Teenage Mutant Ninja Noses
28. Novembris 2011
23. Novembris 2011
21. Oktobris 2011
Winnie The Pooh
The ever loved pantless bear certainly is an eye-catcher especially to the all time Disney fanatics.
8. Septembris 2010
30. Jūlijs 2010
19. Jūlijs 2010
Mjau!
Tā kā te tiek notiek masīvs kompju upgrade es pie savas (lol) mākslas bildēm netieku. Māksla vispār ir iemācīties neienīst Linux. :S Bet priekš bloga atliek vien klasiskais interneta spams.
7. Jūlijs 2010
Cūciņš
Pieļauju, ka cilvēkiem varētu rasties priekšstats, ka es to vien daru kā atrodu visādas muļķības un maucības internetā. Tā gandrīz nav. :D
Tad nu es izdomāju neslēpt sveci zem pūra un palielīties ar saviem radošumiem. Nu, tip, es jau neesmu nekāda baigā māksliniece, bet reizēm sanāk kaut ko uzražot. Pēdējais pusgads bija dikti ražens, jo reģistrējos vienā saitā, kur cilvēki mainās ar saviem diy ražojumiem. Tā kā man ir slinkums meklēt visas bildes manā haosainajā kompī, es sadalīšu šo lielīšanos pa daļām.
Tad nu šodien es izrādu savu pirmo papjē mašē ever. Tas tika radīts pirms gada, kad man uz dažiem mēnešiem nebija interneta. Un tas ir arī vienīgais, ko es esmu paturējusi sev.
( Sivns )
Tad nu es izdomāju neslēpt sveci zem pūra un palielīties ar saviem radošumiem. Nu, tip, es jau neesmu nekāda baigā māksliniece, bet reizēm sanāk kaut ko uzražot. Pēdējais pusgads bija dikti ražens, jo reģistrējos vienā saitā, kur cilvēki mainās ar saviem diy ražojumiem. Tā kā man ir slinkums meklēt visas bildes manā haosainajā kompī, es sadalīšu šo lielīšanos pa daļām.
Tad nu šodien es izrādu savu pirmo papjē mašē ever. Tas tika radīts pirms gada, kad man uz dažiem mēnešiem nebija interneta. Un tas ir arī vienīgais, ko es esmu paturējusi sev.
( Sivns )
4. Jūlijs 2010
Humans to ashes
People to dust
It's all because
In God we trust
People to dust
It's all because
In God we trust
21. Jūnijs 2010
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - Leck mich im Arsch
The same genius that wrote "Piano Concerto No 24 in C Minor" also wrote a gem called "Lick My Ass," a classical party ballad meant to be sung by six people at a time, and followed it up with a sequel called "Lick My Ass Nice and Clean," the lyrics of which we have included below:
Lick my ass nicely,
lick it nice and clean,
nice and clean, lick my ass.
That's a greasy desire,
nicely buttered,
like the licking of roast meat, my daily activity.
Three will lick more than two,
come on, just try it,
and lick, lick, lick.
Everybody lick his own ass himself.
Lick my ass nicely,
lick it nice and clean,
nice and clean, lick my ass.
That's a greasy desire,
nicely buttered,
like the licking of roast meat, my daily activity.
Three will lick more than two,
come on, just try it,
and lick, lick, lick.
Everybody lick his own ass himself.
13. Jūnijs 2010
George Orwell "The Prevention of Literature"
It would probably not be beyond human ingenuity to write books by
machinery. But a sort of mechanizing process can already be seen at work
in the film and radio, in publicity and propaganda, and in the lower
reaches of journalism. The Disney films, for instance, are produced by
what is essentially a factory process, the work being done partly
mechanically and partly by teams of artists who have to subordinate their
individual style. Radio features are commonly written by tired hacks to
whom the subject and the manner of treatment are dictated beforehand:
even so, what they write is merely a kind of raw material to be chopped
into shape by producers and censors. So also with the innumerable books
and pamphlets commissioned by government departments. Even more
machine-like is the production of short stories, serials, and poems for
the very cheap magazines. Papers such as the WRITER abound with
advertisements of literary schools, all of them offering you ready-made
plots at a few shillings a time. Some, together with the plot, supply the
opening and closing sentences of each chapter. Others furnish you with a
sort of algebraical formula by the use of which you can construct plots
for yourself. Others have packs of cards marked with characters and
situations, which have only to be shuffled and dealt in order to produce
ingenious stories automatically. It is probably in some such way that the
literature of a totalitarian society would be produced, if literature
were still felt to be necessary. Imagination--even consciousness, so far
as possible--would be eliminated from the process of writing. Books
would be planned in their broad lines by bureaucrats, and would pass
through so many hands that when finished they would be no more an
individual product than a Ford car at the end of the assembly line. It
goes without saying that anything so produced would be rubbish; but
anything that was not rubbish would endanger the structure of the state.
As for the surviving literature of the past, it would have to be
suppressed or at least elaborately rewritten.
Tas ir tieši tas, ko tajās rakstnieku darbnīcās dara - taisa shēmas, kā rakstīt literatūru. Jāatzīst, dažiem jauniem rakstniekiem forma nav saprotama, bet to var iemācīties, neveidojot varoņu portfolio un ko tik vēl nē.
machinery. But a sort of mechanizing process can already be seen at work
in the film and radio, in publicity and propaganda, and in the lower
reaches of journalism. The Disney films, for instance, are produced by
what is essentially a factory process, the work being done partly
mechanically and partly by teams of artists who have to subordinate their
individual style. Radio features are commonly written by tired hacks to
whom the subject and the manner of treatment are dictated beforehand:
even so, what they write is merely a kind of raw material to be chopped
into shape by producers and censors. So also with the innumerable books
and pamphlets commissioned by government departments. Even more
machine-like is the production of short stories, serials, and poems for
the very cheap magazines. Papers such as the WRITER abound with
advertisements of literary schools, all of them offering you ready-made
plots at a few shillings a time. Some, together with the plot, supply the
opening and closing sentences of each chapter. Others furnish you with a
sort of algebraical formula by the use of which you can construct plots
for yourself. Others have packs of cards marked with characters and
situations, which have only to be shuffled and dealt in order to produce
ingenious stories automatically. It is probably in some such way that the
literature of a totalitarian society would be produced, if literature
were still felt to be necessary. Imagination--even consciousness, so far
as possible--would be eliminated from the process of writing. Books
would be planned in their broad lines by bureaucrats, and would pass
through so many hands that when finished they would be no more an
individual product than a Ford car at the end of the assembly line. It
goes without saying that anything so produced would be rubbish; but
anything that was not rubbish would endanger the structure of the state.
As for the surviving literature of the past, it would have to be
suppressed or at least elaborately rewritten.
Tas ir tieši tas, ko tajās rakstnieku darbnīcās dara - taisa shēmas, kā rakstīt literatūru. Jāatzīst, dažiem jauniem rakstniekiem forma nav saprotama, bet to var iemācīties, neveidojot varoņu portfolio un ko tik vēl nē.
5. Jūnijs 2010
26. Maijs 2010
Lol of the day
"Savos dziednieciskajos eksperimentos ar magnētiem Mesmers lika pacientiem iedzert dzelzi saturošu preparātu un tad pielika magnētus dažādās viņu ķermeņa vietās. Pacienti ziņoja par dīvainu fluīdu plūsmu organismā, kas viņus dažās stundās izārstēja.
Drīz viņš ar izbrīnu konstatēja, ka pacientiem kļūst vieglāk arī bez viņa magnētiem (viņš mēdza tos aizmirst mājās). Viņš pieņēma, ka ārstējošais efekts slēpjas nevis magnētos, bet viņā pašā – viņa dzīvnieciskajā magnētismā, kas iedarbojas uz pacientiem ¬–, un pārstāja izmantot magnētus. Ar dzīvniecisko magnētismu Mesmers saprata ēterisko medija garu, kas iemiesojies viņā, nevis savu seksuālo pievilcību, kā šo jēdzienu izprot mūsdienās. "
Drīz viņš ar izbrīnu konstatēja, ka pacientiem kļūst vieglāk arī bez viņa magnētiem (viņš mēdza tos aizmirst mājās). Viņš pieņēma, ka ārstējošais efekts slēpjas nevis magnētos, bet viņā pašā – viņa dzīvnieciskajā magnētismā, kas iedarbojas uz pacientiem ¬–, un pārstāja izmantot magnētus. Ar dzīvniecisko magnētismu Mesmers saprata ēterisko medija garu, kas iemiesojies viņā, nevis savu seksuālo pievilcību, kā šo jēdzienu izprot mūsdienās. "
22. Aprīlis 2010
2. Aprīlis 2010
Deckard Cain
Deckard Cain Rap
My name is Deckard Cain
and I come from Tristram
If you're looking for Diablo
then you just missed him.
If you find old Griswald
then you can take him down
but you'll get no reward
til you come back to town.
Thanks for my life
i'll identify your stuff
but if you choose to carry on
then it's gonna get tough.
Greetings friend
here's the road to the east
you'll find that it's blocked
cuz Andariels a beast.
Greetings, Greetings
Greetings, stay awhile and listen
Charsi can shield you
if you have a lot of cash
if you're all out of room
you can stick it in your stash.
My name is Deckard Cain
and I've come on out to greet ya
so sit your ass and listen
or I'm gonna haave to beat ya.
If I dont know the answer
then go ask Mala
she's a funky little broad
that looks like a koala
My homies were destroyed
but I carry on
with the help of young Anya
who's know amazon.
Greetings, Greetings
Cant' touch this, can't touch this, can't touch this. can't touch this can't touch this, can't touch this.
Greetings, Stay awhile and listen.
My name is Deckard Cain
I'm the last of a breed,
when I give out a warning
you'd best take heed.
I am the sworn enemy
of big bad Baal,
he was first in line
at the evil sale.
Even though I'm ancient
and somewhat of a relic
people tell me
I look like Tom Celic
I'm nasty, I'm old
and a little bit ornery
I look like Patrick Stewart
and sound like Sean Connery.
Greetings, Greetings,
Throw your hands in the air waving um like ya just dont care
Greetings, stay awhile and listen
Kick it
Way to go homies, that was dope.
We'll have to do this more often, that was way phat.
Yeah boooooooeeey, Cain in the house.
Give it up for the horadrim, horadrim, ho ho hoho horadrim,
horadrim, ho ho hoho horadrim
ho ho hoho horadrim
Who let the barbarians out? Who who who who?
My name is Deckard Cain
and I come from Tristram
If you're looking for Diablo
then you just missed him.
If you find old Griswald
then you can take him down
but you'll get no reward
til you come back to town.
Thanks for my life
i'll identify your stuff
but if you choose to carry on
then it's gonna get tough.
Greetings friend
here's the road to the east
you'll find that it's blocked
cuz Andariels a beast.
Greetings, Greetings
Greetings, stay awhile and listen
Charsi can shield you
if you have a lot of cash
if you're all out of room
you can stick it in your stash.
My name is Deckard Cain
and I've come on out to greet ya
so sit your ass and listen
or I'm gonna haave to beat ya.
If I dont know the answer
then go ask Mala
she's a funky little broad
that looks like a koala
My homies were destroyed
but I carry on
with the help of young Anya
who's know amazon.
Greetings, Greetings
Cant' touch this, can't touch this, can't touch this. can't touch this can't touch this, can't touch this.
Greetings, Stay awhile and listen.
My name is Deckard Cain
I'm the last of a breed,
when I give out a warning
you'd best take heed.
I am the sworn enemy
of big bad Baal,
he was first in line
at the evil sale.
Even though I'm ancient
and somewhat of a relic
people tell me
I look like Tom Celic
I'm nasty, I'm old
and a little bit ornery
I look like Patrick Stewart
and sound like Sean Connery.
Greetings, Greetings,
Throw your hands in the air waving um like ya just dont care
Greetings, stay awhile and listen
Kick it
Way to go homies, that was dope.
We'll have to do this more often, that was way phat.
Yeah boooooooeeey, Cain in the house.
Give it up for the horadrim, horadrim, ho ho hoho horadrim,
horadrim, ho ho hoho horadrim
ho ho hoho horadrim
Who let the barbarians out? Who who who who?
12. Marts 2010
9. Marts 2010
Kaķīts mans
Bija šodien tāds interesants gadījums. Pēc intīma tuvības brīža ar savu mīļoto vīrieti es devos uzčubināt sev kafiju, mīļotais vārtījās gultā. Pēkšņi mīļotais vīrietis sāk smieties un kliegt "Ķer kaķi, viņš man nočiepa prezervatīvu!" Es kā jau kārtīgs paparaci ķeru vispirms fotoaparātu. Sataiu bildes, tad gribu viņam atņemt to lateksa brīnumu. A nekā nebūs, kaķis viņu ierij, rīma tāds, es saķeru kaķi aiz čupra ar vienu roku, ar otru cenšos viņam to atņemt, viņš mani nežēlīgi saskrāpē. Pirmo reizi kaķis šitā uzvedās. Parasti klausa uz vārda. Varbūt prezervatīvi ir kaķu kārums, tāds aizliegtais auglis, ziniet. Es kliedzu vīram "Nāc šurp, kaķis ēd prezervatīvu." Bet vīrs bija par lēnu. Tas latekss bija kaķī iekšā. Un, ticiet man, tas nav tas pats, kas kaķis lateksa kostīmiņā. Tad nu es panikoju, bet vīrs zvana zvēru dakterim. Un NB! šajā valstī visi, kas zvana vai paceļ, nosauc savu vārdu un uzvārdu, tāpat arī mans vīrietis. Āāāāāāā! Vetārste nevarēja ne atsmieties, tajos brīžos, kad viņai izdevās daudz maz savaldīties viņa pateica brīnumrecepti, ko šādos gadījumos darīt - iebērt kaķim mutē tējkaroti sāls, ja iespējams, iepriekš pabarot viņu ar kaut ko garšīgu, lai vēmiens ir iespaidīgāks. Tad nu vīrs man uzticēja iebarot kaķim našķus. Tas ir vienkārši ar mūsu visēdāju - viena maza desiņa un pāris maziņu, baltu asparāgu - kaķa mīļākie gardumiņi. Tad mēs mēģinājām metodi ar 'vīrs tur kaķi, es dodu sāli', bet, protams, tie jau nebūtu mēs trīs, ja nesanāktu fail. Kaķim likās, ka tā tējkarote ir nākošais gardumiņš vai kaut kā tā, viņš ar ķepu izbārsta visu sāli uz grīdas. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!! Man plauksta jau tā sāp no tiem skrāpējumiem. Vīrs iedeva man hardkõrīgus ādas darba cimdus. Tagad es turu kaķi, viņš ber sāli kaķim mutē. Beidzot tas izdodas. Es atlaižu kaķi, tas paiet pāris soļus un izvemj sparģeli. Tad aiztuntuļo uz istabas stūri un (bāc, ja es tad nedomātu par kaķi, bet bildētu), jā, in a naughty style tas priekšmets iet no viņa laukā. Uzvara! Kaķis ir glābts.
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