Hold it right there, buster!

Barbie's gotta gun. And she's heard just about enough!

That's right Ms. Savage! Step away from the blender. Gently, now...

No sudden moves. And keep your hands where I can see them.

As for you Doctor . . . Well, you certainly have got a point:

I don't know. Maybe something can be arranged.

What did you have in mind, Doctor?


Introspective DJs

Holy shit.

This is kind of awesome.

See if you don't agree.

And then just to wash it down:


Oh . . . Johnny

―Boris Vian

Il s'est levé à mon approche
Debout, il était bien plus petit
Je me suis dit c'est dans la poche
Ce mignon-là, c'est pour mon lit
Il m'arrivait jusqu'à l'épaule
Mais il était râblé comme tout
Il m'a suivie jusqu'à ma piaule
Et j'ai crié vas-y mon loup

Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Envole-moi au ciel... zoum!
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Moi j'aime l'amour qui fait boum!

Il n'avait plus que ses chaussettes
Des belle jaunes avec des raies bleues
Il m'a regardé d'un oeil bête
Il comprenait rien, le malheureux
Et il m'a dit l'air désolé
Je ne ferais pas de mal à une mouche
Il m'énervait! Je l'ai giflé
Et j'ai grincé d'un air farouche

Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Je ne suis pas une mouche... zoum!
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Moi j'aime l'amour qui fait boum!

Voyant qu'il ne s'excitait guère
Je l'ai insulté sauvagement
J'y ai donné tous les noms de la terre
Et encore d'autres bien moins courants
Ça l'a réveillé aussi sec
Et il m'a dit arrête ton charre
Tu me prends vraiment pour un pauvre mec
Je vais t'en refiler, de la série noire

Tu me fais mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Pas avec des pieds... zing!
Tu me fais mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
J'aime pas l'amour qui fait bing!

Il a remis sa petite chemise
Son petit complet, ses petits souliers
Il est descendu l'escalier
En me laissant une épaule démise
Pour des voyous de cette espèce
C'est bien la peine de faire des frais
Maintenant, j'ai des bleus plein les fesses
Et plus jamais je ne dirai

Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Envole-moi au ciel... zoum!
Fais-moi mal, Johnny, Johnny, Johnny
Moi j'aime l'amour qui fait boum!


He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)

Don't stare too deeply into the eyes of Phil Spector. Something to watch with your Folgers and Frangelico.


The good Doctor spared no effort

The campaign must go on:
"People just don't understand that softness equals ecological destruction."

"The tenderness of the delicate American buttock is causing more environmental devastation than the country's love of gas-guzzling cars, fast food or McMansions"

The gentleman from Seattle rises to rebut

May I remind the esteemed Doctor Carlson that the most tender and delicate of buttocks have long been made right here in America and that this is a source of great pride for our country?

Surely future generations will not look down their noses at us for taking steps to protect the fine, cleft asses of the likes of Jennifer Aniston, Drew Barrymore, Jennifer Connelly, Ginnifer Goodwin, and Scarlett Johansson?

Good god, man, would you put the preservation of the earth above that of Beauty Itself? We can always plant more trees, but how often are they going to have anything like this at the top of their stems? Photobucket

Are you so mean spirited you would ask Jennifer Aniston to rub recycled pulp betwixt and between the cheeks of her ass?

Oh, good Doctor jazzolog, say 'tis not so!

Can you look this good woman in the eye and tell her you would choose to be rough with her tender hindquarters?


If so, you're a hard-hearted man, if not a cad, sir!

And I don't mind telling you, the ladies are very upset.

I hope you sleep well...

Gird Your Loins!

The mystery of the werewolves in the attic is nothing compared to a new crisis rumbling through the lower regions. Wulfshead patrons historically are tough and on the front lines. Any question of a softening of anal fortitude must be nipped in the to speak. We are on the cutting edge! And so custodial services, harken to the latest mandate for our virgin forests~~~
"The tenderness of the delicate American buttock is causing more environmental devastation than the country's love of gas-guzzling cars, fast food or McMansions, according to green campaigners. At fault, they say, is the US public's insistence on extra-soft, quilted and multi-ply products when they use the bathroom....
"'Future generations are going to look at the way we make toilet paper as one of the greatest excesses of our age. Making toilet paper from virgin wood is a lot worse than driving Hummers in terms of global warming pollution.' Making toilet paper has a significant impact because of chemicals used in pulp manufacture and cutting down forests.
"A campaign by Greenpeace seeks to raise consciousness among Americans about the environmental costs of their toilet habits and counter an aggressive new push by the paper industry giants to market so-called luxury brands."
Let those aggressive paper giants push away---unggghhkk. In The Wulfshead head we will push back!



The gentleman from Seattle snaps his fingers for the bouncer



Old wives' tales! Peasant superstition! Surely, the gentleman can't be serious. What, giving credence to such nonsense?!

It can happen that sometimes, when some patrons have had too much to drink... they fall asleep, you see. And sometimes some of the tellies in the lounge...well, sir, they can be pretty loud. What some people hear while they're asleep, they hear in their dream, sir.

If you ask me, I'd say that what those patrons heard had more to do with their subconscious mind than it had with The Wulfshead...

Old longings nomadic leap,
Chafing at custom's chain;
Again from its brumal sleep
Wakens the ferine strain . . .

That's what John Myers O'Hara says, sir.
The call of the Wyld, sir.


Shaken not stirred

Sounds like good advice to me.



Bruising hearts collecting gloom


Ash Wednesday

We only live, only suspire
Consumed by either fire or fire.
---T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding


How far is too far to go?


mocksure: Brangie Over?

mocksure: Brangie Over?

It must be . . .

That's right . . .


I have brought some beads . . .


Sounds like . . .

One translation, by Joji Hirota:

Kokiriko's length measures
Seven and a half suns
The long side reaches
To the kimono's sleeves cuff

The window frame sounds like
Dedereko den
That frame also sounds like
Dedereko den

In the mountain opposite
The Bulbuls are crying
They cry and fall
They cry and rise

The window frame sounds like...

In the mountain opposite
What is that thing that is shining?
Is it the stars, the fireflies or
the gold bugs glittering?

The window frame sounds like...

The Kokiriko is an instrument made of old bamboo that was used on the roofs of old farmhouses. Its length is 7 and a half sun, a traditional measure (about 23 cm - any longer and it would catch in the kimono sleeves.) The Sasara consists of a succession of rectangular wooden slats strung together with a rope .



We have a soul at times *

I value that little phrase "I don't know" so highly. It's small, but it flies on mighty wings. It expands our lives to include spaces within us as well as the outer expanses in which our tiny Earth hangs suspended.
---Wislawa Szymborska

In a debate that has all too often been contaminated with dogmatism and where political or "spiritual" leaders and wannabe gurus of all stripes parade before us and lecture us about "Truth" (whatever "Truth" is for whomever it is who happens to be "uttering" it at the time), it's a rare voice that has the courage to confess the limits of what we really know, and remind us instead that progress flows from uncertainty and doubt.

In her 1996 Nobel Prize lecture, Polish poet Szymborska commented that for people who know, "what they know is enough for them once and for all. They don't want to find out about anything else, since that might diminish the force of their arguments."

As for those who don't know..."their work becomes one continuous adventure ... A swarm of new questions emerge from every problem they solve. Whatever inspiration is, it's born from a continuous 'I don't know.'"

* A Few Words On The Soul
by Wislawa Szymborska

We have a soul at times.
No one's got it non-stop,
for keeps.

Day after day,
year after year
may pass without it.

it will settle for awhile
only in childhood's fears and raptures.
Sometimes only in astonishment
that we are old.

It rarely lends a hand
in uphill tasks,
like moving furniture,
or lifting luggage,
or going miles in shoes that pinch.

It usually steps out
whenever meat needs chopping
or forms have to be filled.

For every thousand conversations
it participates in one,
if even that,
since it prefers silence.

Just when our body goes from ache to pain,
it slips off-duty.

It's picky:
it doesn't like seeing us in crowds,
our hustling for a dubious advantage
and creaky machinations make it sick.

Joy and sorrow
aren't two different feelings for it.
It attends us
only when the two are joined.

We can count on it
when we're sure of nothing
and curious about everything.

Among the material objects
it favors clocks with pendulums
and mirrors, which keep on working
even when no one is looking.

It won't say where it comes from
or when it's taking off again,
though it's clearly expecting such questions.

We need it
but apparently
it needs us
for some reason too.

Translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh.

Strong relativism and openness are well known to be important dimensions in the temporal sphere at the basis of Wislawa Szymborska's poetry. The way in which she links the past with the present, the present with what is to come and the event/experience of a moment with the weightless dimension of eternity is what gives her poetry its greatest strength.
---Malgorzata Anna Packalén: A Domestication of Death: The Poetic Universe of Wislawa Szymborska

(Reprinted from a previous post, with Tlingel's permission)

© Illustration: from a "A Bit of Madness," by Mosdi and Civiello



Wilhelm Freddie, Meditation over den antinazistiske kærlighed – 1936 (Meditation on Anti-Nazi Love)


Did you ever have the feeling someone had hidden cameras in The Wulfshead?

You know, that night we had Dr. Johnson in for the lecture on marital advice.


"It's like the Lotto: You can't get saved if you don't play!"

"I am preaching the gospel of 'I don't know'!" -- Bill Maher

We own a few documentaries in this house: The Corporation; Outfoxed; Fahrenheit 9/11. This last Friday, we splurged on a copy of Religulous. We had seen it at the local movie theater with a packed audience - all of them as eager as we were to see something so taboo challenged. One scene in particular really cracked me up.

In an interview with the Reverend Dr. Jeremiah Cummings (a former member of Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes, and not an actual doctor), Cummings tells Maher about a man he is counseling in his church. He says,"I had a young man who was about to go crazy over a woman, he was about to kill hisself, you know? I said, that kind of passion you should have for God! I said, I said, turn that to God and see what happens." The camera cuts away to a scene in the middle east; a car with, what one can only guess, a suicide bomber inside, drives by and explodes in a great black cloud.

I am certain of very little in matters of faith. The only thing that has remained unchanged in my search is doubt. Most people are afraid to examine what they believe, when confronted with the questions of someone who is sincerely uncertain. My own mother used to hang up on me because she thought I was attacking HER; even now, communications are not exactly perfect with us, but she's learned to at least stay on the phone and listen. It's been hard work to get here.

Remember the annoying religious kid in school who carried their Bible everywhere with them, wore T-shirts with scriptures and phrases like "His Pain, Your Gain"? They listened to Sandi Patti and Micheal W. Smith on their Walkman, and read all the Frank Peretti novels? They showed up to school exhausted from a church service the night before that lasted until midnight? Yeah, that was me. I was brainwashed.

Now I'm in the "great untapped minority of this nation" - the 16% of America who considers themselves unaffiliated with any religion. Maher points out that Jews comprise a minority of only 1.4%, Blacks 12.2%, Homosexuals 3%, and surprisingly, NRA members come to 1.3%. If nothing else, this information makes me feel a little less alone in the world.


The Human Being is always the center of interest

Human beings are not "commodities" or "resources", but are creative and social beings in a productive enterprise.

In a country like the US, where most employees have practically no rights to speak of (i.e., fewer rights than most people generally have in Western Europe, especially in heavily unionized nations such as France and Germany, but more rights than people do in, say, India---so, everything is relative, I suppose), it used to be that corporations whose Human Resources department was tainted with unfair labor practices, might eventually acquire a bad reputation. For those corporations to which such things mattered, this could prove inconvenient in the long run, as it could make it hard for some of those companies to get positive press, recruit new talent and close new rounds of financing. This is the reason why "keeping up appearances" rapidly became foremost to most corporations and is today the prime directive of most Human Resources.

Not anymore...

For the moment being, the "economy" has freed them. Companies that are making layoffs are generally perceived as doing so out of necessity and more often than not will be given a pat on the back for being financially prudent.

And so, it is no surprise that corporations have been using the current economic downturn as an excuse to shed the workers they feel like getting rid of. The current economic climate allows them to do so without any real fear of wrongful termination lawsuits or concerns over any negative press or too much legal scrutiny around the choice of what employees they are letting go.
What are you saying? No, of course not -- there isn’t any ageism at Paean Knaves Inc. Besides, we have made sure to layoff that token young new recruit -- the CEO didn’t like her very much anyway. Not his type, you know. Would you believe that she is one of those -- an environmental activist. She once suggested that we should use recycled paper - the nerve of the girl. Look people, we are not breaking any law, here. We are Paean Knaves. We are not laying off “people,” we are cutting “positions." Those are hard times for everyone. Nothing personal. It’s not us. It’s the “economy. Yes, we are currently opening a new branch in Cedar Rapids.......what has that got to do with anything?”
Now corporations don’t have to go to the trouble of explaining themselves when they shed workers. They just get lumped in with the others who are also “thinking ahead.”

Some Managing Directors can hardly contain themselves:
Layoff “B” players and hire “A” players on the cheap. “If you have B players on your team that you look at getting rid of, this is a perfect excuse to start getting rid of those folks. If there are A players that you are looking to hire, go back and put down an offer that is not necessarily what they were asking and you’ll probably get those people to join the company”.
For some, it’s just a game:

On Thursday February 12, one US firm after another lined up to announce layoffs to take effect on Friday the 13th, out of all dates.

Why Friday the 13th?

One rumor is that a group of managing partners had gotten together and struck a gentlemen's agreement to make this the day for announcing firm layoffs. The theory is that an individual corporation won't take nearly the public relations hit it otherwise might if it were one of only a couple of corporations to announce firings within a given week.

Others say it is not so and that the Friday the 13th timing was just an unfortunate and unforeseen coincidence. What else could it have been? Their explanation is that no corporation wanted to be so heartless and inhumane as to fire people during the holidays, and so the layoff announcement had been withheld during December and early January.

I don't know. I heard that Human Resources have been helping employees out during this period of job cuts by including in their separation packet a survival guide on the five stages of loss after a layoff and the ways to cope with it.

Who says that corporations have no heart?

The Human Being is always the center of interest.



I've kept them anyway

That communications can bring hope.

Perhaps that is true - - I am much too literal

That night, you told us how you have been creating new worlds since you were 19.

You want to throw them away, but I have been secretly saving them.



Parody, or...


we're gonna lose our way going home


Riding to an Unknown Destination in Style

Asking, "How did I get here?"
is usually a question I regret,
so I just take it at face value.
It seems I awoke to this consciousness
rather abruptly in one sense,
but when I think back on the matter,
there are flickers of recognition
that seem to want to make their way
into my perceptual field.

I do not let them.

"It's more fun that way,"
are the words I believe...
at my own peril.


That's not a word in my book,
but rather three pasted together
rather haphazardly
(a finer word than this, however, there is not).

"You have a book?" asked Noble.

Ohhh, you bet I do.

Now you've gone and Donne it

Whoever guesses, thinks, or dreams, he knows
Who is my mistress, wither by this curse ;
Him, only for his purse
May some dull whore to love dispose,
And then yield unto all that are his foes ;
May he be scorn'd by one, whom all else avoid,
Forswear all bitters spoken from his hyoid
With fear of missing, shame of getting, as I, paranoid.

With apologies to the master.


Medical Advice Up Your Nose

The Cow with the Subtile Nose
Oil and enamel on canvas
Good advice today at Keillor's Writer's Almanac~~~

Doesn't Matter What It Looks Like
by Hal Sirowitz
"When you have blown your nose,
you should not open your handkerchief
and inspect it, as though pearls or rubies
had dropped out of your skull."
The Book of Manners (1958)
After you have blown your nose,
Father said, it's not polite to look inside
your handkerchief to see what it looks like.
You're not a doctor. What's more important
is getting the handkerchief back into your pocket
without staining your pants. There are some things
it's better not to look at. It should be left
to your imagination, but if you have
a strong desire to look you can always
find pictures of it in a medical book.
"Doesn't Matter What It Looks Like" by Hal Sirowitz, from Father Said. © Soft Skull Press, 2004.
Furthermore, latest research demonstrates you never should blow your nose. What happens is your blood pressure shoots skyhigh, and mucus is driven into your sinus cavities where you may infect yourself even worse than you already are. It is better to let it dribble out, and keep dabbing your nose (mustache, beard, lips, chin) with your hanky as necessary.
If you have a cold and must blow your nose, do it delicately one nostril at a time. And don't look, even if something huge came out. And best not to ask the waitress if it looks all clear up there. Retire to the restroom for inspection.



Spleen and Ideal

BETSY: I looked at those great, glowing stars.

I felt the warm wind on my cheek. I breathed deep and every bit of me inside myself said, "How beautiful!"

PAUL: Everything seems beautiful because you don't understand.

Those flying fish -- they're not leaping for joy. They're jumping in terror. Bigger fish want to eat them. That luminous water -- it takes its gleam from millions of tiny dead bodies. The glitter of putrescence. There's no beauty here. Only death and decay.

BETSY: You can't really believe that.

(A falling stars passes by)

PAUL: Everything good dies here -- even the stars...

The dialogue, above, is from "I walked with a Zombie" (1943):
The movie was partially inspired by Jane Eyre and is not a "zombie movie" in the common sense of the term. Ambiguity is at the core of the film and it is never established for certain if Jessica is a zombie or not, or that Voodoo magic is really effective:
I Walked with a Zombie ... presents a complex picture of human relations and offers multiple explanations for events portrayed without definitively endorsing any of them. Frequently it is not even clear whether something is real or imaginary, or whose version of events should be accepted. Even the film’s conclusion, although satisfying, leaves room for interpretation about what really happened and why.
---Sarah Boslaugh, Not coming to a theater near you





If I may say so, sir, the gentleman from Seattle is really not helping with comments such as this:

Why, there are patrons, here, of an impressionable nature, who might get...ideas...

If you know, what I mean, sir.

Besides, we wouldn't want some our most recent visitors to get the wrong idea . . .




The Ancient Art of Drink Mixing

Many ancient arts are viewed as a form of spiritual practice. This is true, of course, of many well respected traditions, including chadō (the Japanese tea ceremony), calligraphy, and various martial arts from karate-do to iaido, but the idea is almost overwhelming here within the bartending community, and so it is whispered that The Wulfshead's drink-mixing tradition is a practice which may take one closer to enlightenment.

Case in point: drink-mixing just like Iaidō and various kata from other styles or schools can have exotic names: Moon Rises Over Water, Folding the Fan, Grapevine Twines, Lizard in the Thornbush, Whirlwind on the Mountain . . . And it often takes a competent bartender or an experienced martial artist to tell which is which.

However, one had better keep in mind that while different drinks can help evoke one's spirit, they are not the spirit itself.

Suffice it to say that some drinkers just look prettier than others.

Consider this:...

A "Green Dragon" is an alcoholic beverage made by leaching the leaves or stems of the cannabis plant in a high-proof alcohol, most commonly vodka. The THC dissolves into the alcohol resulting in a dark green or brown liquid.

This is a "Green Dragon" and next to it is a "Dancing Buddha":

And this is Chad Vader after one "Green Dragon Dancing with the Buddha."

Any questions?


So many questions . . .

Do or do not . . .

There is no try.


The gentleman from Seattle wonders about the Wulfshead's policy on the posting of bills, and decides to try his luck

Guess that Movie.

Come one, come all.

It could happen to you

Here is Seth Schiesel’s own experience. Thankfully, a fable is all it was:

I was an honorable man when I began my quest for ultimate power.

In my youth I was a hero. I put others’ needs before my own. I sacrificed my body to protect the innocent. Lionized far and wide, I returned home after years battling my nation’s enemies, a paragon of virtue.

Then I turned to politics. I married an aristocrat. I built a fortune in the beer business. And as my wealth grew, so did my quest for power. With the highest office in the land within my grasp, I was seduced into betraying my principles. I turned from the path of righteousness and fell into corruption. I sacrificed my honor in desperate lust to become king.

That’s how I have played Fable II, the delightful and provocative role-playing game from Microsoft for the Xbox 360. How you play is entirely up to you.

More Here: Date With Destiny of Your Choosing


Mind If I Smoke?


Good morning Wulfshead

"...we came out of a cave, and we looked over the hill, and we saw fire, and we crossed the ocean, and we pioneered the West, and we took to the sky. The history of Man is hung on a timeline of exploration. And this is what’s next.”
–Sam, The West Wing, “Galileo.”



Lady Goldberry, sir?

Ah! She told me that the gentleman would ask. She said that she knows how to take care of herself and that the gentleman worries too much about her...

She is in the Game Lounge, sir.

Oh, no, sir, she is not playing poker with Dr. Zaius. She wouldn't. Not since last time, sir.

No, I don't know what kind of a game it is, but it looks very lively. Lady Persephone and a few other ladies are over there with her, and they are all speaking French, and having a great deal of fun. No I couldn't join them, sir. I wanted to, but apparently it doesn't appear that I meet the proper requirements---whatever that is, sir. I have no idea what they mean.

Lady Goldberry? Oh, sure, sir, she is quite qualified: very "comme il faut." That's what they say, sir.

Sir? Where are you going, sir?


Now comes the hard part, baby... you suppose you can sing "Five Pennies" while Pops and I sing something else?

- Girl: Sure, I can sing as good as he can.

- Louis: And who can't?


Moominland Midwinter

Now came spring, but not at all as he had imagined it coming. He had thought that it would deliver him from a strange and hostile world, but now it was simply a continuation of his new experiences, of something he had already conquered and made his own....

....Too-ticky was having a spring cleaning in the bathing-house.

She rubbed all the green and red panes bright for the first summer fly, she hung out the bath-gowns in the sun and tried to repair the rubber Hemulen.

"Now the bathing-house'll be a bathing-house again," she said. "When the summer's hot and green, and you lie on your tummy on the warm boards of the landing-stage and listen to the waves chuckling and clucking..."

"Why didn't you talk like that in winter," said Moomintroll. "It'd have been such a comfort. Remember, I said once: 'There were a lot of apples here.' And you just replied: 'But now here's a lot of snow.' Didn't you understand that I was melancholy?"

Too-ticky shrugged her shoulders. "One has to discover everything for oneself," she replied. "And get over it all alone."

--Tove Jansson


I'm Through With Love


Midnight Wine

"We read to know we are not alone.”
- C.S. Lewis

I have endured much to reach this place in time
Yet I have not been sick, nor mad,
Nor ruined in a wreck.
And yet I feel I have.
There is a thing in me, the walls of cells are thin,
My veins are glass, my heart the merest whim
Of beat and pause and beat,
Deaths in the street are mine. I would not have it so.
I know much more than I would want to know.
The breakfast headlines tell me of a war,
I know they die out there; put down my spoon.
Men land on the moon tonight, I know their joy,
The girl in me goes with them as they tread
Far overhead on dust world beyond reach
They teach my tired blood to love again.
There's rain in downtown Peru tonight,
I wash my face in it. In Indo China, one more massacre,
I run a race in it and lose.
You see?
I cannot choose to be or not to be.