Sdtrk: ‘Kangaroo’ by This mortal coil

It’s long been a goal of mine to learn multiple languages, as obviously it can open up several new venues for a person. In order, I’d love to master Japanese, German, French, and Gaelic (both Scottish and Irish). Hell, why not throw in Lapine, the language the rabbits spoke in ‘Watership down’, as well, cos if I somehow manage to free up enough time in my life to learn five additional languages, I might as well make it six. But it’d be fantastic: Japanese would enable me to understand all that Japanimation that I watch; German would let me translate Laibach lyrics; French, so I could watch unadulterated episodes of ‘Belle et Sébastien’, and Gaelic, so I could ken what the living hell’s being said on this webpage.

Arbh fhearr leat bábóg nó bean?!
Le Ciara Nic Gabhann

Is ait an mac an saol, rud a fhíoraíonn lucht ceannaithe Real Dolls go paiteanta. Tugann Ciara Nic Gabhann léargas ar na fir arbh fhearr leo caidreamh a bheith acu le bábóg ná le fíorbhean.

Tagann an ráiteas “there’s nowt as queer as folk” chun cuimhne agus mé ag meabhrú ar an scannán Lars and the Real Girl, a bhí le feiceáil i bpictiúrlanna le gairid.

Sa scannán seo insítear scéal fir óig, Lars (Ryan Gosling), a bhfuil cónaí air i mbaile beag. Is duine é Lars a mbíonn faitíos uafásach air agus é i gcomhluadar – comhluadar ban ach go háirithe – agus mar gheall air seo, seachnaíonn sé gach saghas caidrimh. Labhraíonn comhghleacaí dá chuid leis lá amháin faoi mhainicíní sileacóin, ar a dtugtar Real Dolls, atá múnlaithe i bhfíorchruth mná. I ngan fhios d’aon duine, ordaíonn Lars ceann de na bábóga ar an idirlíon.
the rest of the article is here

It’s about Dolls and iDollators, and mentions me and the Missus in extant (looks like it quotes that pack of lies known as the Marie Claire UK article) as well as ‘Lars etc etc’, and the language burns my brain.
Would any of you lovely readers out there happen to know Gaelic, by any chance? I’d use Babelfish, but as you know, that’s sometimes akin to putting a language in a blender, and drinking the results. Any takers? I’ll name a kitten after you!*

*note: the kitten won’t actually be mine, as our apartment doesn’t allow pets

Sdtrk: ‘Part 1’ by Merzbow

Much like the baby deer caught in the grille of a Range Rover, you have to ask how exactly this sort of thing occurred in the first place. I mean, honestly.

Teenager finds baby bat in her bra
By Laura Clout | Last Updated: 1:47PM BST 08/07/2008

Abbie Hawkins, a hotel receptionist, thought her mobile phone was ringing when she felt vibrations coming from her clothes.

But she later discovered the tiny creature tucked away in the padded pocket of her underwear.

As staff and colleagues crowded around, Miss Hawkins, 19, produced the frightened bat, which was the size of her hand.

She said: “Once I realised it was a bat I was shocked, but then I felt quite sorry for it really.

“It looked very snug in there and I thought how mean I was for disturbing it.”
the rest of the article is here

That’s just… that… I mean… that’s one lucky bat

Sdtrk: ‘Skunk’ by The Jon Spencer Blues explosion

What exactly is it about Garfield™® that engenders so much contempt amongst upright-walking, thinking beings? I think the reason goes beyond its feeble and saccharine attempts at humour; in fact, for me, it’s precisely because it tries to be as inoffensive as possible is the reason I wish to see Jim Davis’ head on a pike outside the city gates. I can understand wanting to create comics that can be enjoyed by a wide range of people, but as a wise Mancunian once remarked, ‘If you pander to the public, art can never exist’.

Luckily, it seems of late that more and more people are realising that there actually are trace elements of humour to be found in Garfield™®, if you have a powerful enough viewing device to see it. Recently, I discovered three separate sites that have a reductionist approach to putting the ‘comic’ back into that ‘comic strip’. First, I give you Arbuckle:

In 1978, Jim Davis began a newspaper comic strip called “Garfield”. For almost thirty years, this strip has endured, primarily because its inoffensive, storyless humour is immediately accessible. It is, if not quite the Lowest Common Denominator of the comic world, at least as close to it as one can get without being obviously mediocre.

The comic changes dramatically when one removes the thought bubbles.

“Garfield” changes from being a comic about a sassy, corpulent feline, and becomes a compelling picture of a lonely, pathetic, delusional man who talks to his pets. Consider that Jon, according to Garfield canon, cannot hear his cat’s thoughts. This is the world as he sees it. This is his story.

They’re accepting submissions, so if you’re feelin’ mischievous and want to redo a strip yourself, contact the site owner to check to see someone else hasn’t done the one you want first.
Then you’ve got Garfield minus Garfield:

Who would have guessed that when you remove Garfield from the Garfield comic strips, the result is an even better comic about schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and the empty desperation of modern life?
Friends, meet Jon Arbuckle. Let’s laugh and learn with him on a journey deep into the tortured mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against lonliness and methamphetamine addiction in a quiet American suburb.

Yes, Jon is that much more unsettling when he’s the only person in the room. I love the ones where they redo the extended Sunday versions, and the first panel that usually has the title ‘Garfield’ in it, is completely blank.

Finally, there’s Lasagna Cat, which is not so much ‘reductionist’, as ‘singularly disturbing’. But that description really fits when you’re dealing with live-action reenactments of various Garfield™® strips, with rimshots and canned laughter and the actors holding still in lieu of a freeze-frame. Yeah. After viewing a couple of these, you can announce to the world that you have indeed seen everything it has to offer, and you can now return to your Maker with no regrets. My particular favourite?

Hallucinatory. But funny! And when’s the last time you could honestly say that about an unadulterated Garfield™® comic?

And with this post, I hereby announce the new category, G******d (which has actually been there for a bit of a while, but nevertheless). Come, share the Hate with me

ta very much to aneamo for the ‘Garfield minus Garfield’ link

Sdtrk: ‘My year is a day’ by Les Irresistibles

And by ‘out’, I mean ‘largely unmotivated to do anything due to illness’. Yep, sick again. Either I caught the last vestiges of whatever plague from SafeT when we were round to goshou’s last Saturday, watching the last five episodes of Gundam 00 (note: fucking amazing, and we can’t wait for the rest of the series), or I obtained it from Tsukihime, when she was round last Sunday, moving out more of her belongings and coughing like a pro. Personally, I’m hoping it’s from SafeT, as Tsukihime has had an on-again off-again battle with bronchitis for months…

So I got round to my GP on Friday, cos although I don’t really have the fever or shivers or any of the usual symptoms of the grippe, I’ve been congested, and my throat’s been bone-dry. I could be uncharitable and partially chalk that up to my job, which has me constantly talking to twats across the nation five days a week, but I won’t for now. He has me open wide for the tongue depressor assessment, and I’m a third of the way through my AAAHH when he pulls the popsicle stick out, telling me that it’s really red in there. As quick as that judgement was, it was undoubtedly pulsing a bright crimson at the back of my throat. He’s got me on stronger antibiotics this time round, and these feckers are the biggest pills I’ve ever encountered. Behold its enormity (sorry for the blurriness):

left, a 2008 United States penny; right, a suppository

Imagine, if you can, a two-month old baby. Now imagine swallowing said baby whole. That’s what kind of dimensions we’re dealing with here. Dr S., do I look like a horse??
Ugh. Organiks. Walking germ factories. But I did manage to stop round Borders and pick up vol.10 of Monster (‘a taut psychological thriller’) and How to read Death note after my visit, as well as pre-ordered the new book about Boyd Rice, Standing in two circles, when I arrived home, so the day wasn’t a complete loss…

Well then! Back to work, or back to bed?

Sdtrk: ‘Day out’ by Daisies

You don’t need a calendar anymore! Phoenix Studios would like to point out that it’s now May. Ladies and gentlemen, start your credit cards! Or your overactive fantasies, one or the other.

insert obvious ‘My, what big… eyes… you have’ line here

Apart from maybe Cinco de Mayo, I’ve no idea what possible event Miss May could be celebrating, apart from the Joy of Living. Well, whatever it is, she’s doing a remarkable job. Miss April’s still may favourite so far, though…

Next up: not just one, but two alert readers — Maisie Sedgwick Deely, who’s tipped me off before, as well as the lovely Rayschro aka Princessrachel — have clued me into a rather enticing new exhibit opening up at the bitforms gallery in New York City:

Ahh, the ‘GAH ALRIGHT ALREADY I’M AWAKE’ look

Lynn Hershman Leeson returns to bitforms gallery in NY with the first showing of a new series, Found Objects, April 26 – May 31.

Including the premiere of the sex doll installation, “Olympia: Fictive Projections and the Myth of the Real Woman,” a provocative and updated version of Edouard Manet’s notorious painting, “Olympia”.

February 2008, New York, NY – San Francisco-based artist and filmmaker Lynn Hershman Leeson returns to bitforms gallery in New York for a new solo exhibition, Found Objects, running April 26-May 31. With a body of work that spans over 35 years and ranges from early conceptual and performance pieces to artificial intelligence robotic works and films, Hershman Leeson is one of the most influential artists working in new media today. Updating the notion of “readymade” introduced by Marcel Duchamp, Found Objects is a new series that features assembly-line produced female sex dolls to examine issues of projected fantasies and the mythology of artificial women. With the installation, “Olympia: Fictive Projections and the Myth of the Real Woman,” Hershman Leeson restages Edouard Manet’s “Olympia,” projecting images of the painting on a doll to offer a provocative, updated version of the notorious artwork. Also on display are several digital prints in which the dolls appear to be emotionally involved in their predestined situations.
taken from this site

In looking over her website, it appears that over the years, she’s done some interesting work with Mannequins and window displays, as well assembling quite a few installation pieces that involve either surveillance cameras, or artificial intelligence programmes. Huh! Might have to keep an eye on her, no pun intended…
So who wants to fly me and the Missus out to New Yawk for this? I mean, how else would we give the show a proper assessment and review? Don’t all volunteer at once, now.

As an aside, last night, my friend Mari mentioned that since she sees so many pictures of Synthetik women whenever she’s round Deafening silence Plus, she’s more or less conditioned to the point where, if she sees a somewhat blurry or otherwise unclear photo of a lass in her day to day affairs, she thinks it’s a Doll until proven otherwise. That’s… that’s pretty fantastic.

Finally, I found what may be the best review for ‘Lars and the Real Girl’ in existence. If you’re spoiler-averse, stay away from it, but gods, it’s a riot, as it’s written by someone carelessly wielding Babelfish, or perhaps a student of the book ‘English as She is Spoke‘.

Gosling stars as Lars, a quiet, anomaly teen Negro in a far Midwestern municipality who lives in his brother Gus’ (Paul Schneider) garage and avoids some ethnic interaction whatsoever, including unsure advances from his tall co-worker Margot (Kelli Garner). For a patch we’re not rattling trusty what’s up with Lars—is he depressed? sociopathic?—but every the customary bets are soured when Bianca arrives at his door. Bianca is a Real Girl, a life-size stimulate chick sequential soured the Internet. Lars gets the intent from his ruttish co-worker, but when Bianca arrives it’s country he’s not into her for her anatomically precise parts—Lars has institute love.

O, the unintentional humour, it kills me again and again

Technorati tags: Phoenix Studios, Boy Toy Dolls, bitforms gallery, Lynn Hershman Leeson, Found Objects, Lars and the Real Girl, English as She is Spoke

Sdtrk: ‘He is everywhere nowhere’ by Current93

JUST SO YOU KNOW: Quite a few people — perhaps even you — have been wanting to post a comment, and finding that either the comments have been turned off, or the reply function is simply no longer there. Heh, you’ll love this: lately, ‘Shouting etc etc’ has been getting hit by some bizarre virus that does two things — it not only deactivates the ability for people to post comments or make pings for some posts, but it also throws a shitload of spam links into the bottom of each post. Now this is going to sound like the ravings of a lunatic, but the links are coded so that they’re invisible. No, seriously. If you view these infected posts via a cellphone browser (like I did), you’ll see lines and lines of spam links. It’s the strangest damn thing.
Originally, I thought it was due to the Technorati tags I was using, as the first time this occurred, it was in February’s ‘Any Doll-related news etc’ post, so I got rid of the tags, but the comments would still shut off and those spam links would come back.

What it boils down to is that I undoubtedly need to upgrade WordPress, which I intend on doing soon, otherwise the homicides will begin. In the interim, if you don’t see the reply function for a post, seriously — reply in another post, and I’ll just transfer the bastard to where it’s supposed to be.
We here at Deafening silence Plus thank you for your patience and patronage! No, seriously.

So recently I dreamt that Shi-chan and I were driving round the suburbs — it looked a bit like the Grosse pointe area, but you know how it is with dreams mutating things that actually exist in your mind into totally new things — and some chunky bloke with a paper bag over his head stepped in front of our car at a stop sign, and handed me an index card. He then took his paper bag off, revealing his shaven-head and his broad smile, and stepped away as I drove off. Sidore read the card: there was a paragraph at the top, stating the message was from a college fraternity, and that they apparently liked our work. (??) They went on to explain that if we were to go to the URL provided below, we’d see some guy in Texas that looked exactly like me. ‘Huh,’ I remarked.

The dream then cut to footage of this bloke. The video quality was similar to that weird video black & white that you get with closed-circuit television, but a little sharper, and it even had a running timecode in the upper right corner. Unlike a CCTV camera, though, it wasn’t fixed in one position. It centred on this bloke that could’ve been my identical twin — his facial features were the exact same as mine, but his ponytail was around two feet long, and he was wearing a hoodie, which is something I’d never do. He was seated in the front row of a college classroom, a couple of columns toward the centre. At one point during the course of the footage, he pulled a toothbrush out of his bag, applied some toothpaste to it, and proceeded to brush his teeth right there in the middle of class. No-one seemed to notice, except the girl behind him, who tapped him on the shoulder and said something chastising. Or at least, I assume it was something chastising, as the video didn’t have sound. He stopped to listen to her, then kept on brushing.

Then the dream cut to Shi-chan and I watching the video (on YouTube, naturally). For some reason, the room we were in was dark, and the monitor illuminated our faces. ‘I don’t know what to make of that,’ Sidore commented.
Dopplegängers! Honestly, you just can’t get away from them…

Happy Vernal Equinox, people! I’m hoping for a short Summer, but a long Spring. And an even longer Autumn

Sdtrk: ‘We are coming back to dance with you’ by The focus group

Fuck me rigid. I have been asleep for literally twelve hours straight. Why? I’ve got another flu! FUCKING AWESOME.

I swear to christ, I am sick of being sick. As I’ve been lamenting to my friends anyone who will listen, I’ve been ill off and on with supercolds and the occasional flu consistently since late last September. If the climate isn’t bitterly cold, I’m either getting it from friends, or from my godforsaken coworkers. Remember how I mentioned how Tsukihime had it? I managed to either avoid it directly, or it was just building up inside me, as while I was at work last night, I was getting the occasional shiver. When I woke up Friday morning, I felt as if someone had taken me by the shoulders and shaken me for an hour. Needless to say, I called in.
It’s definitely a flu, as I’ve got the symptoms: the slow-motion walk, muscle fatigue, being simultaneously too cold and too hot, dizziness, everything tasting like iron filings. But y’know the thing about this timing that really gets on my wick? A cluster of us Michigan-area iDollators are supposed to have another Congress this week-end! Goddamnit.

If you want me, I’ll be in my coffin. This is ridiculous

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