While you were sleeping

March 31, 2006 at 3:05 am (Uncategorized)

shaming1.jpg I knew a girl once who had a problem with this kind of thing. She was going out with a guy she thought a perfect gentlemen. Then she began to wake up in various states of carnal surprise and… well, so much for that romance. Last I heard, she woke up pregnant and now she doesn't sleep at all.

Me, I sleep moderately sound, particulary after a good night of drankin'. My buddies used to try dunking my hand in a bucket of warm water, but that never worked. So, unwilling to let a sleeping Mark lie, they'd fill my shaming4.jpghands with shaving cream and then tickle my nose with a feather. Or they'd write lewd things on my forehead. One girl deftly applied lipstick and eyeliner to my face while I slept off the night's licentiousness. I woke up a pretty, pretty girl.

Why is it that we're so fascinated by those who sleep while we remain awake? Maybe it's that the sleeping have gone to a place that is unknown and unavailable to us. It is a place just short of death. Or maybe I'm overstating it, and we really just like to mess with sleeping friends or loved ones because it's fuggin funny. You just know cavemen messed with other cavemen who had fallen asleep after eating too many berries. And now, millions of years later, the Internet is replete with videos and photos of people who have been shamed by their friends while sleeping off debauchery. These slumbering sots are placed in embarassing postions, painted with nasty words and depictions of the male anatomy, hogtied, dressed in ridiculous clothing, or photographed while the funloving clowns expose their own body parts. shaming_2.jpg

It's all fun and games until someone wakes up with a social disease. Me, I don't really care what you do to me while I sleep. So long as you don't wake me up.

FORT COLLINS, Colo. — A 28-year-old man faces a charge of sexual assault and one count of domestic violence harassment for allegedly having sex with his wife while she was sleeping.

 An arrest affidavit stated that the woman reported being awakened about 30 times over the last year to find her husband having sex or oral sex with her. She told Fort Collins police that she confronted her husband several times, telling him that she felt like she was being raped and wanted the behavior to stop.

The woman told investigators that her husband took advantage of the fact that she was "an extremely hard sleeper," according to the arrest affidavit.

According to the affidavit, the man admitted to having sex with her and taking nude photos while she was sleeping during a recorded phone call March 11.

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Word on the street

March 30, 2006 at 4:23 am (Uncategorized)

Hello, blog people. It's past 4 a.m. and it occurs to me I haven't posted anything in nearly twelve hours. Christ, I'm a slack ass. I apologize. Free drinks for the rest of the day. Hell! For the rest of the week. Sleuth.jpg

In lieu of my normally lucid and literate prose, I'll ask for your opinions on the blog situation in general. We seem to be getting by just fine without those Sun Journal people. Who needs them? I suppose it remains to be seen whether we're invited back to our old neighborhood. Do we care? Do we want to go back? Are we still pissed off at Dan, or have we forgiven him and discovered that we really care for the fool? What about Eric? How do we feel about Eric? 

Clearly, I have no idea about anything. I've heard very few rumors about it since the start of the week. Word going around is that Dan has been banned. What titillating irony, wouldn't you say? What does he do with his days? Should we invite him in? I kinda miss Huddle Up. Should we find some new way of harassing Whitehouse and making him impossibly more surly? And has anyone noticed that, now that we're free to cuss and get really gutter nasty, we don't really do much of either? There's probably a lesson in that. Damned if I know what it is, though.

Am I raving? Feels like I'm raving. Fine. I'll head away before the sun comes up. If someone would be kind enough to man the bottles and taps until I wake up, I'd appreciate it.

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Do not bend, twist or mutilate the rules

March 29, 2006 at 7:45 pm (Uncategorized)

I have this wife who gets real uptight about the rules. She counts her items before getting in the express line at the supermarket. She notices signs that say things like “Keep off the grass” or “No swimming.” AW5812321.jpg

On those rare occasions when I roll through a red light that just won’t change, she gives me that look. It’s a disappointed look that tells me that if I was on trial and she was part of the jury, I’d be going back to traffic school. Maybe to prison.

My wife measures her suitcase before taking it on a plane. She believes you really have to stop for stop signs in the Wal-Mart parking lot, even if the entire lot is empty. If a hotel declares that checkout is at noon, we will be out of there by 11:59. Not a minute later, Mister, or you can just stay here all day while I go to the beach.

Signs that say “Don’t cross” mean, in her freaky interpretation of things, that you should not cross. In the earnest opinion of this law-abiding woman, people don’t put up signs for nothing. Rules were meant to be obeyed.

We disagree slightly on this matter.

It’s not that I’m an outlaw. I pay my taxes. I pay my parking tickets as soon as they pile up high enough that the city feels the need to tow my car in order to make room for them. If a sign tells me that a house is guarded by a dinosaur-sized dog, I tend to acknowledge it.It’s simply that I regard most rules as basic guidelines. They are rough estimations of how many products you should carry to the express line, how fast you should drive, whether or not you should let your arms and legs dangle from the amusement park ride.
I don’t park in handicap spaces, I don’t speed through school zones, I don’t smoke around fuel spills. The rules of behavior can mostly be intuited through common sense. Signs are there for those who need step-by-step instructions on how to conduct themselves.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking I’m one of those irresponsible types who is constantly getting into trouble because he can’t follow simple rules. And you’re right. Almost every time I get caught for something, there is a gigantic sign nearby spelling out exactly what I have done wrong.“Gosh, officer,” I said to a cop when I was busted sitting near Lake Auburn after midnight. “I had no idea I wasn’t supposed to be here.”
The cop gestured with the flashlight to the six-story sign roughly 3 feet to my right. The sign stretched up into the sky, with neon letters announcing that ANYONE CAUGHT NEAR THE LAKE AFTER SUNDOWN WILL BE TOSSED IN.

once got caught smoking under a no-smoking sign. I once got nabbed leaning against a post under a no-trespassing sign. I once reacted with genuine shock when I was lectured for barging through a door that proclaimed “Authorized personnel only.” I mean, define “authorized.”Signs, signs. Everywhere a sign. I got married so I’ll have someone to point out when I’m walking where I shouldn’t walk, loitering where I shouldn’t loiter, going shoeless where I should be shod.

And as I ponder my petty lawlessness, I think about all those repeat criminals who just can’t stay out of jail. I wonder if it’s the same for them, only on a grander, more felonious scale.“Sure, the law says you can’t just take someone else’s car,” an incorrigible crook might think. “But does that mean this specific car?”

And off he goes, with a conscience clouded only by road dirt and burning rubber.Maybe the career bank robber convinces himself before every job that he’s merely making a withdrawal. Maybe the career vandal considers the smashing of windows and bashing of mailboxes one man’s urban renewal. Maybe the con man fancies himself just a really good salesman who occasionally needs to skip town.

Right now I’m squeezing my thumb and pointer finger together. That’s the space my good wife allows for rule breaking. Pull the digits an inch apart and that’s me. The misdeeds of a career felon needs to be measured with hands held far apart. For some, you have to hold your arms out to your sides.We all break the rules at some time and to some degree. Including you, you righteous fool. Maybe you occasionally swipe the newspaper from the apartment across the hall. Maybe you sneak rented movies back to the store after hours and then run away.

Rule-breaking is part economy, part psychology. Bend, twist or mutilate one of them, and it might save you a few nickels or better your life in a meager way. But for some, it is also a small form of control over a world that is increasingly ruled by laws and codes of conduct. Some of us just need to be bad once in a while, even if nobody notices.I could go on at length about this phenomenon, but I’ll stop here. My editor likes me to keep the columns to 850 words. This one is 870.
Mark LaFlamme is the Sun Journal crime reporter. Visit his blog at http://www.sunjournal.com. Or skip that and go to https://marklaflamme.wordpress.com

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The Real Flamer

March 29, 2006 at 1:14 pm (Uncategorized)

Former CUC student competes on Canadian Idol

 MarkLaFlamme.jpgMark LaFlamme, a former student and music major at CUC auditioned in a competition to become the next undiscovered singing sensation—in Canada. LaFlamme auditioned in the West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Canada, for Canadian Idol, a similar talent search to the original American Idol.

“My initial reason for trying out for Canadian Idol was to get a closer look at the audition process in order to better prepare myself for a career as a performer/vocal instructor/music minister,” said LaFlamme.

“I don’t like passing up the opportunity to have fun and meet new people who share a common love of music,” he adds.

After two rounds of preliminary auditions on February 19, LaFlamme was eliminated in round three by celebrity judges Farley Flex, Sass Jordan, Jake Gold, and Zack Werner, a group of well-known Canadian music industry professionals. He describes the two days of auditioning in one word: “exhausting.”

“The stress of waiting around for your audition and the nervous excitement of all the participants makes for a very long day,” said LaFlamme.

“Despite my elimination, I’m still thankful I had the opportunity to explore this intriguing aspect of pop culture, and despite the challenges it was a character building experience,” he adds.

LaFlamme is currently attending Canadian University College where he will graduate next month with a Bachelor of Arts in Music/Vocal Performance. In the future he plans on teaching music privately or in a school setting. He continues to perform at various musical festivals in Canada.

“The most memorable part of my journey would be the times I was able to share my faith by connecting with others on a personal, and hopefully spiritual, level,” said LaFlamme.

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Oral exam

March 29, 2006 at 4:15 am (Uncategorized)

It's late and I've been up all night doing mindless computer stuff. No, not that stuff, actual work and research. My eyes are somewhat dripping out of my head. Instead of trying to write something semi-literate, I'm attaching the following story and leaving it up to you to figure out which blogger sent it and insisted I post it.

As an aside to this story, does anyone remember where they first heard about the mechanics of sex? I had an older brother who embellished the facts with wild lies just to mess me up. That explains a lot, doesn't it?

sstoneap.jpgActress Sharon Stone is adamant teenagers should be prepared to engage in oral sex, if it saves from them the dangers of unprotected penetrative sex. The Basic Instinct star spends much of her time away from Hollywood working as an activist raising AIDS awareness, and she always carries condoms with her to hand out in a bid to increase safe sex levels.

She explains, "I was in the store the other day and I watched a young girl trying on clothes, showing her abdomen. "Her mother was trying to talk to her about not being inappropriately luring. I said, 'Gee that would look much nicer with a camisole under.' "Her mother walked away, and I said to the girl, 'I'd like to give you a two-minute conversation about sex.' "Young people talk to me about what to do if they're being pressed for sex? I tell them (what I believe): oral sex is a hundred times safer than vaginal or anal sex. "If you're in a situation where you cannot get out of sex, offer a blow job. I'm not embarrassed to tell them."

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Are you nuts?

March 28, 2006 at 1:39 am (Uncategorized)

Mainetarr sent along this little item. Someone please tell me this is an urban legend. I know being allergic to nuts is a real bitch and all, but dying from a simple kiss? How romantically morbid. And imagine the jokes that were whispered at the funeral. She was really nuts about that guy. You should never date a guy with nuts on his breath. That kinda thing.

Back in my day, the only thing you worried about when playing tonsil hockey was mono. People were always afflicted with mono. Allegedly. Tracy Trollop was out of school a couple weeks and word spread quickly that it was mononucleosis. Frankly, I had my doubts. I kissed everything in pigtails when I was a lad and I never got so much as the sniffles. A few slaps across the face and a knee or two to the groin, sure. But mono? Another urban legend, maybe. Bulldog, what say you about this?

I'm raving. I'll stand by and let you allergists and experts in social disease lead me to the truth. I still have my doubts. The only thing I know for sure is that kissing with an open mouth while wearing a bathing suit can cause a girl to get pregnant. Heck, everyone knows that. It happened to Tracy Trollop. That slut.

My only question about the photo is this: if you're really mad at a giant peanut person, where do you kick him?

mrpeanut.jpegSaguenay, Canada — Fifteen year-old French Canadian Christina Desforges died of an alleged allergic reaction to a peanut butter-laced kiss Wednesday at a Quebec hospital after kissing a boyfriend unfamiliar with Madamoiselle Desforges' goober intolerance.

No charges are pending against the boyfriend, but a box of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup candies are reportedly being held for questioning by the R.C.M.P. A late evening state funeral for Ms. Desforges will be televised from Quebec City so that French Canadians will have something to do after beating their wives at the dinner table.

The Planter's Peanut company of the U.S. plans to send their mascot, Mr. Peanut, to eulogize young Christina, while the Thai ambassador to Canada will be handing out coupons for two-lap dances for a dollar at Miss Poo-Ket's lounge in Montreal.

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I’m listening

March 27, 2006 at 2:08 pm (Uncategorized)

When I was a boy, I wanted a pair of those X-ray glasses. For obvious reasons. I never got them though, and so I had to get my thrills the old fashioned way: by swiping the stash of magazines under my brother's mattress. Nightvision.jpg

I did get the "throw your voice" kit, but almost choked on the little gadget you needed to stick on your mouth. Damn thing never worked right, anyway.

I had a Mr. Microphone. It was nothing like the commerical, though. You really couldn't go around terrorizing radio listeners because it only worked on AM 1990, or some shit like that. So I stayed at home, having rock concerts in the privacy of my room. Sad. Very sad.

supersonicear2.jpgNow kids can get toys that really work. Mask your voice, bug your parents bedroom, night vision… Those eavesdropping devices, I'm told, are very effective. I'm thinking of getting one. Because I know you people are talking about me and I know it ain't nice.

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The horror. The horror.

March 27, 2006 at 1:20 am (Uncategorized)

Day three. Earlier, I left the relative safety of the shelter to wander out into this new world of night. Out there, where oily black clouds block out the sun and the stench of ruin is thick, I wandered to the remains of The Lost ApocalypseSole.  There are no remains. All is lost. Not a single wall stands. No bones poke from the rubble to indicate a form of humanity once existed there. The hellish pit that was Street Talk has been blasted to oblivion.

Still, in the smoldering landscape of the world that remains, wanderers pass through this unhappy valley like a legion of walking dead. They bear the dazed expressions of those who believe they are dreaming. There are jagged wounds and missing parts. There are hands that tremble with rage and hands that tremble with fear. There is shock and sadness. Mostly, there is a will to battle forth.

So, I've always wanted to write an apocalyptic tale. Scattered survivors shuffling through a damned world, without sunlight or hope. Frightening, dismal crap like that. The Stand, maybe. Or Escape from New York. But I'll refrain so we can get back to talking about animal sex, outhouse mishaps and stupid criminals.

 bombshelterPub.jpgBut first, a head count. So far today, a number of survivors have stumbled in to the shelter. Fred, Bobbie, AO, Mainetarr, Gil, K2, Flamette… There's enough food here to last us a few weeks and a good supply of booze. We're building up our cache of weapons too, because you just never know when the next scavenger will come by. You never know when vermin from the old world will come by.

We're keeping our eyes out for the rest of you. All are welcome here. My name is Pliskin. But you can call me Snake. snake-plissken.jpg

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The end of the world as we know it

March 25, 2006 at 11:10 pm (Uncategorized)


Welcome Street Talkers. If any of you are still standing after stumbling from the charred ruins of the Lost Sole, you can find safety and comfort here. All that is left of our old home is a mushroom cloud over a blackened pit in the earth. They blew us up, man. Blew us to smithereens.

For fear that no one will find this place, I'll keep it short. But should one of you wander by, drop a line and we'll get things started. There is much to discuss. There is rebuilding. There is repopulating our society. There is the matter of the loathsome one who caused this apocalypse. Yes, there is much business to attend.

I've gotta get moving. There are strange noises outside and you can't trust that everyone is friendly around here. Not yet. It's a savage new world we exist in. We've got to be careful.

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The Hills Have Yawns

March 18, 2006 at 4:48 pm (Uncategorized)

A family stranded in the desert, surrounded by cannibalistic mutants left over from the Atomic Age. Spooky desert nights and hideous things that lurk in the dark. The claustrophobic confines of a mobile home in dramatic contrast with the vastness of the New Mexico desert. These are the makings of one hell of a chilling movie.

 

Unfortunately, the hills may have eyes, but the biggest challenge for you will be keeping your own open while this predictable yawner rolls on for two hours. It's not that the movie is bad. It's just no friggin' good. If you've seen just a few classic horror movies in your time, you will predict each new scene before it arrives. This is a formulated script written according to a tired cinematic playbook.

 

Sometimes glaringly, sometimes not, Hills is a composite of several older movies. The theme and many of the scenes flagrantly rip off the more disturbing "Texas Chainsaw Massacre." The setting is reminiscent of a lesser known but infinitely creepier movie titled "Race With the Devil" from the 1970's. Save your $7.50, skip this one, and rent one of those earlier flicks. Or get your hands on an episode of the X-Files called "Home." In one hour, the X-Files creators deftly present a truly unnerving look at genetic freaks and the disturbing dynamics of their society. You will remember it a long time. With "The Hills Have Eyes," you will forget the movie and all of the characters ten minutes after you walk out of the theater.

 

Like the original 1977 version, Hills of 2006 tries to sneak in a few political messages about the consequences of government testing in the Cold War era. Politics and horror sometimes pair up well, but not here. The message is as weak as the back story of the atomic freaks, whom you never get to know very well. Should we sympathize with them at all? Feel guilty about our own history as Americans? Nah, screw 'em. Pitchfork right between the eyes!

 

A few saving graces: pay close attention the role of the father in the movie. Roughly twenty minutes in, I recognized his voice. It's Ted Levine, the troubling, twisted serial killer Jaime Gumb from "Silence of the Lambs." Sadly, he doesn't plant anyone in a deep hole and insist that they rub the lotion on it's skin.

Also, there is some superb acting in the movie. None by a star listed in the credits, however. The only award caliber dramatics in this clunker comes from a German Shepherd, whom the producers do not use nearly enough.

 

"The Hills Have Eyes" has roughly 30 minutes of fun in the form of gratuitous violence and a fair share of gore. If you're hankering for an old-fashioned stake burning, you will find one here. Otherwise, the reality of the Atomic Age is far scarier than anything shown in this movie. In fact, the biggest failure of all in this film is that they show too much. They should have stuck with the strange noises from the desert night and left the rest to the imagination.

 

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