In Print: The new issue of Barracuda Magazine features a nifty cover story on the Batmobile. If you pass by a comic shop, might I be so bold as to recommend Image'sThe Agents. It's a cool little black & white book that starts with the premise that James Bond, The Thunderbirds, and Green Hornet all co-exist. Neat stuff.
Sunday, April 27
I became aware this week that my email account had been "spoofed," a flavor of vandalism I was previously unaware of. Aparently some unscrupulous soul is using my email address to send out bulk spam promoting graphic beastial porn. I want to say up front to anyone who receives such mail with my address on it that I in no way sanction or support images of young confused women cupping the taut scrotum and stroking the turgid, thick-veined shafts of horses.
Tech TV.com has a story about "Everquest Widows," women whose mates eschew the pleasures of the flesh in order to spend hours immersed in online role- playing games. I am certain that they are just tickled pink about the impending arrival of Rekonstruction, a post-apocalyptic RPG designed to support one million players as they (get this) repopulate the earth. I can see the potential appeal of an all-out planetwide real-time virtual orgy, but boys: fuck your women once in a while.
I should explain the abruptness of my departure last week. I drove to distant southern climes to surprise my mother for her birthday, which was last Saturday. I could not discuss the devilish machinations of my scheme on this hallowed page lest my sainted mum (an avid Gravity Lens reader, y'know. Smart woman.) divine my intentions. My plan worked flawlessly, save for the traffic on the trip down (please note that the Washington Beltway is, in fact, one of the Circles of Hell). The past week was spent visiting family and friends along the way, shopping at various outlets, and sleeping at an affordable-yet-chillingly-similar "variety" of Red Roof Inns. I'm glad I am back, and hope you all had an enjoyable Passover/Easter/ Partiots Day/Administrative Professionals Day. Fuck Earth Day. I'm off to unpack and do laundry.
Here's a gallery of vintage cheesecake magazine covers from Retrospice. Speaking of pin-ups: those located in striking distance of Boston may wish to partake of the Man Ray B& D Ball Friday night, hosted by the infinitely yummy Dita Von Teese.
Oh yeah, a check of my stats shows the whole mess of visitors to the Links Page are led there while searching for info and pictures of Kitana Baker. For your information, boys, she does have an official site, but I appreciate the traffic.
You'd think with all the legitimately weird goings-on in the universe Yahoo could somehow avoid reprintingWeekly World News stories. I do not care how they label them, this is just irresponsible. 'Nuff said.
Wednesday, April 16 (Full moon tonight, for those who care)
I'm giving y'all fair warning that tomorrow's posts will be the last updates to Gravity Lens for about a week, give or take. Your humble narrator needs to feel wind in his (graying) hair, troll some museums, visit some friends, and otherwise calibrate his soul. Only the real world that allegedly exists at the fringes of the blogosphere will provide the needed sanctuary. Recent stat checks for this site put the number of daily readers at about 50, so I will leave some other blog links to act as methedone in my absence.
And if your wondering why a stouthearted curmudgeon such as myself needs the time off, the past week has wrought news stories about ancient gods, dark matter, and parallel universes. Having the pulp fantasies of my childhood seep un- filtered into my adult life is very unsettling and disconcerting.
David Thompson wonders whatever happened to conceptualist art? Not that I miss any of the unpleasant, cossetted artists who produced the stuff, with their studied nonchalance and eyes so hyperglazed you'd think nothing short of invasive cranial surgery would get a rise out of them.
Assorted Items: The BBC reports that CD sales are down, bringing the record industry one step closer to its torturously-prolonged-yet-well-deserved demise.