Thursday, March 10, 2005

New Horror for the Afficiando...

Robert W. Chambers has taken a new place in my heart as a damn good teller of stories that disturb me.

Of particular note is an antholgy he wrote called "The King in Yellow"

http://www.litrix.com/kyellow/kyell001.htm

Of particular declicious interest is one short tale called "The Yellow Sign"

http://www.litrix.com/kyellow/kyell004.htm

"You won't believe me, Mr. Scott, sir?"
"Yes, I will."
"You will lawf atme, sir?"

"Nonsense!"

He hesitated. "Well, sir, it's God's truth that
when I 'it 'im 'e grabbed me wrists, sir, and when I twisted 'is soft, mushy fist one of 'is fingers come off in me 'and."

The utter loathing and horror of Thomas' face must have been reflected in my own for he added:

"It's orful, an' now when I see 'im I just go away. 'E maikes me hill."
When Thomas had gone I went to the window. The man stood beside the church-railing with both hands on the gate, but I hastily retreated to my easel again, sickened and horrified, for I saw that the middle finger of his right hand was missing.


Ahhhh, like a fine chantai, it just rolls around in the mind, tossing putrid fragrance about in the imagination.

New Horror for the Afficiando...

Robert W. Chambers has taken a new place in my heart as a damn good teller of stories that disturb me.

Of particular note is an antholgy he wrote called "The King in Yellow"

http://www.litrix.com/kyellow/kyell001.htm

Of particular declicious interest is one short tale called "The Yellow Sign"

http://www.litrix.com/kyellow/kyell004.htm

"You won't believe me, Mr. Scott, sir?"
"Yes, I will."
"You will lawf at
me, sir?"
"Nonsense!"
He hesitated. "Well, sir, it's God's truth that
when I 'it 'im 'e grabbed me wrists, sir, and when I twisted 'is soft, mushy
fist one of 'is fingers come off in me 'and."
The utter loathing and horror
of Thomas' face must have been reflected in my own for he added:
"It's
orful, an' now when I see 'im I just go away. 'E maikes me hill."
When
Thomas had gone I went to the window. The man stood beside the church-railing
with both hands on the gate, but I hastily retreated to my easel again, sickened
and horrified, for I saw that the middle finger of his right hand was missing.


Ahhhh, like a fine chantai, it just rolls around in the mind, tossing putrid fragrance about in the imagination.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Nutrino Guns for Fun and Profit...but mostly fun.

http://www.findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1111/is_n1782_v297/ai_21281407

What the men in the funny suits found was that the potting shed was dangerousl irradiated and that the area's 40,000 residents could be at risk. Publicly, the men in white promised the residents of Golf Manor that they had nothing to fear, and to this day neither Pease nor any of the dozen or so people I interviewed knows the real reason that the Environmental Protection Agency briefly invaded their neighborhood. When asked, most mumble something about a chemical spill.

The truth is far more bizarre: the Golf Manor Superfund cleanup was provoked by
the boy next door, David Hahn, who attempted to build a nuclear breeder reactor
in his mother's potting shed as part of a Boy Scout merit-badge project.


I have a new hero.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Music to Fuck with People By

Madeleine Peyroux-Careless Love



Groovy

How to Make Friends and Fuck with People

http://www.arrogantbastard.com/index2.html

The bastard now has his own brew.

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

Research One:

On the continuing study of how to be a bastard:

http://www.endervidualism.com/bwallace/bad_daddy_mommy.htm

This caught my eye:

Roughly speaking, you can say the masculine is competitive, the feminine cooperative. The masculine is rational, the feminine emotional. Each has good and bad aspects: the masculine can be violent, the feminine deceptive(it's the reason men tend to kill violently, while poisoners are almost exclusively female). It might explain why the Communists were far more deceptive than the Nazis.

This could be why "The Bastard" doesn't feel the need to lie. It's far to girly.

Things I ponder at 5 AM waiting for my fucking job to start.

BEHOLD!

I have birth myself. And let me tell YOU, pushing out a 6'0, 275 pound man through my urethra hurt like fucking HELL people.

Here I have given myself a place in which I plan on using as a research blog for my soon to be world famous book "The Bastards Bible". Title subject to change.

Now, if you'll pardon me...I have to go back to chain smoking and planning on basking in the warming glow of people prepaing to torch my yet to be written best selling book.