24.12.04 | Christmas Post (Part 1.5: Merry Christymas Yer Arse! Yaay!)
Well well well.
Another year draws rapidly to another heartstopping close... but first... Christmas. And an especial Merry Christmas to all our friends and readers in the Southern Hemisphere, who are currently having some nice weather... how i look on you with envy.
An especially fond thought to a fabulous lady living in Brazil. Everyone go say "Hi!" Her blog is written with superbness! And is better by far than that trashy novel that your unimaginative realtive has bought you for Crimbo.
Dear Santa (and Mr God where applicable)
Thanks awfully for that lovely lovely iPod thing, which i just know you're gonna drop down the chimney (Carefully of course). I am of course especially grateful to you for ignoring (You have ignored, haven't you?) the letters stating that i have changed my name to "Tam", and that i am living in Auckland, New Zealand. And while there may possibly be such a person in that locale, i am sure that you in your Zen-like calm, know that they would much prefer something else...
But prezzies aside. Although they're fun and important, what i really want you to bring to all my friends (linked and yet-to-be linked) plus the "many" other readers of this site, is a sense of the festive spirit, which i fear is being drowned under an avalanche of buying and commercialism (iPod notwithstanding). And if you can't quite manage that, could you bung them some moments of blissful happiness. Please? I'd like that very much. I'd even consider giving my 'Pod to the needy if you did that... certainly i'd be more charitable to everyone.
Also Santa, could you have a word with Him/Her Up There? Y'see, i've been looking for Him/Her for a very very long time now. And i'm kinda tired. I haven't found anything yet that i can truly believe in. Not myself. And certainly not the majority of the human race. Have you seen what they do?!? Dreadful things. Sometimes in His/Her name! And the lies! The lies!!!
Anyway, I'm not asking for a burning bush speaking in some old language... just... something... (Although a 2nd coming might be nice...)
Thanks Santa. I hope this message finds you well. Hope that diet worked out well- although i did hear scurrilous rumours that you'd got obsessed with that Atkinsons Diet, and in a fit of pique, had eaten Rudolf and the other reindeers... but i'm sure they were just that. Rumours.
PS: if yer bored between continents, and i know it's a long night for you, i thought i'd include some little Weebl and Bob cartoons below, with you in mind. We all need a bit of a laugh from time to time.
PS: It's just been pointed out to me that you're very unlikely to be connected to the internet during all that flying, so this post may be in vain.
PPS: But i just know that someone like you will be all hip to all the modern technologies, and are bound to have yer own laptop, with yer own super-efficient Santasoft O.S. installed, and a wi-fi worldwide connection to the web. How could you not?!?
Irritatingly cute Christmas Song! by the late Wesley Wills
Weebl And Bob At Christmas
More Weebl And Bob At Christmas!
Fabulous Advent Calendar Bollocks! 24 little windows to clicky-click!
(lemme know if ya have probs with this link)
What The Fuck?!?
Gah! I've just realized that, this post slightly rips off one of my earlier one's from waaay back.
Anyway. May your God(s) bless you and all who sail in you. Good luck. Merry Christmas. Happy New Year. More love (again...)
21.12.04 | Christmas Post 1 (Poetry And Such)
The Saturnyne feels no joy at Christmas time.
Christmas and the New Year... disconnects. Discomforts. Chokes with impossible grief.
...So anyway! moving on all cheerily instead...
Here's a poem by e.e. cummings (In his usual lowercase style and no proper heading):
little silent Christmas tree
you are so little
you are more like a flower
who found you in the green forest
and were you very sorry to come away?
see i will comfort you
because you smell so sweetly
i will kiss your cool bark
and hug you safe and tight
just as your mother would,
only don't be afraid
look the spangles
that sleep all the year in a dark box
dreaming of being taken out and allowed to shine,
the balls the chains red and gold the fluffy threads,
put up your little arms
and i'll give them all to you to hold
every finger shall have its ring
and there won't a single place dark or unhappy
then when you're quite dressed
you'll stand in the window for everyone to see
and how they'll stare!
oh but you'll be very proud
and my little sister and i will take hands
and looking up at our beautiful tree
we'll dance and sing
Swirly Christmas Tree
Christmas Tree Le Deux
Floaty Ghost-Candle-Things In Symphony! (eh?)
Real Purdy (Hey!- Is that a swan?)
And this years colour is purple. It's the new grape of truth in the war against... er... stuff!
I call this one "Marlowe P.I."
I see a rose, a fairy, an angel... what do you see?
And now The Saturnyne's Christmas Poem.
The Stars of Winter (abridged)
tread silently, tread light
for the million stars of winter
and we must walk with reverence
on this holy december night
I do wish you all well at this time of year, whatever your religion.
I do wish you well at all times of the year...
PS: i altered my poems structure. Hope ya agree that it's an improvement.
12.12.04 | Why Sauron Deserves Our Support (Lord Of The Rings Special Edition!)
I know, i know, yer all thinking "Sauron? Why oh why should i show sympathy to such a dark dark dark villain?"
But, People-of-the World!!! I put it to you, that had the Dark Lord been brought up in a loving and fulfilling environment, none of his (And sunsequently Middle Earth's) troubles might have happened!
It's all the fault of the elves and men of course. But mainly the elves.
(Oh, and i point out a weakness in the plot at the end. Just for a laugh.)
Let's look at the historical documents of the case, provided by one Grishnakh, late of Cirith Arsall, and currently working as a lawyer for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.
So there you are, a young Sauron, you've fallen in with the wrong crowd (One Morgoth of the Outer Darkness), you've been attracted by his fancy fancy might and majestic dandy-ism, and the fact that he looks a bit like James Dean, all moody and rebellious, and then all these bloody elves and Higher Powers, come along and kick your arse, just because you indulged in a spot of mindless vandalism, and set fire to a few inconsequential continents and other minor things. The kind of thing that countries even get applauded for, these days. You, naturally of course, run like fuck!
But will those evil bastard elves let you forget your past humiliations? No. There they are, poncing around looking all fine and pretty, patronizing everything they come across, even the poor dragons. You try and be nice to them, teaching them how to make those pretty rings, which look just adorable when they catch the light just so, and for what? Nothing! noth-inG! Just more snootiness! And then when they discover that you've gone and made a better ring, they go and declare war on you. Totally unprovoked of course. Laughably consider themselves as "Freedom Fighters", but it's very obvious to you that they're terrorists.
So then there's a war, they win, probably by cheating, AND knock all your nice towers down, and what's worse, destroy yer earthly body with all it's refined good looks, and, after ages, when you've managed to regrow yerself into the form on an eye, (which isn't exactly your idea of "dashing") what happens?
The Final Humiliation, that's what!!!
And it's all the fault of those elves again, isn't it? And it happened at Christmas too. Oh, is there no respect for tradition?
It happens like this:
You've managed to grow yerself a new form. An eye. (Not quite got the manoeuverability of the old body, but when you get that ring back, all will be well again yay). It's Christmas. All the goblins and trolls have been decorating your newly built tower in time for the party on Christmas Eve, when there's a knock on the door. Ooh, it's the postman!
"Special Delivery for Mr Sauron".
For you?!!? Who could it be from?!? Ooh! -It's from The White Council!! Perhaps they want to be friends and are offering reparations in this season of goodwill? Quickly you summon one of the Wraiths from a fancy dress party to rend it's fleshy wrappings (ok, paper) for you...
...And inside is a... Bobble Hat! Just like Santa would wear! Oh, how kind! Tears well up. They want to be friend at last...
So you wear it.
All Christmas Day.
And everyone laughs.
The orcs only have to look at you and they fall around clutching their sides in an agony of mirth. You have to cull thousands before they take you serously again. The trolls cave their own heads in with clubs in ferocious merriment. And you can even sense the Lord of the Nazgul is smirking facelessly when he drops in for some mulled wine and Christmas dinner with you. Charades, as usual, is a complete disaster.
Bastards! All of them. Bastards. But especially the elves.
And the next year, you receive a scarf.
And the year after, some woolly gloves. What the fecking bollocks are you gonna do with bastard gloves! Those accursed elves will pay for taking such mighty piss...!
So you see, good reader, we should have nothing but sympathy for poor old Sauron. Especially as he could never have won anyway. As i shall prove it by sharing the final verses from my now legendary play "Much Ado About Balrogs"
"My noble lord Sauron. O-Greatness!-We have brought the ring for you. AND eaten those pesky hobbits."
"Nice one, geezer. Let's 'ave it then!"
"Certainly my lord. Here it is..."
(A bit more silence)
"...er, My Noble Lord? How do i give it to you?" (mucho stammering with fear) "you, er, don't seem to have er, any hands, er, to, er, wear it wi-"
"Shut it, you insufferable vomm of a goblin! I'm trying to think!"
(Silence. A very long silence)
"Right, got it. bring some stepladders. Chop chop!"
(Stepladders are brought. Much hustle and bustle)
(Ring now sits atop eye. Like little little crown)
(Nothing much seems to happen. Ring slides off and blissfully rolls around the floor for a while)
"Bollocks! Right. Right. Bring me some string... and sellotape... and don't forget the scissors...
Next up: How i defeated The Pope in single combat! (aka: More Bollocks, Vicar?)
8.12.04 | The Saturnyne's Marvellous Hand Techniques (er...)
And so we move onto our next photo request. This one being for the marvellous Janey and Fabulous Cece. Love my pictures or suffer "The Consequences".
The Saturnyne's Magical Flaming Thumb Technique
Harry Potter? Amateur Wand Masturbator. Gandalf? Overrated Beardy Bastard. Merlin? Bit of a Tart. I can cast Ectoplasm! Nyahhh!
"Saturnyne's Ethereal Hand Of Prettiness" Spell
The Saturnyne's Idea Of A "Hot Date". (Sadly, the date is rarely pleased by my ruining her hair)
Ah, this one went slightly Supernovae...oops.
Hand: Post Fireball. (Or just pleasantly wavey. As is the nature of hands)
Hand Noir? (Note the mindfuck wallpaper of what we shall laughingly call "The Saturnyne's Boudoir" in the background)
Well, that was fun. Who's request shall i pull outta the rat next? Wil it be for B? Singlefin? Starbuck? Stella? Another-Person-Who-I-Can't-Remember-At-This-Time-Of-Night? Ooh! I can't wait! Well actually, yes i can. All these handjobs have left me quite spent...
| Bread and Wallpaper
God! how i love the smell of freshly baked bread! And lightly toasted freshly baked bread with generous assaults of cream cheese upon it is just... heaven! Anyway, so where was i? Oh yeah...
"...yeah i know they'll have wrinkles! just use the bloody ironing board like everyone else does fer chrissakes! Like i told you. It'll flatten them out in no time, especially if you press heavily on- YES of course you boil first! Can't you read the instructions? Boil until the meeping stops. No wonder i have a desire to murder you like a sperm whale you every time i see your squid face. Didn't you know that? I have it on good authority that your very existence is unrequitably illegal. You'd better look out 'cause the bill is on to your vapid smile. It's a crime against all that's holy.
...Right, so then once you've flattened 'em you take your nail gun and paste 'em to the wall. It'll look great. Trust me. Oh and make sure you've de-flead them."
Some Igor-like acquaintance. Wanted pictures of kittens and puppies on his walls. but i naysayed him, and suggested he use the real thing. It's a public service really. There's far too many kittens and puppies roaming around at this time of year. Bah! Cute things! Bah!
Ogoddd! didn't i say i was gonna put some hands pics up like... yesterday/last week? Yeah, i did... right. Coming up. Hands. What a fucking slacker...
1.12.04 | I'm a Very Friendly Lion Called Parsley
Nicked the below from Tam's Mememe page, mainly because it reminded me of an animated programme i used to watch when i was a small Saturnyne.
Prog called The Herbs. It had an awesomely cool lion in it, called Parsley, who had his own little song (Sung in a kind of posh, older Nick Drake style- melancholia and everthing) whenever he appeared. Actually, all the characters had songs (And all sung with the kind of poise that you can only get by being English and full of Melancholy). And when i say songs i don't mean the kind of piss you'd get in Barney The Dinosaur or other modern kids crap. The se were the kinds of songs that could be sung and remembered with affection and fondness... ahh, sigh, i do.
Anyway, i'm Basil.
YOU ARE BASIL
What herb are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Oh, and another thing, the "H" in herbs is definitely to be pronounced, cos it sounds sooo much cooler.
Next up: Hands. Or a guest appearance by an aspect of the Triple-Goddess to answer your burning questions. Or something else i've just pulled from the dank recesses of my miind...