I am so not surprised by this.

You Are Profoundly Disturbing

You’re weird, freaky, and maybe even a little psycho. You aren’t just attracted to darkness - you thrive in it. Your interests are downright creepy, and you may even lack normal human empathy. While there’s no harm in enjoying the macabre, remember to keep your vilest thoughts to yourself!

If you’re surprised, welcome first-timer!

This is Sophie Lancaster, the girl who was beaten and kicked to death last year in the UK just for being goth.

This is what Sophie’s boyfriend, Rob Maltby, looked like in the hospital after the beating.

These are two of the five teenagers who murdered Sophie and assaulted Rob to within an inch of his own life.

I don’t know which is which, but they are Ryan Herbert, 16, and Brendan Harris, 15. Why post their picture and names? Because the Preston Crown Court ordered they be identified. (BBC News story here.)

Because Detective Superintendent Mick Gradwell of Lancashire Police said it was one of the most violent murders he had seen and that it ” … was a totally unnecessary and appalling set of circumstances.” (BBC News)

Because when one of these boys was initially interviewed about the assaults, he was “laughing and joking” with his mother about it. (BBC News)

Because everyone should know who they are.

Because what they did is egregious and unforgivable.

Because I said so. My blahg, my rules.

See you - and Sophie’s memorial bench - at Whitby Gothic Weekend next year.

Last time we were in New Orleans, we went to a local bar which was serving absinthe. We ordered one and we watched as the woman behind the bar started the ritual; she poured the absinthe into a traditional glass, set a slotted spoon on top, carefully placed a sugar cube on the spoon … then we watched in horror as she poured more absinthe over the sugar and lit the cube on fire.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” we called to her over the bar. “No fire, just ice water over the sugar, please. Thanks.” She did as we asked but was obviously miffed about it. Absinthe isn’t cheap enough to make mistakes with it.

I don’t know if this travesty started with Moulin Rouge or From Hell, but doing it makes both the sugar and the absinthe taste like smoke and ash. In Moulin Rouge, it was just historically incorrect, and I don’t know where Baz Luhrmann and company got the idea. Maybe that’s the way they serve absinthe in Australia.

In From Hell, Johnny Depp’s character is a drug addict who lights both sugar and laudanum - an alcoholic tincture of opium - over his absinthe. As an addict, he probably would ingest cologne if it would get him to his sweet, sweet alcohol-plus-opium high.

Now that the ban on absinthe in the U.S. has been lifted, perhaps it would be a good idea to educate each other and our bartenders, no?

From the FAQs of the Virtual Absinthe Museum:

What about setting the sugar on fire?

In summary, the original Czech producers knew as little about serving absinthe as making absinthe, so they made up their “tradition” as they went along. Unfortunately, the movie “From Hell,” in which Inspector Aberline, played by Johhny Depp, not only burns his sugar but doses his drink with Laudanum (a solution of opium in alcohol), gave this savage syncretism worldwide play, and new legends die as hard as old ones.

The same website is also kind enough to include a video on how to prepare absinthe the correct, traditional way:

Now pass this on to everyone you know who has expressed an interest in absinthe. Or just come over to our house and do it right.

Don’t make me set you on fire.

I ate your hatred as an appetizer.

It was much too small for a main meal, but still firm and succulent.

You’re the only one who thinks it’s so filling it should be a main course.

But then the chef always thinks that of the food they’ve prepared.

Today’s secret ingredient: Indifference!

Bugs Bunny, Bugs Bunny, rah rah rah!

Looney Tunes Golden Collection DVDs, volumes 3 and 4, arrived yesterday.

Uncut, unedited, and politically incorrect as hell.

In an e-mail from my Mother-in-Love. As always, if there is an author out there to credit, please let me know.

Are you tired of those sissy “friendship” poems that always sound good, but never actually come close to reality?

1. When you are sad: I will jump like a spider monkey on the person who made you sad.
2. When you are blue: I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile: I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.
4. When you are scared: I will high tail it out of here. (To … uh … get help! Yeah, that’s it!)
5. When you are worried: I will tell you horrible stories about how much worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused: I will use little words.
7. When you are sick: Stay away from me until you are well again. I don’t want whatever you have.
8. When you fall: I will try to pick you up and dust you off. (Unless my back is out. Or my allergies are acting up. Or something.)

Friendship is like peeing your pants: Everyone can see it, but only you can feel the true warmth. You can send this to 10 of your closest friends, but then you’ll get depressed because you can only think of 4.

That apple didn’t fall far from the tree, either.

The Earth gets an hour tonight. A whole hour. Really!

Evidently, from 8-9pm in every time zone, a bunch of people will be turning out their lights. Go to the Google main page … it’s black today, with explanation and links to the event. Or just click here.

It would help me personally if they’d chosen a different night for it. 8-9pm on a Saturday night in our household is referred to as “makeup hour,” a necessary evil which requires good lighting. I prefer not to head to the clubs after having done my face in the dark. Too many people out there look like they do that already.

Next month: Earth Day! It used to be Arbor Day, when we’d all promise to plant a tree and then forget to do it. Then the hippies … er … environmentalists got ahold of it and made it a huge annual event.

I can’t be the only one who finds it ironic that the Earth Day celebration in NYC every year produces about 7 tons of trash.

When does ironic become sad?

I’m not sure if it started with the Burger King, but the plastic face, the constant smile, the way he shows up in bed with you for breakfast, it’s really creepy:

Then along came this guy. “Creepy” doesn’t begin to cover him:

Then came the creepy-yet-funny German Volkswagen dude:

Then they resurrected the dead, which was really creepy:

At least until this 2001-ish baby doll-like thing and its monolith appeared:

Then there were the horror teens:

But now, I believe, TV commercials have reached their fullest creepy potential:

I never thought I’d fall for Chester Cheetah.

By the way, you can die and go straight to Hell you pagan slut.
You are just satan’s little whore and I love you

Aaaawwww, I love you too, hunnybunny.

Uh … I mean My Dark Lord.

Sorry.

This is the moment.

Yeah, I didn’t know it would come up so fast, either.

Yet here it is.

Positive thoughts will be happily forwarded.