Throwback Thursday: A Clockwork Orange

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In an England of the future, Alex (Malcolm McDowell) and his “Droogs” spend their nights getting high at the Korova Milkbar before embarking on “a little of the old ultraviolence,” while jauntily warbling “Singin’ in the Rain.” After he’s jailed for bludgeoning the Cat Lady to death, Alex submits to behavior modification technique to earn his freedom; he’s conditioned to abhor violence. Returned to the world defenseless, Alex becomes the victim of his prior victims. 

This movie is sick, twisted, dark, and not everyone’s cup of tea; kind of like me.  However, it is worth the watch and the book is just as good. Although, if I remember correctly, the author wrote it not to be taken too seriously.

Check out the trailer below and re-watch or watch a personal dark favorite of mine. It’ll have you singing in the rain!

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

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Wayback Wednesday: Carnival of Souls

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Ah, my Waybacks for the month of October will include some classic horror movies, which are MY fav.  Here’s this week’s offering, Carnival of Souls.

Mary Henry (Candace Hilligoss) ends up the sole survivor of a fatal car accident through mysterious circumstances. Trying to put the incident behind her, she moves to Utah and takes a job as a church organist. But her fresh start is interrupted by visions of a fiendish man (Herk Harvey). As the visions begin to occur more frequently, Mary finds herself drawn to the deserted carnival on the outskirts of town. The strangely alluring carnival may hold the secret to her tragic past.

Check out the trailer below and if you’re in the mood, check out later this month.  Enjoy.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

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Tuesday Travels: Haunted Hotel on 623 Ursulines

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Ah, October and we are kicking off my favorite month. This month I’m changing things up a little bit and introducing some of my favorite dark and twisted things.  Here’s today’s offering, the Haunted Hotel on 623 Ursulines.

New Orleans hotels are widely known for offering their guests thrills and chills, but no other haunted hotel is so scary, it’s rightfully earned the label of “Haunted” to describe it. Built-in 1829, this building is one of the oldest in New Orleans and home to many horrifying haunts and unexplained mysterious.

A strong paranormal presence of the serial killer known as the Axe Man was discovered here in the early 1900s, and from reports, it’s clear to all who stay here that he’s never left. If you want to put your supernatural bravery to the test, stay a night in this haunted hotel in New Orleans where you’ll likely experience things you’ve only seen in the movies.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

 

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The Black Barbie Chronicles: Quit Riding My Ass

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This one here is a personal pet peeve of mine. I despise it when people ride my ass; both in person and while I’m driving.  Korea really brought out the Petty Betty in me.  Check out this little diddy and enjoy.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

Quit Riding My Ass

Hello all! I have this fun sick twisted game that I like to play from time to time depending on what mood I’m in. The game is called Quit Riding My Ass! The rules are elementary; people stop riding my ass.

I have a thing about personal space; I like to have it. I have a significant hate fest for people who People Tailgate. Seriously, if I can feel your hot breath on my neck that means your ass is just too damn close! Unless you’re a serial killer, why do you need to be on my ass!

Quit Riding My Ass is not a new game or something I discovered in Korea Land. Nope folks, I’ve been playing this game for years both on the mean streets of Houston and in the malls. Human Tailgaters are everywhere in this world. There are no rules to this game, and the way to win is to have the Human Tailgater stop riding your ass. One of my true and tested methods of getting the Human Tailgater off my ass to come to a complete stop in the middle of the street for no reason. This causes the Human Tailgater to run smack into me. Me stopping usually ends with the jerk looking confused, annoyed, and then walking away in the other direction. Yeah, I won!

Granted, there are times when it can be a bit inappropriate to play Black Barbie’s favorite game of Quit Riding My Ass. There are places where I can’t do that. If I try and play that shit during Rodeo Season in Houston, I will be met with a punch in the face and a well-placed string of profanity. However, any other time, it’s a go. If you’re riding my ass Human Tailgater, then you deserve what happens to you.

Lauren here in Korea thinks I shouldn’t play Quit Riding My Ass, the Korean Version while I in Korea. Lauren argues that it’s not a good game to play since Koreans do not have the same concept of personal space as us Americans. She thinks that if I play the game in Korea Land, I may get met with a punch in the face. I try and explain to her, no, I’m not giving the Koreans any quarter. I’m not racist; all Human Tailgaters get the same treatment. They ride my ass; I’m playing my game.

The few times I’ve played the game in Korea I’ve gotten the usual results I get back home. Many times people stop when I stop and go around me. A few have run into me, and I turn around and say in a loud voice in Korean, don’t touch! That one got some looks. There were a couple of times where I stopped, then people ran into me and fell backward! One poor woman lost all her groceries when they flew out of her hand! That was funny.

Until I get as Lauren calls it a most deserved punch in the face, I’ll continue to play Quit Riding My Ass, the Korean Version.

 

 

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Rain: 30 Sexy

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Here’s the last of my K-pop for the summer, with Rain himself.  I like this guy and yes I’m still checking him out in 2019. Enjoy

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

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Noir Saturday: The Harder They Fall

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Here’s tonight’s noir with my fav, Bogart, The Harder They Fall.

Broke and without work, newspaper reporter Eddie Willis (Humphrey Bogart) agrees to work for the corrupt boxing promoter Nick Benko (Rod Steiger) to help hype his new boxer, Toro Moreno (Mike Lane). While Toro is beastly in appearance, he has no actual boxing talent, and all his fights are fixed. When Toro gets a shot at the title against the brutal Buddy Brannen (Max Baer), Willis is faced with the tough decision of whether or not to tell Toro that his entire career is a sham.

Check it out tonight @ 11PM on TCM CST or 9AM CST on Sunday. Enjoy and check out the trailer.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

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Erotic Fridays: Ella Wheeler Wilcox

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I’ll admit that I have never heard of her, however, her famous line from the poem Solitude, I have; “Laugh, and the world laughs with you;. Weep, and you weep alone”.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox, née Ella Wheeler, (born Nov. 5, 1850, Johnstown Center, Rock county, Wis., U.S.—died Oct. 30, 1919, Short Beach, Conn.), American poet and journalist who is perhaps best remembered for verse tinged with an eroticism that, while rather oblique, was still unconventional for her time.

Ella Wheeler from an early age was an avid reader of popular literature, especially the novels of E.D.E.N. Southworth, Mary Jane Holmes, and Ouida. Her first published work, some sketches submitted to the New York Mercury, appeared when she was 14 years old. Soon her poems were appearing in the Waverly Magazine and Leslie’s Weekly. Except for a year at the University of Wisconsin (1867–68), she devoted herself thereafter to writing.

Wheeler’s first book, a collection of temperance verses, appeared in 1872 as Drops of Water. Shells, a collection of religious and moral poems, followed in 1873 and Maurine, a highly sentimental verse narrative, in 1876. The rejection of her next book, a collection of love poems, by a Chicago publisher on grounds that it was immoral helped ensure its success when it was issued by another publisher in 1883 as Poems of Passion, a titillating title that was as racy as any of the contents. The sale of 60,000 copies in two years firmly established Wheeler’s reputation.

In 1884 she married Robert M. Wilcox, a businessman. While making herself the centre of a literary coterie, Wilcox continued to pour out verses laced with platitudes and easy profundities. They were collected in such volumes as Men, Women, and Emotions (1893), Poems of Pleasure (1888), Poems of Sentiment (1906), Gems (1912), and World Voices (1918).

After her husband’s death in 1916, Wilcox made her long-standing interest in spiritualism the subject of a series of columns as she sought—successfully, she claimed—to contact his spirit. At her husband’s direction (she said), Wilcox undertook a lecture and poetry-reading tour of Allied army camps in France in 1918.

This poem I selected was one which I felt really spoke to me. There is so much loving, longing and loss which makes it dear and erotic to me.  Enjoy.

F. M. Laster

“I only like two kinds of men, domestic and imported.” -Mae West

From The Grave

by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

When the first sere leaves of the year were falling,
I heard, with a heart that was strangely thrilled,
Out of the grave of a dead Past calling,
A voice I fancied forever stilled.
All through winter and spring and summer,
Silence hung over that grave like a pall,
But, borne on the breath of the last sad comer,
I listen again to the old-time call.
It is only a love of a by-gone season,
A senseless folly that mocked at me
A reckless passion that lacked all reason,
So I killed it, and hid it where none could see.
I smothered it first to stop its crying,
Then stabbed it through with a good sharp blade,
And cold and pallid I saw it lying,
And deep—ah’ deep was the grave I made.
But now I know that there is no killing
A thing like Love, for it laughs at Death.
There is no hushing, there is no stilling
That which is part of your life and breath.
You may bury it deep, and leave behind you
The land, the people, that knew your slain;
It will push the sods from its grave, and find you
On wastes of water or desert plain.
You may hear but tongues of a foreign people,
You may list to sounds that are strange and new;
But, clear as a silver bell in a steeple,
That voice from the grave shall call to you.
You may rouse your pride, you may use your reason.
And seem for a space to slay Love so;
But, all in its own good time and season,
It will rise and follow wherever you go.
You shall sit sometimes, when the leaves are falling,
Alone with your heart, as I sit to-day,
And hear that voice from your dead Past calling
Out of the graves that you hid away.

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