Awwwwwwwwwwwww!

This clip makes me think maybe we CAN all just get along.

More Lumpin'

Remember that "lady lumps" song I was ranting about last week? (Which, BTW, has been a large traffic-attractor; apparently, I'm high up on search engine lists for that phrase.) Well, I've since learned that it's a Black Eyed Peas song, the same Black Eyed Peas who so captivated me earlier this year with "Don't Phunk With My Heart." They and Gwen Stefani have a lot to answer for; they're the cause of several Ohrwurm infestations this summer!

In honor of this new knowledge, below I present to you the complete lyrics of the song. It's a work of lyrical genius, I tells ya! Enjoy.

Oh, and, BTW: Fergie, BACK AWAY FROM THE SUNBEDS AND SELF-TANNERS! You're looking ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuf, girl!

My Humps
by Black Eyed Peas

What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside your trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely little lumps. (Check it out)

I drive these scrubbers crazy,
I do it on the daily,
They treat me really nicely,
They buy me all these ice-ys.
Dolce & Gabbana,
Fendi and then Donna
Karen, they be sharin'
All their money got me wearin'
Fly gearrr but I ain't askin,
They say they love my ass 'n,
Se7en Jeans, True Religion,
I say no, but they keep givin'
So I keep on takin'
And no I ain't fakin'
We can keep on datin'
I keep on demonstrating.

My love, my love, my love, my love
You love my lady lumps,
My hump, my hump, my hump,
My humps they got u,
She's got me spending.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, on me, on me

What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get, you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What u gon' do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'm a make, make, make, make you scream
Make u scream, make you scream.
'Cause of my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My hump, my hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps. (Check it out)

I met a girl down at the disco.
She said hey, hey, hey yea let's go.
I could be your baby, you can be my honey
Lets spend time not money.
I mix your milk wit my cocoa puff,
Milky, milky cocoa,
Mix your milk with my cocoa puff, milky, milky riiiiiiight.

They say I'm really sexy,
The boys they wanna sex me.
They always standing next to me,
Always dancing next to me,
Tryin' a feel my hump, hump.
Lookin' at my lump, lump.
U can look but you can't touch it,
If u touch it I'ma start some drama,
You don't want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama
So don't pull on my hand boy,
You ain't my man, boy,
I'm just tryn'a dance boy,
And move my hump.

My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps x3
In the back and in the front.
My lovin' got u,
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me and spending time on me.
She's got me spendin'.
(Oh) Spendin' all your money on me, on me, on me.

What you gon' do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off my hump.
What you gon' do with all that ass?
All that ass inside them jeans?
I'ma make, make, make, make you scream
Make you scream, make you scream.
What you gon do with all that junk?
All that junk inside that trunk?
I'ma get, get, get, get you drunk,
Get you love drunk off this hump.
What you gon' do wit all that breast?
All that breast inside that shirt?
I'ma make, make, make, make you work
Make you work, work, make you work.
She's got me spendin'.
Spendin all your money on me and spendin' time on me
She's got me spendin'.
Spendin' all your money on me, on me, on me.

Thanks, Jewel!

I never thought I'd be heartily thanking Jewel for anything, but kudos to the gap-toothed singer for deciding not to release a book of love poetry. The public is still digesting her first volume of poetry; no need to overload us with more deep insight!

Proofreading Marks

You wouldn't think it of a nerd like me, but I only know a few proofreading marks. Usually, if editing or proofreading (they're slightly different, you know) I just write out a little comment. Knowing the marks would be useful, though, so I always hoped to sit down one day and memorize them. That task just got harder, though, due to this new list of proofreading marks. I must say, though, that I like these new ones much more than the old ones!

(Via Bookninja)

Poor Thing!

This dog looks utterly mortified to be at the Manchester (UK) Pride Parade. If I had to wear that cheap-ass lai in front of a bunch of bitchy queens, I'd be mortified, too! The poor thing will never hear the end of it!

(Via Towleroad)

But Do They Hog The Sun Chairs?

Apparently, dolphins from a Mississippi aquarium hole up in hotel swimming pools during any potentially threatening hurricane, such as Katrina. I wonder if they swim in regular chlorinated pool water or if they drain it first and fill it with saltwater or something. I can't imagine chlorine being good for them.

Anyway, it must be a sight to see a bunch of Flippers splashing about in the deep end. I imagine, though, that the dolphins were thinking, "Curses! Thwarted again! I was sure we would be able to escape into the ocean this time! If only it weren't for those meddling kids!"

(Via Maud Newton)

Now-Occasional Harry Potter Post: A Lemming's View

Parts III and IV of DKP's series "Why Harry Potter" are up. They're as heartily recommended as the first two parts.

Tum-Tum

When it comes to my tummy, I'm a split personality. In one corner of my psyche is my gay body dysmorphia; in the other corner my apathy and stubborn/radical streak. These two duke it out in my head constantly, but neither ever really wins.

My gay body dysmorphia says, "I want a six-(preferably eight-) pack. As a gay man, that's simply de rigeur. Therefore, my big gut is a bit of an irritation and embarrassment. I'm "skinny fat," as Astro of Shoot Me Now says, which means that my chest and biceps aren't that big, but my stomach is. This just makes my body look disproportionate and grotesque. [My legs and ass are actually in rather good shape for someone whose main pasttimes these days are lying about reading/watching TV or sitting ill-postured at the computer.] No attractive gay man will ever think I'm hot. The bitches would laugh me right out of any club I'd attend for not being perfect. I'm just ugly and fat and totally unattractive and should just die."

My apathetic and radical side retorts, "I'm a lazy person with a weak will; exercise and diet are just too damn hard. My diet sucks, which is a large contributor to your stomach problem, but if I cut all the crap out, I would have nothing to eat! I only like crap! I also hate exercise. I'm just not one of those people who enjoys physical exertion. As it is, I do the most pansy-ass little routine every night and even that is hard to keep up. And why should I bother and put my self through hell when a guy who's really into me won't mind my 'spare tire'? I'm striking a blow against body fascism by not killing myself to be a typical muscle queen. I should love me for me. I'm smart and witty and a great guy!"

I try to compromise by telling myself that I have to get used to the fact that I'm a burgeoning bear cub and embrace the big belly. But even that's problematic, because the bears have big arms and chests, too, which I don't have! Ack! I'll never fit in with any group and no one will ever love me...

Shallow

I just bought a copy of this edition of Common Sense by Thomas Paine. I just can't get over how pretty the cover is! The picture really doesn't do it justice. It's just a lovely with its shades of blue and a little silver and colorful Boston Massacre print.

Yes, yes, I know, "don't judge a book by its cover" and all that jazz, but I don't care! It's pretty!

Mr. Dickens, I Presume

I'm not a Dickensian, but this game is still kinda fun in a totally lame sort of way.

(Via The Salt-Box)

Most Frequently Used English Words

They're pretty much what you'd expect:

1) the

2) of

3) and

4) to

5) a

6) in

7) that

8) it

9) is

10) was

"Like" is #67, though probably much higher in some vocabularies (I know I use it all the damn time). "Fuck" is #5598, though since this program is based on the British National Corpus, I expect that's a low ranking due to the fact that people tend to say it a lot more than they write it. On a note of pure blog vanity, "bourgeois" and "nerd" are #7063 and #70675, respectively.

Go try it out; it's fun!

(Via Bookslut)

Strange; Paradise Lost Always Made ME Giggle

Poetry just ain't that funny.

(Via... I totally forget. Probably Bookninja or Bookslut.)

Nasty!

Naaaaaaaaaasty! Wonder how drunk they were. God I hope they were drunk. 'Cause if they weren't.... Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasty!

I Was Never In The Boy Scouts...

I never wanted to be in the Scouts. Camping and crafts and stuff just ain't my thing. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't appreciate having a few merit badges. (I think "Flaming Faggot" is my favorite. It's just so purty!)

(Via Towleroad)

Loved Labours Lost

You know, some works are probably more interesting lost than found. The titillation is better than the actuality would be. I'd really like to see Homer's take on humor and Aeschylus' plays, though.

It is really amazing, though, how much is so willfully lost or destroyed, even by the authors themselves. I'm not even a writer, but the very thought of destroying a book is enough to send me into chills.

(Via Bookninja)

Dictionary Mystery

I'd really like to know why "Google" and "bling-bling" didn't make the cut for the new edition of Webster's New World College Dictionary. "Google," especially, since it's such a common word nowadays and doesn't really seem to be the fly-by-night kind of word prescriptivists moan about being added to the dictionary. The editor just sort of casually dismisses it.

(Via Maud Newton)

Textbook Prices

As Camicao points out, textbook prices are outrageous. On one level, that's understandable: textbooks often cost more to produce, and have a much smaller potential audience, than most general books. Publishing isn't really a high-profit business to begin with, either. However, it's still insane to have to spend $250-$350 each semester, as I did, just on books. Depending on your classes and where you go to school, you can spend a lot more than that, most of which you'll never recover, even if you're lucky to be eligible for book buyback (which hardly gives you anything).

But, as you all know, I'm a textbook fetishist. There's just something about them (the paper, the covers) that I find intoxicating. And the alernatives are simply unattractive. E-books and professor-provided .pdf files (Camicao's suggestion) just aren't practical, in my view. You either have to sit and read them off a computer screen (which is impossible; your eyes would burn up) or print the whole think out. Now, I don't know about you, but I wouldn't use MY ink to run out a couple thousand pages, which is what it would add up to if a semester's worth of books were all online. And using school labs would be very problematic. One, I'm sure the other kids trying to print things out (not to mention the poor printers themselves!) wouldn't appreciate waiting for my 250 pages to spit out. Two, I'm sure schools would soon crack down due to the cost of paper, ink, and maintenance.

So, basically, at this moment, I see no option but to buy the textbooks.

Herray Fur Holiwud!

Oh my God! Hollywood isn't totally grammatically correct! I'm beyond shocked! I mean, they're usually so meticulous with their research and faithful to their stylebooks. What is popular entertainment coming to? Next thing you'll know, they'll be making sequels to bad movies that flopped the first time, or start giving starring roles to the best looking instead of the most talented.

(Via Bookninja)

Today Is A Good Day To Blog!

As a born and bred Trekker (or Trekkie or whatever; I prefer Trekker, but I don't care as much about the terminology as I used to), I have to say that this list of Klingon fairy tales is absolutely hysterical! The Goldilocks one is especially giggle-worthy.

(Via Bookninja)

Highbrow Eye Candy

NSFW.




NSFW.




NSFW.



I'm not joking; NSFW.



NSFW. Bitch, I not be playin'! Don't say I didn't warn you!

Male Nude NM126, 1965-66
Paul Cadmus

Male Nude TS5, 1954

Paul Cadmus

We're All Debased and Depraved, Apparently!

The prescriptivist "Language is going to hell in a handbasket" sentiment is probably as old as time (and I'm sure I have descriptivist spiritual ancestors that go back just as far). For some, it's literally religious! Below is a quote from Thomas Elwood, an early Quaker and a friend of John Milton (of Paradise Lost fame).

"Again, the corrupt and unsound form of speaking in the plural number to a single person, you to one, instead of thou, contrary to the pure, plain, and single language of truth, thou to one, and you to more than one, which has always been used by God to men, and men to God, as well as one to another, from the oldest record of time till corrupt men, for corrupt ends, in later and corrupt times, to flatter, fawn, and work upon the corrupt nature in men, brought in that false and senseless way of speaking you to one, which has since corrupted the modern languages, and hath greatly debased the spirits and depraved the manners of men..."

(The Varieties of Religious Experience pg. 259)

Sounds a lot like those "you can't use 'they' as a singular, neuter pronoun!" rants, doesn't it?

I Always Knew Liono Was A Fag

This just proves it! *hehehe* Actually, Panthero (the gray one with the knack for machines) was always my favorite. I guess I always went more for the leather-daddy type. *LOL*

Nice job, BTW, Mr. Gay Geeky Guy, on the make-up and costume! It's not perfect, but it's a lot better than most of the dress up jobs you see. And the body ain't bad, either; especially that bulge. Thundercats, HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! *LOL*

(Via Proceed At Your Own Risk)

Viking Kink

Remind me to vomit on my enemies if I ever take them prisoner and then write a poem about it. Those Vikings sure didn't mess around!

(Via Pharyngula)

More Gay Causeries

Okay, I knew Scandinavians have some problems with depression...but I was unaware that they are also crazy! A library is lending out people from minority groups, including gays!!! WTF?
___________________

There's a reason I'm an Anglophile, people. This is one of them.

(Via Bookslut)

Some Advice

For my straight male readers: only look at a woman's tits when a) she's looking away or b) already has her hand down the front of your pants. Otherwise, keep the eyes on the eyes! Apparently, just that simple piece of advice makes a world of difference.

We gay men are so much more civilized. We meet a guy, we look at his package, and we say "Nice package, man!" and then we go and have sex. (Well, SOME go and have sex; not me, of course. *sigh*)

Cool New Gadget

I'm with Richard in wanting this. It would be nice to finally know just what the hell those "F" keys do.

Question

Is it weird that I find Rob Zombie incredibly attractive? Yeah, that's what I thought....

On The Radio

In the car today, I heard a song with the most... interesting refrain. *clears throat* "My hump. My hump, my hump, my lovely lady lumps." Now, I'm no musician, but ARE YOU KIDDING ME????? The multi-billion dollar record industry can't come up with anything better than "my lovely lady lumps"?!?!?!?!? I mean, the alliteration's nice and all, but "lady lumps" sounds like a four year old's description of his mommy's boobs. (Perhaps the lyricist was a four year old?) I'm sure there are lots of talented songwriters out there who have committed suicide immediately after hearing those words.

And, yet, I've heard it several times on the radio, so someone actually enjoys it! *sigh* Perhaps four year olds? Or booby-obsessed straight men who have temporarily taken on the minds of four year olds? Straight guys, does the phrase "lady lumps" turn you on? I find that hard to believe; I'm a huuuuuuuuuuge fan of the penis, but I don't think "My balls. My balls, my balls, my merry manny mop" or something like that would make me like a truly stupid song.

Now-Occasional Harry Potter Post: Analysis Of A Phenomenon

DKP of The Lemmings Were Pushed offers a thorough, utterly trenchant analysis of what has made the Harry Potter series so dazzlingly successful. Here's the Intro, Part I, and Part II; Part III is on the way, so you'll have to check back later, which isn't a sacrifice, since it's a very nice blog.

Diagnosing Bibliomania

The Little Professor, my biblophilia guru, gives a list of "Signs that the books have taken over." Funnily enough, not one of those items listed applies to me. I'm just not trying hard enough to be truly book-crazed, I guess.

Quotes From The Varieties Of Religious Experience

Below are some choice quotes from The Varieties of Religious Experience I feel like sharing. I've provided a little commentary after each one explaining why I like the quote and what I think it means. I hope you enjoy. I encourage you to read the book if you're interested. The quotes I chose to highlight and share are just the tip of the iceberg; there's lots and lots more stuff to read and ponder.

_________________________

Does not, for example, the worship of material luxury and wealth, which constitutes so large a portion of the 'spirit' of our age, make somewhat for effeminacy and unmanliness? Is not the exclusively sympathetic and facetious way in which most children are brought up to-day--so different from the education of a hundred years ago, especially in evangelical circles--in danger, in spite of its many advantages, of developing a certain trashiness of fibre? Are there not herabouts some points of application for a renovated and revised ascetic discipline?

("The Value of Saintliness" pg. 317)

Not only is this quote noteworthy because of its somewhat subtle sexism (James was a Victorian/Edwardian white, upper-class, intellectual male after all), but also for its "These kids today!" lamentation. Yet more evidence that there never was some Golden Age when kids were perfect and everyone had "character" and every generation didn't think the kids were going to hell in a handbasket because it just wasn't like it was in the "good old days."

"'Live and let live,'" writes a clear-headed Austrian officer, "is no device for an army. Contempt for one's own comrades, for the troops of the enemy, and, above all, fierce contempt for one's own person, are what war demands of every one. Far better is it for an army to be too savage, too cruel, too barbarous, than to possess too much sentimentality and human reasonableness. If the solider is to be good for anything as a solider, he must be exactly the opposite of a reasoning and thinking man. The measure of goodness in him is his possible use in war. War, and even peace, require of the solider absolutely peculiar standards of morality. The recruit brings with him common moral notions, of which he must seek immediately to get rid. For him victory, success, must be everything. The most barbaric tendencies in men come to life again in war, and for war's uses they are incommensurably good."

("The Value of Saintliness" pg. 318)

This quote is rather chilling, especially with Iraq and all. What's even worse is that a lot of what this guy is saying makes a very barbaric sort of sense. A military really can't be sweetness and light and still be effective.

...Boehme writes of the Primal Love, that "it may fitly be compared to Nothing, for it is deeper than any Thing, and is as nothing with respect to all things, forasmuch as it is not comprehensible by any of them. And because it is nothing respectively, it is therefore free from all things, and is that only good, which a man cannot express or utter what it is, there being nothing to which it may be compared, to express it by."

"Love," continues Boehme, is Nothing, for "when thou art gone forth wholly from the Creature and from that which is visible, and art become Nothing to all that is Nature and Creature, then thou art in that eternal One, which is God himself, and then thou shalt feel within thee the highest virtue of Love....The treasure of treasures for the sould is where she goeth out of the Somewhat into that Nothing out of which all things may be made. The soul here saith, I have nothing, for I am utterly stripped and naked; I can do nothing, for I have no manner of power, but am as water poured out; I am nothing, for all that I am is no more an image of Being, and only God is to me I AM; and so, sitting down in my own Nothingness, I give glory to the eternal Being, and will nothing of myself, that so God may will all in me, being unto me my God and all things."

("Mysticism" pg. 361-362)

This quote appealed to me because of my own interest in the concept of "nothing" and its philosophical implications.

...we follow the majority because to do so suits our life.

("Mysticism" pg. 367)

This quote is just so true. It's hard being an outsider, which is why most people are such sheep. Hey, I'm not proud; I'll admit I've "bah-bah"-ed with the best of 'em!

Knowledge about a thing is not the thing itself.... to understand the causes of drunkenness, as a physician understands them, is not to be drunk.

("Conclusions" pg. 421)

Knowledge and experience are two different things, a distinction that we surprisingly often forget. I may know a lot of stuff about S&M, for instance, but that does not necessarily mean I am a participant in S&M activity.

Knowledge about life is one thing; effective occupation of a place in life, with its dynamic currents passing through your being, is another.

("Conclusions" pg. 421)

Just another way of saying you have to live life, not just think about living it. This is particularly evocative for me, since that's what I tend to do: think about living instead of going out and actually doing it.

"The truth of the matter can be put," says Leuba, "in this way: God is not known, he is not understood; he is used--sometimes as meat-purveyor, sometimes as moral support, sometimes as friend, sometimes as an object of love. If he proves himself useful, the religious consciousness asks for no more than that. Does God really exist? How does he exist? What is he? are so many irrelevant questions. Not God, but life, more life, a larger, richer, more satisfying life, is, in the last analysis, the end of religion. The love of life, at any and every level of development, is the religious impulse."

("Conclusions" pg. 434-435)

This, I think is a very perceptive view of religion. I think for a lot of the religious, the intricacies and theologies and dogmas of God don't really much matter. As long as they feel something that meets their needs, that is enough.

No fact in human nature is more characteristic than its willingness to live on a chance.

("Conclusions" pg. 450)

This, I think, is sheer poetic truth. As long as we think we have a chance at something (wealth, happiness, enlightenment, whatever) all the miseries and frustrations and minor vexations of life are bearable.

_________________________

William James. The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2004.