The biggest cliche of old-school trashy romance, the forcible yet welcome kissing, has rather deep roots. I have read similar lines in porn from Burr's own era. I expect that descriptions of brutal and forbidden yet strangely delicious kisses were once inscribed on lost tablets in a language of which not a single word now survives. And I bet some ( Read more... )

This time, she's reporting a very awkward conversation she had with the hotel front desk, who was forewarned:

ME: Hi! We are about to have a very awkward conversation ( Read more... )

Once again, wt_1's summary of a trashy pulp cover probably outdoes the original story:

"Hey, what gives, ya big ape? This is Wall Street for cryin' out loud! Ain'tcha heard you don't need no gun to rob people here?"

(The illustration can be seen over at dochermes's fancave.)

wt_1 speculates about another of dochermes' Thrilling Pulp Covers of Yesteryear:

Even though he found the dashing nobleman's rugged, swarthy good lucks quite appealing, Vance vowed he wouldn't go down for the Count without a fight.

Today's spot of disaster planning is from bunn...

If Great Cthulhu devours the Houses of Parliament during, say the State Opening of Parliament, and removes at a stroke all Members of Parliament, all members of the House of Lords, the Monarch and all the senior Royals...

Who is left in charge?

zathras-ix reflects upon dochermes' most recent reminder of obsolete occupations:

The problem with marketing asbestos is that you can never have a fire sale.

Let's suspend disbelief for a while, and assume that I was rioting and indulging in a mad looting spree. I don't think a book shop would be my first port of call. A book shop is a place for browsing and leisurely reading of blurbs. "Raah!" say the rioters. (I don't know if rioters really do say "raah!" but let's assume that they do, like dinosaurs ( Read more... )

One of dochermes's anonymice helpfully supplies context for a lurid old paperback cover:

"Now Ms. Brown, you know a professor and a student in this position is highly improper. And do not think this will cause me to not fail you ( Read more... )

achacunsagloire discusses vanity among authors in the context of ancient legend:

More than likely, you've heard of a vain pretty-boy named Narcissus. How vain was this guy about his renowned good looks? So vain that he most definitely would think that Carly Simon's song was about him.

Context is gazing fixedly into the still, clear waters. QWP.

In response to what is in and of itself a great post on a lone spam can in ursulav's journal (and all the comments are golden) comes this particular comment by seticat

While it's not considered unusual for one or two cans to strike out on their own to scout the migration route for the main herd [flock? cluster? tinning?], this 'is' a bit early in the season. ( Read more... )