddenly become fruit, and weird little men will roll you around. Terrible. And I agree with their number one pick, because those also fucked me up but good. Go see.
My current favorite Hungover Owl: Pretty much the exact conversation held in our household right after our recent Saturday night party.
The Weirdest Dating Website: Just for Sea Captains: Courtesy of Louise, who told me I could use this if further adventures in dating didn't work out, or if I had a shortage of lemons-the only website dedicated to Sea Captains and the women (or men) who love them.
Emu terrorizes Calvert County, MD: Vid. Also courtesy of Louise, who felt the need to share a video addressing all the local fixin's and a-doin's from where she originates. She asked me to include the note, "The name of our Sheriff is MIKE Evans, not Bob Evans. Bob Evans is a restaurant chain." 10-4, good buddy.
Actually, I could go for another game of "Fuck, Marry, Cliff." Who wants to play with me? Or argue further to punching world leaders?