The Wiz, Lacan, and the Flaming Ginger Son.

Earlier this week I went to visit a planet in the more well-to-do part of the galaxy. The planet in question is ruled by a flame-haired entrepreneur with steely eyes and steelier ideals. He does not laugh at much, and when he does you know it is funny. He has a sense of humour dryer than dead twigs in the desert sun.

My reason for going was that I had been hired in one of my many capacities by an insane artist who lives on one of the planet's moons. This artist told me that he had been slowly swamped over the years by letters and documents, and he needed me to help him sort it all out. I mutated myself into a hooded vulture woman so as to maximise my abilites as a filing cleric.

I docked on the planet, but did not see anyone when I got there, apart from the mechanical pilot on my shuttle to the moon, who was smoking roll-your-own tobacco mixed with rubber.
Looking out of the window as I neared the sattelite, I saw what appeared to be fairly large model skyscrapers and other buildings. It was only when I disembarked that I realised they were in fact towering stacks of paper.

The artist was no-where to be seen. I called out:
"Oi, oi! Mad Rodge!", but there was no reply.
I began to roam the streets and small alleyways between the paper stacks, singing 'Ease on Down the Road' (from the 1978 musical version of The Wizard of Oz, starring Diana Ross and Michael Jackson) at the top of my lungs.

Soon, "Mmph!" I heard coming from somewhere inside one of the paper piles.
" Get ’em up, goin’ down, ease on down?" I sang.
"Mmmph, mmpphwa!" I heard. I scanned the place with my eyes and soon I saw it. The top of a tufty head was sticking up through the surface of a glacier of reciepts. It resembled the top of a turnip growing out of the ground. I braced myself, took hold of the tuft, and pulled with all my might.
'Ploooooooooop!' Out of the mound came Mad Rodge, the insane artist.
"Cause there maybe times
When you think you lost your mind,
But just Ease on down, ease on down the road!" he sang heartily and did a little twirl on his tippy-toes. The two of us linked arms and skipped onwards for a bit, until he stopped, out of breath.

Once the joy of skipping had worn off, Rodge looked up and around himself. Paper skyscrapers.
He raised his arms in the air and shook his fists at the sky.
"Oh woe, oh woe!" he cried.
"Aah, yes, I see your point." I said.
Rodge sighed. "If I only had a heart, a brain, and some courage, I could deal with this much better." and he plucked a double bass from inside a one of the paper bungalows. He played three mournful notes.
"But hang on a minute," I said, "Aren't you an artist?"
He looked at me dolefuly. "Whats your point?" he inquired.
"Well, you could just make a heart, a brain and some courage out of paper mache couldn't you? And they would be even better than the real thing because they would be an artist's interpretation of a brain, a heart and some courage, or lack thereof. Besides, don't artists thrive on adversity and woe? Your work would contain the eternal themes of desire and lack.
It is not surprising that, according to Lacan, we are not even in control of our own desires since those desires are themselves as separated from our actual bodily needs as the phallus is separated from any biological penis. In a sense, then, our desire is never properly our own, but is created through fantasies that are caught up in cultural ideologies rather than material sexuality. For this reason, according to Lacan, the command that the superego directs to the subject is, of all things, "Enjoy!" That which we may believe to be most private and rebellious (our desire) is, in fact, regulated, even commanded, by the superego.
Our desires therefore necessarily rely on lack, since fantasy, by definition, does not correspond to anything in the real. "

"My God, you are right!" he exclaimed, and whipped up some paper sculptures.
"I can sell these for millions!" he whooped, and danced the trylobite.
"Actually, I was just thinking, wouldn't it be a more pure art-form to just - Burn this Disco Down?" I suggested. "The spectacle you know, dont forget the spectacle."
"Hmm, all this paper, it would be quite a sight." he said, rubbing his chin
"Okay then! lets do it!" he hallooed, and we jumped on the shuttle.

Shooting off into space, we fired a 10-tonne sparkler bomb back at the face of the moon.
"KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"
went years of letters to the editor, scribbled notes to himself, and reciepts for chocolate sante bars.
The moon was a new sun.

Back on the main planet there was a festival going on in honour of this amazing firey sight. Scores of dancing ladies and pink elephants and men with big drums were shakin' they asses on down the road.
We bumped into the flame-haired ruler. He thanked us for the extra heat we had generated on the planet, effectively turning a winter day into a summer one.
"So what shall we all do for the rest of the day?" I asked.
"I'm going to have a dance and bang some gongs!" said mad Rodge.
"Good, I'll watch you while I get really drunk on whiskey tea." I said
"Hmmm," said the ginger entrepreneur, stroking his chin.
"I think I might get myself a tan."
Oh, how we chuckled.

Oh Yes, The Love Swing, Tra-La-la.

Too Drunk too Fuck Funk Chuck Chunks

What am I going to do about myself? (doo doo doo doo)

I ruin relationships because I can't trust anyone, I won't trust ANYONE.

Previously I have not been in relationships worth saving, but now I am, what can I do to stop myself from ruining it?

I may aswell ask the internet, its like asking the stars, but with the chance of some intelligent reply without a decoder.

Lesbianarama

I.
This weekend we decided to push some rusty cobwebs from the atmosphere around our planet, and go offworld for a while exploring in the tin bucket we call a ship.

Having eaten a meal of delicious fermented marmite I was quite drunk and almost smashed into several stars, belatedly noticing that they were in fact light-years away.

What we found after a few months of exploring uncharted territory and of Kunst rattling on about something or other to do with Nostrodamus, was a new planet.

The planet, Kunst soon realised was not at all new, he had had dealings there when he was but a worm-fish sprat, but rather it was changed beyond all recognition.

It was called, "Lesbianarama".

Or that was what the sign said on the way in. 'Lesbianarama, No turning back.'
We peered at each-other in trepidation.


II.
On setting foot on the crusty surface we noticed what at first appeared to be a large party of drunken teenage boys.
"Roaaaaaar!' they said on sighting us, and we were not a little afraid.
It seemed however that their intentions were more peaceful than we at first assumed, though not at all gentle.
They swarmed upon us and shook us heartily by our hands, as though they had noticed our inside organs were inconvenient to our progress through life, and were trying to rid us of them by virtue of a good jiggle.
"Bro! You came all this way to see US? Awesome!" they shouted, obviously trying to find an echo in the caves of our ears.
"Sit DOWN!" And they picked us both up bodily and dumped us on the hard ground.


The planet was cold, and the group of teenage boys were sitting gathered around a campfire. They toasted their fingers as they sang melodiously, "Oi, Oi, Oi!".
That they had extremely large bollocks was apparent by the way they sat with their legs spread far apart. I thought to myself that it must be very inconvenient to have testicles so large that you had to take up more than five times the width of your body just to be comfortable.
We had been invited to stay for dinner. Kunst and I gave them an offering we had bought with us of local edible delicacies of our land.

Ten hours passed and I began to become famished, having only eaten a breakfast of fermented marmite in the last few months. There was no sign of the food we had bought with us, one of the gruff little dudes had secreted it somewhere hours earlier.
"When's dinner?" I finally asked.
"Oh, yeah, right" said one, remebering, and he went off to catch an animal.
A while later he came back with a strange furry stoat-like animal slung around his neck.
I was rather impressed until he said: "I'll have to get you to skin and gut this, baby-doll, I don't do that sorta stuff." Well, alright. I got stuck in. I was really hungry.

As I was ripping shreds off the animal, I accidentaly broke the ceramic saucer they had given me to drink water out of. Obviously you only get one chance in this town, for my apologies and pleas for another drinking vessel fell on deaf ears.

It was when we were finally eating boiled stoat that I noticed something strange: these boys had breasts. The more I looked the more surprised I was at not having noticed earlier, there they really were, big bulbous bazoongas. One of them caught me looking and winked.

Well, and then I understood.
"Oh," I thought "Lesbianarama".

But these creatures were like no lesbians I have ever met before.
As the night wore on they alternately had cuddling fests, clothed, semi-clothed and wholly nude, and vicious fights. They apparently were all sleeping with eachother, causing a crazy mish-mashed bubble-and-squeek of emotions to surface at different times.
It was strangely like being present at an orgy of rugby-loving alpha males with upper class bitchy girl-school alter egos.
"Fuck you, you stinking bitch!" one would scream, and then in the same breath "Ah, just jokes ya know mate, I'm just playin with ya, windin yaer up ya know, give us a hug." And the cycle of orgy-fight would begin again.

Well, things were getting pretty rough when me and peanut Kunst decided it was time to go.
The group was in various states of undress, and had begun to fight in earnest. I noticed one casualty whose midriff had been gouged with blunt fingernails, desperately trying to stop her lower intestine from spilling out onto her lap.
Without announcing our departure, we made a quiet run for it.
"Now!" I whispered, and we ducked into the surrounding foliage, chunks of scalp and teeth whizzing past our ears.

Once safely back in the ship, I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness we never have to go back there again!" I said.
"Oh," said Kunst "But we'll see them again quite soon. I invited them over to our planet for dinner next weekend."
I cant say I was surprised. Kunst likes a good bit of drama.

As we were leaving I noticed from the pilot's window that the lesbians had rected a large effigy in my honour, consisting of items of my clothing, the food we had donated to them, and my broken ceramic saucer. These items were all stacked on a large dias, and surrounded by slavegirls.

I dont know what it all means, but I suppose I will find out next week.

I'm just a wet muppet dog with a shaggable ass who is howling at the moon.

You Are Rain

You can be warm and sexy. Or cold and unwelcoming. Either way, you slowly bring out the beauty around you. You are best known for: your touch Your dominant state: changing

What Type of Weather Are You?

Your Porn Star Name Is...

Asslee Bendover

What's Your Porn Star Name?

You Are Rowlf the Dog

Mellow and serious, you enjoy time alone cultivating your talents. You're a cool dog, and you always present a relaxed vibe. A talented pianist, you can play almost anything - especially songs by Beethoven. "My bark is worse than my bite, and my piano playing beats 'em both."

The Muppet Personality Test

You Are The Moon

You represent the unconscious side of life, what happens in dreams. You are capable of great genius - but also of great madness. Emotions tend to be primal for you, both your fears and your fantasies. Your intuition is always right, listening to it is the difficult part. Your fortune: You are about to embark on a very important journey - and a very difficult one. Some of your deepest dreams will be realized, as well as some of your deepest nightmares. Follow your creativity and visions; stay away from your weaknesses. You are taking a voyage to the center of yourself, and you may be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.

What Tarot Card Are You?

IM BACK to front !

I have been gone, half gone and all the way gone recently. Did anyone notice?
My digital inter-face has been malfunctioning, but now I'm back. Notice me!
See me, I am big and tall. See my plume of delightful colours.
See my fearsome instruments of war and love! I am in my prime!
I will make the men fall in love with me, and the women quiver in fear, and fall in love with me!
But I am fast, and only the fastest will have a hope of catching my tail.
I am so fast that I can spend all my time sleeping and lying down, and still you will not catch up!
haha!
All the monkeys, Follow Me! We will do flips and twirls through space, and our sharp white teeth will glitter in the starlight!
It is time! It is space!
Who knows what it is! Who cares!
IS IT! IT IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I just have to have a nap first.

This Post is Dedicated to Gorillas Bananas

Tonight I witnessed some strange behaviour of the human variety.
I allowed my darling Jogged Knust to drag me along to some odd ritual where people were busy pretending to be themselves. Knust wanted to go there for the free relaxatives, and I decided to go there and sneer at people while filling my belly for free with horrible camel poos dressed up as delicious food.
The people were being shot with cameras, with the eaters drinkers and relaxers as a backdrop. The ladies had their lips painted bright colours to show that their vaginas were full and warm.
The men all looked like the ladies, though their facial vaginas weren't painted on. They all had only one dance move, either 'the snake' or 'the relaxed pelvic thrust with air drumming'.
I peeled the paint off one of them and discovered he was ten years old.