Tag Archives: people

Sunday Edition-This Week in Pictures: Magic Mushroom Imperialism Begins

Kuwait City, Kuwait:
The Feast of Belshazzar, by Rembrandt

Little Rock, Arkansas:

drownDrowning Girl, by Roy Lichtenstein

Buffalo, New York:

guitarThe Old Guitarist, by Pablo Picasso

Las Vegas, Nevada:

sleepingSleeping Gypsy, by Henri Rousseau

Kingston, Jamaica:

dance-to-the-music-of-time-4971-midDance to the Music of Time, by Nicolas Poussin

Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam:

tigressDes Caresses, by Fernand Khnopff


CNN Headline of the Day: Tame Your Flame


The Lady of Shalott, by John William Waterhouse; Reverend Robert Walker Skating on Duddin, by Sir Henry Raeburn

Lady Shalott gazes at her reflection in the water as she drifts along: “Rowing for the Summer Olympics is in just 3 weeks! Like noble Cleopatra, I too have the strength of a Greek athlete within me, and I will make it across the Panama Canal. My beloved Robert would be so proud of me. Too proud to bear it, I like to think. He shall probably buy a bed of roses to lie in before he must continue training for the winter Olympics”

Meanwhile, Robert glides: “Ever since I was a young man, to be an Olympic ice skating champion has been my dream. To let my penguin tail flap in the wind would be my pride. We can be a power couple in our own right, like Sonny and Cher…yes, we should name our first son Chaz.”

That night, as Lady Shalott dozed off, Robert sat there watching her sleep. Suddenly, he jumped out of bed and threw cold water on both of them. “Lady, my Olympic flame burns when I watch you sleep. You see, I have found Faust’s secret knowledge and I can hold this back no longer. It’s like a constant rain cloud over me, and I can only find peace when I pirouette.”

“Well, Robert, you should probably find a way to tame this flame or else Zeus might make you commit seppuku for this outrage against manhood. But I will support you anyway because I love you”

Robert got back in the cold bed and curled up next to Lady Shallot, thankful for her goodness.

At the Olympics, as Miss Shalott stood waiting for her event to start as she watches the long jump competition. She saw the last competitor of the event, number 902, and found herself admiring his eminetly frog-like legs. He could carry her over a river, and no heavy traffic could stop them from crossing a road. She watched in earnest as he soared through the air, and landed farther than all the rest. He jumped up, pumping his fist, and declared that all his earnings would go to PETA.

Robert came up behind her and gave her a squeeze and she screamed.

She hurried to the bathroom and splashed her face with water, but she continued to swell with desire. She wiped soap across her cheeks, trying to exorcise the demons that forced their way into her mind. But there was no luck left for her. She was deeply disturbed.

CNN News Headline of the Day: Anticipating a Small Party

party hardyThe Allegory of Age Governed by Prudence, by Titian

Lion: Ever since the Chronicles of Narnia I have lost all anonymity! I get recognized in the street everywhere I go.

Cassanova: Oh, Christ, do stop complaining! You look as if you are about to cry! I am wanted in 6 countries for sodomy, incestuous relations, and polygamy.  At least people don’t call you the Tuscan Prince of Prison Rape. I suppose this is my curse. Please bear yours with a…

Dumbledore:  Of curses you speak, young Cassanova! Don’t test me! I still maintain a correspondence with the vicar of Costa Rica, Martin Luther de Carnavales. He controls a local tribe in the Balboan forests. Why it would be heaven for you! They would feed you peeled bananas and their own special kind of burrito. Are you imagining this yet? And then they would wait until twilight, when your white skin is gleaming purple and descend upon thy knightly body. Valhalla, indeed.

Lion grudgingly drinks a glass of wine. Feeling no effect in his system, he growls vociferously at the wolf named Jack London to get him more.

The wolf named Jack London: Ok, I think it’s time to start the music now. Hmm definitely no Chopin. I know!

The sounds of “Du Hast” begin to fill the room, and Titian cannot but help flick his head about in tune with the metal madness. He picked up the nearest bottle of liquor and let it stream down his face.

“At least people don’t mistake you for King Leonidas,” Titian laughed at the rest of them. The dog assented.

BBC News Headline of the Day: Fleeing Romanians are Rehoused

wwashyWashington Crossing the Delaware, Emanuel Gottlieb Leutze

A pair of black eyes gazed up at a man of Olympic proportions. Her hand reached out to stroke the long cape that hugged his body.

George, ever the silent fellow, gazed off into the dark waters, his leg hiked up on the side of his noble lady-ship and his head slightly cocked toward the setting sun. He slightly twitched at a tug on his cape.

The black eyes spoke: “I cannot go back to Transylvania for there is a dark lord awaiting us! You’ve all read Bram Stroker! To my dear relatives in the Carpathians, these recent events spell out a dark omen, indeed. He wants us to leave and is backing the IRA. This can only mean one thing–the Count is back in London!”

George: “Why, you’re a regular francophile!”

Romanian vixen: “Please hear me out. Why else would Gordon Brown take such pains to conceal his membership in Fight Club? Why else does the Mari Juana strike at our youth like Napoleon struck down nations? And why does Stolichnaya burn green in the presence of the Japanese?

George felt his back turn to ice at the truth in these statements, but he soon recovered. “Your words do not convince me. In fact, we can fit at least 25 more people in each boat. It will be back to the land of goats and cowboys for all of you!”

The vixen resigned and laid back, feeling the husky wood bind her to a flaxen sailor. A lonesome star began to twinkle in the distance. She wondered if it were part of Taurus like the man next to her must be.