Colleen Kane

Friday Roundup: grody, gallant, parsimonious and faux-Sapphic edish

This is so narsty. Read this before lunch if you're trying to lose weight.

From BoingBoing comes possibly one of the most disgusting sentences I've ever read:

A curator at NY-MOMA had to euthanize a living leather jacket made from human mouse stem-cells -- the art-work had grown out of control and threatened to overflow its containment unit.

Only enlarge this photo if you dare.

This brings to mind the New York Times article about Peta offering $1 million prize to the first person who invents commercially viable in vitro meat.

Technology is getting out of hand--don't they know this is how horror movies happen?! That curator may think he euthanized the mouse jacket. But now it's crawling out of some Dumpster outside the MoMA, and it's not happy. Working title: My Mousy Jacket Euthenasia Gone Wild. Also, how exactly does one euthanize a mouse-meat jacket, if it doesn't have a central nervous system, heart or brain? Chop it up? Hope it's not like starfish!

Jazzfest: all that

This weekend f and I went down to New Orleans for the final night and day of Jazzfest. It was a rare 24- hours-plus of fun together. We spent most of the time hidden away from the rowdy French Quarter crowds in a private courtyard of the cottage our friends rented at a great little hotel, which had a leafy canopy thanks to trees growing out of the wall.

Friday Randomness Roundup

I haven't updated good old Abandoned Baton Rouge in almost a month, but yesterday I finally visited a site I've been meaning to hit for ages: D-Jay's School of Beauty. Do check it out.

I also became an even more official Louisiana resident, of course to my dismay.

 

Because nothing says class...

...like a Mother's Day gift purchased at the pawn shop.

Sometimes I can't contain my excitement and I take a really crappy cell phone photo. But if you can't read it, this banner on ye olde neighborhood pawnne shoppe says, "Give her the gift she deserves. Mother's Day SALE."

It stirred this writer's imagination.

"Hello Mother. Happy Mother's Day."
"Well, I'll be...it's a Fender Stratocaster with no packaging and a bullet hole in it."
"I love you, Mama. Thank you for bearing me from your loins and doing all that gross pregnancy stuff."
"And I'd do it again--but next year, can you get me a .357 Magnum?"

[both laugh, freeze frame]

~ Fin~