When I first saw one of these things my immediate reaction was, “Sweet! Space-toilets!” It took about 2.5 seconds for me to realize that these would not be the space-toilets that years of sci-fi TV had indoctrinated me to expect. There would be no automatic doors, no spongy material carpeting everything in sight, no toilet to thank me in calm tones for unleashing the wrath of the space-burrito into its glistening, chromed orifice before misting the air with rose perfume.
But I had to look anyway. I mean, come on, how many chances do you get to look inside a space-toilet? And it had just been installed that very day. The varied and vibrant street-life of Seattle couldn’t have caked the insides of the thing with their full palette of horror in less than 12 hours could they?
Episode 24 of the ongoing Meth Minute 39 addresses the Japander, a western celebrity who shills products in Japan, a pastime made famous in Lost in Translation. Here then is a compendium, a “Best of” if you will, of famous Japanese commercial insanity.
Hey, even Elder Gods have to make money somehow. He’s got spawn to feed and souls don’t put themselves on the table. An Eldritch being has to do whatever it takes, even if it means dressing up like Leatherface’s half-brother and whoring yourself for a tabletop RPG.
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.
In the battle of the sexes Aleyss K. Taylor may be women’s greatest asset. Her show, Vagina Power which is featured on Atlanta Public Access TV9, and which she hosts with her mother, is a wealth of knowledge concerning the “power of the vagina, penis, and sperm.” Or perhaps it is merely one woman’s autobiography of lust and depravity. I haven’t decided yet.
Regardless, if you are one of the many women with a cold vagina who yearns for a penis whose heat is so great that it can be felt through its owners clothes, I urge you to watch this clip. You will learn to control your, seemingly, constant urges without the aid of vibrators you sneaked into work in your purse. You will learn to never let a man find the bottom of your vagina, lest he ejaculate “all up in your brain.” And you will learn that a man should at least spend $2.99 on shrimp from Long John Silver’s for the privilege of filling your mouth and rectum with sperm. One can imagine my chagrin upon finding out that the going rate was, indeed, far lower than had been previously indicated. Ah well, live and learn.
In January 2005 Rick Rodriguez stabbed Angela Smith to death in his apartment in Tuscon, Arizona. He then drove to Blythe, California where he committed suicide. Rick was the son of of Karen Zerby, who Smith was a former associate of, and the adopted son of David Berg, leader and founder of the Children of God, or simply The Family. The family preached a New Age version of Christianity which specifically focused on sex. To recruit new members Berg instituted a practice he called Flirty Fishing (pamphlets detailing their work appeared on T.o.M.) by female members he dubbed “God’s Whores”. These women would make themselves sexually available to men with the purpose of indoctrinating them into the group.
As the heir apparent to Berg, Rick, along with his “sister” Davida Kelley were used as propaganda for the darker purpose of encouraging pedophilia amongst the group. Rick and Davida were sexually abused by Berg on a regular basis and Rick was, allegedly, made to have sex with his own mother while Davida masturbated Berg next to them. A childhood of sexual abuse led, unsurprisingly, to a life of shame, depression, and rage, which Rick detailed in the video that was to be his suicide note.
The Family, now known as The Family International, insists that pedophilia was institutionalized and steadfastly denies the group’s responsibility for the actions of individuals, regardless of the fact that one of those individuals was their founder. This documentary is from the U.K.’s Channel 4 and was aired in August, 2006. It details the history of the cult, Rick’s murder suicide, and the events leading up to it. It’s a brutal tale of what can only be described as a very painful life. Profanity and nudity here, so wait until you’re home.
A Japanese propaganda leaflet from World War II, slyly insinuating the delivery of a nude Anglo-Saxon Venus, ready to be debauched, by the peace-loving Allied soldier willing to wave a white flag (or, barring that, an unfurled prophylactic) in pursuit of peace. As opposed to a bayonet ripping through one’s lower intestines, so for God’s sake, don’t lose your ticket. Sneakily, no where in the print — fine or otherwise — is a sexually voracious nymph actually promised. Notice, however, that the surrender ticket does seem to indicate at point 4 that said beauty is up for gang bangs, which is more than can be said for the high school sweetie you left at home, or the foxy WAVE you met at Bob Hope’s last USO show.
I said last week that I was going to theme this week of NdJ’s, and that they were going to be either sweet, or salty. I’ve changed my mind.
With the posting of Rammstein’s “Sonne” on Saturday, my appetite was whetted for music videos that stand as triumphs of filmmaking in their own right. So that will be the flavor this week, starting with a dear favorite of mine, “Mr. Brightside”.
I usually dislike bands-of-the-moment, especially the young male bands with homogeneous albums and hit singles (I’m looking at you, My Chemical Romance), but after I watched this video several times, at first for the girl and then for the spectacle and then for the little story, the song regrettably sank in.
This came out a few years after Moulin Rouge did, and frankly this was the better film.
What is it with music videos and iconic, heartbreaking, but ultimately anonymous heroines?
I can’t find an embeddable copy of this video anywhere, so you’ll have to slum it with a link:
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.
I said last week that I was going to theme this week of NdJ’s, and that they were going to be either sweet, or salty. I’ve changed my mind.
