"Shia LaBeouf" by Rob Cantor
Holy shit, this just gets better and better.
It really is a good music day. hahahahaha!
think you should probably lose the my there, that’s the cougar’s house now
"Family gatherings" aka "90% of the people here are racist"
"and claim to be none of these things"
"they’re just joking"
"you’re just going through a phase"
"you’ll get used to it"
"so do you have a boyfriend yet?"
Introducing “Redneck Retreiver”
IS WONDER WOMAN TELLING HER TO GO STAB THOSE BOYS AND PROBABLY KILL THEM
Reading is fundamental.
CUTEST ASSHOLE IN THE WORLD
Here’s a little comic I did today
She walked screaming out of the white smoke, a black-clad goddess of death, exuding aggressive sex. Her eyes held just a tinge of threat. Her nails, phallic daggers of implied violence. Waist shrunken to a ghastly circumference, her eyebrows archly painted, her long black hair swirling behind and around her, she shocked, titillated, angered, obsessed.
She called herself Vampira.
She introduced every show with a scream, a bloodcurdling extrusion that had to issue out of some cavern too big, dark, and lonely to live inside her impossible 36-17-36 figure. She screamed and looked directly at the camera, a goth Garbo who seized the eye of the audience, refusing to become a simple object of their regard. She seduced them with the offer of a night of B-movies, horror and sci-fi fare, mostly execrable, but seasoned with her spicy sweetness and her undertone of aggression that radiated underneath heavy white pancake make-up.
Nobody could turn off the TV. It was 1954.
Maila Nurmi screamed in a postwar America of chilling optimism, everyday repressions, and awkward silences. She was the child of Finnish immigrants, a runaway in the 30’s who worked as an actor, a model for softcore men’s magazines, and a burlesque dancer. She had a taste for the macabre that led her to delve into the sediment of midcentury America until it yielded its dark treasures. A pin-up model who found herself turned into the 50’s American middle class housewife, she refashioned herself to escape the confines of cultural expectation.
Nurmi had explored the tangled underside of the country since the mid-1940s; an underground gothic land lived beneath the sun- lit world of postwar America. As a young runaway, she performed in a New York horror/burlesque show known as “Spook Scandals” that had called for her to rise out of a coffin and scream. There she had begun to craft the character of Vampira, thinking about how the sexy and the horrific could intertwine, a dance between Eros and Thanatos.
“Dig Me, Vampira” was like nothing that had yet appeared in television’s brief existence. Premiering on April 30, 1954, it became an instant hit in the Los Angeles area. Then things exploded. *****
Vampira quickly reached a larger audience through a Life magazine photo shoot. She appeared on Red Skelton’s popular show alongside Lon Chaney Jr. and Bela Lugosi. She hung out with James Dean and his entourage at Googie’s Restaurant, one of the few late night spots in 1950s Hollywood. She became part of “the night watch,” aspiring actors and directors that hovered around Dean, the strange and beautiful boy from Indiana who had yet to reach superstardom in East of Eden.
Ratings for the Vampira show shot through the roof in the year to come and Nurmi seemed on the verge of major stardom. But KABC cancelled her contract around the time of the death of James Dean. Despite her popularity, Vampira had spun a web of controversy that entangled her and the station. FCC warnings, a lawsuit by a starlet who thought her career had been ruined by the image of Vampira, and, finally, the end of Nurmi’s marriage to Reisner, a blow to the station’s public relations campaign that had attempted to portray her as a normal housewife who liked to play dress-up as a bit of “horrific whimsy.” Dean’s death, or at least the bizarre rumors that surrounded Nurmi in the aftermath of it, represented the final straw.
By the late 1950s her television career was over; she lived with her mother while receiving unemployment benefits. She appeared in the Ed Wood directed Plan 9 from Outer Space that, while later a cult hit, barely had any audience at all in the first years of its existence. True and lasting stardom never came calling again. By the 1960s, Nurmi supported herself as a tile contractor. Stories, patently untrue, circulated of roles in pornographic films. She became a figure of local legend in West Hollywood, part of a cast of peculiar characters who’d once been famous and now were not.
Vampira disappeared. But she thrived in the cultural underground. Maila Nurmi hung out with the punk/metal band the Misfits in the 80s at places like West Hollywood Vinyl Fetish. She also worked on a book she never finished, a memoir of underside of a 50s Hollywood that stayed up late nights at Googies Restaurant, popped pills, and lived off the warm glow of stardom it stalked.
She died, alone, in 2008.
Perhaps this is all that we need know of her story. Perhaps it’s more or less all that can be known. It’s true that her influence has spread far and wide. There may not be a horror convention where her visage doesn’t influence the tattooed seductress cos-players, not a horror host who doesn’t owe something to her camp humor, no mistress of the night anywhere whose ultimate origin point can’t be traced to this runaway, this late night comedian.
Vampira borrowed from many of the ghosts that haunted American culture, elements never before brought together with the kind of sexual energy and threatening cultural pose that Vampira adopted. She described her character as a monster crafted out of the elements of American history, the terrors of the great depression, and the postwar style of the Beats. She raises questions about everything we think we know about the American fifties.
Excerpted from Vampira: Dark Goddess of Horror. Copyright 2104 by W. Scott Poole. Published by Soft Skull Press. All rights reserved. Photos: Collection of the Author
Author John Scalzi was on a roll this morning (currently 7:14 AM, 26 Sept. 2014) with a tweet he found from some guy sending out an “ultimatum” to women to “make a choice” between feminism and, well, men like him. So Scalzi launched into a truly magnificent set of scorchers, which I’m posting here for the delectation of people everywhere.
Also: I would like to thank that guy for setting the ultimatum. It makes finding a boyfriend so much easier when the undesirable ones wear a placard identifying themselves.
For this work, Bozic remembers a trip to Mount Lassen, California, with her husband. Recalling the experience—even though several years had passed—Bozic finally sat down to create this painting, remembering her imagination of “deep sea organisms slowly drifting up into the sky from the black current of the water.” She also notes, “I suppose the image stuck with me because it could be a metaphor for a lot of my different emotions… some light and warm, some deep and cold.” The contrasting tones and shades lend themselves to this mood, with negative dark space and dark trees emerging from the solid white snow forms. The ethereal sea shapes preside over the scene.
In an attempt to relay her consciousness’ perspective, this body of work is a rich account of Tiffany Bozic’s incredible encounters with nature. Bozic describes the source of her inspiration as a “complex and inexplicable world.” However, with Qualia, Bozic’s world is within reach and beautifully discrete.
Here, Mamo-kun brought you a Diana to bright your day :D
- To mixed people who only look like one of their races
- To mixed people who look ‘ambiguous’ ‘exotic’ ‘unique’ and get both fetishized and treated badly for it
- To mixed people whose identities are ‘too confusing’
- To mixed people whose identities get ignored
- To mixed people whose identities are questioned
- To mixed people who are told ‘they aren’t really ___’
- To mixed people who have mixed hair and mixed skin and can’t find cosmetic care products for themselves
- To mixed people who are victims of multiple types of racism
- To mixed people who can’t fit in with the parts of their family
- To mixed people who only have connections to one of their races
- To mixed people who are too ‘___’ or not ‘___’ enough
- To mixed people who aren’t white, but can pass for white.
- To white mixed people who are white passing, and have to decide between having their identity erased or having to deal with more racism
- To white mixed people who aren’t white passing, and don’t get the choice.
- To white mixed people who aren’t white passing, but their siblings are
- To mixed people who have to deal with prejudice from their own family, white or not. (anti-blackness, fetishism, colorism)
- To transracial adopted mixed people who have never known any of their family
- To mixed people who have to figure out their identities by themselves
To mixed people who have to deal with so much shit. You are strong, you are beautiful, and you are valid.
For mixed people everywhere, stand in solidarity with each other. While we have similar experiences, not everyone has the same experience, or relationship with their race. Be aware of whatever privileges you have. Listen to others and always help one another.
thank you, i needed this
I put on my new pajamas because I dont think Wonder Woman gets upset about bed bugs but I still feel crummy. Cozy and Amazonian, but crummy.
nooooo no feeling crummy