I find this creepling, from the Creeplings Etsy store, quite cute.
Polyphemus [the Cyclops] deigned no answer, but reaching out his hand seized two of the men, whom he hurled against the side of the cave and dashed out their brains. He proceeded to devour them with great relish, and having made a hearty meal, stretched himself on the floor to sleep. – Odysseus Escapes the Cyclops
Last Friday’s Ruby episode went up last night, and tonight we’ll be posting up a special little treat. It’ll be another week of one shots, with a bit of a Halloween hat tip through out, then we begin a new six-part Blackhall tale.
Personally, I’m just excited to not feel like there’s a an angry mole living in my gut.
Here’s a little Halloween treat for everyone: Stan Lee reading Poe’s The Raven!
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXUvFaNNzmk]
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9kjqsaDhTM]
Excelsior!
I thought it might be interesting to run the trio of last week’s Joe Monk stories through wordle to see how they would look, and I liked the results enough to share:
I especially enjoy the bottom left corner.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Hek2KQcD8_M]
So, I was listening to Danny Barker’s version of St. James Infirmary the other day, and I once again came across the line regarding “The Gown Man”, which had previously sparked my interest.
And sure enough my poor dead baby was still laying there with a sheet over her head
(she looked like a gown-man)
After a little google-action, I found this:
The gown man was a bogey man like creature that was talked of in the New Orleans African American community in the early part of the 20th century. He was a white man in some sort of white robes who would snatch you to dissect your body. The tale supposedly arose from avid medical students at Charity Hospital who would snatch bodies for their studies. – Posted at No Notes
This actually reminded me of another story, also from New Orleans, that I’d read on Snopes years ago.
The legend in its current incarnation (teenage girls in darkened theaters jabbed with needles) dates back to a much older non-HIV story, one rampant in the New Orleans area in the 1930s. Toothsome young girls were told to beware of Needle Men. Young ladies were strictly instructed to sit at the end of the aisle in moviehouses, not in the middle, lest they attract the attention of white slavers working in pairs who would sit down beside the girl, one on each side, inject her with morphine, and carry her out of the theatre and into a life of shame.
The New Orleans Needle Men rumor circulated in another form besides the “white slavers after young girls” — others feared these syringe-armed fiends were in fact medical students harvesting cadavers for dissection. Women jabbed by them would quickly succumb to the poison contained in those needles, with their lifeless bodies soon afterwards delivered to a local teaching hospital. Such deadly attacks were said to take place in theaters, but also on the street.
I actually wrote a story regarding The Needle Men after originally reading the Snopes article, but it’s probably best left in the dusty bin of my juvenilia.
Let’s say you’re on the road and you’ve forgotten your cellphone charger. If you’ve got a fairly common type of phone, locate a hotel, the larger and more generic the chain the better, and ask the person at the counter if they recently found a plug of your type, which you forgot on a previous visit not long ago.
Nine times out of ten they’ll hand you a free plug.
It is unfortunate how often acronyms become the passcodes to societal and industrial cliques.
Just a quick note to cast further light on the barnacle-encrusted jabbering of Captain Pigheart, yarn spinner and peglegged entrepreneur.
He’s a favourite around the skinner.fm labs, and he now has mp3 versions of his misadventures available for sale.
[It should be noted, in case you can’t scrape together a couple of doubloons, that most of his recountings are available to be read on his site].
A silent sample:
It were the kind of island where a man longs to bury his treasure. Alas, me gold was now being colonised by humourous octopi who amused themselves by hurling coins at me splashing crew.Now I knows ye may be afeard for the safety of meself and me crew and yet ye should worry little, for this maroonin’ lark is bread and butter to us pirate types. Ye forestation were lush as Eve’s own lady garden before she choked on the serpent’s apple, so we’d not want for sustenance. In time we’d assemble a rude craft to take us back to our wives and other foes. In the meantime we rigged shelters and foraged amongst the local flora for spit-roastable fauna.
– From Pigheart’s Tale of The Delicious Sweet-Monkey
Just a quick photo from yesterday:
I understand that NASA has had to come up with some creative methodologies for keeping the space program funded, but it seems to me they could at least fix their open sign.
Hey – re: this post, look what just arrived in the mail.
