pseudopodium
. . . Critics rave

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Critics rave: "You're definitely the new someone. We just don't know who it is yet."

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Critics rave:

You call this a club? I came in for a drink, and all I get is this?
-- Doug Asherman
Yes! Yes! Manuia (paka-paka)!

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Critics rave: "obviously a maniac.....(shaking head sadly.....)" -- lone wacko

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Critics rave: "Ray's the Titanic!" -- Cory Doctorow

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Critics rave: "With the authority vested in me by the heavenly powers themselves, I hereby name you 'Cutest Egomaniac of the Zodiac.'" -- Rob Brezsny

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Critics rave: "The drinking man's weblog... the stinking man's weblog. The blinking man's weblog." -- Juliet Clark

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Critics rave: "A weblog for the ages. Ages six-to-eight."

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Critics rave

"Much may be said on both sides." -- Hark! I hear
A well-known voice that murmurs in my ear:
The voice of Candour. Hail! most solemn sage,
Thou drivelling virtue of this moral age,
Candour, which soften's party's headlong rage.
Candour, which spares its foes, nor e'er descends
With bigot zeal to combat for its friends.
Candour, which loves in see-saw strain to tell
Of acting foolishly, but meaning well;
Too nice to praise by wholesale, or to blame,
Convinced that all men's motives are the same;
And finds, with keen discriminating sight,
Black's not so black; nor white so very white.

Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe,
Bold I can meet -- perhaps may turn -- his blow.
But of all plagues, good heaven, thy wrath can send,
Save, save, oh! save me from the Candid Friend!

-- George Canning, 1798

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Progress Report

These are unsettled times, and there's nothing more unsettling than the question of Hotsy Totsy's new brand identity.

So far, our visitors' suggestions for a new logo include:
  • a guy fishing for compliments
  • Angry Housewife
  • dead horse propped up behind a checkerboard
  • something to do with el dorado?
Thank you!
And among the suggestions for a new title:
  • Iron Cuticle of Samizdat
  • Quack-a-Doodle Do
  • My Mother the Card
  • Hokey Pokey Club
Wow! Right on! Thank you again! Keep 'em coming!
El Dorado   Long-time Berkeleyist Juliet Clark issues these gentle errata:
Did you notice that the address for the "Towne Dandies" is in Saint Helena? That's not even in the East Bay! These guys are tourists. They have no right to be hanging out on our street.

Also by the way, I actually don't think Club Mallard is a good idea; tho it too has a lovely sign, it has been thoroughly colonized by the scooter set. I suggest the Mel-O-Dee Lounge instead.

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Progress Report

Our readers are outnumbered but determined, god bless 'em! Here's a new harvest of suggestions for our

New Name & New Logo
Mush Love Splattered mash potatoes on a mirror
The Bluebeard of Happiness George Steiner's wedding album
On the Take Misappropriated Monopoly artwork
(actually, I like that as a name...)
Pukin' Dogs Sans Reproache

Dumbmonkey reminds us that "there also happens to be a Blue Moon Saloon [née Wanda's] now on San Pablo." And a suave reader-of-the-world exclaims "Hoity Toity a la croix a l'air vachement formidable! Felicitations!"

Oh, Mother, I simply cahn't choose -- cahn't we have them all?

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Hotsy Totsy readers ask the tough questions that THEY don't want you to think about:

What is your website about anyway? I was surfing for poetry and came across some stuff on your site, and discovered the rest of it. It was weird. But cool. How old are you and what inspired/possessed you to make that site? Me and my friends were just wondering. Write back as soon as you can k? thanks! BYE!

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Poets swear by the Hotsy Totsy Club:  
Stumbled onto your site today --
Where has my lumbago gone?
Thank God it has not steamed away --
Oh, lubricate my joints!
I have no further thing to say --
Rosy-fingered comes the dawn!
No gloom but that will have its Ray --
As Crohn my bowels annoints.
- Maynard Bucksballs Quintor

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Critics rave

An anonymous reader informs us:

yo, yo mama, mama, mama oy oy
Coincidentally, some years ago someone I'd just met gave me an extra ticket to a Yo-Yo Ma concert. I don't remember what the music was, but he didn't either: he looked puffy and drunk, and his performance ranged from lackadaisical to frankly out of tune. He still got his standing ovation from the rich old Berkeley lady crowd of PBS supporters, of course; it was like seeing William Holden at a Sunset Blvd. convention.... On the other hand, the first time I saw Johnny Thunders, he weaved, collapsed, muttered incoherent obscenities, and all night all told gave his way-too-heavy-a-burden guitar a total of two resoundingly satisfying thwacks. Johnny Thunders was the better showman.

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Critics rave

Yesterday's entry was undoubtedly our Worst. Episode. Ever. ("Sort of ponderous!" - Juliet Clark) But should you for some reason desire more of the similar, see David Chess, Ted Honderich (via the above-mentioned wood s lot), and Flash (Flash not required).

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Critics rave

"If you link to me then I will link to you." -- received via our response form

+ + +

Speaking of weblog community, right after I extruded that list of new and writerly weblogs, I found another one: synthesis. I suppose this will keep happening, damn it.

And yeah, when I claimed that there was only one clown in the car, I was just yankin' your chain. And hoo hoo, you should've seen your expression! Where's an X10 camera when you need one? For that matter, where's the world's largest online casino when you need one? Anyway, I sure didn't mean to forget young Toadex or put old Cardhouse down. But with Fred Metascene and Helen Razer semi-retired, I still think more clowns are needed. Especially professional scientist clowns.

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Critics rave
Things have their times, as Oysters have their wool:
Dogs have their dayes, as Distaffes have their Gall,
So all men living ought to dwell at Hull,
For Hallifax cannot containe them all.
A statesman once corrupted is a Gun,
That ferrets Screachowls from Bellona's Beard,
To make a handsome Codpiece for the Sun
To were upon the pommell of his sword.
Man unto Man, is Man; but Man to Man,
Is Herrings flesh, made of a yard of Ale,
With the ingredients of a Dripping pan,
Whiles Pancradge Church begets an Issue Male.
John Taylor, 1654
Preston Sturges ferrets screech-owls from Bellona's beard

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Critics rave

One anonymous reader truncates:

This is a real good show to discover, said from a 1975 wearer of a single sneaker for the entire summer (Gerry greeted me at the civic auditorioum rock concert gathering by ripping the other off and flinging it 30 rows back; and I shrugged, just like the
Another corrects:
Well, we like those pangs of remorse or nostalgia associated with dates. We love to know where we were when. We always have. "Mmmm...lemme see...3 day old piss...mine?..yup. I was here 3 days ago. Hum, That twig wasn't there then. Or that strip mall."
And a third queries:
'most' 'much' 'some' 'some' 'some' - any chance of an official Kokonino ___structuralismist er wot Handlist?
.... fer just us kids startin' out.
As my kiss-off confessed, I'm not really any kind of an authority on the Er-Wot Nation, but the usual rock star rule seems to apply: young and hungry beats old and pampered.

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Critics rave

An anonymous reader commented:

poop
And a few seconds later added:
what does this mean?
I'm glad you asked, anonymous reader. This means the back of the ship (synonymous with the stern), as well as the deck found there. William Julius Mickle provides an inspiring example of proper usage in his 1775 translation of the Lusiad:

High on the poop the skilful master stands.

Another reader informs me:

Not only is this a horrible weblog, you are a horrible person.
Now there's a "meme" that deserves propagation! (Or are they supposed to be called "mobs" now? Christ, I feel so unhip....)

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Critics rave

Sir,

Not only is this a weblog, you are a person.

adamantly,
msg

Which reminds me of one of my favorite letters to Creem from back in the day:
If Blondie is a band, does that mean Debbie Harry is a person?

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Critics rave

An anonymous reader requests:

simile examples

Like what?

Responses

My luve is like a red red simile
let a simile be your umbrella

A brother is as easily forgotten as a simile.

The New Age Narcissist Revisited
Christ, that my like were in my arms
   And I in my bed again!
Many examples of similes, but similes of examples are more rare.

An example is like another example, and yet unlike any other example.

This post is like a really good example of smart people being funny about similes, which are like metaphors kind of and analogies.

As if!

,     ,
Excuse for intrusion, but at me not the big question. How you think how many people on the ground smoke and how many have ceased?
. . . is that from the new Cormac McCarthy?

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Twenty Years of Hot One-on-One Action cum grano salis

The first photograph showed a naked ameba, fat and replete with food vacuoles, splashing lazily and formlessly at the bottom of a metal tank in the completely relaxed state that precedes reproducing.

The second was like the first, except that a trickle of salt water had begun down one side of the tank and a few pseudopods had lifted toward it inquiringly. To leave nothing to the imagination, a sketch of the sodium chloride molecule had been superimposed on the upper right corner of the photograph.

In the third picture, the Gtetan was ecstatically awash in the saline solution, its body distended to maximum, dozens of pseudopods thrust out, throbbing. Most of the chromatin had become concentrated in chromosomes about the equator of the nucleus. To an ameba, this was easily the most exciting photograph in the collection.

- from "Party of the Two Parts" by William Tenn (AKA Philip Klass)

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Gosh, I like the Internet: Mr. Waggish surveys the past twenty years from a different vantage point (and incidentally alerts us to two new translations of the Musil work I reread most often). Jessie Ferguson shares lovingly bitter gleanings from a twenty-year gaze into Ingeborg Bachmann's Malina. Two Dutch translators present a convincingly anti-scholarly argument for a revised Finnegans Wake (which was published eight years later, very affordably, by Oxford). My favorite institutionally-funded "blogs" (nasty jargon for "weblogs," which one would have thought nasty-jargon enough as is) compare swallows and strangles among Ibsen translators. At the Public Domain Review, Jé Wilson relates the long history of French male delight in female decapitation and skull-hammering. Justin E. H. Smith considers the beaver. The Neurocritic triggers a bloom of cognitive sparks. Matt Cheney knocks around one of those west/burst years. Michael Peverett hits the road and British rails with Paul Simon and Terrance Hayes. ("America" is one of the three Paul Simon songs I like, but it always embarrasses me too. Puerility well-conveyed remains puerile. [PULL IN YOUR HEAD - WE'RE COMING TO A MISE EN ABYME])

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Big business monkeys: Hoping to get lucrative stock options from a computer science degree is like hoping to get rich parents from an M.B.A.

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A Valediction of his carbon footprint

Since thou and I sigh one another’s breath,
Whoe’er sighs most is cruellest, and hastes the other’s death.

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Our Motto: If you build it, they will route the highway around it.

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In production: Leopold & Loeb: The Birth of Modernist Epic from the Classicism of Amateurs

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She's only a bird in a feathered cage.

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Theme from The Vanishing

He was a grave digger
One way passage, oh
It took me so long
To find out
But I found out

(The best story in the anthology which published my first story was a "don't believe in Beatles" affair. I guess that's not very interesting but at least the story was.)

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Errata

Sir,

Your link to "I buried Paul" on pseudopodium.org on your "Bobbettes" page of 2003/04/28 must be changed to the official site for Paul and Jane Bowles as the site janebowles.com is NOT accurate and does not have the endorsement of the official site, www.paulbowles.org which also serves as the official Jane Bowles site. The janebowles.com site is but one of numerous domains bought up by an English couple who never even wanted to meet Bowles during the 20 years they have visited Morocco. No one who knew the Bowleses personally, nor any other authoritative site, links to janebowles.com

Thank you for changing this to www.paulbowles.org, which was established by the literary and musical heirs of the estate of Paul Bowles.

Best wishes,
administrator and webmaster for paulbowles.org

We regret any inconvenience.

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Bah-lue Moan-dei Ur-rah-tah: Reggie Hall says Perry Mason sold shoelaces. But that's not so. He sold Sweetheart Soap.

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I've at least ensured that my wasted life was no great loss. If 'tweren't done, 'tweren't best done cheaply.

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Critics rave

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To give you a quick peek, here’s an example of the kind of content that we create: [...]

I realize we could work together at promoting both of our sites. Your site, pseudopodium.org, seems like it could be home to some of our articles as we may have similar audiences. I feel like your readers would enjoy our tips and articles and appreciate all things fun and festive. If you’d be willing to share our articles on your site, we would be more than happy to share your content, as well as any promotion or announcements that you may have, with our followers. Let me know if you’re up for something like this. Happy to answer any questions, so just shoot me an email and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.

Cheers,

"Pleasure is no fun."

 

Copyright to contributed work and quoted correspondence remains with the original authors.
Public domain work remains in the public domain.
All other material: Copyright 2015 Ray Davis.