Thursday, April 30, 2009

Grown Men Being Awesome: Hirsute and Cute Edition.

I wonder if he calls himself Suphairman.

25 things you may not have known about me

Inspired by a Facebook sensation that I got exposed to, when a friend decided I needed more information about him than I really ever needed or wanted, I have made up my mind to share some of my deepest and most profound details with you, dear Crickets.

Without further ado, here are 25 things you may not have known about me:

25 things you didn’t know about me

1) My birth: I sprang forth, fully-grown and fully clothed, from an axe wound in my father’s forehead.

2) I like to clip coupons, because I can hear the paper scream.

3) I keep a beautiful white unicorn, with deeply mystical eyes and a horn made of mother-of-pearl, in my basement. Once a month I go down there and rape it.

4) I look like I smell, and I smell like an elf.

5) I never found Waldo.

6) I’m less filling, but I also taste great.

7) I’m trying to figure out how to include the word “wang” in every conversation I have without having people notice.

8) I think Andy Dick is a genius subversive conceptual artist.

9) I have a justified and consuming fear of marshmallow.

10) I once ungratefully and stupidly used a wire hanger to hang a beautiful outfit my Mommie had bought for me. Really, I just did it so that she’d make me scrub the bathroom, which was filthy.

11) When I see a beautiful sunset, I often break down and cry, and thank God for those little worms that burrow into human eyeballs and eat their way out.

12) My momma is so fat that she went to the movies and sat next to everyone.

13) Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion.

14) My body is made for water.

15) My partner’s name is a noun.

16) I can’t say “koala” without giggling.

17) I goose-stepped in a Gay Pride parade to be ironic.

18) I don’t know where New Jersey is.

19) I know if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness’ sake.

20) My favorite part of The Godfather is when they eat jelly doughnuts and talk about their man-problems and cry.

21) Wang

22) Everybody wang-chung tonight!

23) I just managed to do it twice.

24) I can only count to 23. And then only when I take off my shoes.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Artist: April Solomon

When the irrepressible, man-about-town Reis O'Brien (he of the splendid Geek Orthodox blog), Todd, our fearless DM, and I visited the Emerald City Comicon, we had a lovely time. We laughed, we cried...and maybe we did a little soul-searching and gained some insight into the meaning of life.

But mostly we looked at stuff.

I am crazy about original art, and this lovely young lady named April Solomon had a stall with some of her art on display, which was amazing.

She works mostly with pen and colored pencil, and she draws mermaids and dragons and all manner of awesome things.

I had to buy this sketch she had lying around:

and then I asked her to draw a centaur for me, and she did this:

Here is the place you can see a few more examples of her work:

And here is just one of her many awesome creations:

Grown Men Being Awesome: Mentally Challenged Superman edition

Superman forgot something. Can you guess what it is?

You are correct: He forgot to give me his phone number.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Comic Book Gaydar: Sodam Yat

I just started reading Green Lantern Corps.
I never had any interest in Green Lantern before.
No disrespect to Hal Jordan fans, but he never really did it for me.
It was the introduction of the other colored rings (especially blue and violet) that made me pick up an issue, and WOW!
I can't believe how quickly this title grabbed hold of my imagination.

With a cast of a dozen regular characters, interstellar action, mayhem, pretty graphic violence, a rich mythology and culture all of its own, and some really great personalities, the Green Lantern titles are now at the top of my list every month.

I'll feature some of the most intriguing characters in the near future, but the first on my list is the one that almost immediately pinged my Gaydar: Sodam Yat.

Now Crickets, perhaps you may be wondering why on earth I'd think he's G-A-Y.

Here are my reasons:

  1. I assume everyone is gay until proven otherwise.

  2. His first name sounds a lot like the city that the bible types like to use in their lame arguments against gays (it's the city mentioned in conjunction with Gomorrah).

  3. His history is one HUGE allegory. He grew up on a repressively xenophobic planet (Daxam), where he always felt "different". He'd spend all his time dreaming about escaping his bigoted family and society. He spent his nights studying the stars. One night, an alien crashed on his planet, and he and the alien, Tessog, became "close", even as he had to hide the relationship from his parents and the world. But his parents found out, had Tessog killed, and sent their son to be brainwashed into believing that Tessog, and aliens in general were evil. (Can you say "ex-gay reparative therapy", Crickets?) His memories later resurfaced, and he was about to use Tessog's spacecraft to escape Daxam when the Green Lantern ring appeared to him.

  4. Crickets, do I need to spell it out at this point?

  5. Oh, and Superboy Prime shoved rods into him.

He has issues with his horrible parents of course, and has some anger mamagement challenges.

The other awesome things about him: He's a Daxamite, which means he has the power levels of Superman, PLUS A GREEN LANTERN RING.

And he has cool eyes.

Rhymes with “Bitch” Ty-ty Story Time Edition: Baba Yaga

Okay, Crickets, if there’s one thing WhiteUnicorn loves almost as much as unicorns, it’s witches. I love old witches and young witches, pretty witches and ugly witches, witches on television, witches in books, good witches…and most of all, I love me some evil witches.

Now, witchcraft has been around ever since the first woman picked up the chicken bones her hairy smelly husband had tossed on the floor, and mixed them with some spit and dirt to curse his teeth to fall out. And it’s been around ever since.

There are some glorious examples of witches throughout history, like Hecate, the Greek Goddess of witchcraft, and Medea (a personal favorite), or the Wicked Witch of the West from Oz, or the wicked stepmother from Snow White, or Hermione from Hogwarts…the list is long. And we’ll get to most of them soon enough.

But if we’re talking about badass witches; if we’re talking about pure nastiness and spite; if we’re talking about weirdness and creepiness, we need to start with a real piece of work: Baba Yaga.

Baba Yaga lives deep in the dark gloomy forests somewhere in Eastern Europe, or possibly Russia. She lives in a house that stands on two giant chicken legs, with a fence of bones and skulls. At night, the skulls light up. It makes everything ever so much more festive when the clean-picked bones of the people you have kidnapped and eaten light up at night. Makes the place feel like home.

Baba Yaga flies around in a giant mortar and pestle, and likes to collect children who don’t eat their beets from their beds in the middle of the night, and eat them.
Isn’t she wonderful?

There are a ton of stories about her, but here is one of my favorites.

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Mischa who lived with her father and mother on the outskirts of a huge dark forest. One day, Mischa’s mother fell ill, and she knew her time was upon her. She called poor Mischa to her bedside and said:
“Darling Mischa, I give you four things before I die. First, let me kiss you and bless you. Remember to be always kind and good”
Mischa kissed her mother.
“Now, here are three other gifts. A ribbon, a lump of coal, and a comb. Keep them with you always, for they will help you when you most need them”
And with that, she died.

Mischa’s father was lonely after his wife died, so he went looking for a wife, and one day, he brought home a woman and her ugly daughter to be Mischa’s new stepmother and stepsister.

Mischa’s stepmother was as cruel and heartless as Mischa’s mother had been loving and good. Mischa was beaten daily, forced to eat the scraps from the dinners she cooked, and sleep in the ashes of the fire at night. Even so, all the handsome men in the village nearby came to look at pretty Mischa and sigh, and none of them would look at her ugly stepsister at all.

At last, there was no more flour in the house to make bread. The stepmother and daughter had spent all the money Mischa’s father had left for them while he was away. Mischa’s stepmother saw a chance to be rid Mischa, so that her daughter could be married. She seized a broom and beat Mischa, and screamed:
“Greedy wretch! You have eaten all our food, and now there is no flour to feed us!”
Her evil little eyes gleamed.
“So now, you must go into the woods and get a bag of flour from Baba Yaga, or I shall beat you to death!”

Mischa feared for her life, but she did as she was told and set out into the woods with only the ribbon, the lump of coal, and the comb her mother had given her.

As she was walking through the forest, she heard the sound of feet pounding. When she looked behind a tree, she spied a nasty little troll who was standing at the entrance to a large anthill, and stomping on every poor ant that scurried out. Mischa’s good heart was full of anger at the spiteful troll. She rushed at the troll and smacked him on the back of the head, which made him wail and run off. The ants gathered up their dead comrades, and continued with their work.

As Mischa walked deeper into the forest, she heard the agitated quacks of ducks. When she came to the side of a pond, she saw the same nasty little troll throwing stones at some ducklings in the reeds. Her heart was filled with sympathy for the poor ducklings, and she rushed up to the troll and kicked him in the shins. He howled and ran off.

As Mischa neared the deepest, gloomiest part of the forest, she heard the caw of ravens. She looked up, and there was the troll, trying to steal raven chicks from their nest. Mischa grabbed a nearby stone, took aim, and hit the troll square in the head. He fell down dead.
Mischa continued on her way.

At nightfall, she came to the house of Baba Yaga. She opened the gate of bones and stood at the house on its chicken feet, and said:
“Turn your back to the forest, your front to me”
A door opened, and there was Baba Yaga.
“And who presents herself for my cooking pot?” she cackled, her sharp teeth gleaming.
“I have been sent to ask you for a bag of flour, Grandmother” stammered poor Mischa.
“Then you shall have it,” replied Baba Yaga, “If you can complete three tasks I set you. If you cannot, I shall eat you. You’ll be delicious with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.”

Mischa shuddered with fear, but had no choice. She spent the night in Baba Yaga’s guest room, praying.
The next morning, Baba Yaga took Mischa into a giant storage room. In the middle of the room was a pile of rice higher than her head.
“You have one day to separate the husk from each grain of rice and place them in a separate pile” snarled Baba Yaga, “or it’s into my pot you go!”
With that, she left.
Mischa knew she could never complete this task in a day. She sat down by the pile of rice and cried. But suddenly, there was a whisper of thousands of tiny feet. Mischa looked around, and from a hole in the floor poured thousands of ants. They covered the huge pile of rice, and separated each husk from each grain as Mischa watched in amazement.
Just as the last grain of rice had been stripped and the last ant had disappeared back through the hole in the floor, Baba Yaga, drooling with anticipation, burst through the door.
Her jaw dropped to see the neatly sorted rice.
“You have done well,” she muttered, “but there is more to come tomorrow.”

The next morning Baba Yaga led Mischa to the edge of a huge lake. She clutched a long string of pearls in her gnarled hand, broke the chain, and flung the pearls far and wide into the water.
You have one day to find each pearl at the bottom of the lake” cackled Baba Yaga, “or it’s into my pot you go!”
With that, she left.

Mischa knew she could never find all the pearls at the bottom of the lake. She sat at the edge of the water and cried. But suddenly, she heard the quacking of a hundred ducks. Mischa looked up, and saw a multitude of ducks swim to the center of the lake, and dive under the water. Again and again they dove down, and by the end of the day, they had returned all the pearls to her side. Just as the last duck deposited the last pearl and swam off, Baba Yaga appeared, slobbering in anticipation.
Her jaw dropped to see the pile of pearls at Mischa’s side.
“You have done well,” she muttered, “but there is more to come tomorrow.”

The next morning Baba Yaga led Mischa to the top of a tall hill. She held in her gnarled hand a stalk of dandelion with a round white head of dandelion seeds.
“You have one day to find every dandelion seed”, snarled Baba Yaga, “or it’s into my pot you go!”
With that, she blew the dandelion seeds into the air, and left.

Mischa watched the seeds float into the sky, and sat down and cried. Suddenly, she heard the rustle of many wings, and as she looked up she saw dozens of ravens fly overhead in pursuit of the seeds.
One by one, throughout the day, a raven returned with a seed in its beak. Just as the last raven delivered the last seed and flew away, Baba Yaga appeared, drooling with hunger.
Her jaw dropped to see every dandelion seed.
“You have done well” she said “and you shall be rewarded”

Baba Yaga led Mischa to another room in her house. The room was filled with gold and jewels.
“Here is a sack full of flour”, said Baba Yaga, handing her a full sack, “And here is a sack you may fill with treasure.” She handed Mischa an empty sack. “Now take what you can and begone.” With that, she disappeared.

Mischa filled the empty sack with gold, and set out on her way home.

Later that night, Baba Yaga returned home. One of the glowing skulls on her fence stared at her balefully.
“You do know that Mischa didn’t do all those tasks herself, don’t’ you?” the skull asked.” She was helped each time, by ants, and ducks, and ravens.”

With a shriek of rage, Baba Yaga jumped into her mortar and pestle and flew off in pursuit of poor Mischa.

Mischa heard the scream of the witch as she flew after her, and she knew that Baba Yaga meant to kill her. She said a prayer to her mother in Heaven, and suddenly the ribbon her mother had given her slipped from her pocket. As soon as it touched the ground, the ribbon became a mighty rushing river.
Baba Yaga saw the river too late, and crashed into the water with her mortar and pestle.

Mischa was halfway home by the time Baba Yaga had crossed the river, but soon she could hear the witch’s screams right behind her. She said another prayer to her mother in Heaven, and suddenly the lump of coal her mother had given her slipped from her pocket. As soon as it touched the ground, it became a huge mountain. Baba Yaga saw the mountain too late, and crashed into it with her mortar and pestle.

Mischa was almost out of the forest by the time Baba Yaga had flown over the mountain. But soon she could hear the witch’s screams so close to her ear that it tingled. Mischa said a third prayer to her mother in Heaven, and suddenly the comb that her mother had given her slipped from her pocket. As soon as it touched the ground, it became a giant forest of thorns. Baba Yaga saw the thorns too late, and crashed into them with her mortar and pestle. The thorns were so prickly and sharp that Baba Yaga was forced to turn around and go home.

Mischa returned to her house with the flour and her gold.
When her stepmother, who had never expected to see her again, asked her where she got the gold, she honestly replied that Baba Yaga had given it to her as a gift.

The wicked stepmother wanted gold for her self, so she sent her own daughter to fetch flour from Baba Yaga. When the wretched girl did not return, the stepmother went to see Baba Yaga herself, and was never heard from again.
Mischa used her gold as a fine dowry, and was married to a handsome duke, and lived happily ever after.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Krod ManDAMN he's hot.

At the WhiteUnicorn mansion, we host a Sunday night pizza and diet-soda evening with a couple of close friends, where we eat, drink, and watch bad television.
Last week, we started watching Krod Mandoon and the Flaming Sword of Fire together.

I really like this new show.
If you have not seen it yet, here's what you need to know.

Krod Mandoon is a freedom fighter who leads a band of rag-tag adventurers.

His arch-nemesis is Dongalor, who wants:

  1. Krod dead,
  2. to rule the world,
  3. and to look good in a fur loincloth.

Alas, he doesn't have the thighs to pull off the loincloth.

It's clear from almost the very beginning that Krod runs his band of followers like a low-level manager runs his team: giving performance appraisals, trying to create heroic synergy, embracing diversity in the workplace. And the members of the team are all incredibly stereotyped: The girl is hot and promiscuous, the gay is lispy and thinks everything is about sex, and the black dude acts like Chris Tucker.

I have read about how some reviewers are offended by the stereotyping. But the show isn't mean. The characters are mostly one-dimensional, but they have heart, and I like all of them, and they're funny. I can't speak for how a woman or a person of colour may feel about the show, but the gays are mostly not offended. At least, not the ones in our house.

Finally, I think...I think there's one last reason I really like this show.

Now what was it? Hmmmmm....

I can't remember what it is.

But when I do recall, I'll let you know, Crickets.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

My Unicorner

Crickets, I love Unicorns.
They frickin' rule. I love everything about them. I love that they are beautiful, I love that they poop sparkles and rose-petals and fart baby powder, I love that they puke rainbows, and I love that they are the only animals in the world that can totally stab you with their faces.

Although I have a pretty schweet day job, I have made it even schweeter by bringing my horny pals with me to work.

I have at my desk in my cubicle, a:

  • Unicorn piggy bank named Lady Penelope (Penny, get it?)
  • A Unicorn in a musical snow globe (Queen of the Sea Monkeys)
  • Lots of stuffed Unicorns (all appropriately named, of course)
  • A My Little Pony Unicorn (Chastity Boner)
  • A finger-puppet Unicorn (Scrappy)
  • A porcelain Unicorn head (Spanish Harlem)
  • A Unicorn bell (Joan Marie)
  • A Unicorn paper stamp (Shakespeare)
  • Lots of pictures of Unicorns

Here are some of them:

Here's one of the pictures next to my computer:

Here are three that hang out in the Unipark on my desk. The blue one is Xanadu, the yellow one is Sparkletail, and the pink one is Misty Morn:

So this may be hard to believe, but when I first brought my horny friends with me to work, some of the people who walked past my cube looked at me funny.
I have since come to understand that the look is one of admiration, mixed with jealousy. Unicorns only love the pure of heart, and typically only the pure of heart love them back.

Have you played leapfrog with a Unicorn today?

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Bea Arthur: Rest in Peace, Classy Lady

Bea Arthur passed away today.
She was 86, and she passed peacefully with friends and family around her.
Crickets, this makes me sad.
Growing up, we didn't get a lot of television, but one show I remember watching with my grandmother as a kid was Maude. I don't remember a lot about it except the theme song, and Bea Arthur's LOOK.
There was a look she'd get when somone was being stupid or making her angry that managed to say so much more than just a thousand words.

And then there was the Golden Girls.

Dorothy Zbornak is one of the greats of television.

She even earned her geek cred by not only voicing the Femputer in Futurama, but by singing in the Star Wars Holiday Special. Check her out:

I will miss you, Bea Arthur.

Friday, April 24, 2009

You “hoof” to see this

Look, crickets, I’m as much a hot-blooded humanoid male as the next guy.
I have a thing for centaurs. Who doesn’t? I mean, when hasn’t a centaur “sent our” pulses racing? Can I get an “Amen”, fellas?

Centaur Pros:
· He’s a dude with built-in head-crushing kick skills.
· When he whispers in your ear that he’s going to take you on the ride of your life, he actually means it.
· You hate to cook? Feed him some oats and a raw carrot, and he’ll consider you a gourmet chef.
· When the two of you go out together, you’re always the “centaur” of attention.

Sure, there may be some problems: Some people are too close-minded to accept a man and a centaur together; and buying pants is always a challenge. Oh, and you’ll need a shovel. But after all is neighed and done, centaurs are awesome.

Here is the latest spokescentaur for a leading men’s deodorant:

Thinking about World Peace

Conducting an invisible orchestra

Juicin’ the pecs

Just waking up from a nap

Practicing how he’ll surprise me with flowers


Thursday, April 23, 2009

Even the greatest journey begins with a single *stumble* Owww, my ankle!

Hello Everyone!
*Crickets chirp*
Hello crickets! And welcome to my blog!
What’s it about, you ask? Well, that’s an excellent question, you curious crickety question-askers!
Umm…the truth is I’m not completely sure yet. But I have an idea. A wonderful, fabulous, gay fantasy extravaganza of an idea. I wanted to show you in interpretive dance, but I just hurt my ankle, see.
So, instead, here is a kind of pictorial mission statement for you, crickets. Here are some of the things that bring me joy.

If you like any of them, stay tuned, and you may see more.

Oh, and tell your friends to come over next time. I have cocoa.