The sentient car has found love, and some jerk goes and bashes it. Is it any wonder the machines rise against us?
So that’s a Thing.
Look out for all those gayass cars out there, dudes. Don’t let them sell you organic locally grown leeks or get married or some shit: it totally cheapens the deep bond of love and committment found only in a traditional marriage between two straight cars. … And leeks are not in season in July. Amateur hour.
He’s having surgery to get rid of the noise. What more do you want?
The man is clearly secure in his heterosexuality. Why do people even keep bringing it up?
I know I am a softie, but I do think this is another sad case. I even hope it is a joke. What if someone had That Much going on in their head? I hope not. I hope no one does.
photographed by Terry Richardson.
Of course.
I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe;
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I water’d it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with my smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,
And into my garden stole
When the night had veil’d the pole:
In the morning, glad I see
My foe outstretch’d beneath the tree.
(William Blake, “A Poison Tree.”)
(I was concerned that the photo credits would break up the rhythm and impact of the poem, so I’m putting them down here.)
top: Brigitte Bardot and Jane Birkin, Don Juan ou Si Don Juan était une femme…, aka Female Don Juan, aka If Don Juan Was A Woman (Roger Vadim, 1973).
second from top: Jacqueline Sassard and Stéphane Audran, Les Biches (Claude Chabrol, 1968). Spoiler: one is about to stab the other in the back. Interpret freely and watch for yourself.
third: “Grand Apple Face” by patron saint Sam Haskins. In-camera photo montage before the age of photoshop. Amazing. RIP.
last: “Poisoned with love” by miss- alienation on the d.a.
Rebekah Del Rio – Llorando (“Crying” cover, Mulholland Drive)
Mulholland Drive (David Lynch, 2001). This track is a haunting, a capella, Spanish language cover by Rebekah Del Rio of the Roy Orbison song “Crying” (Orbison, Melson 1961). Some screencaps are from here, some are from here, and some are from TK on the lj. Some I took myself from the sneaksters who have managed to put a bit of this up on the youtube. Thanks to all sources.
Yo estaba bien
por un tiempo
volviendo a sonreír
I was all right
for a while
I could smile for awhile
Luego anoche te vi;
tu mano me tocó
y el saludo de tu vozBut I saw you last night,
you held my hand so tight
as you stopped to say hello
Y hablé muy bien
y tú sin saber
que he estado
Llorando por tu amor,
llorando por tu amorOh, you wished me well
You couldn’t tell
that I’ve been
Crying over you,
crying over you
Luego de tu adiós
sentí todo mi dolor
Sola y
llorando, llorando, llorando.You said, “So long,”
left me standing all alone
Alone and
crying, crying, crying.
No es fácil de entender
que al verte otra vez
yo esté llorando.It’s hard to understand
but the touch of your hand
Can start me crying.
Yo que pensé
que te olvidé
pero es verdad,
es la verdad
que te quiero aun más
mucho más que ayer
Dime tú que puedo hacer.I thought that I
was over you,
but it’s true,
oh, so true
I love you even more
than I did before.
But darling, what can I do?
¿No me quieres ya?
Y siempre estaré
Llorando por tu amor
llorando por tu amorFor you don’t love me,
and I’ll always be
Crying over you
crying over you
Tu amor se llevó
todo mi corazón
Y quedo llorando, llorando, llorando
Llorando por tu amorYes, now you’re gone,
and from this moment on
I’ll be crying, crying, crying,
Crying over you
Purchase Mulholland Drive, a StudioCanal film, from amazon online or in person at some big, dreadful electronics discount store where they make their employees dress all alike and discourage self-expression while simultaneously crushing their professional ambitions and private dreams, or even someplace mind-numbingly similar but with a wider range of products to assuage your human misery at the altar of merciless soul-raping capitalism, Walmart or Target; whatever, I don’t care. I am just encouraging you to do this consumer bullshit so I don’t get sued. If it were up to me, David Lynch movies would be showing at most theaters everywhere always, so it’s tough for me to recommend virtually profitless small screen shenanigans. And by tough I mean I am going to go chew light bulbs now.
This movie will come up again, these are a really small handful of caps compared to the rest. I’ve just been blue and listening to this song a lot lately.
Seems like you always see these iconic stills of the handsome and talented James Dean where he is very posed (to great effect, I’m not knocking that aspect), but the truth is he was one of those really energetic guys that can’t sit still. He always had to be moving around, even on set when he wasn’t the one before the cameras.
In fact, he got into photography and took dozens of pictures of his famous friends and coworkers while filming and even at parties — I think it was his way of turning the attention off himself because there is no way he could have stood the scrutiny otherwise. It was sort of a prop, but also a demonstration of his neverending interest in the world around him.
Above, camera-shenanigans with Sammy Davis, Jr. on the red carpet; Below, holding the camera and posing his sham girlfriend, Italian actress Pier Angeli. Pier married Vic Damone before her agreed-upon time was up of having to pretend to date the closeted Dean. Dean didn’t mind but the studios did. They had tried to get Natalie Wood first and she said no. She only did so after a short period of gristing the rumor mill to quiet the gossip columnists on the subject of Dean’s sexuality, but I have noted she mysteriously stopped going along with it, maybe getting to like him too well as a friend to participate in lies? dunno — not that she was above that cause she went on studio-sponsored dates with lots of dudes, e.g. Tab Hunter, to legitimize their “swinging-but-not-swinging-like-that-cause-we-are-manly-guys-as-is-evidenced-by-this-date-with-Ms.-Woods!” bachelor status; I have never heard exactly why she turned down their suggestion of long-terming it for fakes with James Dean. Anyway, so they found their Italian Natalie lookalike (I love Pier in her own right but I do not like that she supported that kind of repressive chicanery), but she didn’t end up going for it in the long run either, like I said, marrying Damone. This is a long caption and I feel like I should quit now. Sorry. I’m on Day-Quil. I think it’s strong stuff. (It’s been a long time since I used real drugs.)
So here are some pictures where I hope that sort of frantic, kinetic energy translates, even if the social situation constrained his mobility to crazy facial expressions.
All-time favorite picture via Nick Drake.
I’m a serious minded and intense little devil – terribly gauche and so tense that I don’t see how people can stay in the same room as me. I know I couldn’t tolerate myself. — James Dean
With Natalie on the set of Rebel Without a Cause, 1955.
They say you can’t get it on with a girl in a Porsche. That’s bullshit. If you don’t believe me, ask Natalie. (qtd in Against Death and Time, by Brock Yates.)
In a way, their halfhearted effort at the appearance of being in a relationship served Natalie just as well, because she was actually sleeping with director Nick Ray, who was 44 at the time, and it would have been a big scandal.
Trust and belief are two prime considerations. You must not allow yourself to be opinionated. You must say, “Wait. Let me see.” And above all, you must be honest with yourself.
Instead, Natalie and Elizabeth Taylor became two of his closest friends, and in the final analysis, that’s so much nicer and longer-lasting than sex partners.
Since I’m only 24 years old, guess I have as good an insight into this rising generation as any other young man my age. And I’ve discovered that most young men do not stand like ramrods or talk like Demosthenes. Therefore, when I do play a youth, such as in Warner Bros.’ Rebel Without A Cause, I try to imitate life.
Dig the sarcastically dutiful effort to mention the production company. Such the tongue-in-cheek fox.
Dancing in a straw hat with a cigarette in his mouth: via angelinaadoptme.
I’m playing the damn bongos and the world can go to hell.
Girls like a boy who reads!
False advertising?
No, I am not a homosexual. But, I’m also not going to go through life with one hand tied behind my back.
I think the prime reason for living in this world is discovery.
Giving the thumbs up, about to take off in his ’55 Porsche Spyder 550, which he nicknamed “Little Bastard.” It was the car he was driving when he died.
There is no way to be truly great in this world. We are all impaled on the crook of conditioning. A fish that is in the water has no choice that he is. Genius would have it that we swim in sand. We are fish and we drown.
CBR’s Kelly Thompson has named Kate Kane, Batwoman, the #1 Female Comic Character of the Decade.
Art by J. H. Williams with color by Dave Stewart. Kind of a Kahlo-influenced Dia de los Muertos sugar skull vibe, somewhere between a prayer card and an xray, gruesomely awesome and totally apropos genre of art especially given her gal is Renee Montoya. This cover art + me = Total. Love.
The rest of the list is singularly amazing as well. It includes Cassie Cain as Batgirl, honorable mention for Det. Renee Montoya as The Question —Kate Kane’s sweetheart— and a shout-out to Detective Deena Pilgrim from the Powers world (I have always favored the idea of Retro Girl better than the actuality of Deena and her unmasked heroism, personally, ever since I shut myself in the bath one day following a fight with my husband and read Who Killed Retro Girl? until the water got cold, and I continually peruse Powers in the hope of seeing Pilgrim take on that intriguing mantle one day, but so far no go).
Renee Montoya, formerly one of Gotham’s Finest, now The Question.
Additionally, Thompson gives a glowing enough account of a “Micchone” heroine from Walking Dead that I’m actually willing to give a zombie comic a spin, so give the article a read if you’ve got some loose bills left over from Christmas folding money and are looking for new things to read.
“Hurt me.” And I thought I had Daddy Issues? Cropped from a scan by scans daily’s gallery from Batgirl 49-50 when Cass done got fired.
Super fat-bat-thanks to Peteski, aka nevver on the tumblr, who is always hooking me up to badass shit that brightens my day.
Originally named Kathy Kane, the character [Batwoman] was introduced as a love interest for Batman to disprove allegations of homosexuality in response to the backlash from the book Seduction of the Innocent (1954). (the wiki)
Lost the credit but it’s fairly obviously a character sketch from DC.
The modern incarnation of Batwoman, Kate Kane … is written as being of Jewish descent and as a lesbian in an effort by DC editorial staff to diversify its publications and better connect to modern day readership. Batwoman’s sexual orientation has been both criticized and praised by the general public and the character has been described as the highest profile gay character to appear in stories produced by DC Comics.
Batwoman, Kate Kane, with Det. Renee Montoya, now The Question via dance with shadows.
Oh, those crazy redheads.
via Paul Tobin
Bat tat, too.
You are not selling him on the gay thing, Batman. Give it some jazz hands!
Robin: Gosh, Batman! Remember this leather thong? It still has your teeth marks in it!
Of course.
Villain: “Not only are you doomed, but so is everyone else you’ve touched–!”
The Atom: “Jean Loring — I’ve signed her death warrant!”
The Flash: “I gave Iris West — the kiss of death!”
Green Lantern: “Carol Ferris — in deadly danger!”
Batman: “Robin — what have I done to you?”
Telling concern, dude.
“Hello, Daddy, hello, Mom … ”
The Runaways — Cherry Bomb
PSA: A full-length movie about these original riot grrls is in the works — almost done, even. Did You Know? And as a very special segment of this PSA: All grown’z up Dakota Fanning and that frowny chick from Twilight are both in it. Kristen Stewart plays Joan fuckin’ Jett and little Miss Fanning plays Cherie Currie.
Oh, my god, Joan Jett still looks so fucking amazingly perfect that I actually said, “Holy shit!” out loud, fervently, when I saw this picture. I would totally be standing by the record machine for you, Joanie! Call me!
Not only that, but from both the on- and offset pictures I’ve seen, they sure do a lot of canoodling. And the rumor is that they’ve got some makeout scenes, at least one, according to the NY Daily News. That’s good, not just for ticket sales, but in terms of a movie actually being faithful to the real life events it claims to depict.
Ladies do end up together from time to time. It happens! If you don’t believe me, slip some Valium and vodka in to the punch at the next PTA meeting. You find out p.d.q. who the down gals are.
So, all in all, I’m giving this musicians’ biopic, a genre of which I usually am queasy and wary, an unprecedented fatty-boom-batty green light, sight unseen. Hell, yes! I actually can’t wait!
Ladies and gentlemen, the lovely and talented Stephanie Adams, Playboy‘s Miss November 1992, would like to know: Have you got milk?
The Playboy sez: AMBITIONS:
Elite supermodel, successful actress, get my master’s in business and travel more.
TURN-ONS:
Italian style, strawberries and cream, big cats, fast cars, Nintendo, kisses, and music.
Let’s just explore all that, shall we?
The ambitions section. First of all, yes, though Stephanie Adams was represented by Wilhelmina modeling agency at the time she posed for this centerfold, she was soon after picked up by Elite. She has not been a “successful actress,” but she is a widely known speaker and television personality, and a successful author. Ambition: we’ll call those all a big check.
Moving along to “turn-ons” — there is a well-known turn-on of Miss Adams’, one you might call her entire claim to fame, that is notably absent from this list. Oh, hey, famous bisexual author, what’s up with leaving sexy-ladytimes off the list? Just slip your mind?
Even though she became a spokesmodel for an LGBT fashion line and is still featured on magazine covers as well as a documentary on her life for Women’s Entertainment, Adams prefers to be known simply as “an author”. She continues to make celebrity appearances for Playboy and continues to be a supporter, spokesperson and advocate in the LGBT community by giving speeches for several Gay Prides in New York City, and speaking for organizations such as Out Professionals, Heritage Of Pride and Women’s Alliance.
Adams appeared in numerous Playboy videos, as well as a cameo appearance on the Late Show With David Letterman, and at some point was voted the “Best Lesbian Sex Symbol” in New York City. Soon after ending a long term relationship around that time, Adams was seen around town with notables such as LGBT comedian Marga Gomez and rock star Joan Jett. Adams had often said of her romantic life that she is a “Playboy trapped in a Playmate’s body.” — official website.
She has since said she is not just lesbian, and still dates guys. (She’s married men from time to time, too.) Hey, girl, if you’re open-minded enough to go for it, then get it where you can.
And when you look like her, you can apparently pretty much get it wherever you want.
Do not fret, little Robin.
Batman has had experience in That Area.
I am considering buying Amy Kiste Nyberg’s Seal of Approval off the amazon. Is this a good move? Worth it? Bueller?
Earlier today Panda Eraser quoted Tori Amos, saying, “You’re just an empty cage, girl, if you kill the bird.” I told her that it always made me think of a line from Tennessee Williams: “A prayer for the wild hearts, kept in cages.” That in turn made me think of the lyrics to a song I really like by awesomely offbeat and unusual indie Australian artist Sia Furler.
She is even more delightful in person, apparently, as is evidenced by this video of her performing her song “Electric Bird” live, off of her album Some People Have Real Problems. (There is another video on youtube of her performing this song live at Bush Hall in London which begins with her in mid-rapport with the audience, saying, “I’m into trannies, too, and sometimes chicks. Whatever: send me a letter!” Attagirl. That one has embedding disabled by request but you can easily find it. Oh, heckfire, here’s a link.)
Someone plugged you in
And sadly they clipped your wings
Now you can’t fly away electric bird
Yeah someone took your tweet
One day they fed you that bad seed
You can’t fly away electric birdWell you’re art, you fell into this part
You play the victim perfectly holding your beating heart
You used to be so smart
You fluttered round the yard making your magicGot to set you free, you were blinded by deceit
You can’t fly away electric bird
So now this rooms all staged
While you’re stuck there in that cage
You can’t fly away electric birdWell you’re art, you fell into this part
You play the victim perfectly holding your beating heart
You used to be so smart
You fluttered round the yard making your magic
—Sia, “Electric Bird,” Some People Have Real Problems.
You can listen to the album version here.
I think the point which Sia is making is that we often cage ourselves, we set ourselves up to be the victims, whether consciously or un-. I don’t know if it’s a devil-you-know situation or an issue of masochism, and I’m not sure yet how this relates to Tennessee and Tori — or me. But I’ve got some ideas and I’m thinking about it!
Batgirl is shocked —shocked!— by the homosexuality she is seeing here, you guys. Good gravy.
Actually, Betty Kane, the first Batgirl, was specifically brought in to the Batman comic story line to quell the HUAC accusations of tacit endorsement of homosexuality in the comics industry. Far better writers than me have tackled the story, including the incredibly wonderful Michael Chabon in his Pulitzer-prize-winning fictional account of a large span of the lives of two cousins as they intersect with comics history, a narrative which includes the time period during which the so-called Comics Code was formed, The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, a book that is this wonderful journey through several decades that touches on everything from love to Dali to the second World War, and which I recommend with the highest praise to any and everyone.
There has been nary even ONE SINGLE search for “Maggie Gyllenhaal” and “bdsm” on this blog (which I expected to see and find the lack frankly disappointing), but “boobs” and “Megan Mullally” tip the scales dramatically, even coming in ahead of “Asia Argento,” “gay batman,” and “Drew Barrymore.” So, heck, here you go, awesome internet party people: a little bit o’ Miss Megan Mullally lezzin’ out with Debra Messing a couple years back at an awards show:
And a quickie of just some topless Megs, cause she’s my fave from the sitcom Will and Grace, which I pretty much never watched so I guess it is pointless to say I have a favorite, but I will say whatever she did on that television thing, she is onstage a damned fine singer to boot.
Enjoy! Eskimo kisses to you all!
I realized it’s been a couple days since I remembered to do an unlikely g, so I thought I’d remedy that with ultra-g action. Super-straight Anderson Cooper and friendohs are all looking very, very g here.
You guys, Anderson Cooper is straight as all-git-out; I fail to see where these rumors of his gayness persist. What is gay about Amanda Lepore and the front man for the Scissor Sisters? Everyone here and everything about this picture is not at all something that would give certain less integritous movers and shakers in the political world of news exactly the ammunition on a decent, honest, not-grandstanding journalist for which they salivate. (Seriously, buddy, I forgive you cause I get it, but come on…the glass closet will never go away if rad guys like you let the pressure keep you in and don’t break it down)
“I’m not much for giving advice. That’s Bill O’Reilly’s job and he’s very good at it.” –Anderson Cooper, that sly silver fox!
Girl, do not even attempt to lay your folklore on my Jim Gordon. You keep your green thumbs off the Commish.
Not to mention this is extra-bad faith, because Poison Ivy is actually quite gay, you know.
edit: wow, that got hate mail in a hurry. I stand by my safe assumption, so all I can say is enjoy being close-minded fucktards incapable of accurately interpreting sequential art, you anal retentive canonical jizz-monkeys. –Mgmt.
The Thought Experiment 