Ghost of a flea

Ad eundum quo nemo ante iit

Giving in to the temptation to offer up one's precious vitae to even the most fetching vampire is a bad idea in terms of geometric progression. Or so a scientist says (via Andrew Coyne).

And if vampires reproduced several times per night - instead of once per month (?) - in a fortnight or two there would be more vampires than there are atoms in the known universe. This is, of course, so much Malthusian nonsense propagated by the global vamping lobby. Claim me, my dark queen!

In related news: An innocent search for knowledge strays into saucy gothic burlesque photography. It is not as if my browser gravitates toward this sort of material.

Propeller Beanie Upon Him Update: The Hallowe'en costume of the year.

Mary Margaret O'Hara: Bodies in Trouble

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.*

*I recently had the subject of breaking hearts raised for my consideration. This is what breaks my heart.

The Parable of the Doorkeeper

Not the parable from Mark 13:32-37; that one makes sense. No, I am referring to Kafka's enigmatic little parable from "The Trial"; this one has me stumped. The subject arises from a viewing of an almost equally enigmatic short-film by way of YouTube, "The Door of the Law". If Flea-readers with a better undergraduate literary education than I had might enlighten me it would be much appreciated. All I have to offer is that the man from the country might have done well to seek the fleas' counsel sooner.

Underworld: Jumbo

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Goth or not goth

As part of the Flea's ongoing reader service satisfaction initiative I am proud to present a first foray into the world of goth and not goth; an occasional series. First up is a "Sexy" "Lesbian" "Goth" "Dance".* I put the question: Goth or not goth? Please note there is a correct answer.

Cubicle-bound readers should note this one is probably not safe for work unless you are employed in the sexy dance party sector.

*This one goes with a shout-out to Antonia!

Gedo Senki

The studio responsible for My Neighbour Totoro and Spirited Away offers more myth in the form of Tales from Earthsea, an adaptation of Ursula Le Guin's famous franchise. The trailers look promising. I loved this world as a kid but I still draw the line at getting sucked into My Neighbour Totoro.

Hence the Japanese title; more martial than its English equivalent. Note to self: Must get round to watching the Earthsea adaptation that triggered a bun-fight between Le Guin and Sci Fi Channel a while back.

Beccy Cole: Poster Girl

This video is everywhere across my favourite bits of the blogosphere. Canadian version, please. Now is the time at the Flea when we dance (via Mcgyver).

Abney Park: Stigmata Martyr

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

A fairy tale for grown-ups

Pan's Labyrinth looks wonderful. Del Toro Films has more teaser pictures from the film and a variety of sweet poster action. The Mike Mignola variant looks seriously collectible.

No word on whether the film addresses the complex issue of Catholic martyrs battling Stalinist/atheist fawns. Also with the kicking of the ass: This Ultimate Dr. Strange first-look trailer.

Cocteau Twins: Carolyn's Fingers

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

I pity the fool

Blondie/The Doors: Rapture Riders

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance to what is easily the best mash-up ever. Also worth a look is Debbie Harry with a different backing band.

First comes Saturday then comes Sunday

There was a time not long ago when Lebanon was an Arab Christian country, a fact that went entirely unremarked in reportage about last year's uptick in a decades long conflict. Of all the voices silenced by terror and our media's collusion with terror none was more so than those of Lebanese Christians. It has become a commonplace on the left to refer to Israel as an "apartheid state". Such is the big lie; a shocking lie in contrast with the explicit religious and racial apartheid of Israel's neighbours. What our media either cannot fathom - or cannot muster passing concern for - is that the Jews are, as ever, the canaries in the coal-mine. The fate of Israel is the fate of liberalism, pluralism and democracy.

Please watch Brigitte Gabriel's lecture to the Heritage Foundation. An hour may seem like a lot of time to invest but it is an eye opener (via No Submission).

I hope it is not only a simple-minded prurience on my part which compels me to point out Brigitte Gabriel is so hot she is made of fireworks and candied ginger or something. Just saying. If even that incentive is insufficient to such a large RealMedia file I should also point to this FrontPage interview. It covers much the same territory.

Hello My Teacher

Wow.

For want of a better comparison I am going to call this a Korean Buffy the Vampire Slayer; at least if the first episode is anything to go by. That was the best use of a fighting umbrella this side of The Avengers. A quick google of the show suggests "Biscuit Teacher and Star Candy" is better known as "Hello Teacher". Have a look before Korean media follows Japan's lead and the show disappears from YouTube.

Massive Attack: Angel

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Not your father's white man's burden

Think of it as field research in economic development.

And, of course, the inevitable follow-on question: Which country one would want to be colonized by if the outcome you were after was wealth and prosperity? The answer is obvious if you think about it for a moment.

Christian Bale as the Flea

Every great blog post consists of three acts. The first act is called "The Pledge"; the blogger shows you something ordinary, but of course... it probably isn't. The second act is called "The Turn"; the blogger makes his ordinary something do something extraordinary. Now if you're looking for the secret... you won't find it, that's why there's a third act called, "The Prestige"; this is the part with the twists and turns, where lives hang in the balance, and you see something shocking you've never seen before.

In the face of David Bowie we can read our own mortality Update: On a related note, Hugh Jackman is returning as Wolverine in an X-Men prequel spectacular. Also, the Beckhams are soon to be bloggers.

The Classical version was missing a mariachi band Update: Raj Bhakta kicks ass. The Hannibal reference is a thing of beauty. Also, note to self: Wear bow-tie to church bazaar tomorrow.

Indochine feat. Melissa Auf Der Maur: Le Grand Secret

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

I have seen the future of search engines

And her name is Ms. Dewey. I think I enjoyed this a little too much if you know what I am saying.

Each according to his need Update: Drink-soaked Trotskyite commentary identifies Ms. Dewey's non- science-heroine identity, Janina Gavankar. Va va voom!

Ani Lorak: Rozkazhy

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Nothing leads so straight to futility as literary ambitions without systematic knowledge

The LSE's Oliver Curry expects human evolution to bifurcate into Morlocks and Elois. If his observations are based as I suspect on British school-leavers the conclusion seems inescapable.

A hooker and a porn star

Sarah Michelle Gellar reportedly believes she was a natural for her rôle in Southland Tales as she looks like a cross between "a hooker and a porn star." I don't see it myself. More likely one of those delusional Belle de Jour episodes I have noticed tend to follow the acquisition of an MA in sociology or women's studies. Perhaps Ms. Gellar might consider grad school to get into the spirit of things.

Mylene Farmer: L'Amour n'est rien

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance. Arguably not safe for work unless you work in the folded down corner section of the Sears Catalogue layout sector.

On an unrelated note Update: The polar image of Mars looks familiar. By night I expect you could see the lights of Carthag.

The Witchmen

I was going to say something snarky along the lines of "Don't like the internet? Blogs? Heck, don't like television? Let's go back to having fun good old days- style then, shall we?" and then point to a video of Morris Dancing. But then I remembered Morris Dancing kicks ass. Especially, say, Morris Dancing with a gothic sensibility. And a litle Terry Pratchett thrown in for good measure.

Some traditional activities could certainly do with a revival. I think it is high time for an Annex Cornish Hurling League, for example (hat tip to a kind reader). The St. Columb ball is basically a Silver Snitch; sure to catch on with the Harry Potter generation.

Reason not to hand over the internet to an international bureaucracy Number, like, A Billion or something Update: The EU braintrust wants to regulate amateur internet video under European broadcast regulations. I am only surprised the Canadian version of stupid did not think of it first.

Reason A Billion and one Update: Iran is banning fast internet access.

Les Rita Mitsouko: Le Petit Train

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

The Margate Wickerman

What's this? We'll have no trouble here. This is a local wickerman made from local rubbish. (Zut! Channel 4 has removed the video... time for a quick link change...) The BBC reports sighting a Waste Man in Royston Vasey Margate:

Unregulated video imagery here.

The Statesmen Quartet: I Wanna Know

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.*

*Dr. Gene Scott is a role-model to me from beyond the grave. His sexy dance party with Playboy Playmates is something every ranter might aspire to... time for Fleamates? And his remarks on unsolicited advice should warm the hearts of any blogger with some traffic. All of the above is safe for work, just so you know.

Not so much blind as putting her hands over her eyes

Theodore Dalrymple does what he does best with this astonishingly bleak assessment of the British criminal justice system, "Real Crime, Fake Justice". Time to wake up, people.

Grindhouse

October 13 means Crowleymass has come and gone for another year: After the unwrapping of the presents, the repentance. I read somewhere on "the internet" the other day that Rose McGowan is looking "too skinny". More lookism, surely. She seems in fighting form in this Spike movie awards appearance of the trailer for Quentin Tarantino's "Grindhouse". Lacking stills from said trailer, I have followed Agent Bedhead's lead and improvised with this post's illustrative photogravure. I do not anticipate any strong objections.

Beware of Greeks Australians bearing gifts: My favourite bit of this Friday history lesson is how some bilingual dolt in the comments section assumes we are watching Americans. And the bit with the Turkish Consulate, naturally (via Quotulatiousness).

Sizism Update: Hollywood Tuna was the source of the "scary skinny" story. They may have a point.

Sarah Brightman: I Lost My Heart (To A Starship Trooper)

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

The post you are about to read may startle you

When United States Marines or the Israel Defense Forces deploy white phosphorous it is invariably described as a chemical weapon and a war crime. Canadian deployment of white phosphorous, by contrast, is meant to be hilarious. In related news: Anticipated autumn operations may be hindered by a critical Cheetos shortage.

I won't spoil the punchline.

Climb Mount Suribachi

My favourite part of this 50mb DD(X) corporate promo video is the bald eagle in the DD(X) badge. Stern, even slightly pissed off, he is an eagle not to be trifled with. There are some who wonder if multi-billion dollar big-ship, big-gun defense acquisitions are a sensible investment in an era of asymmetric warfare. These same folks rarely pause to wonder just why our enemies have had to resort to asymmetric warfare in the first place. By all means, let us continue to limit their options. After all, you do not cancel your fire insurance because your basement has flooded. That said, the second comment to this Defense Tech post makes an excellent case for recommissioning all four United States Iowa-class battleships.

Which brings me to my suggestion for bringing down the cost of those Queen Elizabeth-class future aircraft carriers on their way to the Royal Navy. Let Canada follow the French lead and buy one for ourselves. I expect the Australians could use one too.

Yum yum yum Update: Here's a tip: Aim for the nerve-stem and put it down for good.

Current 93: Crowleymass

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Spoons: Nova Heart

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.*

*Flea-dance sighted at 2:58!

Then we will fight in the shade

Frank Miller's 300 could not be more timely. The graphic novel was astonishing and if anything the film appears to be even more so.

Solace in Cinema offers some frame by frame comparison of the trailer to the graphic novel. Brilliant. YouTube was swatting these trailers as they appeared so bear with me if that first link gets broken (the link is now changed to the movie site...). Apple has authorized HD versions on-line but they are not playing for me. You may have better luck.

The Ahmadinejad Code

The Ahmadinejad Code represents a surprise entry into the Iranian government-sponsored Holocaust denial/celebration cartoon contest (via Solomonia). God bless Cox & Forkum.

It is shame "Hugh Bradley" did not rate among the finalists; a Cox & Forkum victory would have been sweet. I notice several supposedly American entries did make the final 200-odd, including this non-cartoon which combines multiple Jew-hating tropes in one neat package. "Kurt Vennekohl" must have missed the memo about how anti-Zionism and anti-semitism are not the same thing. And I notice a quick Google search suggests that, like at least one of his fellow entrants, Vennekohl appears to have no existence outside this Holocaust denial contest.

Finally, a quick wade through the cesspool of entries suggests Canada's sole entrant did not make the all but final cut. I expect Marc Pageau is breathing a sigh of relief at have avoided further embarrassment to himself and shame to the rest of us. He still owes his countrymen an apology for participating in this filthy exercise.

Hyper-jumping the shark

Spoiler warning: The following is based on a viewing of Battlestar Galactica Season 3 episodes 1 and 2. I believe what transpires is clearly implied by events in the final episode of Season 2, however, those inclined to watch the series without the freight of my opinion should not read this post until these episodes are available to them.

The central problem with "the postmodern turn" is not, as is widely supposed, its coincidence with the ascendency of relativism in addressing, and failing to address, cultural and political difference. Contemporary doctrines of relativism predate postmodernism by decades - I am thinking particularly of the ways in which the work of Franz Boas has come to be read₁ - and are in any event more closely allied to the logical fallacy of equivalence than a thoroughgoing political or philosophical position. Indeed equivalence, prevarication and sophistry, to paraphrase the Rabbi, have always been with us.

No, the main problem with the postmodern turn is the mistaken notion that in abstracting aesthetic elements from classical or modern schools of art and design, throwing them into a blender and repackaging the mush some sort of aesthetic achievement is the result. I admit The Simpsons was fun for a few years and for at least some of those years had become a litmus test for distinguishing an educated opinion. There is a satisfaction in recognizing a reference to Cape Fear or The Pirates of Penzance, particularly in an age of shocking ignorance of Western culture and civilisation. One might even be lead to hope an urge to be in on the joke might spur some autodidactism where systems of public education have so miserably failed. But a back-handed pedagogy is no substitute for art. The Simpsons is - or at least was - cute and on occasion amusing but rarely more than that.

In Matt Groening's defense I doubt the project was ever meant to be more than an entertaining diversion. It is a sad state of affairs when a desire to follow the plot of a children's cartoon should be the spur for an improving education let alone that this minimal hurdle should prove a step too far for most. South Park recently took at swing at Family Guy for taking postmodern narrative contruction one setting higher on the blender. In Family Guy, "in" references and de-contextualized vignettes are not an embellishment on but a substitute for a plot, this latter having been dispensed with almost entirely. I enjoy the show enormously and, as lineages go, its narrative structure finds honourable antecedents in the modernist stalwarts of surrealism and absurdism. But what works for comedy may be troubling for drama and particularly drama with pretensions to political commentary.

The word "insurgent" has taken on new meaning these last several years. Its association with a particular conflict is not limited to the ersatz Minutemen with their charming indigenous folk practices of head-hunting and child-rape. If the term "insurgent" is attached to some clans of the Uruk Hai it is more importantly associated with the Copperhead newsmen who coined the term; their own insurgency directed toward two war goals: The need to prevent at all costs the disambiguation of evil and the defeat of their Great Satan, George W. Bush. Meanwhile, in a history that has not happened, twelve planetary populations have been reduced to a few tens of thousands, forced medical experiments are carried out en masse in a North Korean-style cybernetic breeding program and those remnants of uncaged humanity are hunted as if for sport. Yet even given recent events in what remains of the Twelve Colonies, and for all they know the last of the human species, I expect Battlestar Galactica to find references not only to "insurgents" but to "activists" and "militants" in its lexicon in short order. If the show's continuity could take the blow I would not be surprised to see a Che Guevara T-shirt for Caprica 6. Galactica's writers are correct to believe using the term "insurgent" will have an emotional resonance for its audience as will its gestures toward "occupation" and "detention" and "torture". I expect many will believe these gestures alone - the mere appearance of a politicized vocabulary - are sufficient to make the show edgy and interesting, intellectual and relevant. Nothing could be further from the truth. For all the thinly veiled references to our current troubles the show has no message behind its metaphors. It is not that Galactica takes a position on the Long War and takes the wrong side. Galactica's refusal to state its case clearly means it is not even wrong.₂ The story dances around the war, evoking its language and imagery, but does not take a coherent stand on matters of duty or survival or hint at how some moral imperative might guide our actions in the world. We are instead meant to believe the show merely "raises questions", the first and last refuge of today's cowards. Some might take this ambivalence as a virtue. I think it is a strange and anemic storytelling to which our culture has been reduced when even mass murder, state-organized rape and threats directly from the seventh-century fail to elicit the simple assertion that our way of life is to be preferred, let alone defended. Talk about the war. Don't talk about the war. But don't not talk about the war and expect to be congratulated for it. Though, sad to say, I expect they will be.

I would rather choke back another helping of Star Trek:The Next Generation's righteous finger-wagging and self-flagellation than endure Galactica's fence-sitting. At least the received liberal opinion of Paramount in the 1980s had the courage of its admittedly limited convictions. Star Trek was faithful to its sick inversion of Scripture's wisdom: By all means blame the mote in the Federation's eye while studiously overlooking the log in the eye of empire be it Klingon, Romulan or Cardassian. All with the smug assurance that "they" are really like "us" in the end no matter how their leaders treat "their people" let alone how their people treat "their women". After all, the Federation's white-bread suburban future lacks the thrilling sexually charged blacksploitation potential or heavy-metal authenticity of a Klingon warrior. If you are only driving your Galaxy-class starship through the neighbourhood to buy drugs or walk on the wild side it can be a tame little adventure besides. And all the while the Federation's post-capitalist utopia rolls across the high sierra of the galaxy; a sanctimonious sludge assimiliating everything in its wake more surely than the Borg...

Perhaps Ron Moore will have the courtesy to let us know if "we" Westerners are the Cylons or what. Better yet, if those real, living human beings enlisting with the elected government of Iraq mere place-holders for the collaborators of New Caprica. For all the former are flesh and blood the latter are all too obviously more real to the post-moral left; typically concerned for brown people in principle but curiously unconcerned for them in the matters of basic rights to the franchise, freedom of expression or security of the person. In this, if in so little else, the advocates of postmodern thought have hit the mark: Where the referential chain between signifier and signified breaks down we are lost in the Matrix. Shoot up as many security guards or bystanders as you like. Their false consciousness leaves them sleeping, not truly alive, and their continued sleep renders them batteries for the ultimate class-enemy. Killing them, the argument runs, is only doing them a favour and is in their greater class-interest no matter their individual suffering and death. More important than that we are supposed to have transcended the simplisme of right and wrong let alone of good and evil. If Che has taught us anything it is that sunglasses and slaughter look cool.

Perhaps Baudrillard and his ilk are right and there has been a break in those chains of signification that rendered our actions meaningful. The answer, however, is not to parrot a kindergarten finger-painting ethos of race, gender and class but to decide like adults what values we will choose to defend. It may be good marketing to hint that we are the Cylons or, in an Orientalist Saidism₃, that the Cylons are yet another demonized Other. It may be our civilization will prevail despite the enervating effects of marketing as a place-holder for the beliefs that once defined us. It may even be that it is Mammon who will prevail over the death-cultists in the end; all the claims to love death may only serve to chlorinate the gene-pool leaving holiday swimmers in their wake. Even so, Galactica's "naturalistic science fiction" finds its closest resemblence to the world as yet another postmodern confection too cool to take a stand let alone take a side and too concerned about the bottom line to risk its aliens alienating its audience.₄

This is not just fannish debate and these are not just abstract problems. Talk of insurgency and occupation as if the words themselves are sufficient argument is not an analysis. Indicting the West of crimes we have not committed is no substitute for grappling with an enemy that would kill or convert us all. It may be we must once again learn the lesson of appeasement; re-pay the the price of dismissing "a quarrel in a far-away country between people of whom we know nothing." If that price proves too high to pay this time then God help us all. We would have to bear the burden of a real insurgency - a Jacksonian insurgency - and find ourselves passing on precious copies of Heinlein to our children; reminding them of what it meant to be free. In that future there will be no postmodernism, no marketing and no equivocation, no elections or representative government in Iraq or anywhere else: Only the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice. And may God forgive the real collaborators who convert to the Temple of Elemental Evil with the words "There is no God but the Cylon God". By all means worship your demon-god of nothingness in whatever broken hell it resides. We will spend our last breath if that is the price we must pay to send you to it.

₁ Or rather, referenced. Very few anthropology students are asked to read Boas let alone bother to do so on their own account. Boas' work itself is a reflection of his genius and heaven forbid some of it rub off on somebody.
₂ With apologies to Wolfgang Pauli.
₃ That is to say, a position advanced by Saidists.
₄ I understand there are no aliens in Galactica per se. So sue me.

Rag-tag fugitive Update Writing for Protein Wisdom, cranky-d has related thoughts on the subject and asks an important question: Can we enjoy the show anyway? I agree we can.

The Righteous Brothers: You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Myriam Fares: la Tes'Alny

Be careful with the scissors... now is the time at the Flea when we dance. Also, to run in terror from armed pumpkins. It's best not to ask.

Invade their countries, kill their leaders and convert them to Kylie Minogue Update: I would have been remiss not to link to Nadini.

Secondary sexual characteristics Update: Haklak Rahtak may sound Klingon. It is so not Klingon. Possibly the hottest video I have ever seen. I mean we are talking Song of Solomon with the Bolero as a soundtrack here people. Though I admit that could be the antihistimines so best to look to your own judgement.

The Lord of the Rings

By George Lucas. Just the thing for gritty, surburban nine-year olds.*

*This is a low impact day at Flea Towers. I have belatedly picked up the cold that has been going around and, having stayed home from work, am being evicted from my place of sanctuary by electrical goings on. Such is the price of ongoing access to modern conveniences including the wonders of "the internet". But, while I have the floor, I would like to say that I will never forgive George Lucas for the debacle he made of so-called Episodes I, II and III. Weeping Gorilla says we expect too much of the man: But Weeping Gorilla is wrong. Seriously, "just like we did on NAH-boo". It's Na-BOO for frak's sake. If you cannot be bothered to consistently pronounce your own baby ka-ka do-do made up place names I cannot be bothered to lend your farcical would-be prequels any suspension of my disbelief. The franchise is dead to me now.**

**As is the re-visioned Battlestar Galactica which jumped the shark big time at the end of Season II. So much for television.

This Woman's Work

Thanks to the unimaginable bandwidth of YouTube I am delighted to point to a VHI documentary in seven parts, "This Woman's Work" (Part I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII). The picture quality is poor and the sound is muddy, perhaps the result of a transfer from someone's 1993 home video. Not that this will matter much to the Kate Bush obsessives.*

"This Woman's Work", the video for the single, is also worth a look. I had never seen it before and, fair warning, it is a real tear-jerker.

*So, have you ever noticed how Kate Bush and George Bush have the same last name? How weird is that?

Pierre Lapointe: Le Colombarium

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

The girl with error-message eyes

Warren Ellis has been wandering through Transylvania. I would be too were it not for my primitive video card... time to upgrade.

Fuel to be fabulous

The appearance of a new low calorie energy drink might go unremarked were it not a portent of yet greater things to come. For is it not written in the sacred scrolls that feathered hair shall once again be "in"? I gather this new concoction has a taste “reminiscent of a liquid Jolly Rancher”; surely an omen to set against a mere Imam, twelfth or otherwise.

That's TaB, btw.

Rough Trade: All Touch

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

I Pity the Fool

Porchboy has a new favourite show premiering October 11. I am not entirely certain how tuning in to TV Land squares with a mission to motivate procrastinators and rev up slackers. That said, I am delighted to once again discover F. Scott was mistaken about second acts.

The Biology of B-Movie Monsters

Michael C. LaBarbera argues Hollywood's approach to movie-monster design has been hopelessly naïve. Which would bother me as so much pendantry if not for the umlaut.

Shame he does not mean psychoanalysis; this would do a bang-up job explaining why giant spiders are frightening despite any hypothetical scaling problems. And, strangely enough, Rachel Welch remains attractive despite the vanishingly remote chance most cinema-goers would have had at attracting her interest.

The Mothra Song

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance... and sing along! Warning: Canadian content.

Tastes like chicken

The "softer side" of Tyrannosaurus rex is frankly incredible. I had to do a quick April 1 check before reading right the way through this article.

Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me

Listen up jock douchebags: We want to help. The Drink Soaked Trotskyites point to Goth Help Us; gothic philanthropy in action. Founder Rebecca Holm explains.

I confess this summary is only a dim reflection of my personal experience of the sect. At least in so far as my ongoing difficulty in convincing gothic lasses to disrobe is concerned; let alone the prospect of home cooking to follow. Or take away for that matter.

The Birthday Massacre: Lovers End

Now is the time at the Flea when we dance.

Liisa has a liisp

"I would bet you - if I had the money - that there's 40 year old goths out there and you don't know it." Ahh, how naive is the immortality of youth. Still it is ten years on and I expect we shall be hearing more in a similar vein in the coming weeks. All Hallow's Eve approaches and that means the annual passing mention of non-massacre related gothic media. Here is the last word on goth subculture in Toronto, mid-90s style. Liisa has a liisp... so hot!₁ Loving this comment especially.

So true.

₁ Surely not the before of Liisa Ladouceur.