You’re not getting any more Jemima Slimfast. Until I manage to find my Chuck Palahniuk belmfic, you’re getting the Hardy Boys. I wrote this a very, very long time ago, for my friend Seanbaby (erstwhile leader of Oregon crimefighting team ATHENA).
One night, Frank and Joe Hardy stayed up till midnight [...]
By Jemima Slimfast
Suff’ring from a Quinsy I was advised to travel to a warmer climate, and thus set forth to the Spanish Main, via the uneven and unforgiving land of Scareforth.
On Tuesday I got the tin tack. “I AM A ROBOT. YOU CANNOT HURT ME,” I warned. But clearly had something to learn about human nature. Why are they so obsessed with “the end of the day”? Why do their eyes leak when they look in the mirror? I [...]
Spank me. Only a few posts after slagging people who are stuck in the past, I’m spouting childhood anecdotes. It’s as though I, too, am stuck in the past.
This is why you are wearing a T-shirt saying “Barbie is a slut!” and looking for drug references in Hanna Barbera cartoons. You’re angry. You didn’t ask to fall from grace. You didn’t ask to go through puberty, and become ugly and hairy. You’re scared of secret, sweaty things in the dark
The more we exclaim how horrified we are by child molestation, the more we can permit ourselves to linger, in a way that’s not far from lascivious, over images of childish bodies [...]