A walking cadaver feasting yet never full. Hollow sunken cheeks. Fetid breath. Mortuary bones clacking like castanets signal a dirge for a being hanging onto life yet bound for the grave. More specter than man. A rambling absurdity. Vultures patiently await thy final fall. Ye reek of the morgue. Thy entire body festers as a gangrenous wound. He beckons! He beckons! Rub him down with frankincense and myrrh! Ready thy flesh for winding sheet and cooling board. Turn back all covered mirrors! Face thy head to the North Star. Every road ye tread leads to the crypt. Thy Tomb awaits thee and bids thee step in.
Island of the Damned by Bocklin
The smell of death accompanies thy uprising and approach. A stench emanating from thy despoiled core lingers in every room. Onlookers vainly swing their heads in disgust trying to dislodge tastes of putrid flesh invading their tongues. Youth and health have been dispersed to the gale like leaves whipped by the windstorm then fallen to soil. Leaves decomposing returning to the earth from whence they came. No potions, brews or concoctions from Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe can save thee now. Threescore and ten shall not be thine for the Fates are poised to cut life’s cord.
The Pale Horseman rides for thee. This night thy soul is required. Ferry passage has been booked and Charon awaits you dockside for thy journey across the River Styx. Once shiny obsidian bursting with life now ye become dusty white-grey urn ashes. A tree that once stood tall in the forest has fallen never to rise again. Strong saplings are pine boxes for many Potters Fields.
Once to the bazaar now to the funeral. Maggot courtiers await the beck and call of thy rotted corpse. Hypnos wicked opium dram shall deliver thy harvest ready soul gathered unto Thanatos sickle and scythe. Journeys fueled by alcohol, cigarettes and sugar end much too soon. Yonder cemetery will be thy new home.
Rachael Ray the Queen of Greasy, Cheesy and Queasy had some rather disparaging remarks to say about J. Crews new tiny sizes collections. From my understanding J. Crew is mainly marketing these clothes to Asians who tend to be much smaller than Americans. Also there are women who are that small!! I have adult female family members who would fit into these size apparel and it is not because they are dieting, which Rachael Ray assumes small women must be doing to be that size, but because of genetics which has made them very petite. This is not a crime. It is a fact of life. Retailers make clothes for every other size so why not very petite women?! Thanks to DNA women come in all sizes, shapes and figures.
Now having said that, there is bonehead Bethenny Frankel! This woman is not only a complete idiot in posting a picture on Instagram of herself wearing her 4 year old daughters jammies, well the woman is scary skinny!! Since she markets products called Skinny-girl I can only conclude that her skeleton frame is due to extreme dieting not the result of genes. Racheal Ray and Bethenny Frankel are two extremes of the body image discussion spectrum.
Somebody Give Bethenny Frankel a Cheeseburger!!
Trophy Wife Barbie
Trophy Barbie
Walking through the museum galleries one experiences many moments of sartorial splendor and clearly fashion faux pas. Yes there are the usual way too low plunging mammary exposing necklines and with the advent of summer Anal “butt crack season” but many days we are graced with the presence of Ms. Stepford Wifey/Girlfriend Barbie. Join me in my Poetic Verse to the Enhanced Princess.
Trophy Barbie
Rail Thin with B52 Double DD cantaloupe boobs. Lips like Big Ang. Botox frozen face marionette led by her Ventriloquist Mate. Life-like Wax doll escapee from Madame Tussauds. Modern Day Tributes to Pygmalion and Galatea.
She’s a reconstructed FrankenWoMannequin Self-Starvationist with Stilt Walker legs ending in permanently arched feet affixed to 5 inch Manolos Louboutins.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 