It’s either that, or some strange mob of fanatics carrying out some bizarre rite. It’s hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Y’all remember what many of our neightors are commemorating this weekend: the first Zombie Uprising of 33AD.
51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split 52 and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. 53 They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.
It’s funny how this amazing awesome story didn’t make it into any other historical accounts. Somebody ought to turn it into a novel — you’ll have both the evangelical Christian audience and the graphic horror audience at the same time! Think how much fun the book signings would be!
The Digital Cuttlefish remarks on a certain expulsion…with a poem, of course.
I hate to carp at actually having the saga commemorated, but shouldn’t it have a more martial beat and an alliterative clang to it? And where’s the swordfight? The naked damsel? The villain’s bloody demise? Man, I guess it’s really hard to turn hanging out in the Apple store at the mall into an epic event.
I can tell. It’s coming. A royal heir has gotten engaged to some young woman, and there will be one of those royal weddings, and the sentimental argle-bargle in the British media will soar to new heights of fatuousness. I’ll miss most of it, fortunately, but I pity everyone in the United Kingdom who’s going to have to suffer with the royal romanticism for a while.
At least this time the Telegraph has set the bar for stupidity abysmally low, and I have no idea how anyone else willl sink lower (the fun will be in the trying, I’m sure). Someone has found a jelly bean that looks like Kate Middleton.
I don’t know what this means. Even the candy-making machines in jelly bean factories are infatuated with tabloid press stories about the imminent wedding, and are pressing their obsessions into sugar and gelatin? Kate’s visage is so potent that speckles and spots are spontaneously rejiggering themselves to conform? Or, perhaps, credulous idiots are rife in both the public and tabloid editorial rooms?
I suggest that The Telegraph document this novel property of random dots and send a reporter/photographer to the nearest sewage treatment plant and gaze adoringly into the feculent froth until more detailed images of connubial Windsorness bubble to the surface.
I hope no one is expecting any mercy from the other primates.
This is the Geek Zodiac, a spoof of the Chinese zodiac (the image at the link is larger and easier to read). It’s horrible and wrong.
I skimmed over that diagram and thought that all the choices were cool and geeky, except…well, this is just me, and you can feel differently…I thought the one I liked least and that was most boring was astronaut. And guess what, I was born in 1957, and therefore I fall under the sign of the Astronaut. Boo! Astrology is bunk! I was most hoping for Undead Alien Pirate, which would have required my mother to be pregnant for 5 years, and then stretch out labor from 1962 to 1965, which I admit would have been a bit cruel.
(This argument is the inverse of, but is just as valid as, the wishful thinking of the religious, who’d really like heaven to be real, therefore it is. I’d really like this zodiac to be false, therefore it is. So there. Ha.)
OK, I’m used to the idea of batrachian horrors and creatures tentacled and squamous, and part of the appeal of HP Lovecraft is that he is so quaint. But I was unprepared for the chilling simplicity of Chicks With Steve Buscemeyes.
Poor Phantom. He looks like he just took a skull ring to the jaw, himself.
Via Roger Ebert, who as a salve to his ego, suggests that the Phantom is the only sexually active superhero, which is not true! I vividly recall a scene in a Spiderman comic with a blissed out Mary Jane, who definitely looked post-orgasmic, in bed with Peter Parker…and the bedroom was strung with all kinds of webbing all over the place, like the activities had been a bit acrobatic for a while. And at that moment, I realized that Spidey’s mopey ol’ woe-is-me act was all fake, and that there were definitely some side benefits to the super-power biz.
As some of you already know, the universe was revolted by the recent spectacle of Rebecca Black’s hideously insipid autotuned song, Friday. I felt a bit of sympathy for her, however — she’s very young, and her name is always going to be attached that monstrosity. And then there was the fact that there were the parodies, such as Stephen Colbert’s, which although none of them were great, at least always improved on the source material.
Until now.
What could possibly make “Friday” worse than the original? How about changing it to “Sunday” and make it all about going to church?
WARNING: If ever there was a Lovecraftian horror that could enkindle madness and despair, this is it. Do not view if your sanity is fragile. If your mind is strong and you make it through this nightmare, I am not responsible for future impairments.
If you are a Christian, don’t worry. They removed the scary black man who drives through in the middle of the video and replaced him with a couple of dorky white guys.
