As George Takei might say, Oh my …

NSFW

PS: Mr. Bradbury thinks “We’ve got too many internets.” I don’t know if he’d say that if he’d seen the video first.

Fuck Me, Ray Bradbury by Rachel Bloom [Youtube]
“Ray Bradbury: ‘We’ve Got Too Many Internets‘” [Wired Magazine]

Portraits of deranged youth, possibly unsafe for work and for soul, but deeply affecting.

Sergey Bratkov [babyart]

Although Marilyn Monroe’s version of “My Heart Belongs To Daddy” is certainly not the most artfully wrought rendition of the song, nor even my personal favorite (Count Basie’s Decca recording of the tune holds that honor), it is elevated to sublimity by Marilyn’s ditzy vivaciousness and boom-boom curves, an opening monologue forcefully tying the song to Nabokov’s immortal nymphet and the insinuating leers of the perverts ogling her from the back row.

My Heart Belongs To Daddy – Marilyn Monroe [YouTube]

Lolita is Ectomo’s favorite novel. We are smugly convinced, Brownlee and I, that we understand the sweetness, the despair, and the adoration that ebbed and flowed between Humbert Humbert and his ward better than the average prole.

Lest we forget what we’re dealing with here, Humbert reminds us:

Now I wish to introduce the following idea. Between the age limits of nine and fourteen there occur maidens who, to certain bewitched travelers, twice or many times older than they, reveal their true nature which is not human, but nymphic (that is, demoniac); and these chosen creatures I propose to designate as “nymphets”.

I flatter myself by supposing I was such a creature, and that the now-subsumed demonlet crashes around inside my grown-up body still.

Intoner alerted me to this unreleased Sneaker Pimps song, which exists only as an acoustic performance from a radio program. There are dozens of songs about, by, and for nymphets of all stripes. I’ve challenged John and the New Scum to grace Ectomo’s days with them, all this week.

She was soft
She was unbroken
Dressed in the pink
That she wore as a token
To the summer
To the summer

Continue Reading…

Flying Saucers In Popular Culture – Comic Books [coisas do arco del velha]

Gentlemen, I am outraged.

Your gross negligence in assuming I am ashamed of any of my musical predilections is noted, and will be revenged. There is absolutely no reason to assume, self-righteous pricks that you are, that the carmine creeping up my collar is anything other than stoic pride, a touch of the ol’ toxoplasma gondii, and perhaps a brief spike in my everyday, baseline feelings of discomfort.

Listen you, I was enjoying the Ruski pop nymphets way back, before any hoity-toity English remixes got loose, much less actual American album releases. This shit was edgy and inaccessible. Hell, it still is! I would get home from my live-action Vampire the Masquerade roleplaying session at the local college campus (back when I was a ginger-curled nymphet myself), maybe boot up a game of Fallout 2, invite my BFF Steve over, and we’d watch these videos, on repeat, in silent awe. Why, I thought to myself, did I not have a dark pixie of a partner, an eternal semi-succubus, someone to cling to during the long nights of crippling self-doubt, someone to share my pants and lipgloss, someone to hold my hair while I purged, someone with whom to ghost ride the whip? I mean, someone besides Steve?

Now, emerald-haired, naked in a wooden trunk, chugging Red Bull and typing on a keyboard for which I cannot see the screen, I ask myself: if I had found her, this dark unicorn, would things have turned out better?

But then I think: how could they?

“It happens two hunred an’ fifty thousan’ times a yea’. Where is your daughta tonight?”

Fifteen year-old Arlene-Sue is irresistible. She knows that “you have to put out if you’re gonna get back”, and she’s gone “all the way”. She knows that the best way to get a man is by seductively feasting on fried chicken. “She turned brother against brutha” and it was going to catch up with her eventually. After a tryst with a trucker she’s chased down and taught a lesson by an entire gang. Thankfully, we are informed that once we follow fifteen year-old Arlene-Sue as she gets into trouble we’ll also join her as she is educated about pregnancy, ostensibly by a woman who interned under Ilsa during her stint with the SS. The saga of Arlene-Sue is the story of our time. It is not to be missed.

“Teenage mutha! Means nine months of trouble.”

Teenage Mother (1967) trailer [YouTube] : Hugo Strikes Back!