“But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” asked Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t be have come here.”
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
According to Scandinavian lore, the ghost of a dead infant was called an utburd, which meant *child carried outside*. The utburd was vengeance incarnate, and also a symbol of an old tradition: letting newly-born children die of exposure when it wasn’t practical to feed them. The illustrative tale associated with this ghost (real quick) is: a fisherman and his wife must live a sickly child outside to die because of all the mouths they already have to feed. Later, it enters through their keyhole, then crawls up on the woman while she sleeps and tears out her eyes.
Other traits of the utburd; generally invisible, but can take the shapes of animals such as owls, or black dogs. It can also grow to the size of a cow or turn into a curl of wispy smoke. It could make sounds like boulders dropping. It also continued to take victims long after it exacted its revenge on the parents that killed it. Its main method of attack was to chase down lonely travelers, and then press an invisible weight down on the victim’s chest, crushing him/her
Sakes… Teach me to read Norse Eddas at 2 in the morning. I’m going to have nightmares now for sure.
Walt Disney Home Video is scrambling to recall some of its just-released Toy Story 2 DVDs, after it found out the G-rated blockbuster was accidentally duplicated to include an expletive-filled clip from the R-rated flick High Fidelity.
Anyone in the mid-west picked up a copy, yet?
There’s a comic book I have. It’s Marvel’s GIANT SIZE MAN-THING. (for those of you that don’t know, it’s about a rampaging swamp monster) but I was thinking how terribly like a naughty phrase that is.
Summertime and the living’ is easy
Fish are jumpin’ and the cotton is high
Oh, your pappy’s rich and your mammy’s good lookin’
So hush little baby, don’t you cry
One of these mornings you’re gonna rise up singin’
Then you’ll spread your wings and you’ll take to the sky
Until that mornin’ there ain’t nothin’ can harm you
With mammy and pappy standin’ by
Such a steady flow of work, this is the first time today I’ve had a chance to poke my nose in more than a millimeter. It appears that I may be here rather late… all manner of stuff to chug through. I think that I’ll order my happy self a pizza to compensate. Going to have a lovely cheese pie, and some mountian dew, and perhaps comiserate the situation with Kev, who’s still here too.
Thinking about the Painted Desert, and how beautiful it’s environs are.
I imagine with the right company, it is breathtaking, and the desolation only serves to make it more so
I’m feeling good. 🙂
I’m not sure how fond of you all are of a Prairie Home Companion…but the archives are a wonderful fling over to where my head is. You’ll see Scotto in full fuddy-duddy mode, listening to it. Talking about lutefisk, Guy Noir, and the lot of them got me going for many a day back when I was a kid, and whenever I can tune in these days on NPR. Finding the show archive is an amazing thing, about 4 years worth. Beautiful.