A 500-Year-Old Rhythmic Rump is Music to the Ears

This is one of those stories that makes me ask:


1. How did no one ever do this before?
2. How did I not know about this?
3. Is this amazing or meh?

Consider a moment this baritone bottom, this dynamic derrière, this syncopating seat, this tush with a tempo, this not-so flat fundament. 

First some background. Sometime between 1490 and 1510, a wildly imaginative painter by the name of Hieronymus Bosch created a work entitled The Garden of Earthly Delights. Perhaps you've seen it before.

Most sites I found describe the work and the painter as up for interpretation. Little primary evidence has been found to date explaining why it was created or what it meant to its creator. Not much is known of the talent behind the work. I say talent because the detail and symbolism, found or implied, are without question. It is a stunning example of his work. 

Let's take a closer look at it.

Did you catch 2:34? Look for the person pointing to the sheet music adorned ass belonging to a literally tortured soul. Who knows how many people over the centuries saw it without setting out to spread the word of what two cheeks plus ink sounded like. We'll never know, but at least we can now all hum the bum tune thanks to Amelia Hamrick!

                                     

Are you surprised to learn there's a cult following of this almost completely unknown piece of ass, er, music? Not a chance in hell you are. You've met humans and know about the internet. Or maybe not! This was all new to me and I LOOK for stuff like this. Want a fleshed-out version? Here you go.

And what a disservice would I do to you, gentle reader, if I did not share a song completely unrelated to the butt but sharing some thematic bonds.

(XTC is one of those influences you discover in your late teens or early twenties that gets you moving down a thinking path, like the works of Robert Anton Wilson or Robert Heinlein or Ayn Rand or Aldous Huxley or Upton Sinclair or Marillion fronted by Fish or the gold plated records carried by the Voyager probes or why Hubble invented the electric outlet or why potato chip bags are filled with nitrogen or...well, that's all another blog for another day.)

So, is this an important thing? Will it help grow more crops? Build shelters? Cure disease?

Yeah. It might!

It is an example of what happens when observation (the act of paying attention or opening your damn eyes) meets a willingness to ask "what if" questions. That is the definition of innovation. I don't know if Amelia is the first to do what she did, but I didn't find records of anyone else doing it first. Therein is found the importance: WHAT THE HELL ELSE ARE WE NOT SEEING! What ideas have been waiting with an epic set of blue balls to be released? What ancient puzzles are staring at us with pallid eyes, gathering dust and despair from the fear of dying alone?

Need more metaphors? I doubt it. You get it. You don't need something tattooed on your ass for it to sink in.

Be well, gentle reader. Keep those eyes and that mind open.

Doctor Strange 2 to be MCU's first horror film. Sweet. (overdue 2024 update)

The center of the Nerdom Kingdom swung wide its doors this past week for the 49th season of the San Diego Comic Con. Panels, spoilers, teasers, trailers, previews, cosplayers, interviews, vendors, artists, actors, creators, builders, vendors, and MANY more wonders entertained attendees while reaching for the fistfuls of cash and plastic hurled back and forth down the aisles. It is a beautiful, overwhelming time and I cannot recommend it strongly enough.

One piece of news that instantly caught my attention from this year's show was the announcement of the next Doctor Strange movie in 2021. It's slated to be a horror film. Marvel actually has a long history of horror books, as does the industry as a whole, and Doctor Strange is no, um, stranger to the dark beings hiding in your closet.

Few details exist. Scarlet Witch is slated to join Strange for part of his journey while the ruler of the Dream Dimension named Nightmare might be the villain. Beyond that, we have to wait and see. Or do we? John Carpenter fans will recognize the play on words in the movie title. "In the Multiverse of Madness" compared to Carpenter's 1994 horror film "In the Mouth of Madness". While the film is not specifically an adaptation of a work by HP Lovecraft, it is Lovecraftian in every sense with elder beings, reality twisting ideas, and an imaginary town of death and secrets brought into terrible reality. It's good 90's horror.

I crack me up.

So, have we been handed a massive clue in the title? Seems a bit obvious if it is. Yet, watching Strange combat a madness raging across the Marvel multiverse that threatens to unleash ancient, cosmos devouring horrors that could rip Dormammu apart as easily and blindly as a windshield dismantles an insect could be EPIC. Derivative, but epic. Speaking of devouring, let's talk about the 800 lb. Man-Thing* in the room: Earth-2149. Could the horror spreading through the multiverse be former heroes? Hungry former heroes?

It's a long shot, at best, but there's literally nothing keeping Strange from visiting, then having to escape from, Earth-2149. How crazy would a Chris Evans ZOMBIE CAP CAMEO be!

Lots of time from now to 2021. I'm going into this waiting period with positive hopes. Scott Derrickson is back at the director's helm, so he knows the character, and the majority of his work is suspense/horror. He can do a good job if allowed.

Here's to hoping he is.

*He does guard the Nexus of All Realities. Will it come into play? Hmmm.....

 

**2024 Update. Nope. It was crap. Sorry, past-self.   

Throwing Shorts Away With Throwing Axes. A new YouTube video.

Sometimes your spouse is absolutely correct when it comes to getting rid of old clothing. But that doesn't mean you can't pick the method of disposal. Take throwing axes, for example! I (somehow) landed three hits in a row which resulted in a beat I liked. So here you go.

Some may ask why do such a thing. To which I reply, have you never met a human?

Be well, gentle reader/viewer.

-Sam

A Definition of the Martial Arts

Sometimes you have to put an idea, cold and naked, before the judging glare of the public so it can stand or fall on its merits. So here it goes.

My definition of the Martial Arts.

A martial art is a school of philosophy expressed through motion.

Mull that over. Turn it inside out and outside in. I wonder sometimes if it is too simple or not simple enough or too obvious! Yet, I think it correct. I keep wanting to expand it and explain what I mean, but that's he whole point, isn't it? I want to know if my idea as expressed reflects an aspect of reality, and therefore is useful. I want to know if the white belt of tomorrow can use this idea, this framework, to enhance their training and life by knowing to ask the proper WHY questions.

What say you? What says your own experience?

Please let me know.

Your author (WAY, WAY back in the day) doing some knuckle push-ups. It was one of those moments where you're having great fun while simultaneously questioning your life decisions.

Funko's Alien 40th Anniversary Breakfast Cereal

May 25th, 1979 taught the world in splashes of vivid red the value of a nutritional meal to fuel your mind and body in case you have to RUN FOR YOUR FU$#@NG LIFE. "Alien" premiered to soiled theater seats around the country (and eventually the world) opening a new vista of sci-fi horror that remains wide open today.

But you know this. That's why you're here, right? You know about the films and books and comics, right? But do you know about the cereal? WELL DO YOU?

Let's start with the obvious question: Does it taste like a Xenomorph? Interesting question. No, it does not. It lacks the acrid taste you would expect when biting into a creature with molecular acid for blood. Instead, it reminds one of a less sugary Fruit Loop. It mellows a bit more in milk while retaining its crunch for a reasonable time period. Taste wise, I give it a solid 6.5 - 7 out of 10.

There's a maze on the back of the box. Or is it? Perhaps the back of the box is a metaphorical journey where we the consumer can experience life as a consumer of a different kind. Perhaps it is an allusion to the painful existential journey a facehugger must face knowing death is its only reward for exiting the egg? Its next phase of existence starts at the TOP of the egg when it opens, yet the phase FINISHES when the hugger plants an embryo, a smaller egg, into the center of another life form. They burn facehuggers, don't they? Yes. Yes, they do. 

Multigrain cereal. First listed ingredient is sugar.

With all the horror of a H.R. Geiger design, here's how much cereal you get for $14.99 plus tax.

$14.99 + tax, ladies and gentlemen

Potato chip makers around the world are applauding this air-to-product ratio. I know I'm paying overwhelmingly for the packaging and the little figure. (Seen here.)

But still $14.99? FYE's website sells this exclusive for $9.99 making it a more cost effective avenue than their brick-n-mortar footprints. The cereal tastes just fine, but you would spend beaucoup dollars making this a regular part of your nutritious breakfast. Definitely an obvious impulse item or gift buy. 

Worth buying? Yes. 

Worth eating? Yes.

Thanks for spending time here today, gentle reader.

Be seeing you,
Sam

 

Two Collections and One Novel Now Available on Kindle

KINDLE USERS!

I now have three works available for purchase on the Kindle. HUZZAH!

Two are selected works from the blog, one is a revised and updated novel available nowhere else.

Let's have a look.

Eleven of my favorite non-fiction posts in one place. "Essays, Rants, the odd Good Point, and other Doings and Memes that seemed like a good idea at the time. Who really invented Potato Chips? Does the real math of The Great Pyramid add up? Are zombies the real threat? If my side is good and yours is bad then where do we stand? Do I have any idea what I am talking about? Good questions, one and all. Join me, won't you?"

Purchase it for only $2 here --->   You Know What You Should Buy?

A revised and updated version available only on Kindle. "Was it a miracle, or is Father Michael a puppet of powers less than divine? In the 22nd century, humanity creates true artificial intelligence. This new, human-like species, Homo mechanicus, quickly proves it is not a monster of science fiction lore, and society returns to relative normalcy within a few generations. That is until Father Michael Alan Cline, the world’s first and only non-human priest, performs a very public miracle. A creation of science dwelling in the realm of the spiritual, his life and faith fall into chaos as he struggles to comprehend what is happening to him. Ancient debates over life, free will, and faith resurface as Rome decides how best to investigate what appears to be a non-human vessel of God. The Pope’s solution: to dispatch an investigator who is an expert in the science of Homo mechanicus yet does not believe they are sentient."

Purchase it here for &7.99  --->  Saint Five

I like ALL my fiction works! Picking eleven was really hard but here it is. "Join me for a walk, gentle reader, in worlds of love or talking cars amidst a zombie apocalypse, small monsters with big ambitions, Goliath’s side of the story, a death trap for a superhero, my own brush with the unexplained, and others."

Purchase it here for only $2 --->  Is This Your Two Dollars?


THANK YOU for your support, gentle reader. A purchase, the sharing of a link, or a suggestion to a friend means a lot to me. I want to make A LOT more content both here and on YouTube. Your support moves me closer to that goal each and every step.

Be seeing you,

- Sam

 

Buried Treasure

The cat heard it first. All I knew was my slumbering lap warmer was suddenly gripping the tops of my thighs with claws I didn’t know it had and hissing to scare the devil. The pain jolted me out of my book and I was about to yell from being a pincushion when I saw the cause of the cat’s alarm. That is the thing about pain. It vanishes in the presence of an appropriate distraction. I stared at the man-sized shambling mass of blood and open scabs walking through my basement doorway.

 Button’s small brain, on the other hand, was not overwhelmed by the grotesque unknown coming towards us. She dove to the floor and rushed it with startling ferocity. No small feat for an animal that hides from the vacuum. Her impulse to suicide, such was the nightmare before me, pushed my mind from fear back to thought. However, my concern for my pet vanished as the monstrosity fell to the floor before she reached it. In a single breath it went from marching doom to whimpering mound crowned with flaying house cat. I yelled at Button to get off whatever it was her sharp claws were tearing into. The sound of my voice reached her domestication for she stopped her frenzy as quickly as she began it and hurled herself toward an adjacent room. 

I remained seated and took in the creature on my hall floor. It was bleeding, but it was hard to tell where Button’s fury had opened its flesh and what was…no…now it had patches of deep black and blue spread over its head, arms, and torso. There had been blood, copious and free flowing. Now it looked covered in deep contusions. The hardwood floor was clean. I was concrete in my chair. 

My next thought turned to why it had collapsed after climbing my fourteen cellar steps. It was 10:30 at night so sunlight hadn’t done it in. Light came through my basement doorway, but I doubted the energy saving 60-watt bulbs were the answer. Hadn’t I had been down in the cellar this afternoon? I’m sure I turned the lights off. A monster that’s afraid of the dark? I stood and reached for my phone. 

“Aarrghhmmm!”

Ahhh! 

The creature’s outburst was matched by my own. I expected it to leap up, but instead it started to cry. 

Cry? 

The din in my ears made thinking hard, but the sound was unmistakable. It was crying. Not a monster’s cry, but a mad and lonely weep. The sound I made when I was told my wife and son were dead. Its contusions lightened until normal looking skin appeared where gashes and gore had been. It was a man. Naked and sobbing his chest heaved for breath. I breathed and gasped with him. I saw the dirt in his hands from the grave I buried him in. Agony and rage balled, pushed down, and ignored. I hated the pain. I hated God. I hated everything I saw or touched that brought them back and pushed their loss into my face. I hated every breath of air I took that should have been my son’s. I hated every laugh from every mouth I could not strangle shut. I hated my existence and their finality. Every thought, emotion, and day I wanted to crush and burn was sprawled on the floor before me. The same fists that shook when my life was lowered into deaf, blind earth screamed for his throat. I set them free…

I awoke on the floor facedown and alone. My eyes stung from the salt of my dried tears and the palms of my hands were an angry red where I had driven my fingernails into them. I tried to push myself up, but I was too heavy. I felt the weight of the man inside me like an anchor. I returned to the floor and remembered all I had buried to escape the pain. Slowly and with a gripping clarity the images filled my mind until I could feel the vibration of footsteps against my cheek, smell her hair, and hear his loud little laugh. I inhaled and felt my lungs and life fill for the first time in months. I was alive again. Laughing, I realized we all were.