Pot Sticklers

Mom and Dad put up with a lot of nonsense. 
 

Felled by Fellini

 

Do you mock me, sir? 

A few days ago, I completed a major reorganization of our theatre room. Yesterday, not content with my work, I set about re-sorting some of my discs and adding themed decorations to the shelves. 

Suddenly, something heavy fell from above, slamming right into the bridge of my nose. I was so stunned that I didn't even yell; I was too dazed. A second later, the pain hit; it was severe enough that I wondered if something had broken my nose. When I touched it, causing an even worse flare-up of pain, my fingers came away covered with blood. 

I scurried to the bathroom and tenderly applied tissue to the wound to stanch the flow of blood, then returned to the scene of the accident. There on the floor was my prized Criterion Fellini box set--the culprit. I must have jostled the shelves, and the set, which had been perched with other Criterion sets on high, tilted over and struck its blow. 

I have now secured the Fellini in a better position. I'm just glad it didn't fall on Sylvia. 

Thanks to Stephen for the inspiration for this post's title. 

Dada Comics #19

 

Squish!

Approved by the Comics Code Authority and Gemini's guardrails, apparently. 
 

The Bottomless Well of Human Desire

Lenore and Henry are moving up in Victorian society. Henry is nouveau riche, a manufacturer of cutlery, and he's married a high-born but penniless wife. The match means class elevation for Henry and security for Lenore. Oh, there's love, too, at first, but after Lenore miscarries and becomes infertile, the relationship cools. The terrible secret they share doesn't help--and there's worse mayhem ahead, as they soon discover when they rescue the mysterious Carmilla from a carriage crash on the way to their new estate . . . 

Hungerstone (Kat Green, 2025), is a story about desire and agency, which takes Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu's lesbian vampire novella Carmilla as inspiration. In both stories, a young woman (Laura in the original, Lenore in Hungerstone) dreams of another woman about her age coming to her at night and biting her. Later, both heroines meet this mysterious figure--Carmilla--in the flesh, rescuing her from a carriage crash. Carmilla insinuates herself into Lenore's life; partly to sate her own desires, but much more importantly to help Lenore understand that she, too, has desires, and that she should be honest with herself and pursue them. Carmilla and Henry do not get along, and Carmilla, in word and deed, does what she can to encourage Lenore to reclaim her agency. It's not just a matter of getting out from under her husband's thumb--it's about survival itself. 

Lenore's backstory is presented via her thoughts as she navigates her new reality. Thanks to Carmilla, Lenore is forced to reflect on her past to discover the reasons why she gave up hope of happiness from a young age, and why she allowed herself to enter an unfulfilling, even dangerous, relationship with Henry. Moreover, without Carmilla's aid, Lenore may not have discovered the forces being drawn up against her until it was too late . . . 

For the fourth time this month, I've read stories by women about women who reclaim their agency to empower themselves and protect themselves from men. Of these, Hungerstone might be my favourite. Rich in allusion and metaphor, the novel first emulates and then inverts Carmilla's original story to present a subversive, well-earned happy ending Le Fanu may have appreciated but could not possibly have depicted in his era. Hungerstone also works as a horror novel; it's gloomy, with a pervasive sense of dread, the occasional outbreak of horrific violence, and some very weird scenes of pica--perhaps unsurprising in a novel about desire, hunger, want, and cravings--all the same thing, are they not? There's even a lovely little scene with a real hunger stone. 

Coffee Table Crash Landing

I tried to get Gemini to create a photo of the time infant Sean jumped off our couch in Leaf Rapids into a glass-topped coffee table, shattering it. Sean suffered no harm, and happily played with the shards of glass for the span of nanoseconds it took for Mom to rush over and grab him to inspect him for wounds. 

Gemini refused my initial prompt, which was something like "a one-year old baby jumps off a green couch and through a green glass-topped coffee table without being hurt." Gemini's safeguards prevented the tool from embracing my vision (phooey), so I changed the prompt to something like "a bald, very small male person..." before the stuff about the accident. The action and 1970s decor are captured fairly well, but the "baby" is a bit uncanny. Cute duck, though. 
 

Artless Sequence

Generative AI has not yet mastered sequential art. Huzzah! I am, however, still amused. 
 

That's Enough Internet for Today

Nope, I'm not clicking on this. 
 

Someone Set Me Up the Bomb

You have no chance to survive, make your time! 
 

Dada Comics #18

 

Dada Comics #17

 

Aggravating Whoopsie

Be careful not to set your refrigerator's temperature too low. Your root beer may freeze, expand, and explode its container, creating a mess and safety hazard in one loud pop. Pun not intended. 
 

Cat Scratch Near Miss

When I was very young, I pulled Smokey's tail. Smokey was my maternal grandparents' cat, and did not suffer fools. Smokey retaliated by slashing at my face, slicing a shallow groove through skin just barely to the right of my right eyeball. I learned my lesson that day, and I'm grateful that Smokey chose not to half-blind me. 

As far as I know, this is the only photo of Smokey and me. Based on my approximate age here, it may even have been taken right around the time Smokey scratched me. 
 

Dada Comics #15

 

Unfortunate Bug

Jeff 3D-printed a dragon skull for me a few days ago. While I was priming the model, this insect flew into the acrylic spray and, well . . . suffocated. Macabre. 
 

Captain Kirk Deals with a Romulan Spy

Apply directly to the forehead! 
 

A Fistful of Dynamite

Here's Michael "Boomer" Murphy. He likes to blow things up with dynamite. This figure reminds me of the story I once read about someone who put a blasting cap in his mouth and bit down on it as a gag. Unfortunately, it destroyed his teeth and jaw. Playing with things that explode is best done in a safe, simulated environment, such as a tabletop roleplaying game. 
 

Blood Shed

In a parallel universe, a different version of me is enjoying a successful, if notorious, career as a filmmaker. The latest hit from his Paranoid Productions studio is Blood Shed, currently garnering attention not because of its story, but its unconventional style. In Blood Shed, Paranoid-me grafts modern explicit violence effects to an otherwise mid-20th century aesthetic, creating an uncanny effect disturbing audiences all over Earth-E (for Excessive Violence). 

Blood Shed is a Technicolor western set in a lonely corner of 1870s New Mexico Territory. Horst Horseman is carving farmland from desert scrub, and against all odds, he is on the verge of success. The harvest to come is poised to be his most successful yet, and he is eager to share the bounty with other settlers and their Navajo neighbours. 

But just as his crops ripen, Horst is set upon by a roving band of banjo-strumming bandits who call themselves the Banjo Bandit Band. Horst offers the bandits fresh fruits, vegetables, and water from his hard-won well, but the bandits aren't here for charity--they're here for plunder. After first taunting Horst with a truly dreadful banjo performance, they beat him senseless and toss him into the woodshed, staining it all over with blood--hence the film's title. 

Anytime from the dawn of cinema through the 1950s would generally treat this violence tastefully, either cutting away from the action to let the audience imagine it for themselves or bloodlessly pantomiming the action. In Blood Shed, however, we see every punch, kick, and banjo-clobbering in rapturous slow motion, with every spray of ichor, goose egg, blackened eye, and broken bone captured with intense realism. 

The Banjo Bandit Band leaves Horst for dead in a slowly spreading pool of his own blood as they steal his crops and burn his humble homestead to the ground. Miraculously, the fire does not spread to the titular Blood Shed, and Horst's broken body is discovered by his horrified neighbors. 

Moved by Horst's plight, several of Horst's fellow settlers team up with sympathetic Navajo warriors to chase down the Banjo Bandit Band. As it turns out, they're easy to track, because they won't stop playing their banjos. The rest of the film details the running battle between the bandits and Horst's posse--really just an excuse to create graphically realistic arrow, bullet, and knife wounds in the context of a B-list midcentury western steeped in the production values of the time: some location shooting, canned music, generous use of rear projection, stilted dialogue, continuity errors, and acting ranging from merely terrible to workmanlike. In the end, Horst is avenged and his friends help him rebuild the farm. 

Alternate-Woods would later use the same technique to create similarly dissonant films noir (Teeth On a Midnight Sidewalk, Blood-Soaked Tide*), musicals (The Iced Capades, Xanadoom), comedy (The Three Stooges Go to the Hospital, The Three Stooges in Blunt Trauma), horror (There Is No Anesthesiologist in This Hospital, Castle of Stone Stairs, Brutal Fists of Frankenstein), science fiction (Magnificent Devastation, Attack of the Needlessly Sadistic Saucer Men), absurdism (Who Filled the Washing Machine with Dynamite?), and even the Oscar-winning drama Senseless Violence. 

Poor alternate Sylvia. 

*With product placement of the famous detergent

Flash! Oww-wwww!

Just a man
With a man's torn shirt
Nothing but a man
Covered with bruises and blood
No one but this pain-wracked guy
Can save our wo-orld
Oh, Flash
Oh, Flash
 

Joey the Trainer

"Ya gotta hit him from the left, ya lousy bum! Are you throwing this fight on purpose? You better be, because if this performance is really the best you can do I'll make you start sparring with my gramma! She'll teach you a thing or two, you lazy louse!"