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Monthly Archives: JULY 2009


WEDNESDAY, JULY 29, 2009

Where have all the Florists gone?




Just while you're here: has anyone seen a good florist's shop lately? Or a fishmongers, for that matter? Are we ruled by supermarkets and petrol station forecourts? Have we become a marketing man's mixtape?

Why am I being so morose? I have no idea. But answers will help me overcome this difficult time in which the Blog Comment Notifier has become Bulimic.

(And it has alopecia totalis, I hear)

Waaaaiiiter!!!

Bring me a packet of prawn cocktail flavoured after-dinner mints. NOW!!!



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MONDAY, JULY 27, 2009

Spring Apple, My Mungolian Dreamfish




Somewhere, in a vaguely westerly direction, I have consigned my belief in the redemptive power of candy. It doesn't work. It's only good as a means of sustenance when you've wound up sleeping with the dog again.

Meanwhile, in a more easterly direction, I believe there is hope. Allow me to don some leather trousers and say "TONIGHT, TOKYO, THE FUTURE OF ROCK 'N' ROLL IS IN YOUR HANDS!" After which I promptly stagedive into a suddenly empty space and eat the concrete floor like a hungry polecat. No less than I would deserve, I am sure you would agree.

It's all very confusing, but at Mungolian HQ, there are strange things afoot. Which means all is completely normal. One of my co-workers in the Psychometric Audio Infiltration Unit asked me "Homunculus, why do they call you 'the Bard'?" I had no choice but to recite the opening verse of ...
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THURSDAY, JULY 23, 2009

My Cat: Update




I have fallen in love with Sphinx cats. They are so damn ugly they're beautiful.

My cat, recovered from its recent shooting, was sitting in the windowsill. So I grabbed her, brought her inside, and gave her a good rub-down with Derma-Nude.

Forgive the comparison, but when I was finished, she looked like an un-engorged and uncircumcised cat-shaped penis. The Late Pierre's long-time chum, Fidel has been visiting a lot lately. I wonder if the cat's appearance has anything to do with it?

Fidel is a confused soul: s/he was/is a man, who became a woman (cost him/her a fortune and his/her marriage to a beautiful woman (now a nun) called Felicity: "Felicity! Felicity! You fill me full of electricity!"), who now earns his/her living as a performance artist and drag king. I think my cat reminds him/her of what s/he has lost, as Felicity had a rather feline quality ...

Life: too strange, ...
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THURSDAY, JULY 23, 2009

Are you thinking of flying Mungolian?




It's not that it happens often, it's the fact it happens at all. Like new Beyonce Knowles records. I mean ... seriously. What the hell is going on? Why is Beyonce still singing herself through roll after roll of tit tape and crotch-thrusting non-dancing that even Tina Turner would be ashamed of. Am I missing something? And is she turning into Shakira? Or is Shakira turning into her? Or are they the same? Or is it some kind of cloning experiment? Am I the only sane one left asking WHY DOES THIS WOMAN HAVE SUCH A HUGE CAREER???


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TUESDAY, JULY 21, 2009

The Mathematics of Music




We have had a true sternumcracking, headbelting, assthumping, footmashing revelation: Disco has one more than rock. House has one more than jazz. And Techno has two more than folk. Further experiments have also found that subgenres also follow this trend. However, classical, orchestral, and electronica may actually be king ... more results will be obtained from our lab in Hangar 69 once the white-coated servants of Ark Ark get the lumps of smurf and moomin from between their teeth.

Send answers on a postcard.

Now listen to our throbbing grooves, you BITCH.


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