Cannibal barbecue

When I worked in an office, one day someone in a suit came in to sell me something IT-based. It turned out that she was a horror porn star (this genre) in her spare time, which was much more interesting. I believe revelation of this information to have been partly responsible for a colleague’s heart…

Best Estatut cartoon

Carod, hair awry, to bored barman: NO ESTATOT EN EL ESTATUT. Or something like that, in El País.

Spud crud

Disappointed to discover that Fats Waller’s taties in All that meat and no potatoes are not as grubby as Seamus Heaney’s (“Are your praties dry/And are they fit for digging?”/“Put in your spade and try,”/Says Dirty-Faced McGuigan.) (The previous post contained a link to Alan & Jenny’s site for the St Louis Zipper Washboard Band,…

Dancing with Rottweilers

Erik Dams links to an intriguing little thing by Bill Horton, editor of Offbeat Magazine (“not the New Orleans one”) about musical hand signals. I’ve bumped into about half of them, but there are many others–jazz is much more formulaic than most folks think, and it’s not difficult to communicate which ending you’re going to…

Carro de la muerte variant

Apparently there’s an urban legend in circulation in which, as a cult initiation ceremony, the occupants of an unlit car pursue and murder the occupants of the first car to beep at them–and they’re not actors.