THE PREPOSTEROUS BOLLOX OF THE SITUATION

A collection of stuff, things, nonsense, rants, raves, pretties, sillies, and gee-gaws from Rev. Hugo Nebula, Ordained Minister of the Church of the SubGenius. (And boobs. Sometimes there are boobs. Just like in real life.) Thank you for reading.
 

 

 

 

 
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"In one way, at least, our lives really are like movies. The main cast consists of your family and friends. The supporting cast is made up of neighbors, co-workers, teachers, and daily acquaintances. There are also bit players: the supermarket checkout girl with the pretty smile, the friendly bartender at the local watering hole, the guys you work out with at the gym three days a week. And there are thousands of extras—those people who flow through every life like water through a sieve, seen once and never again. The teenager browsing graphic novels at Barnes & Noble, the one you had to slip past (murmuring “Excuse me”) in order to get to the magazines. The woman in the next lane at a stoplight, taking a moment to freshen her lipstick. The mother wiping ice cream off her toddler’s face in a roadside restaurant where you stopped for a quick bite. The vendor who sold you a bag of peanuts at a baseball game.

"But sometimes a person who fits none of these categories comes into your life. This is the joker who pops out of the deck at odd intervals over the years, often during a moment of crisis. In the movies this sort of character is known as the fifth business, or the change agent. When he turns up in a film, you know he’s there because the screenwriter put him there. But who is screenwriting our lives? Fate or coincidence? I want to believe it’s the latter. I want that with all my heart and soul. When I think of Charles  Jacobs—my fifth business, my change agent, my nemesis—I can’t bear to believe his presence in my life had anything to do with fate. It would mean that all these terrible things—these horrors —were meant to happen. If that is so, then there is no such thing as light, and our belief in it is a foolish illusion. If that is so, we live in dark-ness like animals in a burrow, or ants deep in their hill.

"And not alone…"

(via simplesue)

"Why do hecklers heckle? Recent studies have had dark things to say about abusive internet commenters – a University of Manitoba report suggested they share traits with child molesters and serial killers. The more I wondered about Blythe, the more I was reminded of something Sarah Silverman said in an article for Entertainment Weekly: “A guy once just yelled, ‘Me!’ in the middle of my set. It was amazing. This guy’s heckle directly equalled its heartbreaking subtext – ‘Me!’” Silverman, an avid fan of Howard Stern, went on to describe a poignant moment she remembers from listening to his radio show: one of the many callers who turns out to be an asshole is about to be hung up on when, just before the line goes dead, he blurts out, in a crazed, stuttering voice, “I exist!”

"I had a feeling the motivation behind heckling, or trolling, was similar to why most people do anything – why I write, or why I was starting to treat typing my name into search boxes like it was a job. It occurred to me Blythe and I had this much in common: we were obsessed with being heard…"

The BBC is to publish a continually-updated list of articles removed from Google searches under the controversial “right to be forgotten” rule.

The ruling allows people to ask Google to remove some types of information about them from its search index.

But editorial policy head David Jordan told a public meeting, hosted by Google, that the BBC felt some of its articles had been wrongly hidden.

He said greater care should be given to the public’s “right to remember”.

phantastische-illustrationen:

Space-Station 5 (Illustrator John Berkey)

(via darkmechanic)

(via o-atlas)

bestqualitybeksinski:

Zdzisław Beksiński

(via darkmechanic)

fiercebunny:

kateoplis:

“Drinking rum before 10am makes you a pirate, not an alcoholic.”

Prohibition Bakery | NYC

GET ME ON A PLANE NOW.

If a writer like me has any value at all, then I think what I’m supposed to say are things that other people either don’t dare to say or find embarrassing. They say to themselves, “But if I say that, what will people think of me?”
That’s why I think most people see horror writers as depraved individuals who are strange, weird, a little bit creepy, probably unlovely, somebody who would be clammy to touch.
Most of the ones I know are big, hale and hearty, cheerful, outgoing, friendly people, and I think one of the reasons they are is that you have to have a certain confidence in yourself to be able to create a human monster.
Those are things that a lot of us keep locked in the closets of our minds and if we let them out, we let them out when there’s nobody around and our wives, husbands, or lovers are asleep.
Stephen King (via writingquotes)

(via fiercebunny)

bevismusson:

moriarty-the-timetraveling-lemur:

themoonclockwork:

maryxjanexholland:

k-inkyyyy:

what if concerts were actually like this, where no one would fuckin push each other around, just be happy and jump and shit

they are like this, it’s an actual footage from an actual concert…

All i see is this fricking guy in red on the bottom right corner not having coordination with 3000 people around him

I’m only reblogging for the guy in red

He must be trying extra hard to be that out of rhythm with everyone else. It’s kind of impressive.

I think he’s trying to stand still and watch the concert, but every time every other bugger jumps, he’s hurled into the air.

bevismusson:

moriarty-the-timetraveling-lemur:

themoonclockwork:

maryxjanexholland:

k-inkyyyy:

what if concerts were actually like this, where no one would fuckin push each other around, just be happy and jump and shit

they are like this, it’s an actual footage from an actual concert…

All i see is this fricking guy in red on the bottom right corner not having coordination with 3000 people around him

I’m only reblogging for the guy in red

He must be trying extra hard to be that out of rhythm with everyone else. It’s kind of impressive.

I think he’s trying to stand still and watch the concert, but every time every other bugger jumps, he’s hurled into the air.

"David S. Goyer has set up another genre project at the network, an event series based on the 1980 dark fantasy novel Shadowland by Peter Straub. The book, a World Fantasy Award nominee, centers on two young boys, Tom Flanagan and Del Nightingale. They spend a summer with Del’s uncle Coleman, one of the foremost magicians in the world, who may actually be a sorcerer…"

Straub’s Shadowland is a beautiful, subtle, and elegiac novel which would make a great TV series under a thoughtful and delicate hand. But David S Goyer is doing it, so that’s that fucked.