Vultures and Vampires

Never fear!  This isn't a music post.

Nonetheless.

It is my firm opinion that all bass players should look like they eat nothing but amphetamines and roadkill. 

The Gorillaz bassist Murdoc being the poster boy for that look.  

     

Mr. William Wyman, 98 pounds of nose   

Jaco Pastorius seriously needing to eat a burger and get out in the sun         

Not pictured:  Dee Dee Ramone, John Paul Jones in his salad days - although there wasn't a one of those guys in the Zep who weighed more than a buck - and John freakin' have a sandwich Entwhistle. 

Now for the Black Widows! Oh you Vamps, how I adore you.

Oh, Louise Brooks, Louise Brooks, Louise Brooks!

Colleen Moore is about to steal your wallet. My my.

Ms. Moore's life wasn't an easy one. During one of the dark times, she knew she had to find something to occupy her mind, and she came up with one of the coolest projects ever - she built a dollhouse, an extravagant dollhouse, perfect in every imaginable detail, and furnished it with precious gems, ancient statues and signed books, all perfectly to scale, every inch exquisite. This is the Grand Hall in Colleen Moore's Fairy Palace:

Every painting on the wall is an original.  All that gold? Is real.  

Here's a link to a video about it. Really worth seeing: Colleen Moore's Fairy Castle - YouTube

And my personal all-time favorite Vamp?

THEDA. BARA. DAMMIT.

  

Do not mess with her. She will juke you with that fork.

Theda and her boyfriend the bass player 

Look familiar?  Yup. Theda Bara, man.     

Film was truth 24 times a second in my house, growing up. Sound, color, none of that made a difference. We watched it all.   Early on I had it bad for the Vamps.  They were dangerous!  They were sexy!  THEY WORE EYELINER!!

OK we have to have just one more Theda Bara here:

Come ON.  This woman will jack you full of venom and you'll love every minute.

Of course not all vampy women were born around the turn of the century.  Take for instance Lauren Bacall. Oh daaaaaamn, Lauren Bacall!

Please empty my bank account. 

  

Carolyn Jones, every inch a vamp. And really, what better role model for a nine-year-old?     

And here's my controversial entry: Anjelica Huston. 

 (For the Cliffs Notes version of A.H.'s life, click here:  Out of the shadows | Movies | The Guardian) 

Some Vamps are born, some are made.  Consider her in A Walk With Love And Death. She doesn't look like she's had an innocent day in her life, and she's seventeen. Naturally, dad's the director.*  I can't even imagine what her childhood must have been like, let alone it's having left her unscathed.  She didn't choose it; still, she's got a stripe of the black a mile wide.  And talent.  

Now how many of you out there are howling for Cher?  You sit down and behave yourselves. I can't ever say I thought of her as being particularly vampy, despite her V.A.M.P. routine.  She just doesn't have that je ne sais quoi, that air of Good having given itself wholeheartedly to the service of Evil.  I mean come on. Sonny Bono?  

That's not evil. That's just icky.       

Now go bake a coconut cake and name it after me.

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Delores Delago The Toast of Chicago!

Oh to be a Harlette.  Yeah you'd get yelled at. Don't spoil this for me.      

This picture is here because I didn't want to splash Mr. J all over Blogger up-first-like. 

Yes, Jon it is. This sultry citizen of  Britizen runs a weekly feature called Tacky Tuesday like he doozday.  

        This guy here. Sex on legs, people.       

Now! In the spirit of 'Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery!' I present to you with no further ado...

!!!  BABYMAN  !!!

Singing and playing for you that inimitable hard-rock classic 

IRON MAN! 

Except it's the funk version! And there's a low-rent Klaus Nomi wandering around the set!       

Now come on. That is some tacky shit.  Funky as six cans of shaving powder too, so I know you're gonna want to save that link:  Babyman - Iron Man - YouTube      

You're begging me 'Please FirstNations we need more BABYMAN now now now.'  And I get it. He has the funk, and you need the funk.  It's the way he rrrrrrolls his R's. It's the beat in his feet and the bacon he's shakin'. 

I gave you a teaser-taster honeymaker a post past.  Now you got it comin' atcha, so feel the feeling till you're on the ceiling as you get full! blown! back! by the 1970's splendor that is... 

!!!HIGH LIKE A FLY!!!   

   

Now go bark at the moon. I know you have to.

In the Virtual Greeting Card Aisle With FirstNations

NOTE:  No Willow Tree figurines were harmed in the making of this post, but they for good and sure get taken to town.  If you collect these morphodites you just keep that to yourself. They are empty vessels awaiting an unclean spirit just the same as if you asked in the Devil himself.

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Grab your garters Gertie and let's take a trip through the Vanilla Internet looking for birthday cards! No, now we are not going to the porno, we are just skipping over all that old 'special interest' bee-smith. Just right down the center. 

I hope you brang comfortable shoes because I do not want to hear it about your corns. My God. See a doctor and get them froze off. 

Check out Dinahmow in her Aretha-inspired chapeau. I think that's just cute as a bugs. 

Have you noticed this damn Internets is not one bit like it was when I was a girl?  You used to have to get your computer all full up with the cookies and the trackies and that virus to find your friend a card.  And I mean now special friends.  You get plain friends, sometimes you got those special ones and the twain shall never meet. 

And sometimes the Twain do meet, and be natty have the photograph took.     

So you want to give a ticular friend a special birthday card. Well let me hold the damn door for your ass. Git on in this virtual Hallmark store!  

Hmm. 

Sakes, do you see this?  Did you know that there is such a thing as Caning Birthday cards?  'Happy Birthday!  I'm going to whap you with this cane!'  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised but I am. That's an Etsy.

And lookit here at all this, they have all this feet. Of course you know feet are yesterday.  There are feet-sex birthday cards all over the place. They got them on special. Everbody do.

Oh look they got cards for that special coprophiliac in your life.  Wait motherWHAT? There's even a coprophilia BEACH TOWEL. COME LOOK. Here it is behind the Snoopies. 

 

Coprophilia Home & Decor - CafePress

Let me take a second with that thought.  Coprophilia Home & Decor.

...and breathe.

Oh, a formicophilia sticker. 

Whazzat you asking me? Now tell me you aren't sitting right on the Internet asking me what's that mean.  

She-sakes. 

Fine.  It means that people out there getting their fancy tickled and put those bugs, worms, slugs and caterpillars and so forth all on their general selves, and they want a sticker for their car. Or maybe they want to stick the sticker on themselves and peel it off again until the glue wears out. I don't pretend to know.

Oh come take a lookit. Now tell me that's not cute as a bugs. You know, I used to have a nice friendship with a Babyman. I whisht Ida sent him a Babyman card.  

I do miss that Babyman. He was a German fella.  

I'd never find him again because there too many Babymen out there now, wearing diapers, getting baby pictures took at Wal-Mart, driving long haul truck.  But back then we and him had some very aformatative conversations, and I learned things. One of the things I learned is that I do not want to be a Babyperson.   But this Redbubble outfit next door down has got your cards when it comes to Babyperson birthdays. 

It's next door down- 

I am pointing at it.  

Put on your glasses.

Did I tell you my ex-father in law was a Stygiophiliac?  I must've.  

C'mon you're lying to me. Sure I told you about his stygiophilias. My ex husbands' sister Lena she had to poke him up with a triceradent to get any meat moved.  Look how Etsy come up with a nice little card says 'Demon Lover' that kind of looks like Paul McCartney, and his eyes are like red tomatoes. Here it's behind the Keepsake Ornaments.   

Oh I just thought of your brother Leonard. This ugly little statues brought him to my mind. 

Tell me that's no eggplanet. That is 2 eggplanets and they have torn out somebody's heart.    

Leonard. 

Leonard the cuck. 

Of course that was your brother. Watch his wife in the bed there with the man who change out the waterboys. 

Well whose brother was it then?  It was somebody's brother. 

Anyways look at all this everydamnwhere. 'Happy Birthday you sad, inadequate man, from your wife who has an ass full of Shane Diesel at this very moment. Wish you weren't here.' It's overfloated the bin! 

Lookit this rooster. Ha I got you!  You thought he was goina say cuck cuck cuck but he's talking bowt Slushies!  

Now see, me? No sir.  Nosir. Years and years ago I come close to murdering this certain party who thought she'd try to falank me.  And I still don't like that woman, so I tell you what I say. I say you be on the damn lookout, Patsy's niece, because I could develop a real flexible moral outlook in my 70's.

Were you ever in the carwash and wondered 'Gosh, is there such a thing as an enema birthday card?'  See this Etsy got this very stylish klismaphilia card. "Have a very shitty birthday all year long."* I think that's very nice. Yas.

This ain't it. This is a sticker. And it has ruined squirrels for me.      

Oh and lookit here behind the Santa! 

The Santa holding a fishing rod he's got a fish on. 

THERE!   

It's in the building next over, where did you think I was saying? I was pointing right smack at it. 

Look at all the hooraw they got in the Redbubble store!  

You know what? We are done.  Here I drug us all in the Hallmarks looking through all this ol' stuffin' they have.  

Like this. What is this.  Look at this horrible hematrode. Get your house haunted.

Somebody call an Uber right smack now. We are not spending one more little minute in this place.

We shoulda headed straight to the virtual Redbubble. They got ALL the philia cards.  Nobody gets left out on their birthday party.  

Meanwhile I'll tell you what I like. 

Of course I like a cut of Irish. No. I mean you know what I like best?  There is the link. Clink on that lick. 

Cake farts original (shittytube.com)      

Actually don't lick on this clink. Don't do it. You're grown, so now don't say I didn't tell you because I did.

Pay the Uber, Dinahmow, we don't have all ding dong day.

 

Well now. Look here in this Redbubble store! Shit fire and save matches, they have Cake Fart birthday cards! 

Woop! Pardon my oo la la. 

No, shoo shoo, go on! Grab a few!  Grab a t-shirt, a notebook and a poster while you're at it, they got those in the Cake Farts! 

Fact you go bother the checkout girl.  I'll take and put these up in my hose under the lastics.  

Check and see if I tucked my dress.

Goodness I have to sit down and wipe my glasses.  

See and here? Hoo boy!  You can not only buy your pals a Golden Shower birthday card, you can even order them a watersportses t-shirt in the male and female sizes! They even sell a lawn banner that says 'On a scale of ten, they're an eight.'  

Oh motherBUTT how's that go. 'If you're...' wait. 

You're an eight. 

'If I'm a ten, you're an eight.'

See now that's funny.

Damn skippy. Here's to me.   

Now that's a rotten nuisance; we run out of liquor. 

Tell that driver take us to the OLCC. 

Tap on the glass get his tension. Like a fishbowl. It gets their tension. 

Just tap on the damn glass get his ten-

WE WANT TO DRIVE TO THE OLCC  

-you think he heard me? He better-have. I'mant paying for no side-seeing trip.

Go ten miles out of my way and end up some strange place they got these ballahooskas. Like it sucked the eyes out of each other, that sea lion.     

Wasn't that fun?  I had fun. I am stocked up. I hope you stocked up too. Things are getting spensive out there. That stocking up is what I swear by. Say you die, why, your children can still use those cards. Shoe. Be tickled to death, find those philia cards.

Yas. 

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*Contact me for more jolly, enema-specific sentiments.

 

The Human Chair!

 

Best Japanese Metal band out there.  Best Japanese dead bassist, too.      

One of my all-time favorite metal bands is Human Chair, aka Ningen Isu. These guys can play.

OH GOD I HATE WHEN SHE DOES THESE MUSIC POSTS I NEVER LOOK AT THE VIDEOS ANYWAY 

Now that we've gotten that out of the way. 

Ningen Isu want to spend the rest of their lives licking the toes of James Hetfield. Listen to 'Enter Sandman' and then listen to these guys (which you won't) and tell me I'm wrong. 

The very, very best thing about this video that you'll watch maybe three seconds of?

THE SUBTITLES. Oh please, do yourselves the favor of turning on those subtitles. It is DELICIOUS.

https://youtu.be/CbI79e5iZKs

There it is. Copy and paste. Apparently, this content is way too radical to embed.  

Now I know that was painful for you.  Awesome-music-denial usually turns around and bites the denier, making their lives just that bit more empty and wretched, and that's the cross you've chosen to bear.  Just thank God I didn't post this:

It really wasn't made by Ed Gein. Ew. It was made by an Aussie special effects artist named Kayla Arena working with Butterfly FX Studios.  Don't enlarge it.   

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This afternoon we were visited by the Whatcom County Sheriff's office!  Three armored cars, a firetruck, a huge drone flying overhead, and cops in full riot gear carrying flash-bangs, tac gear, and oh yeah, fuckin' assault rifles. Right out here in our parking lot.  One cop has been shouting 'We have a warrant for your arrest, *full name, full address* come out with your hands up and surrender' through a bullhorn for 45 minutes. 

I am given to understand this is standard operating procedure here in Bellingham, no matter where you live. Bellingham has grown up. Damn shame.

_______________________________ 

In other apartment news, our upstairsie has been pretty quiet since we called the police on her boyfriend some months past.  He tried to kill her, and we thought 'That's kind of drastic' so we dimed the fucker, and there was peace in the valley. Little birds tweeting. Nice.

Until recently.

Yes, she's found a new boyfriend. He sounds like a winner too.  A loud, clomping, hee-hawing son of Kentucky that I've named Shithouse Rhymes, because he likes to stand in the bathroom upstairs every morning and RAP. 

Downstairs it's Hendrix. Upstairs, it's 8 Mile.      

He is absolutely admiring himself in the mirror as he does this. I know he is.  He has the place to himself, and he's getting his Mathers on.  He, sadly, is no B Rabbit.  

Dude sounds ah say the dude sounds jest like Foghorn Leghorn. What a world, y'all. 

One Needs A Touch Of Color

It was time.  Don't you agree?

It was also time to start being a good blog buddy and actually visit y'all on a regular basis.  It's difficult to get back into the social-presence habit, but I am a reformed Toad. Rest assured that from this day forward, I may not comment, but I'll be out here judging you.  Also, some of you people need to post more often. (And this is me after a sloth-hiatus.)

I am here today to introduce you to what I do when I'm not out shoplifting:

I embroider.  Yup.

Mainly turtles lately.  This is a swanky turtle.

This is a Van Gogh turtle.

Plain and fancy turtles.

Bumpy turtles and smooth turtles.

Ocean turtles that are not regularly blue. 

And here is what everybody asks - 'What does the other side look like?'  It looks like this. Here ya go.

Each one of them is about 6 inches by six inches, or 152.4 mm by 152.4mm. Lo these many years gone by, one of my Bloggy friends had a nasty hole. I was able to cover it with Style. If you have a nasty hole you'd like me to cover, I'd be more than pleased. Doesn't have to be a turtle.

 

You'd be surprised what I can do. 

Seriously. 

Send a picture.

"So why are you embroidering 30005789347 turtles all of a sudden? you may ask.  It's because my Biker wants a turtle quilt, and these are the appliques that are going to go on the topper.  

Yes, I also quilt!  Well, I make 'tufted coverlets' if you're one of those super picky types. Some have pieced tops, and some have embroidered tops. I don't have time to go dicking around with a quilting frame or to go paying a shop to put it through a longarm.  Quilts are about saving money!  I'll be dipped before I pay between $100.00 - $350.00 for that B.S. Take my tufting and like it, peasant. 

Yes, I am a fabric queen. Yes, I have a stash. Yes, I have a 1940 Kenmore sewing machine with all the bells and whistles. I am also a rabid fan of 

!!!BERNADETTE BANNER!!!

Current Projects — Bernadette Banner     

It's been years since I made an item of clothing from scratch.  What I do is upcycle stuff I find at garage sales - but it's been years since I did that too, because I discovered character t's online. You do the math.     

-A t-shirt is comfy, stretchy, and has no buttons to go zanging off the walls every time I reach for something.  

-You can print an H. R. Giger picture on a t-shirt. Try that with a button-up. It'll suck. 

-They deliver t-shirts in the mail.  This means no trips out into public. 👍👍👍 

How many of you out there sew your own?

Aventuras en la Cocina a Go Go!

 NO I have not forgotten you, my darlings!  No no no.  I was just being lazy. Pure sloth on my part.

So slothful that my magnificent slothful zeal must be caged.   

During this period of inactivity I actually accomplished a lot.  Most of it was boring. I'll spare you that, and instead recount the thrilling tale of How The Biker and FirstNations discovered a meal so holy, so tasty, so satisfying and so filled with cholesterol and saturated fats that even the plaque forming in your bloodstream will feel shame. This manna from Heaven is known as

Birria.       

Our story:  One of the Bikers buddies at work was walking around carrying a styro clamshell which was giving forth an aroma born in Paradise. Naturally The Biker followed this guy around the plant until he trapped him in a filthy restroom stall, kicked him unconscious, swiped his lunch and took a piss on him.

NO!  Ha ha!  That is not what happened at all. Things like that never happen here.  

 WTF UK.  

(Taken from an article in the Mirror. A more sober, reliable source you will not find.) Also, what the fuck's up with the radioactive eyeball dog? WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE DOING OVER THERE?    

Our local Birriaria is in the middle of a tiny little strip mall.  As soon as we walked in we knew we were in for a treat. How?  Because right next to the cash register was a cooler full of Mexican Coca-Cola. (Just - just, dammit, calm down! I'll tell you about Mexican Coca Cola in a sec.  Geeze.)  We get our birria plates. Our meals look...like they've been made by...people with a different food aesthetic. -fine. Not delicious. 

Oh, but they are delicious. 

It's twoo.

Oh, it is! It is!!!!!   

This is how it shapes up. Birria is made in an enormous, enormous pot full of spices, other stuff, lard and Beef. Around the sides of this pot hang colanders full of chicken, turkey, maybe goat, and pork, all simmering in the same consomme, as it's called on the menu (they sell it by the cup!!!!!) They add a little water, a little this and that if the pot gets low, and it just rolls on, getting more complex and tastier.

There isn't a picture in all the webiverse that reveals the true ugliness of birria, so brace yourselves. 

If you order birria cheese tacos, what you will receive looks like a plate full ancient Egyptian rehydrated pussy.

Oh how I wish I were exaggerating.   

 

It just does.  And the next paragraph is just as unnecessarily descriptive.

They grab a plastic platter and lay a piece of checkered paper on it. 

They then lay down one flour tortilla and put cheese on it. Queso Oaxaca, I think. Maybe plain Monterrey Jack.  

Then they lay another flour tortilla on top of that. 

Next they fish around in the truly vast, soul-swallowing vat of birria and pick out the protein of your choice, which has simmered to rags, and splorch it on top. A flood of Consomme mixes with orange - colored oil on the platter. 

They fold this pile of tortillas, cheese and meat in half and then dip it in their deep fryer for a three count.  

It comes out of the deep fryer the color of a flaming sunset (Let's say Pantone Orange 021 HC) and goes straight onto your flooded, paper-lined platter, with a little more of the protein of your choice on top of it all, then a ladle full of the consomme, PLUS six deep-fried serrano peppers in the skin.  

Now as someone who knows their ancient Egyptian dehydrated pussy, I can tell you a lot of things you'd expect from me after a lead in like that.   The thing is, you have to trust me. Birria is ugly, it is bad for you, and it is the most delicious meal The Biker and I have eaten IN. FREAKING. DECADES. 

Oh oh oh crap, yes, the Mexican Coca-Cola. OK.  

Here in the U.S., Coke is made by making Hello Kitty pee in a bottle.  And as tempting as that sounds, it isn't anything compared to the delicious, delicious flavor of Mexican Coca-Cola, which is made using the original recipe just as God intended!  

See the paper label?  That's what Mexican Coke has to have slapped on it in order to be sold in the U.S.A. Basically, they're shipping the original, delicious Coke in from a foreign country back to the country where the original recipe was invented - the same country which now drinks (in blind, market-generated ignorance) a hell-substance made of maltose, corn syrup, and LIES.   

Living on the West Coast, I've known about Mexican Coke since the Eighties, but I guess for a large part of the world this is voodoo magic, so let me be the one to clue you in. Coke used to be made using unbleached cane sugar - and that's it, just unbleached cane sugar - as a sweetener.  It's the Coke we all drank when we were kids.*  Those of you living in climes foreign might find Original Recipe Coke being sold as 'Kosher for Passover' Coke. Either way, BUY IT.  The difference in flavor is unbelievable and you will send me $9000.00 in gratitude for bringing light to your beveragey darkness. 

Now go forth and do whatever it is you do.

_____________________________

*At least everybody but Miss Scarlet, who is only 16. 

Thunder Quill 7 Chuck

 Having once again proven that I can, in fact, offend most of the people most of the time, I shall now move on to the subject of sheep pussy.

-HA I so got you. I did. You know I did. Don't lie.  I totally got you with the sheep pussy thing. 

But speaking of horse condoms, let me express my utter delight at having received a statement from the Social Security Administration telling me all about the pittance I'll be getting after I 'retire'.  Oh, and my Medicare 'benefits', although how anything that amounts to a proffered Band-aide and a glass of tepid water can be called a benefit escapes me. Perhaps because it's better than a peck in the head with a sharp rock?  I say it's relative.  You can get a peck in the head with a sharp rock for free. To get Social Security you have to make a bunch of appointments and fill out things online and sort through reams of mailings. For months.  And Medicare?  Enrollment after enrollment after negotiation after application after turndown after enrollment.

As far as the cash amount goes - let me put it this way.  I just bought four pairs of slacks and four character t's, the combined cost of which adds up to 1/3 of what I'll be getting from Social Security. So if I were single? That means every month for the rest of my life, I could buy twelve pairs of slacks and twelve character t's.  And get a Band-Aide and a glass of tepid water. 

I didn't expect anything different, to be honest.

As things stand, and in the best case, we'll spend our waning days in North Carolina in a tiny home, under the scrutiny of a family member I often find disagreeable. I am not looking forward to the move, or the location, but as I drive past the homeless encampment just down the street from me, I realize things could easily be a hell of a lot worse.  Hopefully by the time it comes to moving South, they'll be letting me have the good drugs.  Hell, if I can still drive, I'll be able to buy them without a prescription, so never mind. I'm good.  

-Where am I going, disagreeable family member?  Oh, I just thought I'd, um, hang out in the parking lot in front of WalMart for a few hours. Need a pair of slacks?  How about a character T?

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