Brevity Truta (948)
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Registered 2007-08-09 06:55:32

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Recent Comments from Brevity Truta

  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-03-18 11:56:56)
    Not to be left behind amidst all the fun, the Church of the Holy Redeemer in Oklahoma has released this set of wholesome and godly public health advice. Some is based on Bible Verse, some on good old fashioned know how, the rest who the fuck knows. Clockwise from top left: Look ye to the heavens and ye will not be troubled by the dry coughings of the wicked - Acts 2, 22 Be not tempted to use those really nice thin sheets of the Good Book when you run out of toilet paper. Remember he who shits through the eye of the needle will never enter a rich man and be in heaven. Jesus is coming and watching you. Have faith. Pray on this, it will all become clear to you. Clear as a glass crater, clean and smooth. Hospital scrubs make excellent and naturally germ-repellent clothing. Remember to stock up on laundry powder in bulk because being at home quarantined sure does put a strain on the wardrobe. Not to be pessimistic but Jesus only likes clean plague victims. Orange Head Honcho ring of approval on this one. Lizards, cats, grasshoppers, monkeys, and houseplants can all be infected with COVID_19. If in doubt, post to Facebook and get advice about whether they can be safely eaten or not when the ranch dressing stockpile in your pantry runs out. Sheaves?! Yes. It's OK. Being obsessed with toilet paper is normal, so long as you don't start jacking off, drinking and doing drugs and finding humour in the situation while you're all cooped up. Missouri does kind of look like a square of toilet paper, doesn't it ... We all know this is an assualt rifle, not a guitar. No-one comes between me and my twenty packets of sanitary pads at the store, because heck, even people without this thing bleed from every orifice 24/7. This safety advice has not yet gone viral. Groan. My pick would be the scrubs fashion, a nice prayer rally with everyone wearing that might be something to call Guinness Records about, we can't stop praying, right. I know, COVID_19 brlbrlorblorh. These Religious Galleries are a tough gig, and it's yeah I'm taking a lazy one.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-03-08 07:51:42)
    You might have heard how the Parker & Stone smash hit musical "The Book of Mormon" has converted at least one theatre-goer to that most modern of religions. It goes the other way, too. Back in 1971 when Jesus Christ, Superstar debuted on Boradway, it became popular for inner city clergy to go see a performance. Some good padres and seminary students went multiple times, possibly because something like Rent might raise questions, even if it wasn't yet released. Always safe for the befrocked to stay away from anything too gay, which is exceedingly simple to do when it comes to musical theatre. Mostly, this didn't cause problems. Superstar caused some serious ripples in the Lower East Side Blessed Flaming Heart Seminary, where one acolyte was found hanging out of a closet, screaming and self-flagellating to the powerful Judas song, Heaven on Their Minds. Rather then suppress this outpouring of passion, the head of the order, Marcel de Ponte, decided to start a class where the students could process their feelings. Marcel was a practical man. If he hadn't done something radical, he might have lost the entire third year to the debauchery of the stage. He called the class "Forte Daze and Tights." Marcel hated puns and wordplay, given that there was none in the Good Book, not even about how there were two Good Books, or the obvious part about Loaves and Fishes, but he knew his audience and these thirty young men were in dire need of some theatrical exorcism. The young men were divided into troupes of five. They were told that at the end of the season, which was to be six months long, the winners would get sequinned stars on their doors with their names instead of the usual plain rectangles. This caused great excitement. The first weeks were devoted to research and basic costume design. All thirty of the lads sourced materials for suffer in your jocks underwear, which they hand-wove and stitched from hessian, leather, and horse hair seat stuffing they found in a movie theatre demolition site. Next they donned heavy robes over the top of this and wandered New York City without eating or drinking for forty days and forty nights. Only three students took this rule literally, and a statue to their devotion can be found in the rear courtyard of the Seminary. These three young men were all in the troupe called, aptly, Ernest Benge and Wife, Betty. Down to a duo the remaining members chose to record their musical in black and white. "he made me Whole" was the strongest song, a powerful piece about a delicatessen owner who made the survivors pastrami on whole wheat bagels, and helped them see that the rules were meant to be taken metaphorically, unlike those in the Bible. Marcel loved this one immensely, depite being a cheese and pickles on rye kind of guy. The wife and husband duo was greatly approved all-round as being very clearly Not Gay. Might as well go around clockwise from there, and talk about the rest of the survovors of that original thirty. The Treble Aires spent most of the forty days in Brooklyn. As they went after Ernest Benge, and had only lost two members, and those to the delights of jazz dens, they felt they had to outdo them by going for even more unquestionably straight and have two wives, even though the song they wrote was nothing out-of-the ordinary, being about hallucinating the face of Jesus in some French toast after five days of not-eating. Jesus' face here sums up the judge's reaction to such bland fare. "If God is dead who's this living in my soul?" required two actual excorisms and resulted in homicide charges for the Christian Family singers. They got off when it went to trial a year later because it could not be established who had killed the other students and tried to trade their hair and underwear for tickets to Superstar No deaths here. This lot all went on to have successful careers in the church through their resourcefulness and ability to give sound advice such as here. None of them would speak of what they did for the forty days, but they showed far less interest in musical theatre at the end of them and far more in photogaphy and film. Three lost here, all from accidents in the sewer system: an alligator, a rat the size of a terrier, and an abandoned pizza. The recording is full of lurid desriptions, which can be seen by the wear where Marcel has shoved it deep under a couch, he hoped never to be heard again. Alligators! Really, he said, being a man not to believe in lurid tales of giant animals and strange happenings. Lastly, the winners. Hangon, troupes of five... HEY there's one extra!, you say. Yep. This is why they won. Not only did they survive, they gained a convert and their recording celebrates that event in every one of the thirty five tracks. Their six sequinned stars went on to decorate the Seminary Christams Tree after they left. Each year they come out, the sequinned stars, and are hung on the tree amidst the tinsel though all are long gone, and forgotten. BUT THAT DOESN'T ADD UP! You say. So, where's the missing one? Yes. The Christian Family Singers. Remember? Two exorcisms.
  • Comment on floor sandwich (2020-03-01 06:10:58)
    Yep. Do they think that goes without saying? Obvious Plant, indeed. There's also "Random Cleavage Bagel" which has ingredients that were dropped down the maker's shirt and fished out. These go for quadruple the price, but only in select supermarkets.
  • Comment on ball pants (2020-03-01 06:03:17)
    Lol. These are great. Sure, they're weird-looking. They're not really meant to be worn day to day either. The design process (technical) and thinking's interesting: "I got the idea when I was playing with my dog and I started thinking about how exaggerated objects must look from such a low angle," explained the designer, who goes by the single name Harikrishnan. "The thought of him seeing me as a giant figure or not seeing my head at all was intriguing, so I decided to reimagine the people around me through the game of distortion – detached from the stereotypical, pre-determined notions of the human perspective." To visualise this concept in a garment, all aspects of its fabrication, from the textures, to the colours and the patterns had to lend itself to working in three dimensions." "Especially in fashion, I see the same images and similar proportions everywhere," he explained. "I want to create visual imagery that's as far away as possible from neutrality, to make people question the relevance of the proportions we see every day." More here.
  • Comment on Chinese Virgin Boy Eggs (2020-02-23 12:19:43)
    Psh. Casu marzu, boys. Food preparation is really interesting how elaborate some recipes are. How the hell people came up with many things: bake it three times in a sealed oven and then bury it for a month covered in virgin's underpants, and so on. I wouldn't be appetized by these eggs, no. Green centres? Hrm. But I never grew up with it, much like what are they, those delicacy things you have at the baseball that are made from lips and assholes and swim in rancid warm chemical juice for a week? mm.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-02-23 12:03:43)
    These are from The CIA's 1980s Counterintellegence Manual, designed with the knowledge that hundreds, possibly millions of Russian Communists were posing as regular American Citizens. Quotes from the Manual clockwise from top left: 34a PIPES In this day and age be wary of a woman who wants to light your pipe. If your hand splays like this, you feel a tension through your body, and your gaze becomes fixed in the presence of a woman like this, be very suspicious. Note the hand on top of the head, a documented pressure point for Mind Control Ops. If the ice cubes are rattling in your glass, put it down very slowly and prepare for close quarters combat. 34b TULLE It is a well-known fact that a high proportion, possibly 20 or 85% of KGB Agents have dated a Bolshoi Ballet dancer, been to the ballet, or were recruited from the Company's ranks. This is because Russia has only ballet and melodramatic literature, unlike the USA which has a wide range of cultural pursuits, one of the many benefits of being Free and able to buy many things. A yearning for tulle, known as "Slitznepnya" is a special kind of melancholy that can affect sleeper agents, especially during television off-season. One of the best times to catch a sleeper agent is when they have the slitznepnya upon them and are drawn to any kind of dancing skirt. Note the clinging to the dancer's leg and the mismatched plaid. A tell-tale sign of a Russian agent is mismatched patterns in clothing. Check their drink. If it is a pint of vodka, it is likely not a Russian agent as they would never be so obvious, even if suffering from the urge to stick their head up into a cloud of tulle and breathe the smell of home. 34c MOVIE SNACKS Russian women who have been through a KGB program find it virtually impossible to not be sexy and uncaring eating fried chicken from a bucket and watching decadent Western films. At the theatre or the drive-in, they will sit like this, staring at the movie screen, occassionally fishing out pieces of food that fall down into their panties. If she glances down, even for a split second, or moves her hand faster than a lazy crawl to retrieve the pieces, she's not Russian and safe to take home. They are well aware of it, and only get the chicken if they are planning to take you out partway through the film, A well-trained agent can take a man out and keep on eating and watching the film, not missing a beat. Some say this is why popcorn is so popular at the movies. Russian women don't like popcorn. They say it tastes like salty religion. You do not want to hear a Russian woman saying that in your ear in a dark place. 34d WAX Russian men and women do not wax. In Russia, wax is absolutely only for candles and effigies of great leaders. No patriotic Russian wants to think of melted down Stalin or Lenin betwen their legs. However, a disproportionate number of beauty salon owner-operators are Russian. This is because they are more than happy to use "Poloniski-nyad" on others, which is an idiom but very roughly means "Gulag Lawn Enforcement". More than happy to. Stoicially joyful, even. If you get close enough to ask about waxing, which is always a sensible idea bearing in mind the above, be on high alert if you get slapped, especially on both cheeks. 34dd Going Dutch This once can be used to flush out heterosexual male angents, which we cannot be sure any Russian men are as they are not red-blooded Americans which is the only place they are not red, no, their blood is black like their hearts which you will know from experience killing many of them if you are lucky and follow this guide and your training and instincts. Take him to one of the many Dutch restautants in your local area that have waiters dressed only in an apron. When the waiter comes out with the menu, watch him become unable to ask to see it or agree to see it, so deeply ingrained is his training that her all-seeing boobs will arrest him and he will never again see daylight break in Moscow. Here he's doing the "You order!" move, which might work for a woman who has offered to go Dutch, but are you that? No. Remember your training at all times. 34fg Towels Russian women cannot help but sunbathe in tight military formation. Extra telling are the white chalk body outline towels, standard KGB issue although you can buy them at department stores in California, Florida and Illinois. How to tell the difference? The KGB ones belong to KGB agents, of course, you can't get them any other way than graduating their sleeper agent course. Do not panic!!! at the dozens of tips and rules in this book. Taken singly, unless you have been assualted and thoroughly fucked, or it's really suspicious, these rules do not mean a lot. They could describe normal Americans and a few Irish folks, maybe the odd Greek or German. If someone fits more than three of these, begin counter-intelligence without delay. Bring them in, the second they look worried or frightened. This manual has resulted in 177 sleeper agents being arrested and sent to secure facilities where they are providing our govenrment with huge amounts of useful information, much of which can be found throughout this book, which is itself, a work in progress. The first edition had three pages of information. Now, this, the third, six months later, has three hundred pages. At this rate, we will understand them so well they will have to give up and leave us without an enemy and that means we can all relax and focus on our real mission of getting out there and cleaning up the world, one goddamn commie cesspit at a time.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-02-19 12:33:36)
    These are all KGB Training Discs from the 1980s, used to teach agents how to blend in with the American way of life. Only agents that passed all six disc subjects in the foundational course: 101SD: Probudit'sya k amerikanskoy mechte (Awake to the American Dream) could progress to the trio of BF 101: Honey Trap Basics, BG223: Keeping up with the Joneses and Under their Radar (trickier than it might first seem) and BD221: Yes you have to do Thanksgiving and this is How to love it like Vodka and Stalin. Clockwise from top left: Russians in the 80s didn't have BBQs. While cooking anything that came wrapped around bones - horse, cat, rat, german snipers - on radiator grilles torn from shelled out cars over open fires was common during world war two, especially in Stalingrad; by the 80s no-one cooked this way in Russia. BBQ smell is one of the most enticing aromas there is, just the thing to attract neighbours attention. And that could land you in the gulag, especially if you had a shiny grill set upto covet. So, no BBQs. But Americans love BBQing. This disc taught the agents to relax and laugh while doing what they had learned was a highly dangerous activity, liable to get them killed. Likewise with pizza. Calm and casual like this food of the gods was every day, and you could just get it any time without queueing. Every agent that first saw this disc thought it was borscht on cardboard with a bit of snow sprinkled on top. Pizza? Unheard of. Much fun was had getting the stringy cheese management just right. The students didn't practice on real pizza, just cardboard with borscht but not snow on top, at least, brr, so cold, no: melted rubber bands. This was for the agents to start understanding that there were real americans, and then others, even though it was hard to tell the difference from the outside. There are five real americans here and one other. It might take years to find out, the agents were told, depending on who you asked. This one doesn't belong in here. It's from BF 101: Honey Trap Basics, slipped in every time to motivate the students. Really, have you ever eaten cardboard "pizza" with borscht and melted rubber bands, and pretended to like it? The KGB might have been under-resourced and had really bad hats, but they weren't stupid. This one's for hiding the tell-tale Communist Red Neck* and being persuasive yet charming in public. She's thinking "Hmm, that neck, looks a little ... like everyone says about Russians, no... he's so knowledgeable about thick shakes and has something sticking into my back here... how sweet" Perfect techneck. This was to prepare the agents for life in first Canada while they established their fake backgrounds, and then the USA. This was designed to be just like 80s North America and yet also remind the agents that these people were not human. Surprisingly effective. This segment of the two year training was the one most students passed. It was pretty easy. Except for the BBQ'ing, because they used rats, no marinade, and no sauce. akes you shudder to think, doesn't it. No marinade, no sauce... Seven hundred sleeper agents and only a handful ever caught. Goes to show what a bit of motivation to serve one's country while eating pizza and BBQ and shakes can do, I mean, patritotism, yes. *Not you. Psh. Not you at all. It was just too good to pass up. Look at that neck. Obviously the product of some serious ... and the arm. Yikes. yes, dear, I'm not an illegal alien, nono, not at all. How about some Juke. Box. Tunes? Bleep blorp.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-02-16 11:15:31)
    You've heard of the locked Vatican vaults that house Mary Magdalene and Jesus' His 'n Hers Bathrobes and the warehouse where the Ark of the Covenant got stashed after Indiana Jones went through all that. This is even more heavily guarded incendiary material. It sits in College Football Coach Bjorn Borgensen's locker behind a fifteen year old tub of Whey Hey Protein, a locker that has absolutely no way never nuh uh not been opened in thirty five years, to which the combination 58008 has been lost. Ben St Drummond Mater College in Ohio thought they were employing a nice Christian boy in the popular evening Radio BSDM Study Time slot. At first, Jack Orff seemed just the breath of fresh yet predictable air the college wanted to boost morale after the latest unfortunate incident in the library involving a ladder, Kit Maxwell, a copy of Ben Johnson: Poetry, and three Beta Kappa Phi togas all tied together. Jack had just apperaed, people mused later, like something out of a story, smoke billowing out of his old ice cream truck van, when he opened the door. He said with a wimming smile that it was Holy Smoke, incense like the Pope uses in Rome, and who was to argue with that, not when he offered to DJ for free, with rent and cafeteria meals tossed in. He just knew that's what the College needed. Jack hailed from the exotic and urbane state of Illinois, and his smooth patter interspersed with relatable parables from the Good Book and wholesome tunes sure contributed to a drop in student suicides. There were the usual ten the first week he started, then five, and by a month in, only one, and he was a known Communist sympathiser. He liked wearing red a little bit too much, and thought that Dostoyevsky ought to be in the library. Many students went to see Jack, for chats, and always came out smiling, wreathed in Holy Smoke. Let me do my thing, he said to the Dean, when Dean dropped by to check concerns about fire safety, with a kind of hypnotic charisma reserved for the truly righteous. OK, said the Dean, and wandered off snapping his fingers to the tune Jack had been playing. A month in, on a Friday night, Jack played the Discs That shall Not Be Named. Clockwise from top right: Keep it Gay: 5 pm Jack introduced this one first. Wisps of Holy Smoke started to seep out the ventilator ducts, everywhere. Highly suspect. It was French, for starters, the album. That should have been a dead giveaway something was up. Coach Bjorn Borgensen would play BSDM Radio after practice, every night. Him and the lads would sit around in the sauna, or in the locker room, or maybe the pool (the speaker system went everywhere, even into the woods for five miles in all directions with speakers wired into trees) and bond. They'd share stories of their childhoods, read books about war aloud, and draw plays like Aristophanes' The Frogs. Keep it Gay was ten tracks that by the end had every man on the team asking uncomfortable questions about which way to the station, and do you like leather chaps or sailors? Rudolph Rock und die Shocker 5:45 pm was a kinky Berlin mess of the classic fingering technique and then the girl singing a long series of songs basically about "Die, Shocker, Die" after the fact, because he didn't trim his nails, which the Simpsons ripped off in that episode where Sideshow Bob's Die Bart tattoo is questioned. This disc caused seven pregnacies and one murder and that was just amongst the resident canteen ladies. The football team almost as a one man decided to go to the local bar and drink. With playoffs the next day. Coach Bjorn went with them, trying to do damage control and also having persistent thoughts about men on bikes with baguettes that he hoped a nice lemonade and beer would take the edge off. Next, 6:30 pm, The official bump ball record. This had students all over campus trying it out and if there wasnt a ball, they improvised with anything they could get their hands on. Cabbages, other people's tits, a cat. The music was just so infectiously fun. Jack's Holy Smoke by the point was pouring through all the ventilator ducts, entering every space, purple and sparkly and far out. The bar was also rigged with a radio speaker, and ducts, and so the football team played bump ball with whatever came to hand, glasses and hats and nothing at all, just pretending. 6:55 pm: The Yiddish are coming. Pirate Jews. The student body started to burn things, anything, as this was what the record was all about, a crack squad of jewish pirates who were so badass they made every student want to be just like them. These sheltered kids had no resistance, you see, none. If they'd know Elvis, or the Beatles, or even Liza Minelli things would have been fine, but a track like "Oy Gevalt Arrson!" was incendiary. One of the football team lit the pool table on fire, while the rest of them danced around it. The bartended called the cops, and Bjorn left, heading for the radio station. 7:30 Swingin' School Songs This one was not so much a hit with the students, who continued to basically riot, but many the faculty rather enjoyed it. and this, Music for Playboys to Play by. with Bjorn and the Dean and seven cops hammering on the studio door, this one. 8:10 pm. All the lights went out. People screamed. People moaned. Someone lost their virginity in a shocking turn of events. It was found later, thank goodness. Someone saw Jesus. Someone looked a little too hard at the devil's crutch and never recovered speech. The door caved in, the studio so thick with smoke nothing could be seen in the dark, just little lights flashing, like devil's eyes and no Jack, just an empty pile of clothes and a book of matches from the Holiday Inn, Spokane. Bjorn scooped up the disks and ran with them to his office in the locker room, going by instinct and the lights coming back on. He stashed the disks and made a killing copying them for underground terrorist groups he'd lost contact with since he left Norway in 1975. These disks were behind the Faulklands War, for one. When order was restored, it was discovered that Jack had made away with some valuable items, the Dean was not sure what, just valuable. And all this goes to show it'd be nice to wrap with a moral that's also a pun, but there aren't any pithy moral sayings about DJs and the power of music being a terrible thing that I can think of.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-02-16 06:18:02)
    Shit. This is sending me. I don't know how these ended up in here. I sent them to Zuckerberg for safe-keeping, so that I would be safe from revenge porn. Did they not take me seriously? These are all saucy images I sent to my dear wife while she was detained in a Bulgarian prison, back in 1981. Heavily encoded so as to pass the guards, who I also bribed with blue-jeans, coke, and Joy Divison records. Well, I guess with the passing of time, and they're out now, and uh ok ... Clockwise from top left: Oh these are making me mist up. I nagged and nagged and finally she dressed as a French maid and you see we both thought Jerry Lewis was the finest comedic talent in history (until Adam Sandler blew that out of the water), and she taught the parrot to swear in Dutch, I have no idea what it was saying. Could have been anything, and couple stories are the king of you had to be there, aren't they? That's me in an artist's get-up, saying "look what you've done to me". LOOK! She had a way of missing the obvious and then coming bck and thoroughly sorting it out later. She is (yep we are still together, 900 years later, don't ask how) such a noisy eater. I think she does it on purpose. Slurp, slorp, nus nush and lots of moans right in my ear sometime, but nothing pornographic. This was the 80s, shesh. Just swallow, I would you? I'd say, no matter how many languages, nope, slurp nosh, with little giggles. She loved this one, I suggested she use it as a poster to hide an escape tunnel but she said that might damage it and she liked to keep it under her pillow to look at for inspiration. She was in there a long time. No wonder. Arhh. Elvis in Germany was because I knew her dyslexia would make her read it "Evils ni mangery" and manger is French for to eat and that's clearly not Elvis so she'd know that the gingerbread house I'd sent had something in it. Once she got past the shrubbery scene. It took her three days. She thanked me for the file and said she was pretty insulted that I thought her toenails might be so thick, like a troll, she wrote, and didn't add any kisses as she usually did so I knew she was crazy pissed at me. I love her so much, even though by god she's dense. The next is because she's a sucker for a man in a skirt, access all areas right, and thinks I'm pretty suave. Connery, not so much, he's said some dodgy things over the years, even if he was the best Bond. Until that guy in oh what was the one with the lair and the ... man with a golden masking tape? hm, thumb? It was Christmas, 19 what did I say? early 80s. Next, I was a bit depressed, to be honest. She seemed to be enjoying it in there. Three months. So? She said, I'm in this Bulgarian rathole and all you send me is files, you-porn, drugs, and make me laugh all damn day thinking of the shit you come up with, what the fuck. That one she signed with seven lisptick kisses, and when I put my nose to them I swear I could smell the neighbouring mink farm. I knew all about that because she hated that farm. When she escaped, she busted out all the mink, and that was quite the news headline, "1,000 Mink Escape Fur Farm in Giant Bust! Coats is Clear!" Last, this is my favourite. This is why I'm annoyed at Zuck, too. I don't want anyone thinking I'm that much into weird star treck episodes about Boston. We had a spaniel called "Richelieu", look at that moustache. I was such a puppy dog for her, still am, and she knows it. Oh, my wife? Yeah her too. This one she sent me a picture of her pussy in exchange, how she smugggled that out, I hate to think, it came rolled up in the inside of an can of borscht and wasn't even stained; but she was, and is, one hell of a woman. Finally she got the message I wanted her back with me, and so she made some kind of flying machine out of pantyhose and junk mail and over the wall she went, via the mink farm, and home to me. She's still wanted in Bulgaria. Now, excuse me while I go and call Zuck. If you're picturing Raymond Quentin Smuckles from Achewood then that's just fine. I might just get through to him if that's the case.
  • Comment on Coronavirus va Karen (2020-02-06 01:23:40)
    This is nice; go Karen! ...even if it doesn't take away the impact of stories and footage of people being welded into their homes over there because of one case in that building, and the rest of it all (not looking too much). Nor should it. WTF.
  • Comment on Orgasms… (2020-02-06 01:14:04)
    Sorry, is there a picture of Henry Cavill's lame Witcher here and some text? I seem to have drifted into a reverie that's completely different. I did a little research and it's not shown [link to a truly bad scene with some (some) comedic value] so yeah I imagine he does hmmm, and most guys oh I'm stuck there.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-02-06 00:49:02)
    These aren't albums but playable discs that came in the back of "PC Lads" magazine, a UK-based monthly that ran from 1977 to 1982. You might have seen the kind of thing, they're called a flexi disc [link], maybe even have played one or more. Way ahead of its time, "PC Lads" was a computer magazine aimed at the intelligent reader wanting to delve deep into topical cumputing issues. The magazine each time followed the format: letters, an editorial, an article that went for thirty to two hundred pages, some advertising, swap pages, a careers section, hacker tips, video game reviews, and at the back, a comedic yet serious Help Page with a flexi disc on the topic of the month. PC Lads attracted a mostly male readership, but there were others who enjoyed it as well. This can be seen in the range of intructional relationship topics, as can be seen here. The Okra Eaters was exceptionally popular, for obvious reasons. Obvious. That's all I'm sayin' there. "Lovin' a big fat woman" saved many a reader when a lady asked "Does my ass look fat in this/these"? Nothing like a hearty slap to punctuate that tricky one. "Music for newlyweds?" You'd be surprised how common the scanario pictured was, literally, in those days. This was right when MTV was starting with their own brand of instructional video (which cut into this format greatly, too), you see. "Serenade for love" was all about how blow-up dolls could be surprisingly tender if you treated them right, and "Boys" was about making a commanding presentation in the says before powerpoint could do all that hard work for you. "I'll drink your bath water, baby". Look at her face. More men ought to say that, and follow through. I've done it, and let me tell you that really fluffed those depleted bath bubbles back up again through sheer ... quivering. James Gosling, the man behind Java, has the world's only complete collection of these flexi disks, that he devoured while working on Java. Now, that's saying something about how informative, excelllent and useful they are, isn't it? Did I mention I'm a programmer as a kind of side-interest, so can make these comments legit? Oh, yeah, mhm, when I'm not on spy missions for the Estonian government. Or was that Canadian, hmm, I can't be sure. [I really missed a few of these, didn't I?]
  • Comment on Background Distopia (2020-02-06 00:41:41)
    I heard that posting on and liking Jeremy Renner's app content negated every dubious social media like - to the extent they didn't even show - which may be the real reason he folded it: he got paid to stop. The FAMA site's a study in itself [link], check out that counter. Bit slow. Not many applicants with a history on MCS today. What little there is of FAMA (purposefully; how nice and sterile private it all looks). "De-risk your hiring". HAHA. Ah, risk. Like that's possible, to de-risk anything that involves breathing, which is why there's no word for it. Mm, no, not "DEAD". I get being concerned about people who post scandalous things about real employers, or who do things that are clearly unethical and illegal like that vet who was killing cats with a crossbow or whatever, and posting about it on Facebook, but this? People who capitalize off fear like this for profit and increase conservatism and paranoia while decreasing humour - and aren't so many workplaces bad enough - are a disgrace. Let alone the truly sinister direction of it all. Just "liking" stuff? Oh man... I mean sure, it might not be the kind of place you'd want to work for exactly but work's work, right.
  • Comment on ALBUMS (2020-02-05 11:06:06)
    I was going to talk about Fritzi's Aerobic Squad, whose set of four home exercise regimes was buried by Jane Fonda's multimillion selling VHS monster "Jane Fonda's Workout". An unlucky combination of releasing on Betamax format and the failure of infomericals selling the tape and equipment sets that included all four tapes, a genuine playable saxophone and legwarmers (as seen on Misty "Rollergirl" Cummings, bottom right) all for a crazy price of $3999.99 meant only seven hundred copies were sold. The rest went into landfill, and there they remain, somewhere in the Nevada desert out near Area 51. It didn't help that the infomercials featured the four ladies pictured: Vanessa Vines, "Maniac" reed, Cummings, and Fritzi Frei, who were great at the moves but when it came to the spruiking became quite earnest and spoke about the years of breath work and lip and thigh control needed to be like them. Not even a set of genuine Samurai swords tossed in for $399.95 if you called now did much to move buyers, though sales of the following Infomercial slot item "Personal Massager" always did extremely well, which was odd because the guy presenting that looked like Ron Jeremy. I was going to say all that but gave WASAMA QUARTET - Soft Coco [link] a listen. It's really nice. I happened to read The 4 (Ridiculous) Types of Pickup Artist Guides, by Seanbaby yesterday [link]. I don't know how to link the two, something about the disarming power of humour and sincerity, but the idea of someone having this in their collection and pulling it out when that special lady comes around, damn. Those 700 copies must be in the hands of some seriously smooth dudes.
  • Comment on PUNK (2020-02-04 18:32:43)
    I was curious about the original that's been cut off and replaced by someone's book week dress up day snap (Hermione and Hagrid). An answer to the question posed: "Toxic Reasons; Listed Below is all of the known Tour Dates, Album, E.P. & Singles release dates that I have info on from this Ohio based (later San Francisco based) hardcore band. I know there is a hell of a lot more info out there so if you can help let me know. I'm after any Tickets scans, Tour Posters / Flyers, Tour Shirts, Magazine Adverts etc. hector.kirkwood @ gmail.com I built this and other pages for some of the bands I like as I could not find any decent info on the net anywhere, these are mainly for my own entertainment but if anyone else enjoys them then it's a bonus, enjoy." Link The original "Are your kids...?" that got yoiked for a flyer is amongst this most compreshensive, well-ordered and polite gallery. Made me smile, hope it makes you smile, too.
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