Check out the animated show Bat out of Hell on Kickstarter!

Stay classy, city of origin for WD-40

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I tend to think that’s not a typo at the bottom there. It’s its own enemy sometimes; in this case, it’s simply a victim of its own Man Size Pressure Pack.

Do fetuses dream of unborn sheep?

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An interesting and astute piece on all things “Phildickian” over at Chronicles:

But Dick also had a conservative side, represented by his strong (if heterodox) religious devotion, his distrust of large bureaucratic structures, and his longtime anti-abortion stance. In the last decade of his life, as he finally began receiving substantial amounts of money for his writing, Dick donated thousands of dollars to pro-life causes. He also wrote “The Pre-Persons,” a powerful story in which parents can abort any child under 12. Yet both the speech by Dick-the-hippie and the story by Dick-the-conservative are recognizably the work of the same man—both, in fact, were produced during the same period of his life. The first endorses rebellion, no matter how nihilistic, against a soulless apparatus of power; rebellion, at least, is human. And the story denies the government the right to define who is a human being, arguing that this will only produce a totalitarian system akin to the one the juvenile delinquents in the speech are rebelling against. One need not be pro-vandalism—or pro-life, for that matter—to approve of the underlying point.

*Dick and Percy: Separated at birth?(!)

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JOB I ain’t

Look, some people write epic, and some people write doggerel, and then there are some people who aren’t even Irish, so what do you know? Anyway, there was a gathering last night, and there was some Mexican whiskey at the gathering, and there was a great deal of singing, and so naturally, I wrote a song. Apologies, of a sort, to the English in the room. Sung, more or less, to the tune of, “Whiskey, You’re the Devil.”

Oh the English kicked our asses
For seven hundred years
But we have fairer lasses
And we have darker beers
So let them have the courthouse
And let them take the square
And we’ll go back to our house
And take some comfort there

 

Oh, the English fog is yellow
And the English heart is pale
If your friend’s an English fellow
Then your friendship’s sure to fail
So we’ll pay their English taxes
And we’ll speak their English tongue
But when their grip relaxes
Then will Irish songs be sung

 

Oh if I were born in England
I wouldn’t stay at home
I’d get right out of England
And to Ireland I would roam
So for all the English bastards
I feel pity more than scorn
Who wouldn’t be a bastard
If in England he was born?

 

Na Muintir: Three Fragments

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                                              After Seumus McManus

(The Coming of the Gaels)

Let us sing of the coming of the Gaels,
         Three tribes like three streams, wandering
Across the wide lands of the East and South,
         Across the roaring body of seas, land
Of foreign powers and ways weird to Eire.
         From there came the Milesians though last
In order, first in war and rule.
                                                These were met
By bristling Firbolg and mighty Tuatha Da Danaan,
         When to these the Milesians beat their path.
All three were kin of Celt’s blood, who before
         The singing of songs separated to become
One tribe, they of whom we now sing our tune,
         The triple-headed river of wandering men,
Come from the East, the Gaels, warring down
         To the peace of a single river’s flow: the Gaels.
First the Firbolg came, and they from Hellas,
          Long enslaved but cunning in their escape,
Capturing the ships of their veteran masters,
         Outrunning the curses of Manannan MacLir,
They managed a beach head, and thereby good fortune
         Until the Fomorians, tribe of rovers,
With a stronghold on Tory Island, waged big war
         Coming down like birds of prey, across
The cold grey seas, white-tipped with chill wind,
         Come down from the Island of Tory, northwest.
Because of the Firbolgs, the Fomorians would work
         A petty worry in the wake of the Tuatha De Danann.
So came next these clever and skillful folk.
         Awed by the finery and execution of artful works,
[Read more…]

Redound thee unto mine own personage…

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Dappled Things took the bait… Heh.

With apologies to Dino

I’d Be Happy to Know I Was the Only One Who Missed This…

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From FOK Nick Ripatrizone

In related other belated news, the man behind the swiveling heads and green projectile liquids finds out if he was right all along…

ADDED: Well, now, this is something (else!).

Kid’s Stuff

Meanwhile, somewhere between Umbert and Alphonse…

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If you have to say it…

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Gerasene ’17: The Kollektiv at Notre Dame

4a52b04c-9854-4f8d-857b-c68d95a89614-002[Image: the Mississippi gravesite of Senator LeRoy Percy, Walker Percy’s uncle.]

CONFIRMED: Two [hopefully three] members of the Korrektiv as panelists at this summer’s Trying to Say “God”: Re-enchanting Catholic Literature, June 22-24 at the University of Notre Dame. Rally, Korrektiv, rally!

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