The Prank Call Of Cthulhu Cthursday.

This morning on the way to work I stopped at the supermarket to buy a thing of juice and an apple. Interesting fact about Marco Sparks: I don’t drink coffee. Typically of late I don’t eat as healthy as I should, but today I was possessed by the notion that I must have juice and an apple. And a banana. And some gum, I decided as my eyes moved over the shelves there while waiting in line to purchase my goods. And maybe a cheap gossip mag? No, no cheap gossip magazine. I have the internet for that, so…

Anyways, there was two girls standing in front of me. Young, cute girls probably around 16 or 17ish, and probably on their way to school and locked into a conversation about who at their school was a dick and who was a fucking cunt and who knew how to dress themselves right. Personally, I almost wanted to eavesdrop on women privately talking about Proust or what it feels like to travel through a black hole, but that wasn’t to be today. Today was about enjoying the parlance of giddy youth, something that I’m far enough/not that far enough removed from that it still feels half familiar while also being totally foreign to me.

Also, the youth of today are a bunch of retards. One of these girls described McCain as “cute and rugged,” so there may be a vision problem here as well.

The other girl in front of me was the interesting one. Amidst the conversating about what classes she had today and what funny story she heard during lunch yesterday, I could not take my eyes off the fact that she was holding an H. P. Lovecraft book in her hands. At one point, in my shock, I quietly said out loud to myself, “Lovecraft?!” but thankfully the girl didn’t hear me. Not that there’s anything wrong with a teenaged girl reading Lovecraft (in fact, I think that’s wonderful)(except that he was a filthy racist), but it just strikes me as so weird to see anyone reading it. But then I thought to myself…

Lovecraft wrote Cthulhu, or is well known for having created and having written several stories in that somewhat contradictory Cthulhu mythos, but interestingly, the man who shaped it more and even coined the term “Cthulhu mythos” was a guy named August Derleth. Derleth wrote books in just about every genre and eventually became good friends with Lovecraft via letters, but the two never met in person. Derleth also created Arkam House, the publisher that kept reprinting Lovecraft, thus keeping Cthulhu’s creator out of literary obscurity.

Derleth (pictured above), I discovered today, was one of Wisconsin’s favorite sons, having based himself in Sauk City and apparently having written more about the Wisconsin River than any other writer ever. And from what I can tell about or see of the Wisconsin River, it seems like pretty dreary and desolate. Like a fog soaked abyss of depression and despair. Probably perfect for writing about the Old Ones, The Elder Ones, the many tentacled crazy evil sea deities, the Necronomicon, and various shoggoths and Lloigor.

Thinking about that made me think of the only other famous person from Wisconsin that I could think of: Butch Vig, the producer of Nevermind and Siamese Dream, and the drummer for Garbage. That band, I remembered, recorded all their albums in Vig’s personal studio in Madison, Wisconsin, and I remembered reading in Shirley Manson’s studio diaries (which I highly recommend if you want to fall in love all over again with a fire-haired, sex obsessed Scottish girl) from back in the day how fucking sinister and bleary Wisconsin was, especially when the fog rolled in.

And Shirley, whom I’d love to see be involved in a new Garbage album or even working on a solo album still, is now recurring in some fashion in that Sarah Connor Chronicles TV show on Fox presumably as a Terminator. And that’s cool because… well, who else would you rather have terminating your ass?

No one, that’s who. Now, from there, I could tell you how naturally the Terminator TV show reminds of the nation’s most famous outed robot in power, The Governator. And The Governator is a Republican and wants to be President some day. Just like John McCain. And if McCain was elected, just to edify you a bit here, he’d probably fuck up the country for the youth like those two girls this morning. And after he eventually (and inevitably) dies and we get screwed over the desk hard with President Sarah Palin, she’d probably like to ban books by people like H. P. Lovecraft and August Derleth from libraries, so those girls would have nothing to read.

I could go in that direction. Blog-wise, that’s called putting a nice little bow of an ending on this ugly bitch. But I won’t go there. Instead, I’ll just say mention how much all of that reminds me of this timeless gem:

Old Glory, Robot Insurance. (Sorry to make you click on it, but WordPress doesn’t embed Hulu. Personally, I blame NBC.) Just remember: Robots are everywhere. And they eat old people’s medicine for fuel.

Can a john get a refund if his prostitute doesn’t deliver on the promised orgasm?

Robot on the loose!

The artic sea is just waiting to fart gaseous death upon us.

Seven better uses for $700 billion?

Anyone want to talk about past Presidential debates?

Let’s talk about Election 2008 in terms everyone can understand: Star Wars.

H. P. Lovecraft, Giant Squids, and Panspermia!

Ah, the adorable adventures of Hello Cthulhu.

I believe that I previously posited the notion that maybe John McCain was one of the Old Ones?

Cthulhu Dream by Roberta Scalvini.

Tentacle Porn!

I’m perpetually thinking up new ways to increase my gnumber.

What happens to science fiction writers after they die?

It’s not often enough that you can talk about witch hunters pre-election…

And saving the best for last: American teeth vs. British teeth.


GarbageYou Look So Fine