Friday, September 9, 2011
INDIANAPOLIS -- A former state worker accused of welfare fraud and forgery is blaming her "evil twin" for defrauding the government out of more than $15,000 meant for the needy. Janell Athalone-Afrika, 42, falsified her income and forged documents to claim more than $15,000 in government support for child care over eight years, prosecutors claim...
Even if you aren't a Lovecraft fan this webcomic is worth your time. It is a great adventure and very cleverly written.
There is a lot of amazing cosplay out there, and one of the best (if not the best) is Yaya Han. You don't have to look hard to find Yaya on the web. A simple Tumblr search will provide a bounty of images (or just click here). Or, check out her website. She's been at it for over a decade, and according to her bio did not know how to sew when she first got the cosplaying bug. She designs and sells costumes now....
Thursday, September 8, 2011
And The Race Against Time
Al Bruno III
Escape From The Planet Of The 70’s
Once, not too long ago, Megalopolis had been the most prosperous and beautiful city in the world. Travelers from everywhere had come for the fine art, high tech wonders, gleaming skyscrapers and of course its heroes. The most famous costumed avengers in the world had made Megalopolis and nearby River City their base of operations. That was why it had been nicknamed America’s Super City.
That was why it was chilling to see what it had become.
Fires had run unchecked through the streets leaving the glass and steel towers blackened ruins. Had it been a simple accident of the work of the jackal-things?
Of the jackal things there was no sign but the dead wandered everywhere but they had become bloated with rot and were relatively easy to avoid.
Every day for the last seven days Annabelle Jones had searched through the wreckage and remains trying to fill Plan Omega’s nearly impossible shopping list. Plan Omega was their only hope, their escape route.
Motorcycle parts. Volumes of forbidden lore. Transistors. Leather bodysuits. Gold, as much gold as possible. And most bizarre of all, the integrated circuits for a beryllium atomic clock.
Well, Annabelle had thought that last one would be impossible but here she was with Frogman on the outskirts of the city making her way up the steps to the Freemantle Institute.
The Freemantle Institute was a squat dome-shaped building and it had been the heart of Megalopolis’ scientific community. It had been built from space age metals and was powered by prism-like solar panels that had glittered like jewels. The fires hadn’t spared it and it seemed to Annabelle that some kind of an explosion had ripped a third of the building off its foundations. Annabelle took cover in the building’s ruined doorway.
“You wait here,” Frogman raised a green-gloved hand, “I’ll go in first.”
Before she could protest he drew the frogarang from his utility belt and hopped inside.
Hurrying after him Annabelle wondered if he was being smug or protective. He never took off his green helmet and the faceplate hid his every expression so there was no way for her to tell.
The stink of fire and rot filled her nostrils, by the time they had reached the heart of the building’s main it was strong enough to make her sick to her stomach.
It took a few minutes of shoving for them to shove open the door to the main stairwell. Frogman like to brag that he had the proportional strength of an amphibian but it was of no help to them here.
The stairway itself was pitch black. Annabelle switched her walkie-talkie for her flashlight. “Put it back,” Frogman flicked a switch on his utility belt and a cone of illumination shone from the buckle. It was brighter than a spotlight, it left Annabelle momentarily blinded.
The masked hero leapt down the steps as she tried to blink the dots from her eyes. When she could see again she hurried after him.
The atomic clock was secured behind a vault door. They had brought explosives to blast it apart but the door was already open.
Flickering light shone out through the doorway. Twin bonfires burned in the center of the chamber, thick clouds of smoke crowded against the roof.
Both Annabelle and Frogman recognized the eyes gleaming at them from the shadows and firelight.
Jackal-things. Annabelle drew the second revolver from her belt, At least a dozen of them.
“The Ogodad said you would come,” a voice growled from the darkness.
“Who’s there?” Frogman swept his utility belt’s spotlight across the room resulting in some unfortunate pelvic gestures, “Show yourself!”
A jackal-thing approached them, it was albino-white, “The Ogodad said you would come so we waited and you came.”
“Who are you?”
“I am Serbe,” with a sweep of his white-furred arm he urged the other jackal things forward, “and you have come here to die.”
“That so?” A dangerous smile settled onto Annabelle’s face. She fired. The revolvers crashed like thunder.
Two jackal-things fell, the rest charged forward. Annabelle fired again and again. Each shot was a perfect kill. Frogman leapt at Serbe hitting him three times in rapid succession with the kind of spinning kicks only a master of the art Hop-Fu could accomplish.
The revolvers emptied Annabelle retreated as she reloaded. Her fingers moved with practiced dexterity. One of the jackal-things got close enough to grab at her. She hit it across the snout with a freshly loaded revolver snapping the cylinder back into place. The she fired point blank.
Serbe cried out and suddenly the monsters began to retreat. Annabelle fired again and again catching a last few in the back. “Frogman!” she cried over the din, “Are you OK?”
He leapt to her side, “I’ve got the part Professor Tibbs asked for.”
“Good,” she said as she reloaded again. She couldn’t shake the feeling there was still something glaring at them from the darkness, “What about the leader?”
“He got away,” Frogman said, “we should get out of here too- just in case.”
As they left the Freemantle Institute Frogman turned to look at her, the green metal of his helmet had become dull and scratched over the weeks.
Why won’t he take it off? Annabelle wondered.
“That was good shooting,” he said. “of course back in the old days I wouldn’t have approved of a superhero using guns.”
Annabelle laughed, “I’m not a superhero.”
The military all terrain vehicle they had taken here was waiting for them. The soldier standing guard over it was visibly relieved by their return, he saluted.
“I heard differently,” Frogman commented “Professor Tibbs said you had a superhero name but you wouldn’t tell him what it was.”
She groaned, “Not this again.”
Police are once again looking for the rightful owners of a gaggle of garden gnomes. The creatures vary in sizes and materials and were part of what is believed to be an end-of-the-year prank at Capital High School. About 20 gnomes were affixed to several locations at the facility, including on the roof, at the end of May...
A flawed but oddly compelling work from director Robert Vincent O'Neill, Blood Mania (1970) is one of the most tripped-out and uber-odd works I have encountered in a long time. An delightfully sleazy film distinguished by O'Neill's undeniable skill with composition and framing, Blood Mania is both an exciting and sluggish experience fuelled by an extremely strange, but unforgettable, performance by future Star Wars cult-figure Maria De Aragon...
And in celebration of this review SING IT PETER CARPENTER! SING IT!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
IN THIS TWILIGHT
The Mask Collector
Saturday June 7th 2003
Darren lay in the darkness listening to Marnie’s gentle snoring and cursing himself.
What have I done?
On Wednesday he’d found the nerve to chat up that pretty nursing student he’d been drooling over for months. She told him her name was Leiko. All it had taken Darren to win Leiko’s phone number and a date for Friday night was a few sly smiles and an expensive latte. Darren had spent the next two days preparing. He’d bought a new shirt, new cologne and fresh condoms. He spent hours mentally rehearsing and preparing for the conversations they might have.
When Friday came and he met her at the restaurant he never got a chance to make use of any of his prepared seductions. All she did was talk about herself for two hours only pausing in the conversation long enough to order and hardly eat the most expensive thing on the menu. She even took a pair of cell phone calls during the date and made plans for the rest of her evening.
Needless to say, after the date was over Darren got good and drunk and stayed that way. By Saturday afternoon he was feeling woozy, sick to his stomach and miserable.
Before dusk he was blubbering on the phone to Marnie and of course she rushed right over. Marnie made him take a hot shower to clear his head. When Darren left the bathroom he caught a whiff of her cooking, somehow she had managed to put together a kind of goulash out of his Ramon Noodles and leftovers. They ate and talked, mostly about the lack of success they were having in the dating scene.
They went to bed and Darren found comfort in the old rituals of their lovemaking, even though he couldn’t help but notice she’d put on weight again. He almost lost his excitement at the realization but when he closed his eyes and imagined Leiko he found it again.
But that was hours ago and now he was disgusted with himself. One bad date and he had crawled back into Marnie’s arms?
How did she do it to me? How did she get me to cave in like that? He glanced over at her, She’s just like her food, not healthy, not particularly good for me. Just easy and comforting.
The murmuring started again, sibilant and gurgling. Darren closed his eyes and tried to make out the words but Marnie’s snores made it impossible to understand out more than the occasional syllable.
Glaring at her in the dark, Darren kicked off the sheets and walked over to the wall, it was cool to the touch, cooler than the rest of the room. He put his ear to it and shivered.
There was a sound like a windstorm, constant and shifting. The voice was faint, “…ancient …their kind …Beings from Outside”
“… Ahtu… infinity… gods… served…”
The voice, Darren realized, sounded nothing like Chad. He wondered if he was hearing Crazy Agnes through some trick of the acoustics.
What am I doing here? Darren wondered, What am I trying to prove by living in this dump?
“Baby?” Marnie’s voice was slurred with sleep, “What’s the matter? Come back to bed.”
A realization settled on him, a realization that this was his last chance to put everything back the way it was before. Darren pulled his ear from the wall and rested his back against the cool plaster surface, “This was a mistake.”
“What?” Marnie’s voice was a yelp.
“You need to get dressed and go. Now.” Darren stared down at his bare feet, his hands clutched over his heart.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Late avant-garde American composer John Cage’s “Organ2/ASLSP As Slow aS Possible” was started on Sept. 5 2001 at a mediaeval church in the German town of Halberstadt. It is scheduled to last 639 years in total, finally ending in 2640...
Monday, September 5, 2011
Sunday, September 4, 2011
A SIZE eight teenage model said being bullied for being too fat on Australia's Next Top Model sent a dangerous message to vulnerable young viewers.
Alissandra Moone, 18, who at 57kg is considered underweight on the Australian body mass index, was "stunned" when her size became an issue on Foxtel's top-rating show.
Judge Alex Perry has openly criticized Moone's body, likening it to "overstuffed luggage", and the clash is set to reach a head on tonight's episode...
And hey lets take a look at what this so-called fat girl looks like shall we?
She's "overstuffed luggage"? Really? Is this what things have come to?