DNA Lounge update
DNA Lounge update, wherein the Long Island Iced Tea is still the drink of amateurs and cheapskates.
Today in aquatic hentai miscegenation news
Octopus clamps on to dolphin's genitals, possibly to avoid being eaten.
Cetacean Overfiend unavailable for comment.
Tags: perversions, tentacles
Calling It Quits: Playing in a Band No One Likes
I Threw a Show in My Heart and Nobody Came
What's it like being in a band that you think is amazing and everyone else is completely indifferent to? Well, it's a lot like a job where you're the laziest guy on the shift and everyone knows it; it's not great, but it beats working. Except you're working really hard and it sucks. And all your friends are getting promotions, and even if they eventually get dropped by their promotions, they at least got a taste and what did you get? First on a bill of three on a Tuesday night. Like your life, the analogy eventually falls apart.[...]
I wanted to be successful. Not rock star successful, but successful enough that I'd be tending bar six months out of the year instead of twelve. I wanted to be at least Murder City Devils successful. And I have the idiotic tattoos to prove it. You don't get a flaming 13 on your arm unless you're deeply invested in being the sort of person who's earned a flaming 13 tattoo on their arm. I wanted to die semi-young and leave a semi-successful corpse for my mother to cry over. So what one wants out of the band is entirely irrelevant. The world is a vampire and you are a bucket of blood sitting in the corner, unattended yet still strangely ignored, until you go bad and somebody inadvertently kicks you over and the floor is incredibly sticky and still the vampiric world fails to pay you a morsel of mind. Poor li'l bucket of blood.
If this narrative seems to be lacking in specifics, that's because, as I noted earlier, the specifics aren't entirely interesting. And I should be clear that I'm not speaking for anyone in the band other than myself. If you want their perspective, corner them in a bar and ask them. Like the leprechaun, if you capture one of us, we have to give up our gold. But in this case, the gold is a list we keep in our back pocket of everyone in the industry who ever lied to us. But, hell, I imagine even those monsters have their point of view. It couldn't have been easy to deal with five rapidly aging problem drinkers who were watching themselves become the butt of jokes in the Brooklyn Vegan comment section.
Phrenology works. I can tell because of the pixels.
Mike Pelletier: Lucy Skull
The model of the skull was generated from a friend's dental tomography scan. The form of the object was created by creating an array of copies of the skull, where each successive copy of the skull is scaled, rotated, and moved. The skull starts at life size at the front and ends up rotated 180 degrees and two times larger than life at the back.
Rasputin's daughter on a 1935 Wheaties box
"Europe's Sensational Wild Animal Trainer, Fearless Daughter of Russia's Mad Monk."
I learned about this existence of this wonderful artifact and wonderful kook from Bess Lovejoy's Atlas Obscura talk at DNA Lounge last week, which you should surely attend in the future.
She also later co-authored a cookbook, which includes recipes for jellied fish heads and her father's favorite, cod soup. She also worked as a cabaret dancer in Bucharest, Romania, and then found work as a circus performer for Ringling Brothers Circus. During the 1930s she toured Europe and America as a lion tamer, billing herself as "the daughter of the famous mad monk whose feats in Russia astonished the world." She was mauled by a bear in Peru, Indiana, but stayed with the circus until it reached Miami, Florida, where she quit and began work as a riveter in a defense shipyard during World War II.
