Literacity has the beginnings of a discussion of the horror genre, one of my favorite subjects (although I’m a bit picky—I’m a classic horror fan, and consider most of the recent offerings, both on screen and on the page, to be atrocity exhibitions rather than true horror), and one thing mentioned there is a taxonomy of horror stories. He argues that all are rooted in the idea of loss of control, and subdivides that into loss of control of self, the environment, and place in society…which was actually rather handy, because of the next item I discovered.

Gothic Lolitas. That’s right, twee and scary. This is one fashion movement that hasn’t hit Morris, fortunately, but then, I think Morris is still trying to lumber out of the 1970s.

Anyway, naming the horror is the first step to facing it, and thanks to my earlier discovery I was quickly able to categorize it as clearly an example of “loss of control of place in society”, subcategory “visions that no one will believe”.

Yes, I played Dungeons and Dragons in the 1970s, and it was exactly as the Dead Alewives portray it, right down to the guy always cruising for munchies.

(via Dr Bushwell)

Worried that global warming will submerge your real estate? Here’s the solution the town of Galveston hit upon after they were devastated by a hurricane in 1900: the entire town was hoisted up on stilts, and new fill placed underneath. The photographs are amazing—it was an impressive engineering project, and it was all done with manual labor.

It’s also a little bit familiar. In my old home town, you could date the houses by their construction: the older ones were all built up on foundations that raised the floor a couple of feet off the ground, because the town was on a flood plain—my parents had photos of people canoeing down the streets when the Green River rose above its banks. There the solution was to build a dam on the river and control it that way, and that’s when the newer houses could have these peculiar things called basements.

Damming the ocean is a rather bigger problem.

Laura Sessions Stepp is wondering what it means to be manly, and of course she has to resort to the cultural phenomenon of the last 30 minutes, Pirates of the Caribbean 3, and has invented an overwrought story that modern men are all confused by this swishy style personified by Captain Jack Sparrow — the fey sway, the frilly shirt, the lace on the wrist — and that all this business of empowering women is so stressful to young men.

I’m sorry, it’s too ridiculous for words. The only people who could possibly pull off that pirate style are Johnny Depp and Prince.^* And I think it’s quite reasonable that women should be assertive and laugh away any fellow thinks the right pastels and properly gilded accessories will cause them to swoon into his arms.

Real Men: Ragetti, Gibbs, and Pintel

Besides, I saw the movie, and know who the real masculine role models are. Grubby fellows who only occasionally shave and who have extraordinarily poor dental hygiene and a tendency to belch and wipe the excess rum off their faces with their sleeves. I swear, the fashionistas ought to be looking at these guys for fashion trends. This is where it’s at, bros.

It’s what I settle for, anyway.

At least until a few more years pass and biotechnology progresses so I can aspire to the full tentacle look, that is.

(via Grammar.police and Zeno)

^*OK, not entirely true. Connlann can pull it off—but then, he inherited his looks from his mom and his attitude from his dad.

In an exercise that will tempt photoshoppers world wide, but makes alteration superfluous, an Italian magazine has run a photogallery of the Pope in various strange costumes. I rather liked

cowboy Ratzi and the

grim leprechaun, but my favorite has to be

evil santa.

When I get to be old and sunken-eyed, I promise…I will dress comfortably and tastefully, put away the frilled shirts and the puffy pantaloons, and avoid wearing garish velvet. It’s a good suggestion for both pirates and popes.

As the buggy summer looms, I have to confess to a sadistic enjoyment of this splatter film.

I think the insects are real animals filmed with high speed cameras, but the actual impacts are faked with CGI — the physics weren’t quite right, and the flying insects should have bounced out of the camera field more. It just makes it funnier that no arthropods were actually harmed in the making of this movie.

(via Byzantium’s Shores)