File under SeMeN SPeRmS BLArRrG
Conjured by o~ SeMeN SPeRmS ~o on June 5, 2009
“Donald Cumming may look low energy [it’s known as affected] , but one look at
Lit Bar, where the video was shot. (Except, presumably, without all the [feigned]impromptu lap dances, [non]spontaneous water-throwing and sizzling [skinny ‘n scurrred] Victoria’s Secret [vanilla] supermodels [The bar is usually infested with skanky coke whores].)
And since we’re betting [YOU LOSE] there are a few more things you never knew about the not-so-virginal [hetro] indie [major] poppers [like, Wade has IBS, fer instance], we suggest you watch our [awkward] video interview with the band then take another look at [SeMeN in the video] the wild [‘n mild], bacchanalian bar bash [alliteration, woah] that is “Rich Girls.” That is, unless you have something against trance-y Talking Heads-meets-Duran Duran vocals and gorgeous Namibian [Nambia=AIDS ridden Kraut colonized African republic] eye-candy. [I have something against sentences with too many hyphens]”
–MTV Buzzworthy [‘n SeMeN SPeRmS]
Spoiler Alert: Here’s a shot of the best part in the video
Conjured by o~ SeMeN SPeRmS ~o on December 15, 2008
Graffiti diva and fashion blogger Claw revealed [whoops!] on her .
Gawker picked up the story using (the wrong) photos from Epiclylaterd,
as though anyone really gives a shit, besides the Vandal Squad, who prolly knew already, cuz they’re such jocks.
Why do people revel in revealing secrets, on some petty bullshit, to make themselves feel better? It’s like that TV show where they expose all the magic tricks.
Destroy all the mystery in this world.
There is no Santa Claus.
Watch out for the bloggerazzi,
they’d kill Tinkerbell.
Conjured by o~ SeMeN SPeRmS ~o on December 12, 2008
“Joseph Pujol was born in Marseille. He was one of five children of François (a stonemason and sculptor) and Rose Pujol. Soon after he left school he had a strange experience while swimming in the sea. He put his head under the water and held his breath, whereupon he felt an icy cold penetrating his rear. He ran ashore in fright and was amazed to see water pouring from his anus. A doctor assured him that there was nothing to worry about.
When he joined the army he told his fellow soldiers about his special ability, and repeated it for their amusement, sucking up water from a pan into his rectum and then projecting it through his anus up to several yards. He then found that he could suck in air as well. Although a baker by profession, Pujol would entertain his customers by imitating musical instruments, and claim to be playing them behind the counter. Pujol decided to try his talent on the stage, and debuted in Marseille in 1887. After his act proved successful, he proceeded to Paris, where he took the act to the Moulin Rouge in 1892.
Some of the highlights of his stage act involved sound effects of cannon fire and thunderstorms, as well as playing ‘O Sole Mio and La Marseillaise on an ocarina through a rubber tube in his anus. He could also blow out a candle from several yards away. His audience included Edward, Prince of Wales, King Leopold II of the Belgians and Sigmund Freud.”
“Pujol dressed formally for his act, wearing a coat, red breeches, white
stockings, gloves, and patent leather shoes– a stuffy, old-fashioned
outfit that, coupled with his unrelentingly deadpan delivery, must have set
up an abrasive comedic dissonance against the actual content of his
performance. To begin his act he introduced himself and explained that he
was about to demonstrate the art of “petomanie.” He further explained that
he could break wind at will, but assured his audience not to worry because
his parents had “ruined themselves” in scenting his rectum.”
“Then Le Petomane performed some imitations, using the simple, honest format
of announcing and then demonstrating. He displayed his wide sonic range
with tenor, baritone, and bass fart sounds. He imitated the farts of a
little girl, a mother-in-law, a bride on her wedding night (tiny), the same
bride the day after (loud), and a mason (dry– “no cement”). He imitated
thunder, cannons (“Gunners stand by your guns! Ready– fire!!”), and even
the sound of a dressmaker tearing two yards of calico (a full 10-second
rip). After the imitations, Le Petomane popped backstage to put one end of
a yard-long rubber tube into his anus. He returned and smoked a cigarette
from this tube, after which he used it to play a couple of tunes on a song
flute. For his finale he removed the rubber tube, blew out some of the
gas-jet footlights from a safe distance away, and then led the audience in
a rousing sing- along.”
“He started off with a series of fart impressions… a new bride’s timid toot; her noisy, flapping emissions a week later; the solid, booming fart of a miller; and a majestic ten-second-long helping of flatulence to wrap up his introduction. He did impressions of famous people, he played songs, and he blew out candles. He did imitations of cannon fire, and reenacted a thunderstorm. And that was just the first portion of the show.”
At first, the audience was astonished at the bizarre spectacle. But when the first uncontrollable laughter erupted from the crowd, it quickly spread throughout the theater. Soon the men and women were completely paralyzed with laughter, with tears streaming down their cheeks. A number of women passed out, unable to breathe in their tightly bound corsets, and had to be escorted from the theater by nurses.”
Here’s some modern day fartists, Mr. Methane
and an infrared video of black cloud of bad air :
Conjured by o~ SeMeN SPeRmS ~o on December 8, 2008