March Cold Phonecam Dump

Been riding around with these. Some Moblog-ish others, no. So, I just figured I'd post 'em:

This keeps up long enough, he may yet get to go.....

Bush "Envious" Of Soldiers Serving "Romantic" Mission In Afghanistan - Politics on The Huffington Post

"I must say, I'm a little envious," Bush said. "If I were slightly younger and not employed here, I think it would be a fantastic experience to be on the front lines of helping this young democracy succeed."


"It must be exciting for you ... in some ways romantic, in some ways, you know, confronting danger. You're really making history, and thanks," Bush said.

Moblog: Elijah Pierce

Google/Wikipedia him. LikeTurner, significantly better in person.

Moblog: Jackie Chan Pancake Cowboy

Alexandria

Moblog: Heartland USA

The name of the town that's the County Seat? Why, Chewing, of course!

Joke O' the Day 2 !

As Mrs Lex10 put it with not a little sarcasm: "I'm sure your Frank and Ernest fans will enjoy that...."



Get it?!?! SHAM - PAIN !! Get it?!?!?!

Joke O' The Day

Want this joke on a t-shirt? Forget it.

Funny Pitcher 2 (electric boogaloo)

Monger something else - fear's for the birds!

How Do I Order My 39 Steps? Two Ways

I just read John Buchan's The 39 Steps, and watched the Hitchcock movie of the same name.

Introductory Conclusion (ha!): While not starting out as a project, I would not recommend participating in absorbing both as one. Leave these units sole entities and enjoy them just the same, comforted in the knowledge that both have fallen off the copyrighter's radar screen and are now in the public domain.

The film version, produced by Michael Balcon, who produced one of my favorite films, Dead of Night, and directed by Alfred Hitchcock appears to be an almost completely new invention that utilizes only the main premise and some of the names of characters.

The novel, by proud Scotsman (by virtue of the portrayal of his countrymen and women, the opposite of Hitchcock's portrayal of brutsh stingy Scots) John Buchan, is a an extremely fast paced thriller that pits villains appropriate to today's one-worlder conspiracy theorists, against an improvised adventurer who is enlisted by a spy with several character-shaping pathologies and prejudices aiding his motivation and world view.

Along the way as we follow Richard Hannay the protagonist, there are plenty of Deus Ex Machina situations arising, such as stumbling upon the exact location at which he needed to arrive, accidentally meeting a reviled London colleague 12 hours distance from the city, and kindness from strangers that even Santa Claus couldn't engender.

This is all forgivable owing to the pacing and the tone of the writing. Hannay is the a protagonist in whose shoes on is willing to jump. The book adds up to a short thrill that grips one, and doesn't let go until the end.

Hitchcock's film, while wildly different in plot mechanisms and characters, maintains the best of the book, namely Hannay's pathological ingenuity in staying one step ahead of his pursuers. Equally gripping, with moments that provide a window into an England that is only 20 years and a World War since the original publication of the book, with the same Teutonic treacheries afoot, providing an analogous zeitgeist for the Mise en Scene, awaiting another global conflict, wile enjoying life in the interim.

So, on to the links:

Here's the book in it's entirety

Here's a link to a BUNCH of John Buchan novels I always have to laugh at the NO US ACCESS warnings!!!

Buchan's Wikipedia Bio, (he was a big shot!)

Wa-hey! Here's the Movie, and and here's where you can download it (on the left)and own the friggin' thing!




Radio Drama:
Mercury Theatre of the Air (Orson Welles)

A Criterion Collection obsessed fan's review of the Film.

Enjoy. It's the future - so far.

Attn: Nerds! Let's Join the Science Club !!!!!!

Click on either image for a giant view, dolllllll.....inks! 05/68 It must be 2pt type...tiny. Not as sexy as the record club but cool nonetheless.

Stones Reference in Today's Born Loser

.....with "person" as a politically correct substitution for "man".

Here's the panel:



Here's the song title as illustrated on an early EP:



and wow! somebody put it on boomp3! cool!:

boomp3.com

Ew.

How do they stay in business?!?!

Moblog Army of Homeless I-10 N.O.

You're on your own America

Moblog: Joy

Nonetheless

Moblog: Halo on my plane's shadow

Defying the death wish upon me.

NO in N.O.

Laissez les bon temps roulez

Valentime, yes, I Said "time" for that special someone

boomp3.com

boomp3.com



Louder, now:


Here's a bonus:
boomp3.com

Valentine: Two songs about love for inanimate objects

boomp3.com

boomp3.com

Valentine: For The Girl I Always Wished I Could Have

.....and GOT!

Valentine: My Love Pencil - I Give It To You

The Jokes Just Keep Comin' Folks!

Valentine: Childish Sex Joke Found On My Google Reader

I got one!

Vanlentine: Look at Past Entries

http://www.glyphjockey.com/2007/02/happy-valentimes.html


http://www.glyphjockey.com/2006/03/valentimes-updated.html


http://www.glyphjockey.com/2006/02/valentimes.html

Nobody ever gave me a Valentine until I got married.

Gung hey fat choi

Xie xie

Turkish Shag

REAL Calypso

Sung by the auteur of Thunder Road.

Few people know that his lust for calypso was so strong that he almost convinced Charles Laughton to do a big Calypso number instead of the "Hate vs. Love" sermon in the film Night of the Hunter.

He figured that anytime in the film he got asked about his nonsensical hand tattoos (when viewed separately- the left hand bearing AYS and the right hand bearing CLPO) he could show them how they joined together to bring happiness to people, and then bust out with "That's Right! The Woman is Smarter!" (particularly apt in scenes with Lillian Gish) or, "Mama Look a BooBoo"

This image shows camera tests for the musical numbers. Dig that crazy punim! Totally calypso, wouldn't you agree?



Here it is courtesy of Dr. Forrest's Cheese Factory LINK AT PIC and HERE



Here's Mitchum doing an impromptu duet at the Sands in '63 with The Charmer, who was later to be known as Louis Farrakhan.... Mitchum felt the Charmer "really hogged the stage" Ironic, knowing now that Farrakhan wouldn't touch a hog-
MORE INFO HERE and at PIC



Lastly, they used to say Mitchum was so effective (at singing Calypso) that you could even skip a day.

Wordless Workshop

Apologies to Roy Doty & Popular Mechanics

Get Your Kookie Awn!,

Here's 77 Sunset Strip Comics as a response to the ever amusing and informative Baikinange's Shadenfreudian Therapy blog, where she generously provided the 77 Sunset Strip Album.

In its entirety ...... at the link embedded in any of the images below, or here.





GOD FORBID SHE GIVES ME A LINK

NOTE: Many of these images are part of the "Sequitur" Flash Presentation I put together a while back. Have a look.

A sensible question to ask

Mitchell & Webb of Peep Show reknown.
Another one here

God as Hobson's Choice

tWO pASSAGES FROM aLDOUS hUXLEY'S cROME yELLOW

Selection One

Priscilla's gay and gadding existence had come to an abrupt end.
Nowadays she spent almost all her time at Crome, cultivating a
rather ill-defined malady.  For consolation she dallied with New
Thought and the Occult.  Her passion for racing still possessed
her, and Henry, who was a kind-hearted fellow at bottom, allowed
her forty pounds a month betting money.  Most of Priscilla's days
were spent in casting the horoscopes of horses, and she invested
her money scientifically, as the stars dictated.  She betted on
football too, and had a large notebook in which she registered
the horoscopes of all the players in all the teams of the League.
The process of balancing the horoscopes of two elevens one
against the other was a very delicate and difficult one.  A match
between the Spurs and the Villa entailed a conflict in the
heavens so vast and so complicated that it was not to be wondered
at if she sometimes made a mistake about the outcome.

"Such a pity you don't believe in these things, Denis, such a
pity," said Mrs. Wimbush in her deep, distinct voice.

"I can't say I feel it so."

"Ah, that's because you don't know what it's like to have faith.
You've no idea how amusing and exciting life becomes when you do
believe.  All that happens means something; nothing you do is
ever insignificant.  It makes life so jolly, you know.  Here am I
at Crome.  Dull as ditchwater, you'd think; but no, I don't find
it so.  I don't regret the Old Days a bit.  I have the Stars..."
She picked up the sheet of paper that was lying on the blotting-
pad.  "Inman's horoscope," she explained.  "(I thought I'd like
to have a little fling on the billiards championship this
autumn.)  I have the Infinite to keep in tune with," she waved
her hand.  "And then there's the next world and all the spirits,
and one's Aura, and Mrs. Eddy and saying you're not ill, and the
Christian Mysteries and Mrs. Besant.  It's all splendid.  One's
never dull for a moment.  I can't think how I used to get on
before--in the Old Days.  Pleasure--running about, that's all it
was; just running about.  Lunch, tea, dinner, theatre, supper
every day.  It was fun, of course, while it lasted.  But there
wasn't much left of it afterwards....."

Selection Two:

One entered the world, Denis pursued, having ready-made ideas
about everything.  One had a philosophy and tried to make life
fit into it.  One should have lived first and then made one's
philosophy to fit life...Life, facts, things were horribly
complicated; ideas, even the most difficult of them, deceptively
simple.  In the world of ideas everything was clear; in life all
was obscure, embroiled.  Was it surprising that one was
miserable, horribly unhappy?  Denis came to a halt in front of
the bench, and as he asked this last question he stretched out
his arms and stood for an instant in an attitude of crucifixion,
then let them fall again to his sides.

"My poor Denis!"  Anne was touched.  He was really too pathetic
as he stood there in front of her in his white flannel trousers.
"But does one suffer about these things?  It seems very
extraordinary."

"You're like Scogan," cried Denis bitterly.  "You regard me as a
specimen for an anthropologist.  Well, I suppose I am."

"No, no," she protested, and drew in her skirt with a gesture
that indicated that he was to sit down beside her.  He sat down.
"Why can't you just take things for granted and as they come?"
she asked.  "It's so much simpler."

"Of course it is," said Denis.  "But it's a lesson to be learnt
gradually.  There are the twenty tons of ratiocination to be got
rid of first."

"I've always taken things as they come," said Anne.  "It seems so
obvious.  One enjoys the pleasant things, avoids the nasty ones.
There's nothing more to be said."

"Nothing--for you.  But, then, you were born a pagan; I am trying
laboriously to make myself one.  I can take nothing for granted,
I can enjoy nothing as it comes along.  Beauty, pleasure, art,
women--I have to invent an excuse, a justification for everything
that's delightful.  Otherwise I can't enjoy it with an easy
conscience.  I make up a little story about beauty and pretend
that it has something to do with truth and goodness.  I have to
say that art is the process by which one reconstructs the divine
reality out of chaos.  Pleasure is one of the mystical roads to
union with the infinite--the ecstasies of drinking, dancing,
love-making.  As for women, I am perpetually assuring myself that
they're the broad highway to divinity.  And to think that I'm
only just beginning to see through the silliness of the whole
thing!  It's incredible to me that anyone should have escaped
these horrors."

"It's still more incredible to me," said Anne, "that anyone
should have been a victim to them.  I should like to see myself
believing that men are the highway to divinity."  The amused
malice of her smile planted two little folds on either side of
her mouth, and through their half-closed lids her eyes shone with
laughter.  "What you need, Denis, is a nice plump young wife, a
fixed income, and a little congenial but regular work."

"What I need is you."  That was what he ought to have retorted,
that was what he wanted passionately to say.  He could not say
it.  His desire fought against his shyness.  "What I need is
you."  Mentally he shouted the words, but not a sound issued from
his lips.  He looked at her despairingly.  Couldn't she see what
was going on inside him?  Couldn't she understand?  "What I need
is you."  He would say it, he would--he would.

"I think I shall go and bathe," said Anne.  "It's so hot."  The
opportunity had passed.


WHOLE BOOK HERE
and/or
WHOLE BOOK HERE