A Fantastic New Kind Of Privacy Invasion
Wired reports that airport scanners actually can make you famous on the Internet, because they take pictures of your nekkidness through your clothes, and are capable of storing and transferring these highly valuable images. I am a fan of transparency and openness in society, and see this as a landmark move to increase said transparency. Also, I’ve learned that blue aliens, such as the one pictured above, will likely always be carrying guns just above their backsides, and possibly have some sort of unidentifiable explosive device near their nethers. Also Also, what a voluptuous woman! Pretty sure that this scan is NSFW.
Does anyone else secretly hope that these little machinies actually do store and transmit images? COY CELEBRITIES BETTER WATCH OUT. Airport scanner porn will probably be a billion-dollar industry in just a few months.
SPR NAKED CELEBRITIES HERE. MAYBE: Click here if you don’t want airport security viewing your bits, et cetera
A Nice Man Who Probably Smells Awful (Based On His Work)
Only once have I written a letter to a famous person with the hope that she would think I was awesome. It was to Sharon Olds, the depressing poet, who I actually rather enjoy, probably because she talks about dirty stuff. Anywho, she never wrote back, so I never wrote anyone again. Psh. Whatever. I’mOverIt. Really I wasn’t too terribly offended, mostly because I once read an interview with her where she spoke about never reading newspapers, watching television, or paying any attention to her environment, all so that she could focus on her writing and shiz like that. In other words, she is the polar opposite of everyone in my generation. Especially me.
So I found this letter from John Kricfalusi, the probably smelly but also probably really cool cartoonist behind Ren & Stimpy. It’s written to a young fan. On the one hand, Mr. John is kind of butt-head for assuming the kid wants tips on drawing and cartooning. On the other more relevant hand, this letter is totally awesome. Dude even gives out his e-mail address (along with the completely realistic explanation that he would probably never have the time to answer him.)
I may just write a letter today. Probably to Amy Sedaris, who I would like to morph into. I’ve gotta run; the cat is puking. Wish cat vomit were a marketable venture. I’d be rolling in major benjamins. I’d have like five benjamins, maybe. What’s a benjamin?
SOMETHING YOU SHOULD LOOK AT: Cartoonist is awesome to children.
Keeping Frosh With SCOPE
I’ve never liked mouthwash. But I like it now, because the bottle looks ohsosexy. Who has time to read when there are fake ads to make? I want someone to reeeeead to me, like I’m four. Four-year-olds have it made. Waaaaaah.
I like reversing little phrases. Makes them seem IMPACTFUL.
Sacrificial, Delicious: The Meat You Should Eat
Men need lamb. As a man, I know the craving well. Allow me explain or thing or two to the ladies (and please try not to blush): every month for three or four days men get a craving for lamb so bad that it sends them into an inflamed frenzy, where few people are treated respectably by the man, and even fewer are enjoyed by the man. Until he eats his meat, anyway. And so it was: my post-New Year’s Eve putrid mood swelled and lingered like a questionably emitted gas, until at last it hit me–it was that time of the month again. Of course! That’s when I put lamb on the menu for the evening.
That may all be bull shit, but it sounds right to me. It may well be true that men need lamb, but surely there are vegans and vegetarians and white-meat-only eaters among us who can easily and sassily put the kibosh on my charming little theory. To them I say, have a little heart. Let’s talk about Lamb. Or at least let’s eat it quietly.
I’m a fan of thick, goopy sauces that suffocate large chunks of barely cooked meat. Manly, right? This sauce had coconut cream and peanut butter as it’s mucky base. Other highlights: ginger, garlic, onion, green pepper, chillies, cilantro. And my favorite savory flavor of all time: CUMIN. Boy that word has legs in the multiple-interpretations-department. Don’t get nasty now.
I don’t know if you’ve figured this out by now, but I’m not going to tell you how to make it. Not that hard to figure out. Warm this, sizzle that, pour here, stir there. Directions are always the most boring part of otherwise sexy food posts.
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