“Rock the Beat II”

The announcer is a nice touch to keep the mood light. The beat is definitely for listening, not for dancing, unless someone found a way to dance in slo-mo without looking like an idiot that I wasn’t aware of. Still, a nice intro to how awesome clubbing is, which, clocking in at just under two minutes, is all the purpose it can really serve.
“Sorry For Party Rocking”

HERE’s the nineties-beat-that-done-gone-futuristic beat I was promised. It’s so catchy that the trite lyrics about clubbing being awesome become audio candy, yet every now and then regresses into the previously mentioned pit of undanceable slo-mo. There’s a breakdown in there, but the rapping doesn’t overshadow the techno, which I find refreshing.
“Party Rock Anthem (feat. Lauren Bennett & GoonRock)”

Psuedo-corchestral opening. Very classy. And the lyrics… we’re remixing an old favorite here, I see, claiming that you run through them girls “like draino”. Again, classy. The catchiest moment comes about 2:16, when DJ Redfoo and DJ SkyBlu take a moment to tell us why we would be deliriously screaming along at the top of our lungs with them: copious and constant amounts of alcohol. They say we have this alcohol because–get this–clubbing is awesome.
“Sexy and I Know It”

The funk on this track helps it stand out from the others, but the track is for blasting out your car, not dancing to. Granted, that might be the best situation to hear a pair of men yelling about their physique, demanding that all nearby stare at them. Though I wasn’t really aching to know what you plan to do in a speedo. Or that you had “passion in your pants.” Wiggle wiggle wiggle, indeed.

“Champagne Showers (feat. Natalia Kills)”

Again, a classy soft-techno intro. And if the last track had funk, this one is saturated with disco. Disco done by horny robots. Who think clubbing is awesome. The creative yet predictable uses LMFAO have for champagne are well balanced with several excited squeals from Natalia Kills, for whom I can forgive the autotuning as it worked well with the track and turned her into simply one more key on the synth. The relentless beat was good enough to forgive the nagging feeling that the lyrics might have violated me.

“One Day”

Another light folly from LMFAO, though the opening bass here made me almost assume Cher was about to start giving me a talking to. But no, LMFAO are just going to talk about how awesome clubbing is. Even when they paused fondly reminicing about their drinking habits, large bank account, and the vague possibility of a meaningful relationship with someone absent from the dancefloor, I waited during the bridge for Cher to respond.

WANT TO KNOW THE BOTTOM LINE? You’re gonna have to go here, bitch.

TRACK ONE

“Everyone Knows” is a promising beginning to the album, with a basic but catchy electric guitar riff and a similarly relentless drum beat. The lyrics are passionately sung, but the actual content is fairly uninspired. Easy-to-dance-to music for the young “rebel” who prefers their relentless righteous anger to go no further then their facial expression while they’re dancing.

TRACK TWO

“No Excuses” follows with more driving guitar and drums in a, in all honesty, similar track to the first. There is a different pace and a different and more varied guitar riff to tickle the eardrums and a far different opening, but the song carries the same tone and message. If you only kind of liked the first track, here is a different version.

TRACK THREE

“My Shoes” starts off with… driving guitar and drums. However, we’ve got the durms taking the lead here, and the lyrics are spit out in a resentful fashion, so I’d say its the best of the first three tracks. Again, its the same but different from what we’ve gotten thus far on the album, the lyrics are almost inspired, and the guitar almost makes be want to nod my head along with the beat.

TRACK FOUR

“Blood on My Hands” has a little crooning and a plucky little guitar riff at the opening. I was hopeful for a change of pace so I could hear a little more of this band’s range, and for a while they delivered. The drumming was deliberate and bold and …repetitive. The bass and the guitar wove together to be… a plucky little riff… and… more… oh, it changed to another version of itself. And now the lyrics are falling back into the same rut they were earlier on the album. Still, a change of pace and a slight improvement.

WANT TO KNOW THE BOTTOM LINE? You’re gonna have to go here, bitch.

"Thou shall eat my flesh and drink my blood"? Yeah, what and original way to commune with your followers. Have you even heard of Dionysus?

I’m just gonna come right out and say it.

The Church is full of posers, man. They just… I mean, I guess I would have been into the whole “Easter” thing back when it was all about Aester and fertility and whatever, but like, now…? So played out. I mean, Aester has really lost her integrity, you know, as like a deity, man, every since she sold out to the Church. Rites of fertility paying homage to the rebirth of the earth mother with the first spring rains? I mean, that totally blew all the other holidays out of the water in the Paleolithic Era or whenever Aester did her first show. There was so much vision there, I mean, back when there wasn’t this “zombie Jesus” shit. Which was a cool concept, I guess, like, last year, but even that wasn’t very original. Robin Williams did it on HBO in, like, the eighties or whatever so, yeah, zombie Jesus has been done. Seriously.

Being reborn after suffering for your people? Way better when Prometheus did it, and his rendition involved fire. Ass.

Its not just Aester, though, its the whole pagan calendar. There were some really serious artists in the pagan pantheon, with some real integrity behind their holidays, and then Jesus just came along and all these holidays sold out. Jesus is just like, the opposite of original. The rebirth thing? I mean, other religions were also doing it and they just, like, translated Aester’s name wrong, and that’s cool, ’cause having a whole other identity in each autonomous collective just gave Aester that much more cred, man. It was a sign of acceptance because everyone really dug her stuff. But then Jesus comes along and is all, like, this fertility thing you did? No, I’m seeing a whole new angle to this. Which is cool, but then he just didn’t get the universality of it and decided it was going to be all about him. His rebirth, not Aester’s. It wasn’t even like he tried to make it original. It as just the same thing, only about him, and all the sacrificial stuff was taken out, and replaced with some pussified hymns and whatever. Then the Church and Hallmark got together in the 50s or whatever, and added in some crap about the Easter Bunny. He took some really good work, man, that had like, a soul, or whatever, and completely re-appropriated it as a tool of societal norms. I mean, Stepford America, am I right? Uhg, you totally didn’t get that, did you.

I would have been way more into this whole Jesus thing if he had at least been born originally but, he couldn’t even do that. Um, son of an all-powerful sky-god with a human mother that was totally a virgin? Yeah, ’cause Zeus didn’t already do that, like, a couple thousand times. Which your dad definitely knew about since he was chilling with the Jews at the time and would have totally been at the first performance. Really weak, man. Your dad is way cooler.

G-d, look at this square. No seriously, look at what he's doing, its cancelling out all that "Vengefull Monotheistic Deity" stuff you and Abraham started. You were cool before you had a kid.

I mean, the Church almosthad the right idea when they ignored the fact that Jesus’ birthday was in March and decided to move it (’cause that month totally already had holidays for Irish midgets or whatever) but then they screwed that up. They just, like, didn’t get it. As if getting Aester to sell out wasn’t enough, they had to get in on the Saturnalia’s deal (which had originally been the feast of the Son of Isis, so its not even like the Romans were original). It actually really speaks to the hollowness of the Church’s creative spirit when such sad attempts at original holidays aren’t even the first re-appropriation of someone else’s genius.

No one is impressed by your flimsy imitation.

There’s this theory that you probably haven’t even heard about yet where a kid’s behavior either boils down to “wasn’t hugged enough as a child” or “hugged way way way too much as a child,” and I have to say that Jesus probably dressed up as other people’s children just to steal hugs from their parents, because judging by the old testament, G-d wouldn’t have been a very huggy father. I’m not saying that Jesus’ holiday-themed kleptomania is entirely due to his upbringing, but his holiday-themed kleptomania is entirely due to his upbringing. But you can only blame a kids parents for so much, and Jesus’ whiny attempts to get the other gods to like him by stealing their ideas is doing little to endear him to potential worshipers.

like you care.

alright you fucking posers, i spent the weekend blind in an alley thanks to the hottest neu hot pants spot this side of a nipple clip. normally i wouldn’t bother telling you about it since i’m doing this for fucking free and this place is far too good for your ilk, but they didn’t give me a free lapdance so screw them.

you can only get to this place by knowing someone who founded it, and then subsequently stalking them for months until they have you kidnapped and thrown into their rape dungeon. if you escape then you’ll find yourself in the most exclusive club in downtown trenton, NJ you can get into without a KGB membership dating from before 1967. believe me, i know. you don’t.

easily three coin purses

the first thing you’ll notice once you’ve spent a moment nurturing your bleeding fingertips and wondering how best to pass off the exposed bones as art (doing so would only reveal how much of a try-hard you are since i did that way before anyone else in that club), is that the entire place is a perfect sphere coated in leather. not black patent cow leather, but the finest baby muntjac deer skin that’s been cured with the tears of AIDS orphans. and don’t give me any shit about that because everyone knows vegan is so played out and what the fuck else are those deer going to do with their skin? i have a 100% organic purse of it that i bought way before anyone even knew what a muntjac deer was.

once you’ve admired the decor–writing your review in blood on the forms the bouncers hand out and collect before threatening you–you can escape the bouncer and start exploring the place. everything takes place on varying suspended platforms held in the sphere by iron chains, and to move up a platform you use your stilettos to gain a foothold in the walls and scale the chains, and move down a platform you jump. those who have escaped the rape dungeon start at the bottom, where there is the customary sewage pit that patrons defecate into, and those who own the place participate in an orgy in a giant velvet hammock at the very top.

this service comes with a fee of $136

once you’ve crawled from the sewage pit, there is a gift shop where they will burn your clothes and you can freshen up for the price of $1000, and buy new clothes for and additional $5000. your clothes are burned immediately regardless, so be sure to take them off before an employee finds you.

after attaining the appropriate attire you will be allowed to move about the premises unmolested by the bodyguards unless someone (possibly you) has requested that. requests are made via speaking into the gilded speakerphones that hang down from the ceiling. obviously, the higher up you are the more likely you are to be allowed to reach a speakerphone, or, have two patrons fight to the death to be tortured by you for the privilege of asking for you. the price for these and other services is listed on placards on the walls, which are in very small print and require you to be on the walls themselves to read them.

as far as entertainment goes, you have your usual fare: a few DJs, dance floors, cage dancers, kidnapped homeless people forced to dance on the dance floors, a rape dungeon, people urinating on the platforms above you, LSD-spiked alcohol, jello pool filled with nude wresting girls, and free cocaine. there are a few novelties that i totally already saw at this private party i went to in chelsea with people you couldn’t possibly know where i met captain beefheart’s six half-tibetian illegitimate children, such as competitive pancreas fondling and a tijuanan donkey show, and on thursday mornings they’ve got the fourth ringling brother fucking his pet tiger. the higher up you go on the platforms, the higher income bracket and more athletic the patrons are. the exact same events are there, only their more expensive and tend to be covered in more muntjac leather or be bound in chains dipped in gold. the fourth ringling brother, if he performs on one of the higher platforms, must cover himself and his tiger in oil and powdered glass beforehand, as as to be properly shiny.

i mean, he's paid well enough

one thing that one must adhere to while at this club is proper etiquette. if you do not express yourself as a dom, it will be assumed you are a sub, and any part of you seen by a dom will be branded, whipped, bound, and/or cut at their pleasure, so one must be clear. if you are wearing some leather but expose a lot of skin and have your face mostly covered with more leather/feathers/an eel, you will be pegged for a sub, but if you’re wearing some leather but expose a lot of skin and have your face mostly covered with patent leather/velvet/lace, you will be considered a dom. and so forth. etiquette extends to the signals one gives to the staff and bodyguards. if you look somewhere above the heads of any member of the staff, they will engage their telepathic powers to read your mind and bring you what you want. if you make eye contact you will be killed on sight.

while there, i noticed someone trying to enquire how to leave the club, as they had been there for several months and were scared and wanted to go home, because they were seven years old. they were kicked off the platform back into the sewage pit. the correct way to leave the establishment is ti either declare a fetish for it (the quickest way) or to pass out in a pool of your own or someone else’s fluids (slightly slower, unless someone requested they watch you do that, in which case it won’t work).

while normally you probably won’t ever get into a fantastic place like this, rest assured that the owners are going to start tracking potential candidates with their satellites this summer, and should begin kidnapping sometime after labor day.

fun fact: Don Bluth is responsible for half this man's career

You probably don’t even know you saw a Don Bluth movie. He directed and wrote movies like AllDogs Go To Heaven, Rock-A-Doodle, Thumbalina, and The Secret of NIMH. He started the movie-about-a-penguin genre, and even did something that involved a magic wart that harassed inner city kids and was pursued by Charles Nelson Riley. Yep, real gems. But not everything was all about the adventures of talking animals with southern accents (some great romancing at 1:46). Beneath the bright, technicolor veneer and all those pink sparkles, was something dark and downright weird. Starting with the movie most criticized in the rant that inspired this article.

5. Bridging the Racism Gap…With Homicide!

pictured: sentient dinosaurs

The movie: The Land Before Time is a classic tale of a motley group of dinosaur children banding together to find a drink, like you and your friends do every weekend. Oh, and apparently all dinosaurs are talking, mostly sensible, peace-loving giants unless they are a T Rex. Then they are blood-crazed murder machines that solve all their problems by bashing their head against it. Which was both awesome and terrifying as a child.

The problem: Littlefoot the Longneck’s new “friend” Cera the Threehorn teaches him a little game when they first meet. It’s called “you stand over there while I kill you” and you play it by charging at your soft, squishy target with your three freaking horns pointed at his neck as he frolics through the fields in your direction. Granted, she is stopped by her dad so he can completely destroy their friendship in a raging diatribe about how awesome it is to segregate everybody, but her intention was clear, especially since she tries later, much to the horror of onlookers Ducky, Spike and Petri.

Why it’s horrible: Most people, I assume, don’t kill friends as soon as they make them, as it shrinks the guest list for your birthday parties and all those neat horn-sharpening presents you could have gotten. But let’s give the lil’ killer the benefit of the doubt. Maybe the definition of friends has changed from the time of the dinosaurs. The fact remains that Littlefoot is blissfully unaware of the tiara of pain his new friend is hurling towards his fragile chest with. The concept of friendly fire would never cross his innocent little mind, as he hops blissfully among the flowers. And Cera is so happy to introduce him to it.

4. Rape Works, Especially if Mom Helps!

granted, that dog had a sweet mustache

The movie: Thumbellina is a classic fairytale of a woman who finds a two-inch tall sixteen year old in her pot plants, almost kills her repeatedly for a few days, then spends the winter depressed when she gets kidnapped by frogs. Granted, that part’s also her fault because she put a senile dog in charge of watching her daughter. But they are reunited in the spring! …When Thumbellina marries a fairy in her mom’s backyard before flying away forever. Moral of the story: G-d doesn’t want you to be happy.

The problem: Once we’ve gotten past the stellar parenting at the opening of the film, we get to see how some of the more diminutive parents of the world of Bluth operate, namely the inbred Spanish ones. Thumbellina first leaves her patently dangerous yet happy home on a date with a fairy prince that she

pictured: cocaine

catches watching her creepily while she’s supposed to be sleeping. While flying around on a magical PINK and gold fairy dust (because there is absolutely no way he could have held her in the air like that, period) they pass through a swamp. As they gaily dance on someone’s house, Thumbelina pauses to innocently flirt with a mustachioed frog who stole hiswardrobe from David Bowie’s coke phase. Immediately smitten, the frog declares his love for Thumbellina to the wandering sex doll he lives with. Oh, wait, I mean his mother. She responds like any caring mother would and kidnaps this strange, screechy creature for her son, then tries to seduce her for her slobbering boy, who is named Grundel (seriously, wtf). At least, I think she’s seducing Thumbellina on behalf of her son. It’s all a bit vague.

Why its horrible: Aside form the fact that Mama causes even her sons to drool with lust…okay,

not pictured: a functioning family unit

nevermind, seriously what the hell? Who thought that wouldn’t set off a few red flags at the rating department? Her slobbery full-grown sons are looking up her skirt, for christsake! This character is the most disturbing use of a sexualized frog ever. I couldn’t even imagine the strange Oedipal manipulation used on board this freak show showboat on a day to day basis. I also can’t help but wonder how many amphibian-minded furries first discovered their true selves watching this scene. All this aside, “On the Road” (Thumballina becomes a lesbian at 0:35) is basically a song about giving up home life in favor of prostitution, sung in an effort to get a wedding to happen. That’s like saying you should totally buy this fully automatic gun because if you don’t then you will never be in danger of killing someone by accident. Let’s sing about it!

"Bringen mein Katzenminze!"

3. Your Adorable Kitten is a Cold Hearted Nazi
The movie: Possibly one of the most loved Bluth movies, An American Tale (and it’s wild west sequel)tell us the story of mice who try their damndest to realize the American dream, only to live in a sewer with no cheese and hungry cats waiting just outside their door. Lucky for us, none of this is about to stop Fivel from having the wonderful experience of being separated from his family on Ellis Island and then having to beg and steal while living among garbage-dwelling orphans. The whole feel-good love-fest culminates with the mice of New York rising up against the feline oppressors with the help of the only vegetarian cat on the planet. Hooray America!

America: Land of Sorrow

The problem: Okay, I know that the way the cats treated the mice is a whole shit-ton of symbolism about gulags in Russia and how that technically means the cats are agents of Stalin instead of Hitler, but that’s still fucked up. There are several rather graphic moments of the lovable and very human mice being

pictured: American family values

eaten. In particular, there is a scene in Fievel Goes West where the dottering old train conductor almost experiences (starts at 6:47) what would have been the most gruesome and disturbing death I had ever seen in a cartoon. To this day the weird mumbling song he sings just before the jaws are about to snap over his neck haunts my nightmares. Mercifully, the conductor was apparently heavily drugged while this happened, so at least he was not aware of any pain or mindless terror before Fivel (spoiler alert!) drops the mannequin into the sammich at the last minute. Of course, Fivel, who was watching, isentirely aware of what’s going on and gets to experience all that sickening fear on his behalf.

Why it’s horrible: Your cute little kitten has been revealed to your eyes as the monster it is. It is only a matter of time until the fluffy demon that has snuck into your home decides to construct a giant mousetrap with the intent of breaking your neck and encasing your soft tender flesh in a coffin of bread and mayonnaise. Those movies turned household pets into creatures of horror.

2. All Zoos are Prisons of Torture

pictured: penguin mating rituals

The movie: While so many people assume this was just another straight-to-video Disney movie, ThePebble and the Penguin was indeed a Bluth project. One where we follow the heartwarming story of Huby, a fat talentless penguin that I suspect Judd Appatow really connected with as a child, as he tries to win the heart of the beautiful penguin Marina via presenting her with the jewel Rose dropped off the Titanic. Morgan Freedman totally should have jumped on this one.

The problem: The Good Ship Misery is the problem. At one point, Huby is captured by poachers collecting penguins from the wild to sell to zoos, and thrown in a cage in a hall with other caged penguins. This is where he meets his loveably gruff sidekick, Rocco the Rockhopper, the penguin who wants to learn how to fly (spoiler alert! he succeeds by jumping off a particularly high cliff, proving that gravity doesn’t exist and everything you know is a lie). While in the dark and horrifying hull of this craft, Huby is treated to one of the better musical numbers of the movie, where all his cellmates tell him about the joyride he’s in for, which will culminate in Hell. I mean a zoo.

Why it’s horrible: Remember being so excited to go on that school trip to the zoo? How you couldn’t wait to see the wonderful animals in their habitat-conscious cages that made them so hard to find? Remember that one kid who wasn’t allowed to go because his mom knew he was going to try and free all of them, meaning he had to stay home that day and was known for the rest of his life as the loser kid who never saw a real live giraffe? YOU ARE NOW THAT LOSER CHILD. THANKS DON BLUTH.

1. Murderous Five Year Olds With Gorillas Run Hollywood

The movie: Cats Don’t Dance is one Don Bluth movie I could watch over and over again, despite the

pictured: the face of evil

ungodly terror that its villain inspires. This is the story of a talented mid-Western cat, Danny, who leaves for Hollywood to fulfill his true calling as the extra-hairy version of Jimmy Cagney minus all the gangster movies. However, he finds that all the animals in Hollywood are both typecast (as animals) and repressed. Mostly through the machinations of the child star of the hour, Darla Dimple, and her eight-story-tall gorilla/butler/personal assassin.

The problem: Darla Dimple is probably the most terrifying incarnation of Shirley Temple to ever grace any television, anywhere. I think that the image of “America’s Sweetheart, Lover of Children and Animals” viciously biting the heads off of all the animal crackers is still the reason I wake up screaming at night. She is on a complete and utter no-holds-barred power trip and thanks to Danny messing up one take in her most recent film, that means attempting to drown the entirely of Hollywood’s non-human actors. And later trying to blow them up, or electrocute them, or something. She’s just gone bat-shit crazy by the end.

Why it’s horrible: This sadistic child both represents both the Golden Age of Hollywood and genocide. This little girl is the stereotype of angelic. She’s even wearing little wings and flying in her first fucking scene! Ten minutes later she’s PLOTTING THE DEATHS OF HUNDREDS.

by IntrepidCaptain

Got your attention, didn’t it? After a bit of radio silence, the Flâneurs are back and here to tell you aaaaaaaaaall about the wild and crazy times of the French Revolution. Well, not the whole revolution, but just one eensy part that is usually looked over: the experiments in new religions.

Yes folks, the different factions that came to power during the French Revolution each had a bone to pick with the Church. They issued decrees that sanctioned such measures as the confiscation of church property as well as the abolishment of Church-related practices. The official endorsement of these actions soon escalated into a period of some pretty sticky violence. This fervour reached new heights in late 1792 and in 1793, with the establishment of two cults, meant to replace and supplant the Church. One of these two even went so far as to hold worship in Notre Dame Cathedral. That act alone had enormous implications, but the question remains whether this display was meant to be philosophical or political in nature.

After the Girondins, secured power over the Legislative Assembly, the revolutionaries began to seize and redistribute the land and assets of the upper classes. The bulk of this land was, in fact, Church property, as many nobles had already sold off their lands in order to support the lavish lifestyle required of Versailles society. The power and prestige behind the Church protected it at first, until the revolutionary government tried to enforce an oath of loyalty to the new regime upon the priests and Bishops of France. Being unable to do so without papal permission, the oath was sent to Pope Pius VI to review, which was finally rejected after eight months of indecisive answers. Though a significant amount of the clergy did agree to the oath anyway—risking excommunication—many refused, and were imprisoned by the Committee of Public Safety, which had recently secured power. This left the revolutionary government free to exert its dominance over Church property and the spiritual life of France, and set in motion the idea of the Church being an impotent institution.

Although there was an outcry against this, especially in England and Rome, no foreign power immediately moved in to protect the imprisoned clergy, even when three bishops and hundreds of priests and nuns were executed in the September of 1792. The increase in the Committee’s jurisdiction of power only accelerated the practice of confiscating and redistributing the lands and moveable’s of churches among the local population, since all the old owners now came in a two-piece set, if you catch my drift. Along with the redistribution of Church property, was the abolishment of church-related practices, as the new rational age to be ushered in by the revolutionaries needed to have all forms of the illogical and superstitions of the Church erased. Many of these practices didn’t even bear directly on religious life, such as the ringing of church bells to tell time, while other practices, such as the displaying of crucifixes, pissed off most of the rural peasants. They especially took to heart the confiscations of religious icons by the Committee of Public Safety. Most of the precious metals used to decorate churches and holy relics were confiscated and later turned into coin to fund the war effort against England and other countries in Europe.

What had triggered such violent treatment was the view that the Church was full of extravagantly corrupt officials placed there by a foreign power, Rome, which had no regard for the actual people of France. The luxuries enjoyed by these foreign bishops and clerics looked similar to those enjoyed by the residents of Versailles, and seemed worse because of the nature of their position. Officials of the Church had no place in court politics, and had no need of worldly extravagances. While to some degree this view held, the extremes that the revolutionaries in power went to show how far their beliefs took them from rational behaviour. It was this spirit that eventually led to the formation of the first of the revolutionary cults. Before this, however, much more general measures were taken, such as the creation of a new calendar, which employed a six-day week that did not include Sunday, and the replacement of religious holidays with new civic ones.

The very word “Sunday,” banned–yes, banned–in the late 1780s, was not eradicated from the French calendar simply because the officials of the Gallican church were corrupt and foreign. The fervour sewn by a combination of centuries of oppression and the fanaticism of philosophers and their followers, caught up in the new “rational age” led to such extremes. It was this fervour that led to the attempts to completely eradicate the Gallican Church and to create new cults of worship to replace it. The reason these cults would create a more significant reaction on the part of the Christian powers of Europe, was because they were a greater threat then the September Massacres. The founding of a new religion wouldn’t martyr any casualties, and was a greater threat because it didn’t victimize the Church, and rally the common people to it’s aid.

The earlier of the two cults was the Cult of Reason, founded in October 1792, after the September massacres. An atheistic cult, it was more of a philosopher’s forum for scientific exploration then a religion. The men that propagated this cult were such men as Jacques Hébert, Pierre Gaspard Chaumette, and Joseph Fouché. While each of these men had their own reasons for creating this new zealous school of philosophy, one point can be made without doubt. This cult was at the forefront of the dechristianization movement that swept cutting-edge reformers of education and society along to a new place on the world stage. It was not the goal, however, to replace the rituals and the ornate displays, but to replace the subject. Catholic ceremony was very similar to the ritual surrounding the worship of rationality and human thought by the Cult of Reason. The reported formality of the ceremonies and feasts of this cult made the crowns of Europe quickly take notice.

Maximilien François Marie Isidore de Robespierre, who had by then risen to the forefront of the Directory, was highly critical of the establishment of this cult. He found it to be extravagant and a mockery of the Catholic faith. What was even more galling was the fact that, while all the trappings and ceremony used made this cult look legitimate, it preached atheism and looked as if it would sew moral anarchy among the people. He feared it would lead the people either to a strange superstition by giving in to this cult, or leading them to fanaticism by clinging more desperately to the old faith in reaction to this new one.

A year later, Robespierre founded a rival cult, which was declared the official religion of the French Republic in 1794. On the 7th of May, Robespierre made an official speech to all of Europe “inaugurating the worship of the Supreme Being”, and advocating the cult’s legitimacy. The Cult of the Supreme Being, as it was called, was a deistic cult, and its theory was much more closely modelled on actual religions than the Cult of Reason. Deism was the belief that G-d, who had set creation in motion, did not and never would directly interfere with it, via miracles or divine inspiration of any sort. G-d was a passive force, and worship was not necessary, only rational, righteous behaviour. Worship was superfluous, as all judgement would happen, if it did happen, after death. All scripture and religious teachings, therefore, were invalid. They were the superstitions of primitives, written down and passed to the present day through an enforcement of belief through fear.

The support of the people was key to the survival of the new government and Robespierre had determined to win that support through a combination of fear, military success, and patriotic zeal. By creating a new cult of worship and endorsing religion, Robespierre believed that he could both gratify the need of organized religion for the masses as well as further unite France in the spirit of civic virtue.

To Robespierre, the establishment of this new cult was the final battle for the ideals of the Republic, and the one that he was staking his career on. In his mind, the Cult of Reason was worse then the previous anarchy, since it meant a formal denial of G-d within G-d’s own house and with G-d’s own sacraments. Catholic had parents raised Robespierre, and it was his strong sense of morality that defined him and his policies throughout his career. It is natural that he would feel so strongly on this subject, and would passionately champion it to the Committee, as reportedly he did when he presented his ‘Report on the Relations Between Religious and Moral Ideas and Republican Principals’.

Soon after, the Cult of Reason established itself as the new residents of Paris’ famous Notre Dame Cathedral. Their rise in power and support culminated in the rituals held to the goddess Reason on the 10th of November. The ceremony itself strongly mirrored the ornate practices of the Catholic Church, and one of the founding members of the religion even preached on the glory of logical thinking in the history of mankind and the virtue of rationality.

Was the ceremony in Notre Dame in November meant to be a political statement, or was it a symbolic triumph for philosophy? The cults themselves were simply the next logical step in the growth of the two schools of thought, which were gaining strength in France at the time. For the members of the Cult of Reason, they had plenty of motivation to celebrate, especially during one of the new civil holidays instated by the revolutionary regime, of which the tenth of November was one. The rationale behind such a display must have been philosophical at the start, but quickly became political due to the political climate of the period. Using such an infamous seat of Christian worship as Notre Dame for the festivities was bound to get the attention of the Christian powers of Europe, which already were voicing opposition to the events in France. Ultimately, it was viewed as a political move by the rest of Europe, and particularly by the Pope.

The repercussions of these events, and what this meant for the French Enlightenment was huge, and reached far beyond what the actual cults could. The cults themselves had a relatively small following, yet their existence and formal acknowledgement had serious implications. Up until this point, the sacred establishment of religion was not directly tampered with. The Church’s theories and structure were questioned, but no nation had seriously recognized atheism or deism as a legitimate organization. Thus, by allowing these new cults to take root in revolutionary France, Robespierre and the Directory had compromised themselves. Before, a foreign power could align themselves with the new French government in an effort to show their support of progressive ideas and a fairer form of society, albeit temporarily unstable progress. Now that the morality of the state of France was in question, no ruler could join with them in good faith. The ceremony on the 10th of November in particular goaded a decisive reaction out of the people of England, Austria, and Rome.

Robespierre’s bid to garner support for the revolution by appealing to the religious sensibilities of the rest of Europe viciously backfired. The foreign reaction to the official recognition of cults who conducted strange rituals in the infamous Catholic cites of Paris, was of complete disbelief. In Rome, the seat of Catholicism, the Pope excommunicated the entirety of the new French government and all Frenchmen that adhered to either of the new cults. The bishops of Austria declared that the barbarism of the ancients was more morally correct and enlightened then this farce, which was beyond all rational behavior.

Meanwhile, the English, under the parliamentary supervision of William Pitt, used the inauguration of the cults of Reason and the Supreme Being to fuel the fire of religious and nationalistic zeal against the threat of republican reform. While the direct involvement in French affairs was slow to form, the shift in opinion of the French Enlightenment that started with the Committee’s abuse of the Church and the establishment of cults had an immediate affect within England. Before, the English had largely been supportive of the French Revolution, and happily praised the new regime and it’s school of thought. However, once the atheists of France rose to prominence and priests were killed, many English politicians looked in fear at what might now happen in England. They had spent a decade allowing republican ideas and revolutionary pamphlets to be set loose among the populace, and this alongside the Sunday School movement, which provided education for the lower classes. But now, many upper class Englishmen feared, the “poor had access to pamphlets as well as the Bible” and could turn against the government in a Jacobin tide.

The rivalry between the two cults can be typified by comparing the differences of religious writings between the deistic and atheistic philosophers of the French Enlightenment. Voltaire, one of the best-known Enlightenment scholars, was a deist. His views on religion were strongly rooted in the ideas that there was a G-d, and that this G-d did not and would not interfere with existence. This philosophy, as it could not rightly be called a religion, was shared in varying degrees by most of the leading figures of the French Enlightenment. The general view was that the existence of G-d would mean that a logical, scientific exploration of the origin of the universe would lead one back to some sort of Divine Creation. However, there was no clear-cut idea of an afterlife, nor was Voltaire particularly interested in one. Another famous philosopher of the period was Holbach, an atheist who also had been a member of the nobility in France. He completely denied the possibility of G-d, and instead turned to a strictly scientific, rational view of the world. One completely denied G-d, and the other insisted there was a point in which scientific explanations ended and G-d began. These two views, when applied to a national religion, would both be in strong opposition to all other accepted organized religions, and threaten the views of the other European powers.

The Cult of Reason and the Cult of the Supreme Being are some of the purest instances of the application of an idealization of human rationality to social reform seen in revolutionary France. The establishment of these cults was meant to unite the revolutionaries of France into one spiritual expression that had been founded entirely in reason, separate from the superstition of the religion of the Ancien Regime. What it actually did, was stir foreign powers into more decisive action against the French and allowed them to use religious zeal as a tool against the otherwise popular Enlightenment movement.

the past is our present
~your Captain

POST SCRIPT
Want to look further on this? Try checking these books out:
- Liberty and Terror in England by Roland Bartel
- The French Nobility in the Eighteenth Century: From Feudalism to Enlightenment by Guy Chaussinand-Nogaret
- The Ancien Regime by William Doyle
- Church, State and Society 1760-1850 by William Gibson
- The System of Nature by Holbach
- Robespierre Volume II: from the Death of Louis XVI to the Death of Robespierre by J. M. Thompson
- The Important Examination of The Holy Scriptures by Voltaire

While in Paris last November (joy!), I thought I would take advantage of my proximity to The Catacombs, and discuss the use of human remains as art. This of course, will be a brief overview, but a mere scratching of the surface is better then ignorance. Any and all comments would help me work on the Part Two of this entry!

The use of the skeleton as an art medium dates back to prehistoric times, with the skull being the favorite part to use since the Neolithic period, as seen in such objects as the plastered skulls in Jericho that date back to 6000 BC. Skull-cups, however, seemed to be the most common forms of corpse-art, and is seen nearly everywhere on earth in almost every period. Of course, this could have been part of a burial ceremony or religious offering as easily as an example of art, but the tradition is mentioned with varying purpose in Chinese and Greek texts throughout history. The nomadic Xiongnu in modern-day Mongolia referred to skull cups as an ancient tradition when it was mentioned in texts from around 210 BC, specifically as trophies.

These early versions demonstrate something strange for psychologists to work with, as the natural human instinct to fear death and the decreased (something we share with elephants and dolphins). To use human remains in art so readily as was done, say, for the traditional Kapala in Tibet and various Hindu sects, meant that an esteemed member of the family or tribe could be elevated into art after death. Much more common, however, was the use of the skulls of deceased family members to build parts of the home, as the Celtic tribes of western Europe did, in an effort to keep the spirits of the family close.

Or,  perhaps it meant that some corpses could be defiled by a transformation into an object instead of being buried. It was a longstanding tradition, one thought to be established by the tribal rulers of western Europe, to turn a rival chieftain’s skull as a drinking vessel once his lands had been taken over. However, recent observance of an attack on chimpanzees led by another tribe of chimpanzees in the congo. After the attack, the winning side shared the corpse of a child from the losing side. This lead some behaviorists to speculate the practice of keeping a corpse as a prize theoretically could be far, far older. It would have started with cannibalism, then keeping a skull or heart as a prize, and then eventually the prize would be turned into a ceremonial or practical object.

…Better to hold the sparkling grape,

Than nurse the earth-worm’s slimy brood;

And circle in the goblet’s shape

The drink of gods, than reptile’s food.

Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,

In aid of others’ let me shine;

And when, alas ! our brains are gone,

What nobler substitute than wine?

Quaff while thou canst: another race,

When thou and thine, like me, are sped,

May rescue thee from earth’s embrace,

And rhyme and revel with the dead…

~part of the inscription on the skull-cup owned by Lord Byron

Using parts of a corpse as building tools could also be done to save space, as in the Paris catacombs, and in the tombs of certain churches and monasteries. By the 1600s, the deceased were, through both necessity and religion, used to create elaborate crypts. The dead housed the dead in a dramatic example of art brought on by a relatively new school of thought that held the remains of the dead as something to be displayed and enjoyed as opposed to something to be hidden and reviled. This stemmed from religious icons: the display of the bones of saints in Churches as a celebration of the life the bones once had. The most well-known example is in Rome:

This post would be a poor one indeed if it did not mention the Capuchin crypt under Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini. This fantastic display in Rome owes its existence to Cardinal Antonio Barberini, then the brother of Pope Urban VIII and a member of the Capuchin Order. In 1631, five years after the church itself was built, Barberini ordered that the bodies of thousands of monks and poor Romans be exhumed and used to decorate the vast new crypt. The idea was that this would be an area for meditation on the afterlife, a tomb of quiet reflection, not a morbid display to scare off visitors. Today, 4000 bodies, nearly all monks of the Capuchin Order, fill the tomb. I have tried to gather some information on Antonio Casoni, the original designer of the Church, but at present have come up with very little. The tomb inspired a place I was able to personally visit, however: the Sedlec Ossuary, known as the Church of Bones, in the Czech Republic.

Entering the Hřbitovní kostel Všech Svatých (which is a beautiful chapel on its own) and descending to the crypt below was more than a little thrilling. The church itself has a tumultuous history of being ravaged and reborn and changed repeatedly. But that tale is for another time. The crypt itself was a unique solution to the problem of packing the bodies of 40,000 deceased into the limited space of the church’s graveyard. Why so many in such a minor location? Well, in 1278 a monk of the Church went on a pilgrimage to Palestine and brought back a jar full of earth from the Holy Land, and spread it over the little cemetary in Sedlec.

Very soon thousands of dying Christians from all over Europe came, many bringing their dead relatives. Since the Black Death was in full swing around this time, space quickly ran out. How to solve this problem? Around 1400 the All Saints Chapel was built, and a new crypt commissioned. I suppose there must have been piles of unburied skeletons lying around at the time, since by 1511 a monk was given the task to pile them all up in the chapel so there would be room for the new residents of the holy graveyard. In a staggering example of laziness (or a tolerance for piles of bodies) it wasn’t until 1870 that a local wood carver named Frantisek Rindt was hired to do something about the surplus of human remains, which must have coincided with a strong urge to redecorate the almost 500-year-old chapel.

My favorite part of Rindt’s handiwork is the coat of arms of his patron and the man who decided on this redecoration, the Duke of Schwartzenberg. A close second is the chandelier of femurs. Unfortunately, none of my pictures of the place are worth used salt, but I found this wonderful gallery for you to peruse.

~your Captain

Luella (Sept.09 line)

It’s Faaaaaaaaaashion Week! Which of you darling readers out there want some clubbing and grooming tips? Oh, I know you do.

Sept. 09 from James Long

We all know that if you know where the hot spots are and get there unfashionably on time, you just end up being at the front of a very long line. But if you look like a model, or at least a celebrity of some sort, you might just get in. After wandering Fabric (which was rather fun, but not what I’d been lead to believe) to see Doc Scott, and getting into Matter for a bit (Green Velvet might be over-zealous in his faith, but his music has a good thing going) I’ve taken a few notes off the models and fashion-forward who were present.

from A Child of the Jago (Sept 09)

Ladies! If the past few days of FWL have taught us anything, its that simple shapes and lots of leg are in. Those little heels, the “kitty” heels, those are being paraded as in by all the mags, so give your feet a rest tonight and try some on.

Lads! Want a safe bet on an “in” outfit? Combine slick-looking fabrics with bold patterns in understated colors. It’s not so much layers as lines, this year. But you’re gonna need a little more sparkle, dolls, if you want to get into the good clubs and the hot parties. Making a statement at these events (and in line for them) is key, natch. What I do? Steal! Combine the make up and hair styles Adam Ant used in the 80s with the latest black-on-black trend, throw in an outrageous accessory that barely matches, and you’re probably in.

My last little bit of advice, darlings: keep the main outfit basic and the accessories strange. Silhouettes are everything! Now get over to your wardrobe and get ready for a night at Pacha.

~Cheers

More often then not, members of the mainstream culture joke that many Steampunks are simply the matured refugees of the Cyberpunk era. While I know this holds true for myself, this is in general an oversimplification of Anachronistic and Sci-Fi subcultures. The most obvious difference being that Anachronistics (usually) live in the civilized and decadent past, while the Cyberpunks prefer a more rugged, crime-infused world that is either in the future or near future. Key word here? Robotics.

However, some woud argue that robotics plays into both subcultures. Let’s disprove this, shall we? First off, steam-powered gadgets are vastly different from the electronic paraphernalia of the cyberpunk. For one, aesthetics. The steampunk hauls around brass gadgetry that is bulky, obvious, and ornate. It’s showy. The whole thing is showy and outlandish and that’s the point, ladies and gentlemen, for much of it. It is a subculture of statement pieces given new meaning via science that has been made obsolete and therefore attractive to those who feel above the current culture (keep in mind I’m a part of this group and therefore not trying to be insulting). Cyberpunks are sleek, chrome, and decked in black and green, glowing blues, with tiny computers and embedded microchips. Wires abound, yes, but these glorified hackers somehow to keep from electrocuting themselves due to the bad-assery of embracing the computer revolution. And is it just me or do cyberpunks seem to get a lot of time running about grimy and rain-slicked city streets, getting into motorcycle chases despite the general sedentary nature of the hacker lifestyle? At least that’s what all my friends and I discovered in the 90s, the glory days of cyberpunk.

And let’s not forget the power of visual learning. If you want an introduction to the cyberpunk world, go rent two earth-shattering films. The Matrix, and Blade Runner. Curious about steampunks? Check out Steamboy and The City of Lost Children. And no, I do not think it’s coincidental that the American movies are cyberpunk and the foreign films are steampunk. It actually makes a lot of sense. In any event, those movies’ll give you a pretty good idea of the vibe of the two subcultures.

But let’s look at the basics of cyberpunk for a moment. The main things to get your head around when it comes to cyberpunk is ONE that the internet is everywhere and is the answer to any and all problems, and TWO robots infiltrate and are a part of everything, even human anatomy. And on that topic, robotics have become quite advanced in the medical world today, reminding me of something that always bugged me about sci-fi movies and the world of Cyberpunk. If you’ve got the nanotech to go in to someone and monitor their vitals, why not (especially since money never seems to be an issue in Cyberpunk-land due to the high demand for hacked info) have those nanobots in there all the time? They could be hooked up to a LCD screen implanted in the arm that shows all vitals, so when you get hit with the poison that’s burrowing into your bloodstream, you can actually get to the hospital, and NOT just take two Advil and a shot of tequila and wait around your wire-cluttered NYC apartment until you feel a little too dizzy. Like a step up from booster shots. It’d take a hell of a lot of strain off your supply of post-apocalyptic heroes.

And of course, as I mentioned in my previous post, technology is getting amped up
to sci-fi proportions in the world of entertainment. The Cyberpunk wet dream of having the hologram-projecting headgear that’ll plug you into the interactive mainframe of Internet 2.0 may just be around the corner with the gadgets breaking into the market these days. Hail the spawn of man and computer, ye believers!

The Future is Now
~ your Captain

Well, Hallow’een came and went, and the plants around are dead and dying. So The Captain dragged me out of my cave to blog. About spiders and black glitter and Morticia Adams and stuff.

But first– review of The Chron-o-log-i-cal Fla-neur’s Neu Fave Movie…

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Undead!

Good things require long waits, and the wait was well worth a movie as witty, fun, and entertaining as this one. No doubt it will be hailed at least as a cult classic.

The ever-cool Sean Lennon teamed up with writer/director Jordan Galland (and a really A1 costumer) to bring us the story of Julian (Jake Hoffman; reminded me a little of J.D. from Scrubs) and his best friend (Kris Lemche) and former flame (Devon Aoki; *wolf-whistle*) and her mayhaps-mafioso lover (Ralph Macchio of Karate Kid fame). They all get caught in the theatrical plots of Theo Horace, played by John Ventimiglia (who brings the sex appeal in full force to this event, as the Sire Vampire should). That dish was flanked by a couple of beautiful bloodthirsty babes. As technically inaccurate the whole “beautiful vampire” thing is I can’t help but adore it when done well. And can’t leave out a shout out to Waris Ahluwalia as yet another character that I want to hug. The whole affair ends with my personal favorite character in the movie, the real Hamlet played by Joey Kern like a 70s gameshow host. Not to pidgenhole this fantastic bunch (I would cringe if they were lost to the dead-end-ville that is the Land of Sequels), but King Lear would be my next vote for  their deft and darkly comedic treatment.

THE BOTTOM LINE….?

Funny and dark romance, new treatment to an old idea, plenty of eye candy, you’ll be quoting it as you leave the theatre. Five Stars from theFlâneurs.

Okay, now about Morticia Adams. And why parents should foist her as a role model on their kids.

The Lovely Lady of the Darkness has been pretty ignored lately. Come on people. Let’s get this chick back in the spotlight, huh? She represents all that is good for the lovers of Dark. And speaking of goths….

The subculture of goth has more or less fallen out of trend (good or bad? well, try shopping goth) and has been morphed into the festering stink that is Emo. And “ScrEmo” doesn’t exist. Whoever thought that a marriage between skaters and goths was doing too much E in the 90s. Being goth isn’t wearing black and listening to Voltaire (as much as I love that sick, sick, man), but also being disgusted with the hypocrisy of mainstream First-World culture. But we should be able to laugh at ourselves! We should laugh, people! Goths with a sense of humor, because hey, we’re all burning in the end anyway, right? That’s what’s missing today. No one grabs an old black dress and a fishnet opera glove and go has a dance in a graveyard these days. Hence my bid to re-crown Morticia Adams as a role model for goths everywhere. You just can’t beat a perfectly poised, deliciously dark woman (who obviously can get down if you look close at those comments dropped by Gomez and Fester). Seriously, guys.

O, and lets bash Kids Today a little more. There’s a strong stink of whimpification coming from ‘em. Goth is not the next stage of Whimpo–I mean Emo. Let me make this clear. There is a HUGE difference between pink-and-black checkerboard “ooo look I’ve got a skull-and-bows tattoo tee hee tee hee” little teeny bopper in the corner and the girl who collects dead birds and dresses like Emily Strange’s drab cousin. I don’t even think I need to go into it. But enough of that, I’m gonna tell you why Morticia Addams, bless her, is the perfect role model, parents of the Interwebs.

PROs: Modesty

One thing many parents with daughters worry about is their little baby princess’ promiscuity. Well, look at the women–if you can call them that–of Hollywood today! Morticia, on the other hand, is demure, ladylike, and has her sh*t together in general. Yeah, she gets down with her husband, but no one else, that’s for sure. She’s not an Ice B*ch, she’s got standards, and she’s got self-respect. But she doesn’t shove it down your throat. She just naturally radiates class. I don’t think any jock tried any funny business with her in the hallways, s’all I’m sayin’…

PROs: Intelligence

What is the one thing most kids agree parents are freaking out over? Grades. Being intelligent and mentally well-rounded is a huge boon to anyone, and concerned parents everywhere are rallying tutors and programs and all sorts of fancy cr*p to get their precious lil dumplings a leg up. Well, a kid’s not gonna learn if they’re bored or don’t see how it’ll help them in the real world. Most kids I know, even now in college, they just chug along at the minimum, getting a business degree ’cause they’re not into academics and think they’ll figure it out later, or getting a general degree ’cause they can’t decide and they’re not interested in deciding anyway. But enough; how would Morticia inspire otherwise, you ask? Have you seen this woman? Well spoken, an excellent conversationalist, and rather often seen with a book in her hand. This woman is obviously well-educated and is the kind of mom to value it in her kids (even though she doesn’t play up the mom-figure bit nearly as much as her TV-Land counterpart Lily Munster).

PROs: Glamour

As I’ve said before in varying ways, Morticia Addams was one classy broad. It’s hard not to respect a woman of her ilk, and it all comes part and parcel with the glam, baby. Presentation is key, and this is something that Kids Today are sorely lacking. If anyone had presentation, the ability to get attention (of some sort) and get respect just by walking into a room, it was Morticia. It all goes back to all the things I’ve been talking about for the whole post. She had poise, she had wit, she got respect. Parents with bad kids, or afraid they’ll become bad kids? Have them watch a bit of Addams Family, and Morticia will surely teach them the ways of the well-dressed and well-mannered. Why am I so confident of this? Because kids will always imitate what they see, especially when they’re young and impressionable. Also, they love to get a reaction out of the adults. And if they go around imitating Morticia and Wednesday, they’re guaranteed a reaction from most adults, which will only reinforce the behavior. Obviously, I’m not talking about the goons aged 12+. They’re a lost cause due to bad parenting in most cases. Not even Morticia can help them now. So parents, again, the younger you start, the better the results.

Alright, people, that’s three reasons, and this post is already getting long. So let me finish off and sign off. Later.