Month: December 2005

Santas and Hackers

elvis3 Comments

So evidently sometime yesterday, a group of bad-boy hackers got in through a back door on our host server. They didn’t do anything that we can find other than to steal bandwidth to do a buch of port-scanning, though we’re doing a more complete scan. No harm no foul as far as moronoblogs are concerned, […]

So evidently sometime yesterday, a group of bad-boy hackers got in through a back door on our host server. They didn’t do anything that we can find other than to steal bandwidth to do a buch of port-scanning, though we’re doing a more complete scan. No harm no foul as far as moronoblogs are concerned, our database is free of corruption (well, other than that which we put there our own selves).

But I just wanted to tip the hat to Brandon who spent his friday doing battle with the forces of evil. As far as I know, he got the security hole plugged late last night, with very little help from me. Time for me to study up on security so I can be more use next time.

So I’d intended to (try to) repeat last year’s bad santa challenge, and do another holiday-themed dirty story. I’ve utterly failed at that, not even starting such a story. Maybe next year I’ll do better, but meantime, you owe it to yourself to read these wonderful tails of holiday depravity:

Because Papa Noel is a Bad Bad Man.

I’d love to have more to add to this collection, so if any of you feel motivated to write a holiday-themed erotic tale, by all means, do. They don’t all have to be santa-themed, nor even specifically xmas.

And I need to get myself writing again. It’s in there, I just can’t seem to get it out.

We Wants the Redhead!

elvis8 Comments

A late birthday gift from Brutha Ray, shipped from the Magic Kingdom. Thank you my friend, You know the way to a pirate’s heart. Strike your colors you brazen wench! No need to expose your superstructure! (click the image for detail)

A late birthday gift from Brutha Ray, shipped from the Magic Kingdom. Thank you my friend, You know the way to a pirate’s heart.

Strike your colors you brazen wench! No need to expose your superstructure!

Img 0996 1

(click the image for detail)

Hello Kitty, Hello Dave

elvis4 Comments

You know, really, I hate the whole hello kitty thing. I just don’t get how it became some sort of pop icon.

And yet – for some reason I don’t understand – I love this Fender Hello Kitty Guitar.

Maybe it’s just the image from the web site:


Picture 1I dunno. But someone I find the whole idea utterly charming. And not only do I want to buy this guitar for several female friends, I also [shudder] want one of my own.

Ken? Ken? You need one also. When you sell that Selmar horn, think pink kitty.

But it’s not just me. Even my man Dave Navarro has to have one:


Hellokitty-ThumbMmm. Pink Kitty.

Half-Nekkid Thursday

elvis13 Comments

Ok, ok. I keep promising to do this and then flaking. Not having a camera handy that can take a decent picture is only an excuse. Half-nekkid thursday. Go read about it here: . I guess I should have saved the mohawk pic for HNT.

Ok, ok. I keep promising to do this and then flaking. Not having a camera handy that can take a decent picture is only an excuse.

Half-nekkid thursday. Go read about it here: HNT_1. I guess I should have saved the mohawk pic for HNT.

Read more “Half-Nekkid Thursday”

I’m gonna be at the Christmas tree with my ma cher ami-o

elvis19 Comments

I’ve been looking for the words to this song for, like, two years now. Papa Noel by Brenda Lee. Written by someone named Roy Botkin. I picked this up on a collection called Christmas Belles from Rhino, and simply fell in love with it. But give it a listen and you’ll see how hard it […]

I’ve been looking for the words to this song for, like, two years now.

Papa Noel by Brenda Lee. Written by someone named Roy Botkin. I picked this up on a collection called Christmas Belles from Rhino, and simply fell in love with it.

But give it a listen and you’ll see how hard it is to pick out the words.

Someone, finally, has got a transcription. It’s not quite right; I think there are some cajun-isms that don’t make a lot of sense phonetically. But it’s damned close, close enough that you could actually sing along with it and not utterly butcher it.

Here’s the thread on Mudcat.org where they’re working on it.

And below are the lyrics, with my corrections (and DN’s) on a couple things.

Hey Beau, let’s go and get pirogue and push-pole down the bayou,
I want to see the Christmas Tree, dance o- fais dodo.
Have a big time and cut a shine, where all will be gay-o
Oh, Santa Claus will come tonight, down on the bayou

Papa Noel will bring the bells and all will be gay-o
I’m gonna be at the Christmas tree with my ma chère ami-o
So ring the chimes, it’s Christmas time and pick the old banjo
Oh, Santa Claus will come tonight, down on the bayou

Instrumental interlude

See ma Nannan and ma Parrain, I know they’ll all be there-o,
See Ol’ Quelqu’un and Mamoun, Bébé and Jo-Jo,
See Jolivet oh my sweet pet and get me some sugar,
Oh, Santa Claus will come tonight, down on the bayou

So roll the rug, let’s kiss and hug and let’s all be gay-o,
A merry Christmas to you all and a happy bonne année-o
I’m gonna dance all through the night, ’til daylight with my babe-o,
Oh, Santa Claus will come tonight, down on the bayou

Instrumental interlude

Dionne wants a push-y-on, a pistolette and yo-yo,
My Jolivet, oh my sweet pet, Lord cher ami-o,
Oh Auntie Luce will cook the goose, and she will serve the gumbo,
Oh, Santa Claus will come tonight, down on the bayou

Papa Noel will bring the bells and all will be gay-o
I’m gonna be at the Christmas tree with my ma cher ami-o
So ring the chimes, it’s Christmas time and pick the old banjo
Oh, Santa Claus will come tonight, down on the bayou

If anyone can make any corrections or additions to that, let me know (Brutha Ray?) and I’ll post ’em on Mudcat. We’ll see if we can get it closer.

[ note – corrections by darkneuro in place – thanks baby! ]

I love this song…

a thousand nameless hells

elvis3 Comments

What makes this entertaining isn’t the slippers. I mean, sure, they’re cute and all, but you seen one c’thulu plush, you seen ’em all. No, what makes this entertaining is Cory’s description: “…keep your feet warm even as they damn them to a thousand nameless hells.”

What makes this entertaining isn’t the slippers. I mean, sure, they’re cute and all, but you seen one c’thulu plush, you seen ’em all.

No, what makes this entertaining is Cory’s description:

“…keep your feet warm even as they damn them to a thousand nameless hells.”

Cthulhuslippers

Axegrinder

elvis14 Comments

I said “they broke the mold” to someone earlier tonight and it sparked one of those where the hell did I hear that song lyric searches. After quite a while poking around in the memory banks, and then some googling, I give you Axegrinder by one of my all time favorite bands, the Hoodoo Gurus: […]

I said “they broke the mold” to someone earlier tonight and it sparked one of those where the hell did I hear that song lyric searches.

After quite a while poking around in the memory banks, and then some googling, I give you Axegrinder by one of my all time favorite bands, the Hoodoo Gurus:

My edge is keen and I’ve honed my skill.
I’ve got nerves of steel and an iron will.
My skin is bronze, my trim is chrome,
Climb aboard – I’ll drive you home.
I’m a silver – tongued devil with a heart of gold,
When I was made they broke the mold.
My blood runs hot, like molten lead,
Pump you full – I’m gonna knock you dead.

I don’t mince words, I spit’em out.
I won’t leave room for any doubt.
Get to the point, stop splitting hairs
That ain’t getting either of us anywhere.
Sometimes it’s better to be blunt
But is this some kind of publicity stunt?
So far you’ve whet my appetite,
Do you wanna grind with me tonight?

Axegrinder. I’m not famous for my tact.
Axegrinder. I’ve gotta sharpen up my act.
Axegrinder. Try and see things through my eyes.
Everything and everyone gets cut back down to size.

On the brink of who knows what?
We’ve gotta strike while the iron’s hot.
l can hold your hand, try to guide you through
But I can’t make your moves for you.
Swing my blade – that’s how it’s done.
Don’t stop me now, I’ve only just begun.
I was told when I was young
I wouldn’t work in an iron lung.
Now I’ve learned a trick of two.
I’m working up a sweat for you.

MohawkMaster 1997

elvis8 Comments

Just about the last time I had hair, and certainly the last time I had a mohawk. Me. Summer 1997. I like these so much it almost makes it seem worth growing hair again.

Just about the last time I had hair, and certainly the last time I had a mohawk.

Me. Summer 1997.
K Mohawk-4

I like these so much it almost makes it seem worth growing hair again.

Island Call

elvis7 Comments

Hiromi just posted this over on Panties3: Gabby Pahinui, Hi’ilawe It’s fucking beautiful, and stopped me dead, absolutely swept away by that island feeling, that sense of time and place I get. Hawaii makes me understand how one can have a love affair with a place that has the emotional and physical intensity one normally […]

Hiromi just posted this over on Panties3:

Gabby Pahinui, Hi’ilawe

It’s fucking beautiful, and stopped me dead, absolutely swept away by that island feeling, that sense of time and place I get.

Hawaii makes me understand how one can have a love affair with a place that has the emotional and physical intensity one normally only feels for a person. And it’s the music that takes me there, to early mornings driving through dripping rain forest, to meals and drinks outside with the sound of the ocean, the warm breeze, the smell of exotic flowers and earthy decay.

The smell of hawaii – cane stubble burning, the murky scent of fermenting sugar cane, the red scent of the very soil. Sea and sweat and fruit and flowers.

I need to be back there. Now.

More Human Than Human

elvis7 Comments

Can I erase my whiny, I’m-so-sick-and-sorry-for-myself entries from earlier this week? Of course I can. It’s my blog. I’m god here. Same reason I can delete comments I don’t like. Freedom of speech? This ain’t your fuckin’ america, folks, there ain’t no constitution. No fuckin’ rules. And yet, I won’t delete ’em. I’m finally starting […]

Can I erase my whiny, I’m-so-sick-and-sorry-for-myself entries from earlier this week?

Of course I can. It’s my blog. I’m god here. Same reason I can delete comments I don’t like. Freedom of speech? This ain’t your fuckin’ america, folks, there ain’t no constitution.

No fuckin’ rules.

And yet, I won’t delete ’em.

I’m finally starting to feel human again (or subhuman, or inhuman, or super-human, or whatever normal would be), finally getting some work done. Now, my challenge is to resist the urge to act like I’m completely well and resume full-speed-ahead. That’s the mistake I usually make and the result tends to be a relapse, and a really bad respiratory infection that means ten days of horse pills.

So I have to ignore the voice that says back to the gym tomorrow unless I wake up no longer feeling like there’s a porcupine living in my sinuses.

Now, I’m not gonna link to it because that just seems too fucking egotistical. But Buck, you literally made me cry, three times, while I was reading that birthday message. I kept trying to reply and it took me this long to be able to do it. Thank you. It takes a lot to get me to well up that way.

And thanks to the various people who sent me birthday gifts or thoughts or greetings or images. You people rule, every one. I’m not worthy.