Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Hail, baby.
"Ladies don't love Ol Dirty Bastard because ... Ol Dirty Bastard is busy lovin' them. They might like Ol Dirty Bastard, know what I'm sayin? They might listen to his music or something, but really they don't pay no mind. They pay nothing no mind, nothing is paid a mind to, really, on this earth. It's just living, and dying. The world is a big ball of fire and it's just burning with no feeling."
"I'm into all assholes. I like it because it's tinier than a pussyhole. It's so tiny, it's tinier than a clitoris. When i get the feeling of licking a york peppermint patty, it's a sensation."
Finally. His genius is known. Tommy, next drink is for you and a little on the floor for ODB.
"I'm into all assholes. I like it because it's tinier than a pussyhole. It's so tiny, it's tinier than a clitoris. When i get the feeling of licking a york peppermint patty, it's a sensation."
Finally. His genius is known. Tommy, next drink is for you and a little on the floor for ODB.
I want red
For his series The Land Surveyors, artist Christian Faur took photographs from the Great Depression, and, using a digital mapping technique, deconstructed each image down to its pixels. From there, he hand-cast thousands of crayons and then reassembled them into wooden frames to create artworks that resemble highly-pixelated images. Confused? Click through to get a better look at the end result.
moar . comIm drunk
“Praise the lord”
For the first time in my
Life I open the hotel draw
And find a box of tissues.
No bible.
No After dinner mint.
Tissues.
Finally something more
Practical
And helpful at this
Time of night
Than god.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The murder of Rasputin has become a legend, some of it invented by the very men who killed him, which is why it has become difficult to discern the actual course of events. On December 16, 1916, having decided that Rasputin's influence over the Tsaritsa had made him a threat to the empire, a group of nobles led by Prince Felix Yusupov and the Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich and the right-wing politician Vladimir Purishkevich apparently lured Rasputin to the Yusupovs' Moika Palace[15] by intimating that Yusupov's wife, Princess Irina, would be present and receiving friends. (In point of fact, she was away in the Crimea.)[16] The group led him down to the cellar, where they served him cakes and red wine laced with a massive amount of cyanide. According to legend, Rasputin was unaffected, although Vasily Maklakov had supplied enough poison to kill five men. Conversely, Maria's account asserts that, if her father did eat or drink poison, it was not in the cakes or wine, because after the attack by Guseva he suffered from hyperacidity and avoided anything with sugar. In fact, she expresses doubt that he was poisoned at all. It has been suggested, on the other hand, that Rasputin had developed an immunity to poison due to Mithridatism.[17]
Determined to finish the job, Prince Yusupov became anxious about the possibility that Rasputin might live until the morning, leaving the conspirators no time to conceal his body. Yusupov ran upstairs to consult the others and then came back down to shoot Rasputin through the back with a revolver. Rasputin fell, and the company left the palace for a while. Yusupov, who had left without a coat, decided to return to get one, and while at the palace, he went to check on the body. Suddenly, Rasputin opened his eyes and lunged at Yusupov. He grabbed Yusupov, ominously whispered in his ear, "you bad boy," and attempted to strangle him. At that moment, however, the other conspirators arrived and fired at Rasputin. After being hit three times in the back, he fell once more. As they neared his body, the party found that, remarkably, he was still alive, struggling to get up. They clubbed him into submission. Some accounts say that his killers also sexually mutilated him, severing his penis (subsequently resulting in urban legends and claims that certain third parties were in possession of the organ).[18][19][20] After binding his body and wrapping him in a carpet, they threw him into the icy Neva River. He broke out of his bonds and the carpet wrapping him, but drowned in the river.
Three days later, Rasputin's body, poisoned, shot four times, badly beaten, and drowned, was recovered from the river. An autopsy established that the cause of death was drowning. His arms were found in an upright position, as if he had tried to claw his way out from under the ice. It was found that he had indeed been poisoned, and that the poison alone should have been enough to kill him. There is a report that after his body was recovered, water was found in the lungs, supporting the idea that he was still alive before submersion into the partially frozen river.[21]
the mad monk . com
Billions and Billions.
Once upon a time in a Soviet Union far, far away, Russia set out to build the world's largest particle accelerator under a small town called Protvino. Already plagued by setbacks, the work on the accelerator ceased after the fall of the Soviet Union and it's been abandoned since.
Now, as some explorers found, it looks more like the setting of a sci-fi thriller — just imagine what ancient evil could be lurking down there, or all those zombies just around the corner.
The folks over at English Russia have a full tour both above and below ground of the facility
check it out . com
Now, as some explorers found, it looks more like the setting of a sci-fi thriller — just imagine what ancient evil could be lurking down there, or all those zombies just around the corner.
The folks over at English Russia have a full tour both above and below ground of the facility
check it out . com
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
The Lane - Boys are back.
“Half a Heart”
On television
there is a little boy
who only has half a heart.
He says,
“I wish I had a whole heart,
just like my
mum and dad.”
He says it with a beautiful smile
that could chip a
tooth.
He has a hot mother,
I remember that.
Great cheek
bones.
I open a beer after his scene
and run a bath.
The radio plays
'50s jazz.
I dance with my girl.
She is wearing her pyjamas
while I swing
naked.
We dance quietly
with bare feet
together
on the floor boards
of my home
with the television still
playing
in the other room.
Then she leaves me alone
with the swing
and the radio
and the world of guilt
and the wish
that I only had
half a heart
too.
On television
there is a little boy
who only has half a heart.
He says,
“I wish I had a whole heart,
just like my
mum and dad.”
He says it with a beautiful smile
that could chip a
tooth.
He has a hot mother,
I remember that.
Great cheek
bones.
I open a beer after his scene
and run a bath.
The radio plays
'50s jazz.
I dance with my girl.
She is wearing her pyjamas
while I swing
naked.
We dance quietly
with bare feet
together
on the floor boards
of my home
with the television still
playing
in the other room.
Then she leaves me alone
with the swing
and the radio
and the world of guilt
and the wish
that I only had
half a heart
too.
Free Murd.
Lizard Skynard is a new heavy metal band featuring Erik “The Lizardman” Sprague (vocals), Mossy Vaughn (guitars), Russell Gillespie (bass), Johnny Baker (drums), and Erik Vaughn (keyboards). The sound of the band has been described as “... slithering... lunging hardcore, heavily drenched in psychedelic feedback and effects” (Teeth of the Divine), “... heavy .... loud ... freaked out beyond conception” (Wormwood Chronicles) and as “... five guys creating very serious, well orchestrated noise as if their lives depended on each second”
Santorum
Santorum is a sexual neologism for a "frothy mixture of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex," and was proposed by American humorist and sex-advice columnist Dan Savage in 2003 to "memorialize" then-Republican U.S. Senator Rick Santorum from Pennsylvania due to the controversy over his statements on homosexuality.[1] Savage asked his readers to submit new definitions for the term.[1] The word became a successful Google bomb when Savage created a website for it, which unseated the Senator's official website as the top search result for his surname on the Google web search engine.[2][3] On February 21, 2011, Stephen Colbert sarcastically proposed that the definition be changed, to induce more Googling and reinforce the definition.[4]
Teefers
"Hey there! My name is Isaac and I’ve been collecting human teeth and bones for about 7 years. I initially set out to collect 242 teeth (don’t ask) and somehow with the excitement of collecting them, I managed to lose count. I overshot my target by about 35, so now I’m having a Tumblr Giveaway! All you have to do is reblog/like this post, follow me, and then keep a look out for when I announce the winners! I will award them in batches of 5, so that means there will be seven winners! I’m going to let you guys choose which ones you want on one condition: I’ll need your home address so I can deliver them personally. Thanks for your time and good luck! The winner will be announced on March 1st, 2011 at 12:01AM Pacific time."
Note: All gold fillings have been extracted.
“A revolution is coming — a revolution which will be peaceful if we are wise enough; compassionate if we care enough; successful if we are fortunate enough — But a revolution which is coming whether we will it or not. We can affect its character; we cannot alter its inevitability.”
- John F. Kennedy
Shook
![Breaking News of the Day: A magnitude 6.3 earthquake, which rattled Christchurch, New Zealand today, tragically brought down the spire of the iconic ChristChurch Cathedral. There are confirmed reports of “multiple fatalities,” and aftershocks are still being experienced at this time. [photo: hashalbum / thanks anon!]](http://26.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lgzyjt5mCI1qzpwi0o1_500.jpg)
A magnitude 6.3 earthquake, which rattled Christchurch, New Zealand today, tragically brought down the spire of the iconic ChristChurch Cathedral.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
William Eggleston: For a little bit.
William Eggleston Interview.
By Harmony Korine
Unlike Southern militias, Southern artists are primarily considered poets, not rebels. It just so happens, though, that the South's greatest living photographer, William Eggleston, is both. Now 69 and a resident of Memphis, Tennessee, Eggleston not only single-handedly introduced color to the land of art photography, but also invented a visual language composed of gas stations, bar lights, parking lots, shopping carts, and motel rooms couches, that exceeded the power of traditional black-and-white landscapes and studio portraits. In his nearly 50-year career, currently getting full exposure at New York's Whitney Museum of American Art's retrospective "William Eggleston: Democratic Camera, Photographs and Video, 1961-2008," the master photographer has chronicled the everyday lyrically and without falling into sentimentality. This past September, Eggleston and his son Winston drove from Memphis to Nashville to hang out with writer, photographer, and filmmaker Harmony Korine.
They sat on Korine's porch to talk . com
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"Drunk at the matinee" is a collection of candid poetry about stupid shit that we all experience from day to day.
