One of the more incredible figures of British military history, the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography is quoted as having described him thusly, “With his black eyepatch and empty sleeve, Carton De Wiart looked like an elegant pirate, and became a figure of legend.” He was wounded eight times while serving during World War I, one injury taking his left eye and another taking his left arm. He retired at age 66 and died in 1963 at the age of 83. He is pictured here, with his bristly, defiant moustache in what could almost be described as a military mugshot, in 1944.
Four Red Bulls, twenty hours, and a bag of squid chips later, it is done. The very first Ectoplamosis print broadside is ready for distribution.
But soft, ye say, what in blazes am I talking about? I’ll let Warren Ellis, Big Daddy to Ectomo’s Little Sister, explain:
The broadside has a centuries-long history as a device for disseminating news and ideas. I mean, flyers go up on the web to be printed off, sure. But it’s not quite the same thing. Getting an idea, or a piece of writing, on a single sheet and saying, yes, print this off, copy it and distribute it wherever you like — that’d be interesting.
In short, a single-page guerilla publication, distributed by xerox and zealous reader in coffee shops, cubicle farms, club bathrooms, 24-hour greasy spoon diners, on telephone poles, shoved under windshield wipers, wiped under windshield shovers, safety-pinned on unsuspecting hobos, and fluttering in a comet tail behind us, wherever we may roam.
The first episode of ECTOPLASMOSIS! is offered in three editions:
This broadside is formatted specifically for easy printing and xeroxing, and features original artwork, an updated version of my famous Toxoplasmosis article, vintage illustrations, and an octobee coloring contest! Those of you who wish to curry our excellent favor, print and distribute with zest and enthusiasm! You will be rewarded in this life, and the next.
Stay tuned for more information about the coloring contest, a distribution contest, and other blunt mutterings from Brownlee.
By request, The Inhumanoids: How those of us at Ectomo have missed The Inhumanoids so far is beyond me; rife with unintentional hilarity and a giant mutant monster bearing a resemblance to our dark lord, The Inhumanoids is right up Ectomo’s alley.
The Head Saves the Earth-The Date: A classic tale; boy meets alien, alien takes up residence in boy’s head, boy meets girl, alien takes up residence in girl’s head.
Ah: A gorgeously rendered tale of soup worlds and small zombie children. As often as I despair at the state of CG film, it is the small art films like Ah that reach out a hastily constructed metaphoric hand to stroke my expansive, gelatinous forehead and remind me that everything will be alright.
Bump In The Night: Stop motion animated closet monsters combine forces with their rag-doll cohorts to scare the ever-loving shit out of each other. I have such fond memories of this show as a child, the passing frequency of stop motion animation from the early 90′s is at least lamentable and at worst a tragedy.
The Sunshine Makers: Happy elves inflict horrific chemical warfare on their gloomy, freakish, incredibly dapper cousins. Remember kids, if anyone looks, feels, or acts differently from you it is your solemn duty to poison and/or medicate them until they too enjoy a good red-assed frolicking.
It’s Friday so just sit back, relax, and watch James Brown, his man breasts glistening through an obscenely low v-neck, his legs clad in the widest and finest of flared pants. Watch him as he dances for he dances for you, Ectomo.
This Christmas, in an effort to clear our heads of the noisome din involved with visiting family members you don’t see all too often, my brother and I took a brief break in my hovel on the hill. My apartment is not like the other EctoEditors’; it is not a bright, urban loft filled with offensive artwork like Brownlee’s, it isn’t rife with aged mahogany bookshelves and leather bound books as I imagine Rosenberg’s (having always been blindfolded and told to keep my hands at my sides during visits), nor is it a kiddy pool full of filth-water bordered by a trough, parked in front of a bank of monitors like Eliza’s.
No, where I rest my head is a dark, cold, cement affair; a soul crushing void in which only a few, deeply troubled, individuals find respite. Bookshelves of varying size and description, hastily constructed with wood scraps and exposed nails thirsting for blood, lining the walls to support a collection of graven images, idols, and blasphemous literature.
It had been quite some time since my sibling’s last visit to my pit, and though he was obviously fearful of my tentacular accoutrements, I felt the need to show off my recent acquisitions; soothing fear with knowledge like the Greek scholars of old, but with less catamitism. Continue Reading…
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
Ninja-bot echoed my own sentiments with the following angry tirade about the Ectomo broadside:
