Disgusting

“Host Bodies.”

And so, the Axlotl Tanks were created…

The Axlotl tanks were living organisms within the original Dune series of novels.

Axlotl tanks were the means by which the Bene Tleilax reproduce a living human being from the cells of a cadaver, producing type of clone called a ghola. These tanks were also used in the creation of genetically engineered assassins known as Face Dancers. Later in the series, the Axlotl tanks are engineered to replicate the spice Melange, previously only available on the desert planet Arrakis where it is created naturally as part of the life cycle of giant Sandworms.

The Bene Gesserit suspected that the Axlotl tanks were what remained of female Tleilaxu, since no Tleilaxu females had ever been seen. Moreover, the Reverend Mother Darwi Odrade, during the time of the Honored Matres, had declared to Tleilaxu Master Tylwyth Waff that neither she nor any of her sisters would become an Axlotl Tank. This remark elicited shock from the Master, a reaction that indicated that the Bene Gesserit suspicion was true, especially since he did not deny it.

Genetic information could be coded into those bred in Axlotl Tanks. As a result, the resulting organisms could be bred for certain aptitudes, skills, and reflexes.

Despite the revulsion Axlotl Tanks caused in many groups and cultures, by the time the Honored Matres had conquered the planets of the Old Imperium, the Bene Gesserit had adopted them for the creation of gholas to further their own cause.

I have a feeling Frank Herbert is either rolling over in his grave or laughing uncontrollably at his own prescience.

Well, Damn.

That’s what happens when you go poking around to get some tea.

I mean, it started innocently enough. I realized I hadn’t seen a coworker in another department for a while and also noted he hadn’t logged into our work chat app for months. He was still showing as an active employee, but I was wondering what was going on. Instead of doing the normal thing and just asking one of his colleagues—or going upstairs to see if he was actually around—I online stalked him, and that led me down the rabbit hole of despair.

I knew he was at least on track to get married last summer. Photos of him and his lovely bride are still online, but no updates on the wedding site since May. His Instagram was gone as well. That led to an outright name search on Google, and it led me to a multitude of “people finder” sites that post basic personal information—and of course a lot more, if you’re willing to pony up some cash. I have never been willing to do that, and especially not for this guy, but out of curiosity on the same site where I found my coworker, I put in the name of a dear friend with whom I’d shared an apartment building in San Francisco and had moved to Palm Springs a few years ago. Rick suffered a fire just like we did, and he was absolutely verklempt that a portrait I’d done of him in drag (as Miss KC Dare) had been lost in the conflagration. We’d been in regular contact prior to the fire, but afterward it became spotty.

I’d tried reaching out a few times over the past 18 months, suggesting that I do a new (versus just a reproduction of the original) portrait using an entirely different photo. I never heard back from him. I finally called his cell about six months ago and was greeted by “this number has been disconnected.”

That’s never good.

I didn’t know anyone else whom I could call to check on him, and quite frankly, with everything else that’s happened during the intervening months, it fell off my radar completely.

Well today, after I’d filled in his name and did the search, it returned the usual name, address, age…with the addendum that their records indicated he was deceased June 2020.

Well fuck.

I’d known Rick since shortly after I moved to San Francisco (the first time) in 1986. I don’t remember what brought the two of them together, but Rick and Dennis, my ex, became fast friends and partners in crime. Rick provided a lot of Dennis’ care when he was stricken with AIDS and—working in healthcare as he was—helped him navigate the increasingly confusing hurdles he was faced with. A sweet, generous man who—despite an obscenely overstuffed closet (a girl can have too many dresses)—opened his home and heart to me while securing a place of my own the last time I moved back to The City.

RIP, Miss Dare. You are sorely missed, but I know we’ll meet again.

“Don’t be dismayed at goodbyes.
Goodbyes are necessary before you can meet again.
And meeting again, after moments—or lifetimes—is
Certain for those who are friends.”

~ Richard Bach, The Messiah’s Handbook

Something to Offend Everyone

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

DONALD TRUMP: I’ve been told by my many sources, good sources—they’re very good sources—that the chicken crossed the road. All the Fake News wants to do is write nasty things about the road, but it’s a really good road. It’s a beautiful road. Everyone knows how beautiful it is.

JOE BIDEN: Why did the chicken do the…thing in the…you know the rest.

SARAH PALIN: The chicken crossed the road because, gosh-darn it, he’s a maverick!

BARACK OBAMA: Let me be perfectly clear, if the chickens like their eggs they can keep their eggs. No chicken will be required to cross the road to surrender her eggs. Period.

AOC: Chickens should not be forced to lay eggs! This is because of corporate greed! Eggs should be able to lay themselves.

HILLARY CLINTON: What difference at this point does it make why the chicken crossed the road.

GEORGE W. BUSH: We don’t really care why the chicken crossed the road. We just want to know if the chicken is on our side of the road or not. The chicken is either with us or against us. There is no middle ground here.

DICK CHENEY: Where’s my gun?

BILL CLINTON: I did not cross the road with that chicken.

AL GORE: I invented the chicken.

JOHN KERRY: Although I voted to let the chicken cross the road, I am now against it! It was the wrong road to cross, and I was misled about the chicken’s intentions. I am not for it now, and will remain against it.

AL SHARPTON: Why are all the chickens white?

DR. PHIL: The problem we have here is that this chicken won’t realize that he must first deal with the problem on this side of the road before it goes after the problem on the other side of the road. What we need to do is help him realize how stupid he is acting by not taking on his current problems before adding any new problems.

ANDERSON COOPER: We have reason to believe there is a chicken, but we have not yet been allowed to have access to the other side of the road.

NANCY GRACE: That chicken crossed the road because he’s guilty! You can see it in his eyes and the way he walks.

PAT BUCHANAN: To steal the job of a decent, hardworking American.

DR SEUSS: Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes, the chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed I’ve not been told.

ERNEST HEMINGWAY: To die in the rain, alone.

GRANDPA: In my day we didn’t ask why the chicken crossed the road. Somebody told us the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.

ARISTOTLE: It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

ALBERT EINSTEIN: Did the chicken really cross the road, or did the road move beneath the chicken?

COLONEL SANDERS: Did I miss one?

 

SHUT IT DOWN.

It keeps happening. I wonder why?

https://twitter.com/Tengrain/status/1434680045696532486?s=20

If you need to keep in touch with Grandma, pick up a goddamned phone and call her.

Once You’ve Destroyed the Rose Garden, What is Left?

I mean, really…

From Mock Paper Scissors:

As it is Labor Day (and the news is light), we turn our attention to a local labor problem: Mel does not want to return to the White House:

Former first lady Melania Trump is reportedly telling friends that she doesn’t want to return to the White House ― and that if her husband, Donald Trump, plans to run again, he’ll have to do it without her help.

We don’t know the terms of her contract with the Donald or what labor union represents her, but we do know that her insurance policy, er, son Baron is 15 so only a few more years before she can officially exercise her options and dump the chump with full retirement benefits.