Brain Sex

Shantoozy and I took part in this study to ascertain what gender our brains are. (Yes, yes, but 'dickhead' describes the exterior part of the noggin and this study describes the interior.) It is interesting to note, as Shantoozy has pointed out on her blog, that our results mirror one another's exactly! Check out his - er, that is, her - blog for a comparison.

Your Brain is 67% Female, 33% Male

Your brain leans female You think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

What Gender Is Your Brain?

Here, I'll delve into my intellectual handbaggage so we can share my block of eggplant and testicle chocolate while Shantoozy fixes the video player.

Seriously, though, she really is the fix-it person around our house. I do the vacuuming.

Stress Relief

This afternoon Shantoozy and I needed stress relief, so we had sex for the first time in a million years or thereabouts. Although we had both been willing, the able part of the equation had kept on eluding us for one reason or another – be it tiredness, fatigue, stress, uni. work, or what the hail ever. We put a stop to that today and I squirted ivory sap from the borehole of my log. (I laugh uproariously at my idjiotic cleverness with that last line and Shantoozy says, “You amuse yourself, don’t you?”) Although I agree that it is probably true what Woody Allen had one of his characters say, that too much importance is placed on the orgasm by many people to make up for the empty areas in their life, Shantoozy and I most certainly both felt instantly a whole lot better after ours this afternoon. (…Which were actually attained between hours, boom-boom!) (…Boom, boom, boom, let’s go back to my room, that is.) (Ahem.)

Then, Hissy Kitty came around and demanded – in a friendly, helpful manner, of course – that we get away from our studies for a while and go see a movie. Who am I to disagree with sound logic like that which involves me being lazy? So, we three went into the CBD and ended up seeing “Final Destination III”. I haven’t seen either of the first two but that didn’t matter. Basically, this movie (like its predecessors, I assume) is pretty much totally devoid of being about anything at all. There aren’t even really any characters, as such; there are some fictitious girls and guys whom we watch on screen but we don’t know anything about them or care anything about them beyond a general feeling of identification because we are human and they are, too. This is probably just as well because the entire movie is simply - oh, yes, quite simple-ly - a successive display of the gory deaths, and the lead-ups thereto, of all of the humans, including the gal with the bare real tits and the gal with the bare jelly-mould implants. There could have been no better type of movie to distract one from wearying intellectual labour than this gleefully dumb and senseless lump of widescreen extravagance. All those splattering bite-size brain bits and the seepy burbling of teenagers frying inside tanning machines! Ah, it really did help me further unwind.

Now would a massage with a nail-gun be too much to hope for?

Or nailing her with my love-gun?

Or maybe I’ll just drink my dandelion-root tea and quit key-tap-yappin’ for now…

Lactose!

Bought some soy milk from 'Not Quite Right' (the clearance supermarket) and, having added some chocolate and malt powder, drank a glass of the stuff. I got sick! This ought not to happen. The reason I drink soy milk and not cow milk is because I am lactose intolerant. Yep, my body is a regular Joseph Stalin when it comes to lactose. (If only it would be that way about other kinds of fat that I find so delectable...) Anyway, I drank the stuff and, lo and behold, I started feeling that familiar dizziness and nausea caused by lactose. It seems that what is 'not quite right' about these cartons of soy milk is that somehow they contain lactose. Oh, well, that's all part of the gamble that is shopping at 'Not Quite Right' - a gamble that usually pays nice dividends.

Kind of like this blog, actually. Often the posts are worthwhile (well, in my own very special, self-delusional way I like to think that they are so to some degree, anyway - to someone out there) but occasionally you get a nauseatingly dull one like this. Just have a lie down and the horrible feeling should pass soon enough.

Ahhh, that’s the way!

View It, Baby! ...Er, If You Like. Well, You're Here Now So...

Upon review it comes to my attention that I haven’t been watching much of the moving image lately. I finished watching the complete fourth season of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” a short while ago in life. The amount of times I have to press pause whenever I watch it, what-ho! Surely this show is the most painful of all hilarious experiences since the invention of tickling! Well, I don’t want to spoil anything for those who’ve not yet seen it but let me just mention the scene where Larry gets stoned with his father and a prostitute in his father’s home – Larry’s acting in this scene is superb. The show is so well done that one is often not aware of how much craftsmanship goes into it. Mel Brooks guest-stars in this season and the final episode features him onscreen with his soon-to-be late wife, Anne Bancroft; this adds a sad aura to the episode, although – and of course this is how they wanted it – it is still funny as heck. View it, babies, view it!

What else? I’m looking forward to finishing uni. for the semester; next week is the final week. I’ve still got quite a bit of work to do and am a bit stressed by it but I guess I’ve just got to keep my eye on the glistening horizon, upon which platform I bask come Friday the 2nd of June.

I’m looking forward to getting back on track with my real - AKA artistic - work then, as well as getting home and other everyday jive in some kind of reasonable order. That will hopefully help get my mind into a likewise state of good sense!

I go to Queensland during the break, too. With Shantoozy. See our families who all live up there, the crazy fools. Well, it won’t be disgusting weather for us at this time of year; in fact, winter up north is actually quite pleasant. The culture, general populace, prices, lifestyle, etcetera, on the other hand…! I get to fly in an aeroplane. I get to fly really fast through the air billions of kilometres (well, it may as well be) above the hard ground and the watery surfaces in a big heavy lump of humanmade wackiness called an aeroplane. I’ll never get over the fact that this is possible. It’s just not possible for me to.

Now it’s up, up and awayyyyyyyy with this post!

Revolving, Evolving

What can I say? The government does evil work. I'm going to join the gym up the road. Shantoozy has already joined the gym and goes regularly. Um, what else? I vacuumed the floor on Saturday to remove the coating of cat fur and lo and behold, there was carpeting underneath. I've written some quite good lines for the current piece of writing I'm working on, still called "Envelope" at this stage; a theory of the spiritual and species development of the creatures that are currently human but that will eventually evolve into ??? I signed a petition yesterday against the plan to dig under the precious glaciers in the Valle de San Felix, Chile and steal the gold and other shit there, destroying the lives of those dependent upon the fresh water they provide, as well as destroying that beautiful area of the planet. I am drinking a glass of filtered water now and am grateful for it - water is one of my favourite things. I also love books, paintings and drawings, movies, music, toys, animals, and nice warm beds in Winter. And other things, of course, but the point is ... well, one thing can be stated quite emphatically and that is that there is no reason why there shouldn't be - that, of course, there is indeed - enough for everyone on this big bouncy ball of whizzing energy, the Earth. Will those who are arseholes please desist from being so? Ta.

An Essay In Taxidermy

The following is how I originally, without a proper thought in my noggin, began my essay on Anton Chekhov's "The Seagull"; frankly, I found it a bit funny when returning to work sensibly upon the essay, so I thought I'd 'presarve' it here.

'Chekhov’s "The Seagull" is an old play featuring a dead seagull and some people. It was written by Anton Chekhov who must have masturbated, of course, although I do not know how many times. I am not sure whether or not the seagull masturbated when it was alive. Certain university lecturers masturbate over the plays of Chekhov; it is a delightful sight and can teach us much about their species.'

Well, that is all. Back to work I go.

Good As 'Presarved' Turnips

Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a brick across my head. Ha! That’s how the brain of a friend of mine always forces him to recite those The Beatles lyrics.

Anyway, I woke up and watched “Li’l Abner” on Channel 31. What a coincidence, in light of my recent post on the Shmoo and Al Capp, to discover yesterday that this 1940 movie adaptation of Al’s strip was due to be screening on television this morning at 10AM – and here in Australia, no less! Yet, Channel 31 can certainly be relied on to screen some groovy, lesser-Australian-known shows and movies from the U.S. of A.

This film was an interesting experience, although I don’t imagine that anyone not already familiar with the world of Dogpatch would find it very entertaining. One’s knowledge of the strip and its characters tends to fill in the gaps and breathe form onto the somewhat bland basic skeleton propped up on the screen here. This was a B-production from RKO studios and the cheapness shows. I mean, the sets look quite lovely but they are too small and restricting – this is supposed to be North American mountain land but it seems more like a leafy quarry. The direction is lacklustre, the editing atrociously ill timed for a comedy, and many of the actors seem to be thoroughly disinterested. Plus, unlike the strip, it's not very funny.

On the other hand, the casting is amazingly precise in many places and with a bit of help from prosthetic make-up characters such as Li’l Abner’s diminutive folks, Pansy and Lucifer, and the extremely hairy-headed Hairless Joe look exactly like they had jumped off the funnies pages and into real life. The actors portray human characters who look half real and half cartoon, and I cannot off-hand think of any other cartoon adaptation that has adopted this approach; if there are such examples, I doubt they predate this bizarre production of 1940.

Another feature of this film is the appearance of several comedians from the silent days, such as Bud Jamison, Edgar Kennedy, Chester Conklin, Billy Bevan, Al St. John and the great Buster Keaton, who is far from his glorious days as an independent artist in the 1920s but he acquits himself well here in what is a limited appearance.

Overall, not anywhere near as bad a movie as some people say. In fact, I’d say it compares favourably with Dogpatch’s famous gastronomic delicacy, 'presarved' turnips!

Keyboarding A Cloud To Valhalla Or Heaven or Wherever

Well, my computer was down for a while there because the keyboard died. Shantoozy spilt coffee on it! Admitedly, it was my cup of (cold) coffee that I had left precariously close to it but I am an human being and so of course it cannot possibly be my fault and must be someone else’s. I don’t know about the other type but the lesson learnt here is to never spill liquid on a Mackintosh keyboard. Shantoozy took it apart to try to fix it and, my, it’s all complicated looking in there, what with its silicon pathways or whatever. Well, a replacement keyboard was purchased yesterday and thus here I am again, what-ho!

Actually, I am pretty good at admitting my own fault, or even possible fault. This is a trait we all should possess but unfortunately few do. Because of this, I sometimes come across as weak in debates or arguments, I fear. This can be frustrating for me.

I am also pretty good at admitting which qualities I possess that are pretty good.

It’s pretty good, actually. Go on, give it a go!

School, Dentistry, Movies, Food, Sex, Art, Sleep, Etcetera

Some shit what's been happenin' to me in the past li'l while goes a little somethin' like this:

Got a bloomin' assignment paper due on Thursday, a critical analysis of Anton Chekhov's stageplay, "The Seagull: a comedy in four acts". Haven't done much work on it as yet. Must finish reading the play tonight!

Am currently undergoing a 'root canal'. Well, not directly as I type but as an ongoing current event in mi existence. This adventure in dentistry is being undertaken over three or four sessions, two of which I have had already. Last week I was in that bloody chair for an hour and an half as the dentist was cleaning out my tooth tunnel but because it is, I am told, unusually long and unusually narrow he couldn't even finish that part of the job then! Got to return for session number three in a couple of weeks.

Been watching some movies, such as "The Last Laugh" (1924) directed by F. W. Murnau, for example, which was well-made and depressing until the final act which was bad and unrealistically uplifting. A title-card did, however, inform us that the filmmakers were aware that in real-life the old ex-porter's tale would have (probably) ended in the misery just depicted and warned us of the unrealism of the happy ending to follow. A strikingly photographed film, one of the most beloved of the period's German Expressionism, and I recommend it.

Plus, the usual gang of idiots, like eating vegetarian meals, having sexual intercourse, having verbal intercourse, working on artistic stuff, sleeping, etcetera. (Etcetera is actually the most interesting of them all, perhaps, and involves two tablespoons of et, half a cup of cet and thirteen pig snouts full of era.) (What the hail is I talkin' 'bout?) (Yeah! Get lost, S. Gregory!) (Okay, but I already don't know where I am so does that mean I have to find my mind again?) (Shut up.) (Oh, okay, sorry.)

Shmoo Am I?

Who nowadays knows what a Shmoo is?

It is, at least, hard to find someone here in Australia who does. People here have rarely even heard of the comical strip “Li’l Abner” from which the Shmoo character hails, or its creator Al Capp. “Peanuts”, sure. “Calvin And Hobbes”, yes. Even that stupid garbage, “Garfield”, which is honestly probably more well known here than any of those others, surprise, surprise. But “Li’l Abner”, uh-uh. I don’t know if it was ever even printed in the papers in Australia; for it to be so little known here my guess is that it wasn’t or, if it was, that it was not published widely. Perhaps the backwoods idiots of Australia found the backwoods idiots of Dogpatch too American to understand or relate to. Well, anyway, just try finding any Al Capp in a bookshop, new or secondhand, or a library, in Australia and you’ll discover the hardship I’ve had to endure in tracking down “Li’l Abner” and the Shmoo.

I first encountered this white, seal-like, squash-shaped li’l critter as a young-un in its incarnation as a TV cartoon character. This was the Hanna-Barbera interpretation of the character where for some reason or other they turned him into a shape-shifter and gave him a job as a detective! Odd. Still, there were similarities in this Shmoo of “The New Shmoo” and “The Flintstone Comedy Show” cartoons to Al Capp’s original version, like his loving nature, his strange, moosical voice and, of course, his basic physical appearance. “The New Shmoo” is currently screening in Australia on the pay-TV channel ‘Boomerang’, incidentally.

It wasn’t until a few years ago that I began finding out more about the character, and Al Capp and his “Li’l Abner” strip. Very amoozin’, as they say in Dogpatch. Quite profound, too.

Here is how “The New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary” (1993 edition) defines the shmoo: ‘A fictitious animal invented by the U.S. cartoonist Al Capp in 1948, represented as small, round, and ready to fulfil immediately any material need; a model or toy version of this.’

Yes, if you looked at it hungrily it would die out of a loving willingness to please you. It tasted like various meats depending upon the method of cooking you used. Its eyes made perfect suspender buttons. Its whiskers, perfect toothpicks. Its hide could be used as top-quality leather or, if cut more thickly, an excellent substitute for timber. Nobody needed to pay for entertainment anymore because Shmoon (the plural of Shmoo) were so very entertaining to watch frolic. Big Business saw the Shmoo as its greatest threat and wanted to wipe out its existence…

The Shmoo is the kind of symbol any pagan could certainly appreciate. As Capp wrote, ‘…[T]here is a real live Shmoo. This big earth itself will give us everything we want, just as the Shmoo does, if only we’d let it alone – if only, in our passion and hatred and intolerance, we don’t tear it apart.’ (“New Republic” magazine, March 21, 1949, p. 15) Hear, hear!

The drawing in “Li’l Abner” is truly impressive. There is a poetry in Al Capp’s line that I dare to suggest is at least as good as Pablo Picasso’s. Capp worked with ghost-illustrators, as was common practice in that era, and their work was generally excellent, too.

This is my 48th post (excluding that one that Blogger lost a while back) and the Shmoo debuted in 1948, so what ho! for really tenuously connected coincidences, eh? Anyways…

If you would like to read and find out more about the Shmoo I recommend “The Short Life And Happy Times of The Shmoo” (pictured here as published by The Overlook Press in 2002). This great book contains two Shmoo strip continuities by Al Capp, “The Life And Times Of The Shmoo”, which in its singular, 1948 publication was the first comic strip ever to attract ‘serious’ literary attention in the U.S.A. (and, indeed, the world?), and “The Return Of The Shmoo”. It also has an excellent introduction by Harlan Ellison.

Have fun!

25 Sexual Facts About Me

Darkneuro done gone and tagged me – my first tag ever! – so here goes…

25 Sexual Facts About Me:

1. I much prefer vaginal to anal sex.
2. I sometimes like to engage in non-sexual chitchat whilst fucking.
3. My favourite position is her astride in facing position.
4. On average I masturbate about once a week.
5. I’ve partaken in a double girl threesome a few times.
6. Apparently, according to popular opinion so to speak, I am good at performing cunnilingus.
7. I am, I believe, one of the few men in the world who has never had a bona-fide homosexual experience. Just never had the desire, personally. (I’ve kissed men as a dare but that cannot be counted as there was no sexual motivation or arousal involved.)
8. I have been busted, by a gay man, having sex. I think he was a bit repulsed at the sight.
9. I enjoy sex with many women (well, whenever I can!), not just my partner (…although that is the best, of course, and anyway a totally different experience.).
10. I have always found the women in MAD Magazine’s ‘The Lighter Side Of…’ sexually arousing.
11. I enjoy having a finger inserted and moved around between my foreskin and glans.
12. I do not find the so-called “super models” sexually appealing.
13. My most erogenous zone is my penis.
14. Shantoozy has nick-termed my penis, and she is the only person who ever has given it any kind of moniker. It’s not a name like Arthur or Harold or something horrible like that but rather an alternative to “the penis”, as in “the _____”.
15. I’ve never utilised the services of any kind of sex worker.
16. I would possibly like to utilise the services of a sex worker someday, but only if I deemed it ethical.
17. I’d like to be able to experience having the body of a woman for at least a day.
18. I had a dream two nights ago where in I had two penises and was only just realising that that was not the norm.
19. I believe that sex with Darkneuro would be fun.
20. I try to be upfront about wanting or liking to have sex with someone.
21. I don’t ever want to have sex with Rupert! I’ve seen it and it is not a pleasant sight. :-)
22. I don’t see the point in dancing with someone unless it can be followed by sex.
23. Sometimes I prefer quickies.
24. Sometimes I prefer spending a long time on foreplay.
25. I would wear a pith helmet during sex if asked.

Well, I don’t have many people on mi blogroll to tag. Rupert writes enough about sex as it is. There’s no way that scaredy cat Hissy Kitty would do it. Um, let’s see… I’ll just tag Shantoozy this time around.