Hey Mister DJ

I deejayed for a friend's birthday party on Friday night. I had a lot of fun. Fortunately, so did everybody else.

It was one of those big family - and - friends gatherings, where the ages go from seven to seventy, and I managed to keep everyone dancing and happy for six hours, give or take a few glitches. It was a very hot night and my fingers got very slippery; several times I cut to the next next record two minutes early. But it wasn't hard work. And there were good looking women being uninhibited, and that wasn't hard work, either.

At midnight, we went out onto the village green, and launched wish lanterns into the night sky. I hadn't seen wish lanterns before. They're like Barbie doll sized hot air balloons, with a lump of solid paraffin where the basket would be. You have to pat them and pamper then for a bit, until they heat up properly, then they suddently become very buoyant and rise up into the sky. It was a good birthday. We were all very happy.

Happy Birthday Billie Holiday

"If I'm going to sing like someone else,
then I don't need to sing at all."

Billie Holiday, born April 7th, 1915

Dr Seuss Day

“Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

Today is Dr Seuss' 105th anniversary. So you know what to do, people. Put down the Internet, and go and read a book.

“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you'll go.”

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi Hapus

Today is St David's Day, the national day of Wales.

Adrian Mitchell 1932 - 2008

Adrian Mitchell died on Saturday. His poem, 'Human Beings' was voted the poem people would most like to see sent into space.

Look at your hands
your beautiful useful hands
you’re not an ape
you’re not a parrot
you’re not a slow loris
or a smart missile
you’re human

not british
not american
not israeli
not palestinian
you’re human

not catholic
not protestant
not muslim
not hindu
you’re human

we all start human
we end up human
human first
human last
we’re human
or we’re nothing
nothing but bombs
and poison gas
nothing but guns
and torturers
nothing but slaves
of Greed and War
if we’re not human

look at your body
with its amazing systems
of nerve-wires and blood canals
think about your mind
which can think about itself
and the whole universe
look at your face
which can freeze into horror
or melt into love
look at all that life
all that beauty
you’re human

they are human
we are human
let’s try to be human
dance!

Happy Canada Day

A very happy Canada Day to my Canadian friends.
(and to the lovely Dash, if she's in Canada)

I hope your beavers are all buzzing!

So, farewell then...

Yves Saint - Laurent (1936 - 2008)
He invented women wearing trousers.


Whaaaat?
You mean, somebody had to invent that? It didn't just happen? It wasn't always there?

Yep... and make it fashionable, and chic and socially acceptable.
Fortunately, YSL did that.



The world is a better place.

Happy Birthday Dash!

Today in Blogland is the festival of Dashmas

the birthday of the lovely Dash

(picture posed by model)

So add a dash of cordial to your drink

and celebrate with me!

Beth Ditto

I approve of this.
I really think it ought to be encouraged.

Beltane Fire

The start of May marks the Celtic festival of Beltane - the festival of bright or sacred fire, known as Walpurgisnacht in Germany. It was the beginning of summer in the old religion; people would burn their winter bedding (so much easier than laundering it) lead the animals to the summer pastures, and make sacrifices for a good harvest.

Every five years the Highland Celts would sacrifice humans, usually convicts and prisoners of war. They were either shot with arrows, or burnt alive in huge wicker men.

May Blossoms

May is the month of birthdays, including mine, my mum's, and many of my lovely friends and heroes.

Today, I'm starting the month by offering up big love to my friend I,LTV, who got me into this blogging malarkey to begin with.

Mwah mwah darling, love you lots, have a fabulous day.

A Subaltern's Love Song

Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!

Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness of joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won,
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.

Her father's euonymus shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.

The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.

On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts,
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
And westering, questioning settles the sun,
On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.

By roads "not adopted", by woodlanded ways,
She drove to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
I can hear from the car park the dance has begun,
Oh! Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!

Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
Above us the intimate roof of the car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice.

And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
We sat in the car park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

-- John Betjeman

Superheroes and Lingerie

We all know nowadays that a woman can do everything a man can, but when she's out on the mean streets of New York City, saving lives and bringing villains to justice, a woman needs to feel confident and comfortable. That's right: even more than the men, today's female superheroes need really good knickers.

And since they don't have that oddball pants-worn-on-the-outside trend that the boys have, that means comfortable active wear lingerie, that adapts and stretches, and doesn't bite, cut or rub, even when you're leaping a tall building or lifting a locomotive off a small child. Or hurting men.

Diana Lance, a.k.a. the Black Canary, is a member of the Justice League of America, and, I must say, always very well turned out. Recently, she married fellow super-hero Green Arrow. So DC Comics have taken the trouble to raise awareness of the feminine side of being a superhero by publishing the Black Canary Wedding Planner, in which all the ladies of the Justice League of America go on a hen party together, and sashay down to Rigby and Peller to choose some really nice outfits.

I'm linking to the pictures courtesy of Robyn at "Girls Read Comics And They're Pissed" who thought that the girls' musculature wasn't well developed (I agree with that; I like to see a bit of bicep on a girl, and so does Heidi the Chickenlady) and the whole scene was a little bit stylised and homoerotic, and aimed at 14 year old boys.

Well, maybe it was, but Batman and Robin always seemed pretty homoerotic to me, too. I hope that some of the readers managed to pick up some present buying tips for later life.

When A Man Hasn't Been Kissed

When I haven't been kissed in a long time,
I walk behind well-dressed women
on cold, December mornings and shovel
the steamy exhalations pluming from their lips
down my throat with both hands, hoping
a single molecule will cling to my lungs.

When I haven't been kissed in a long time,
I sneak into the ladies room of a fancy restaurant,
dig into the trashcan for a napkin
where a woman checked her lipstick,
then go home, light candles, put on Barry White,
and press the napkin all over my body.

When I haven't been kissed in a long time,
I start thinking leeches are the most romantic
creatures, cause all they want to do is kiss.
If only someone invented a kinder, gentler leech,
I'd paint it bright pink and pretend
Winona Ryder's lips crawled off her face,
up my thigh, and were sucking on my swollen

bicep. When I haven't been kissed
in a long time, I create civil disturbances,
then insult the cops who show up,
till one of them grabs me by the collar
and hurls me up against the squad car,
so I can remember, at least for a moment,
what it's like to be touched.

Jeffrey McDaniel

Happy Easter!

Today is Easter Day, when Christians celebrate the death of Jesus and his triumphant resurrection in the form of a chocolate bunny rabbit. Why a bunny rabbit, you may ask? And why the fascination with eggs? Well, like many of the good bits of Christianity, Easter is a pagan festival that was re-appropriated and rebranded to help spread the good word.

Bunny rabbits are important, because they shag all the time (they do it like rabbits, in fact) and shagging is a powerful symbol of optimism and hope. It cheers you up when you feel miserable, helps get to rid of your hangover, and it can be even be used for making babies.

According to the Venerable Bede, the name of Easter comes from Eostre, an Anglo-Saxon goddess whose festival was celebrated at the time of the Spring Equinox. Eostre was the goddess of the dawn, and the word 'East' comes from her name. She probably also had something to do with the word 'oestrogen'.

So: it's Easter, and we can expect to find horny women demanding sex and chocolate. Hurray!

Easter: A Health Warning

As Christians around the world prepare to celebrate Easter, the government of the Philippines has warned the faithful of the possible health risks of overly vigorous religious observance. The Department of Health (DOH) has strongly advised penitents to check on the condition of their whip before they lash their backs with it this Holy Week.

The Philippines is a Catholic country and in some towns the Passion is re-enacted by self-flagellation and crucifixion. The department warned that dirty whips could lead to tetanus and other infections. Health Secretary Francisco Duque 3rd said that since it is hard to discourage flagellants from whipping their own flesh, the best penitents can do is ensure that their whips are well-maintained.

In San Fernando City, Pampanga, some 23 penitents, two of them women, have signed up to reenact Christ’s crucifixion in three separate improvised Golgothas in the city. Four penitents were scheduled to have themselves nailed on the cross.