In lieu of Biscuit pics, here’s Bill (aka William James) and his late, lamented twin sister Nada, slapping it out back in their first July on Earth. An already-defeated Zero appears, paws-up, at right.
Consider this an open thread until real news happens.
I think I hurt his feelings on the World Cup Finals thread. Hopefully, he will accept this earnest act of devotion/contrition from the assembled front-pagers. Without Kevin K., we are like a powerful, headless beast that can’t find the car keys or the bottle opener.
While the election of a deceased candidate is hardly unprecedented in American politics, we believe that trying to jump-start a fledgeling, little-known third party with a cadaver would only compound an already-uphill battle to secure funding, build enthusiasm and promote turnout, while inviting the sort of negative personal attacks to which living candidates are all-too-ready to stoop.
That’s why we’re pleased to announce our unanimous decision to draft an alternate candidate who is everything Coke Ennyday was, only upright and above-ground—composer, musician, writer and actor Mr. Richard O’Brien.
With a dynamic physical presence, iconic fashion flair and established cult-following that rival Sarah Palin’s—plus a built-in appeal to Tea Party supporters who yearn to return to a simpler, campier caricature of America—Mr. O’Brien represents the LFP’s best chance yet to field a ticket-topping media-magnet who transcends outmoded Right-Left, racial, sexual and planetary affiliations. Most importantly, perhaps, he already has a perfectly serviceable video clip which, with judicious editing and tagging, can be easily converted into a 30-second campaign spot that boldly proclaims the fundamental philosophy and essential foot-placement of the Leaping Fish Revolution.
The Leaping Fish Party (formerly the Codpiece Prometheans) has identified its first draft candidate for 2012—Coke Ennyday, the Scientific Detective.
Against the rising tide of pseudo-populist Tea Party extremism, Liberals must now more than ever seek out and field fresh, edgy, finely-tuned candidates who not only talk the talk, but inhale the chalk. Candidates who eat, sleep, smoke, drink and occasionally mainline our values, our ideals, our lifestyles and our innate appreciation of surreal visual puns.
Coke Ennyday is such a man, and a candidate whose broad appeal will only be multiplied through the application of available sound recording technology. We hope that you will participate in our grassroots effort to talk him down into running (or at least dancing around nervously) on the Leaping Fish ticket. Online petition to follow. Extended video chapters below the fold.
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES KEVIN A SHITTY BLOGGER
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES KEVIN A SHITTY BLOGGER
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES KEVIN A SHITTY BLOGGER
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES KEVIN A SHITTY BLOGGER
ALL WORK AND NO PLAY MAKES KEVIN A SHITTY BLOGGER
Just got back from watching the US World Cup victory over Algeria in a packed local Brooklyn pub with my Dutch brother-in-law. He’s now in a car headed to the airport with my wife’s sister and my adorable niece. Thanks so much to Betty Cracker and StrangeAppar8us, two of the best and funniest polibloggers on the planet Earth, for holding down the fort while I was jammed up with fun family affairs and living in what was essentially Brooklyn’s smallest hostel for six days. Normal blogging from me will resume at some point tomorrow.
I will not lie to you. I will not “spin” you. And I absolutely, positively will not be undersold.
“Raven had been with many ‘progressive’ men since she first ‘went online’...”
A woman, some men and the Internet. What great story isn’t built on those three simple elements, and/or a sadistic female prison guard? But in a market crowded with marquee names like Glenn Beck and Larry Sinclair, I knew I needed more than just a dependable, workhorse premise to light up all those jaded Kindles. And that’s when I wrote discovered the Ten Rules of BlogFiction, which made Who Blog in Darkness the eminently-optionable fake book you see before you today.
BlogFiction Rule #1: Lead with a Left Hook
Raven had been with many “progressive” men since she first “went online.” They had all been sleek, hip and wicked funny – more than a few, in fact, with genius-level intellects – and her soul ached to be a dancer in their mad, noble, intoxicating dream. But, no matter how much that ache ached, and no matter how failed and dishonest her trembling weakness made her feel, she had always selfishly withheld a small, secret part of herself, even from her blog-leader, Hillaire. A part she had protected and nurtured like the pearl in an akoya ever since the day she found out Rock Hudson was gay. The part called “sex.”
Hillaire, whose proud. idealistic mind was yet no stranger to empathy, detected the subtle tremor in her embrace. “Is everything all right, Raven?”
“Of course,” she said, lyingly, as she brushed her flowing hippie-hair back from a face that fiercely bespoke generations of benignly-enforced social diversity. “Will I see you tonight at the blog-slam?”
Roastapalooza II saw the Meatiest Access Blog welcoming special guests to our Washington Confab, as in Michelle, First Lady of FAB-u-lous, and a few other notables. Special thanks to President Dreamy for letting us use the Oval Office Portico for this group photo, and to Axelrod for backing our little band of blog pirates. And mixing those grape shooters—my head still hurts, and it’s WEDNESDAY.
Geek forums are abuzz today with the news that “the Buzzer” is dead. UVB-76—a Cold War Era shortwave transmitter that’s been beaming the same eerie, repetitive signal on the same fixed frequency since at least 1982, has abruptly gone silent.
As we know from the movies, this can only mean one of two things: 1) We are all going to die horribly in the last reel or 2) We will discover that Mr. Mittens, the space station’s rascally feline mascot, harmlessly short-circuited the Doomsday Beacon when “he” scratched out a cozy nest behind the heat-exchanger in preparation for birthing a litter of adorable kittens. Then we’ll all die.
The sudden extinction of UVB-76 may or may not be causally tethered to last night’s initiation of the Creative-Class Access Blogotron Accelerator, but true Forteans understand that these things are rarely just “coincidence.”
Mostly radio silence so far, but it’s an established scientific fact that wireless Internet connections cannot function in the presence of neon signage and cocktail-swords.
Huzzah! Field reports indicate that Roastafarian Strike Teams are even now converging on the staging camp for Roastacon 2010, where they will rest, regroup and prepare their phased, lightning assault on High-Value Liquor Vending sites throughout the Disputed Territories.
Consider this an open thread for arrivals, check-ins and progressively more chatty, philosophical and fat-fingered glass-by-glass updates from the ground…or, more likely, the floor.
You go Googling for Edgar Lee Masters, and you never know where you’ll end up. This seemed about right for a day of reflection on war, sacrifice, loss, the persistence of memory and the neverending obligation of the living to pick up, keep on…and make Death work for that boat-token.
(And, yes, I fucked up my own headline quote. But at least I’m not going to claim I did it on-purpose as a wry slam at sloppy journalism.)