Once a legitimate blog. Now just a collection of memes 'n menz.
No doubt before a lot of my readers were even born, but there was a lot of really good dance music that came out that year, and specifically that summer. Ironically it also marked the death of the genre called disco, only to have it go underground for a bit and be reborn even stronger as “dance music” in the 80s, defining the sound of the entire decade.
At least that’s the way I remember it.
Marooned (1969)
Beneath The Planet Of The Apes (1970)
I can’t tell you how many times a certain horny 11-12 year old boy used Mr. Franciscus as masturbatory fodder—especially from the Apes movie…
He was taken from us far too soon. COD is listed as heart failure from emphysema, but with the staggering number of deaths that marked the early 90s, my mind immediately goes to one place and how celebrity passings from AIDS were always reported as something else.
For the last several months I’ve been very neglectful to my finny friends. I’ve been keeping tropical fish since I was in grade school, so it was bothering me that I currently had only two fish left. I didn’t let the tank get disgusting or anything, but every time I did a cleaning/water change I swore I’d head off to the store and bring some friends home for them. And each time life detoured me and I never got around to it. I had one large Red Tail Shark and one Black Skirt Tetra.
I get an email flier every Friday from The Ocean Floor describing their weekly specials, but it seemed whenever I had a little extra cash nothing was on sale that I was interested in. Nothing lept out at me from yesterday’s email either and despite my Current financial situation I knew I needed to at least add a couple fish to the tank now that it was clean and shiny after least weekend’s complete tear down. I drove over yesterday afternoon and ended up coming home with 5 Black Skirt Tetras, 5 White Skirt Tetras, and 3 Honey Dwarf Gouramis. I got the black/white skirts because while they’re kind of visually boring, they’re a hearty species, have always been a favorite of mine and were ridiculously inexpensive. I got the Gouramis because while I prefer the Pearl variety I haven’t seen those in stores in years and the Honeys were such a gorgeous color I couldn’t say no…and they were on sale!
So we’re populated again and the Shark is for the most part behaving himself. I need to return later next week when they get their next shipment to pick up a couple Corydoras to keep the bottom swept.
Like this:
And this:
And this:
Personally I fantasize about the corrupt 1% swinging from gallows in the center of a public square or better yet, “The French Solution.”
From Daily Kos:
In the New York Times’ quest to get to the bottom of what makes every last Trump supporter in America tick, we have been treated to endless interviews, loving tributes to downtrodden towns in which nary a non-white person is ever seen, and one particular day when the op-ed pages were turned over to Trump supporters to argue for Trump’s genius directly. But this is still not enough, and so Sunday’s paper included a zoological analysis from a journalist who grew up among them.
It is meant to be flattering, or at least neutral, but the short version is that the people who have been bleating about “family values” for the last half-century do not actually give a flying damn about family values and never did. It was all garbage from the get-go. While people from “college” or “in New York” or “religiously conservative” or “liberal” or take-your pick all had harsh words for the crooked, lying, adulterous, misogynist trash-heap of a human being, the salt-of-the-earth Trump supporters back in Nebraska could not possibly care less about the bullshit-laden values attributed to them in fawning tributes to the heartland’s common clay.
To hell with it all: Go team adulter-crook!
In contrast, almost all of the people I know in my hometown in Nebraska proudly supported him. They glossed over his infidelities and stressed that he seemed to be a good father. They were impressed by his “respectful” sons and admired the success of his daughters.
“Glossed over” is a fine phrase. “Good father” is quite the phrase itself. And this new notion of “respectful,” which apparently consists of “glossing over” his sons’ histories of charity fraud, public attacks on black politicians, and that whole ‘met Russian agents in Trump Tower’ thing, is doing quite the heavy lift.
Reading between the lines, what we have here is a group of people who practice what is known in the rest of the world as aggressive ignorance. You can’t say that Trump’s behavior bothers you if you drive wooden stakes into both ears and swear you didn’t hear about any of it.
Read the rest here.
Such a tease.
Posted by my friend Michael:
“Sweet America, I am not unpatriotic, I am an American. I was born in this county and I grew up in this county, I feel privileged to do so. I have never lived in any other county. I love the fact that I live in diversity in a County of immigrants, though I do deeply weep for the fate of our beautiful Native Americans. I wish history could be re-written. So, why the flag in distress? Because I grieve each day for the current condition of our sweet home. I have no respect for our leader or his pack of lying hate-mongers. I hang my head in shame for what our face in the world has become. I cry for the families destroyed, lives senselessly ended and people of color and diversity miserably repressed by an old worn-out “White is Might” pack of fools with nothing but hate in their hearts. I pray that this regime of madness is short and that the damage caused heals quickly. I am not unpatriotic, I am an American.” ~ @monster.poodle on Instagram
Ben: They will fuck! They will fuck hard in the next 7 days.
“The computer scientist Jaron Lanier reckons that social media, by its nature, makes you into an arsehole. It encourages arseholey behaviour by rewarding it with more notifications, engagements, and all the rest of it. His new book, discussed at a recent Idler evening with the Guardian‘s John Harris, is called Ten Arguments For Deleting Your Social Media Accounts Now.”
Ben and I were discussing earlier how there is going to eventually be a backlash against technology itself, but long before that happens, there will be a huge, pervasive backlash against social media. I believe we’re seeing the seeds of that already. I get the sense that people are just flat out disgusted with what they’re seeing online via Twitter, Facebook, and other platforms: the lies, the unabashed hate, the wanton, willful ignorance.
I haven’t been on Facebook in half a decade. I’ve uninstalled Twitter from all my devices, meaning I have to go through the website if I ever want to step into that cesspool, and that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I’m almost ready to give up on Instagram as well, but I’m not quite there yet (too many hot menz and other interesting images).
Comic actor Stephen Stucker would’ve turned 71 years old today. The man who played impish Johnny in Airplane! (1980) and Airplane II: The Sequel (1982)—a character who relished sales at Penney’s and who noticed Leon’s fluctuating largeness—became one of the first public figures to announce that he had AIDS. Stucker relied on metaphysical healing, vitamins, a positive outlook, and a healthy diet to combat the syndrome, which he suspected he had as early as 1979 and which he somewhat questionably attributed to past blood transfusions and intravenous drug use. He passed away in 1986 at 38.
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Sylvester: Step II (1978)
Of course I had to pull it out and give it a spin tonight! (One of the few pieces of my original vinyl collection to miraculously survive the purge in the late 80s.)
…sitting in Starbucks filling out on-line employment applications and submitting resumes, something I had hoped I’d never have to do again.
Memories of Denver. Sigh.
Madonna: True Blue (1986)
Along with Pet Shop Boys’ Please, this was the soundtrack for our initial move to San Francisco that summer.