How To Make The Perfect Blade Runner Movie!

What will we need to make the perfect Blade Runner movie?

Something boiling 

Neon in the rain

Fetishy latex jackets

Crowds of pedestrians in weird masks

Wet sex workers

Pianos

Giant buildings shaped like pyramids  

Street food/night markets 

That opthamologist setup where lenses are flipped with other lenses 

High contrast lighting 

Inexplicable accents 

Origami 

Printed photos

CRT screens

Vangelis

Lens flare

Eyes: close up, tattooed, missing

Serial numbers on everything

Harrison Ford holding a square glass tumbler

Cityspeak

Jazz 

Cigarettes 

Slow ceiling fan 

Saxophone 

What else?

The Man Who Sold The World: On Autoharp And Guitar

The Man Who Sold The World On Autoharp:

If you give a goth an autoharp, she’ll ask for a Jazzmaster.

If you give a goth a Jazzmaster, she’ll try to play some Bowie.

I found an autoharp on Glendale boulevard in LA and tuned it and replaced the springs and felts, and then I accompanied myself on this Bowie cover, The Man Who Sold The World. I have probably gone insane. Thank you.

Fall Fashion Preview: It’s Plaid Again, Morons!

Photo by Godisable Jacob from Pexels

A Letter From The Editor of Vogue Magazine

Welcome to our big Fall Fashion issue! It’s HUGE and HEAVY and GLOSSY and you could really knock someone around with it. 

We’ve got food, diet, and skin trends, but let’s face it, you’re all here for the same thing- the FALL FASHION PREVIEW! It is LEGEND. It is the Christmas Mass of fashion magazines- everyone shows up once a year!

The Wind-Up

After this editor’s letter we’ve got the table of contents, a list of the celebrity photographers who aren’t cancelled yet, a Gucci ad, another Gucci ad, and BOOM here it is, it’s been gossiped about and worried over for six months: what’s the hot trend for fall? 

The Pitch

It’s plaid again, ya dumbshits! It will always be plaid! It’s back to school, so every woman alive is dressing like she’s showing up to Saint Lucy Of The Bleeding Eyes. 

It’s because men keep this fantasy of women with knee socks and short plaid skirts long after their own kids graduate college.

I mean, if you want to know- that’s not really why. 

It’s because in 1945, the UK wool industry, drunk on military production, had overruns they could not handle. They convinced Vogue Magazine to promote wool plaid for Fall 1946. Business being what it is, we HAVE to do wool plaid as a fashion trend EVERY FALL or the ENTIRE INDUSTRY WILL COLLAPSE. We have all signed a binding document, witnessed by Harry S. Truman and Winston Churchill, tying us to this unending, infernal cycle.

That’s a secret, which you’re not supposed to know. But after all these years, I know that NO-ONE has ever read this far down the letter from the editor.

The Home Run

Fall is also when everyone’s Goth, because New York starts getting dark and that’s where the fashion editors live- so there’s gonna be a shiny dominatrix boot and a smoky eye as well. Leather skirts. Spikes on handbags, the least scary place to put spikes. Spank me, Daddy! I work in marketing!

Next is the makeup section, where some poor fuck photo stylist has sliced up a tube of Gucci lip lacquer with a length of dental floss and stacked it up in an uneven, wabi-sabi tower of tiny red grease slabs and drizzled the whole thing over with a clear gel, because there is nothing interesting about makeup.

The Victory Lap

But don’t forget about plaid! We’re doing plaid! Did you know it has different names? It’s Stewart Tartan, Black Watch, or Burberry. You’ll get it in skirts and on bags and blouses and jackets. It’s on ties, headbands and shit, let’s do panties too! Now get out there and get mad for plaid!

Life is long, children. Life is long.

Signed, Anna Wintour

Marriage Advice From A Taxidermist Whose Creations Are Reanimating

Dear Marriage Advice From A Taxidermist:

My wife and I disagree on almost everything these days- what to have for dinner, where we should park the car, what movie to watch.  It seems I couldn’t have picked a less compatible partner, and the constant conflict is making my life hell.  What should we do?-  Canton, OH

Dear Conflict in Canton; 

You’ve reached a crossroads that tests many marriages, but you can move past it.  First, check in with your wife that there’s no larger issue at work.  If there isn’t, have a talk about why you chose to be together and good memories you have together.  Try to be considerate of each other’s feelings, and remind each other why you make a good pair.  Learn to compromise.

 It looked like my stuffed jackalope just moved a little.  That’s funny.  Must be the light in here.

Good luck!  Let me take a look at this thing and see if I can think of any more good advice.

Dear Marriage Advice From A Taxidermist;

   I hope it’s ok that I’m writing for marriage advice, I’m not yet married but I’m worried about tying the knot with my longtime boyfriend, Simon.  We love each other and I want to commit, but we’re both men and I guess my upbringing says that men making a life together is wrong, can I shake it off and have a good marriage? – Temecula, CA

Dear Twosome in Temecula;

  That sounds really nice, what you’ve got going on.  As far as internalized negative feelings about gay marriage, that’s a little out of my depth, but I’d encourage you to talk to a therapist you feel comfortable with about how to move past these feelings before taking the plunge.  You owe it to yourself and your partner to go into this with… well the jackalope is moving again.  It’s wriggling.  Maybe it has termites or something?  It looks…terrible.  Just terrible.

 Good luck and Mazel Tov!

Dear Taxidermist;

My husband always seems to pay more attention to other women than he does to me.  He’s not flirting, he just always seems to have his antennae up when there’s another lady around, you know?  It hurts my feelings, but I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to look like a shrew.  What do you think? – Shreveport, LA

Dear Shrew in Shreveport;

  Sorry, of course not.  You’re not being a shrew.  I’m just distracted, I also have a stuffed shrew in my office, he’s a cute little thing, the size of a kumquat, and he’s moving, too.  He’s nailed to his mount, but it looks like he’s writhing and turning around as best he can.  It’s really awful.  Ummm, you know, after you’re with someone for a while, you can begin to appreciate other people, it doesn’t necessarily mean bad things for your marriage, just that maybe things are a little stale, I’d try, I don’t know, have you changed your hair or something?  The shrew is now crawling towards me, pulling its little fanciful forest scene with it.  Why is something so tiny so bone-chilling?  OK, change up your look.  New lipstick.  See if that helps.

Dear Taxidermist;

I can’t help but notice that you think some of your stuffed specimens are moving around.  Shouldn’t you be worrying about that, and not this column?  – Cuyahoga, OH

Dear Curious in Cuyahoga;

  I think you’re right, I mean, at first I thought my mind was playing tricks on me and I was trying to distract myself from the task at hand, but with every passing minute I am more and more convinced that these things are moving.  I mean, this is impossible.  They can’t come back to life.  There’s nothing to come back to life, these things are skins arranged on molds.  You know, their insides are basically foam wig stands shaped like animals.  I can hear them stirring, moving towards me, their bases scraping against the wooden floor.  I really don’t know what to do and I’m not sure why I’m writing this down.  Just trying to leave a record for whomever finds me, perhaps.

Dear Taxidermist;

  Don’t you think this is maybe all a hallucination, or a dream?  I mean, what are you even doing?  Why would anyone ask you for marriage advice?  You have no counselling or therapy background of any kind.  You’re not even married, right?  Didn’t your wife die in a hunting “accident”?- Siskiyou, CA

Dear Suspicious in Siskiyou;

  You bring up some really good points.  I wish you had asked me a question I could help you with, but now that you bring up my departed wife, I can smell her perfume.  There hasn’t been another woman in my life since her passing, because I don’t know how I would explain to another woman that she is also stuffed in my trophy room.  It was a massive labor of love to remember a truly lovely woman I cared very much for, but who just didn’t know when to shut up, like that poor sonofabitch’s wife in Canton, sounds like.  Friend, something just tapped me on the shoulder and I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to turn around.

Baby Ketten Has A Furever Home

I’ve written about the best karaoke in the world, Portland’s Baby Ketten Karaoke, many times. I’ve done it here and here and here and here. My friend Jay Horton wrote all about the new all-ketten all the time club here.

It’s big news! Baby Ketten Karaoke is on the scene 7 nights a week on SE Powell, where it all began! Where I met Brophy and his crew, where I sang my first song, I Want Your Sex by George Michael, while wearing a petticoat of some sort (I mean a lot of these are sense memories), where I got drunk and bought a painting of a pitbull, where two sisters waited for an ambulance after one of them bit the other one’s nose sort of OFF, where Klingon Karaoke happened for a while, where I DJ’ed a terrible goth night where an attendee asked me to play the I’m Dead I’m Dead song, all that spirit and magic has swirled together for all the Kettens to meet up. I am getting there as soon as I can and I’ll see you when that happens! Check out the best songbook in the world here!

Jordan, Jesse, Go!

I’m always glad to pop in on my two favorite dorks and talk about draculas, Bad Venom, Godzilla, and Halloween! Listen here!

Buffalo Bill’s Traumatized Personal Assistant

buffalo-bill has a personal assistant comedy

MONDAY: It picks up the silk kimonos from the cleaners.  It checks the ticket very, verrry carefully before it gets back into its Geo Metro, to make sure it has the right number of kimonos.  We do not want to punish It like last time.   It’s harder on Us than on It.

TUESDAY: It sorts tax receipts.  It puts mileage receipts in the blue envelope, it puts business purchases in the pink envelope, and it puts tattoo-and-piercing related expenses in a manila envelope.  IT DOES NOT SPEND ALL DAY FUCKING AROUND ON FACEBOOK!  Nobody wants to see a photo of what It ate for lunch, the food makes It look and smell disgusting.

WEDNESDAY:  It brings a fruit plate for Jenny’s baby shower.  It chooses a fruit plate with a lot of strawberry and pineapple and not as much melon or kiwi.

THURSDAY:  We apologize for saying that it smells disgusting.  It sometimes does not smell very bad.  We still need It to dust the house, and also to collect all loose teeth into a Mason jar.

FRIDAY: It gets paaaaid.  Yayyyy.  It can buy all the tacky blue mascara and Lee Press-on Nails it wants.  It cashes Its check right away, so that it does not appear outstanding on our bank balance.  It is on call all weekend, so It does not turn Its phone off!  Its phone is never off!