A Brief History of Genetically Modified Pets

This is Alba a genetically modified rabbit designed by bio-artist Eduardo Kac using a gene from a jellyfish. Remember the school room hubba bubba about the egg-shaped tamagotchi craze, comparing your virtual reality pets, feeling bad when it was sick, or the many virtual reality funerals for pets that starved to death, well it won’t be long before you can design your own heartthrob pet, but unlike the tamagotchi’s basic circuit boards these pets with real organs will breathe.

These creatures come from the laboratory by means of the confluent interests of genetic scientists and of course corporate, frothing mouth in their incessant search of new trends to feed the young generations, who in trying to give themselves an identity in a consumerist world, look to new diversity in their purchases and fashion conscious appetites in an effort to differentiate themselves
from the older ‘uncool’ generations. Pets are a major industry for the consumers, who spent millions on pet products such as foods, toys, psychiatry and veterinary fees.

One dog owner told a reporter that she spent hundreds of pounds on her seven year-old boxer who loathes visiting the park. Her boxer has a psychotherapist called Janetta Smith, who believes dogs have the same mentality as 5-year-old children. She explains the dog’s problems: ‘It's a bit like someone suffering from agoraphobia, they can't cope with certain situations. That is the trouble, he's (the boxer) not exposed to those, so he can't cope, so now its getting him exposed to them so he can cope.’

These genetically modified pets do not pass regulatory restrictions in Europe yet, so it may be a while before we see them in our local pet stores, of course America
with no such regulations in place and CEO’s running the country, with profits ranking high above ethical practises, haul them out of their Asian warehouses without pause.  The GloFish was out on sale in 2003, the GloFish is created by injecting zebra fish eggs with the gene of a sea anemone to create its red colour.  In 2006  green and orange fish became available which was made from the fluorescent marker gene from jellyfish. It is a magnificent looking creature although there are questions of its purpose ‘Fluorescent transgenic fish do not have any apparent fitness advantage over wild type fish of the same species...to the contrary, because fluorescence carries additional burdens in biosynthesis, energy distribution, and predator avoidance, fluorescent fish are likely to have reduced fitness.’






We are entering the age of genetic engineering, maybe tails or fins will become fashionable. Imagine a glowing purple rabbit running alongside your younger sister who has a hipsters tail, while she sucks on her blue genetically modified strawberry.




Nature will not be so resolute in giving away its mysterious essence either. In around 1870 Herrington and Lightbown investigated the luminous substance radiating from dead herrings; they thought they could invent a formula for an organic source of light. As eccentric as this undertaking was, the phenomena of a glowing death herring still cannot be explained. With the release of Disney's 101 Dalmatians,there was a massive rise in Dalmatian owners,perhaps if Disney craft a lovable genetically modified rabbit, we will see purple rabbits in our parks and gardens quicker than we imagined for good or evil.



 

Clint Eastwood goes drag in his latest production.

Here I am on the set of Clint Eastwoods latest flick, directed by the legendary gaytastic John Waters. I am wetting my knickers! John and Clint will be getting plenty of rubbers for their first few drafts. 

The Oscar matador has gone to the wrong bathroom!

‘Oh no he hasn’t girl!’

‘Yes he has girlfriend, now that’s what I’m talking about, a man in drag is a man who knows how to treat a woman right !’

(Cheers from generic, ugly, dumb crowd)

‘he wearrr it like a slut’

‘Don’t you go talking that mouth off girl’

Anyway enough of the new reality TV show 'Black MIlfs' which Clint Eastwood makes a guest cameo on, what about the movie, that’s what we want to know about, right?

As I enter the set our cameras are ironically banned in the big studio where a very big camera is plonked in the middle of the floor for filming. So instead of snap snap we got a street artist with a nifty sketchpad and a killer set of pencils to sketch the man who now looks a million people away from the young man who once wore a poncho and wandered the desert looking for trouble and frazzled haired punks.

We haven't been given a name yet or a definite release date but there were exciting scenes on set today, as Clint wore a bikini with impeccable Hollywood grace, rivalling Scarlet Johansson’s recent bikini shots for phwoar factor! 

 In an interview  he exclaimed, ‘Just because I am old doesn’t mean I cant pull off this kind of role, my good friend Dustin Hoffman, you know he did a similar part in Tootsie, he gave me some pointers’.

The image of Dustin Hoffman and Clint Eastwood discussing whether to go with a Versace or a Valentino is just sooooooooooo  adorableeeeeeeeeeee andddd cuteeeeeeeeeee. I will be at the front of the queue for this when it is out with my dear granny and grandpa!  Let's hope Clint can put a show on in high-heels without tripping up! With 'Gran Torino'  He's proven he still has the voice but has he got the legs! 

Flying The Nest For Christmas p.1

After spending a week lying on a plastic board in an overcrowded airport and the days after basking in swollen sinuses and flying around the back alleys of Peckham, I have finally found a perch that is not filled with the distractions of Muslim prayers whispering in my ears and half-cocked ghetto heads considering a quick mugging between prayers. This being the first time that I have officially flown the nest for the Christmas season, I thought I would write of my experiences so far.

After my flight I quickly ended up engaging with a man from Portugal. He told me that he had 2 hours to make a connecting flight @ Gatwick airport. I recommended to him to get the bus, as I had heard rumours that there was some kind of tube strike. Instead of listening he just continued following me all the way to the tube station. On the way I engaged in some small talk, which resulted in him asking me who was meeting me and where? I told him that I was hoping to meet my GF @ Victoria Station. He then proceeded to ask me if she owned a car and if so could she drive him to Gatwick airport? My rejection of this offer combined with the fact that the tube strike had halted any transport going towards his destination resulted in him staring at me aggressively and then running away. As he disappeared into the underground halls I shouted @ the top of my lungs "nice meeting you". Only stranger's stares met my exclamation.

Whilst writing that last statement I noticed that a squirrel was staring @ me through the window. I took a picture of him while he ate the crumbs that I fucked out onto the terrace. After a brief photo session he dived off the roof into the forest of fros and disappeared into the sprawling terrain.

Yesterday was the first time that I have ever been involved in the preparation of a Christmas dinner and surprisingly I have not spent the morning screaming in the hope that the wrap around my esophagus allows me to expel the tiniest drop of vomit.

Unlike the netting on our Christmas Ham it continues to remain bound and is allowing me to enjoy the meat sweats and lethargy that comes with eating a fine festive meal. The Turkey we cooked tasted very succulent, but I did find it odd that first I had to pull its neck off, that still had a small hint of a face and secondly the giblets were still inside the Turkey, but they were all contained inside a sealed bag. This I found very odd. 

Today I am spending a lot of time hanging out with the remains of our Turkey & Ham. Between shaving them for lunchtime sandwiches and dinner curries I made sure to spend some much deserved time time with both of them. Attached are photos of myself and the Turkey chilling on the couch watching a Twilight marathon. The second photo is of myself and the Ham just chilling on the stairs listening to some early 90s Jungle Music. 

My posts for this journey may be quite sporadic as I am currently hijacking a neighbour's wifi and they have a habit of switching off their box when they leave the house (IMMANUEL KANTS). Until my next post have yourself a hoot and don't believe anything regarding the MRHP Midget party and how this connects with my extended journey out of the Country. 

Merry Christmas and an Atheist New Year, 

Owl.

Sex and the Suburbs 3: MRHP Oriental Elf style Xmas party

The MRHP Xmas party is tonight and I am pumped, so excited! Apparently the theme is Elves and Chinese food, and our owl (MRHP editor) got us Bridget the Midget with four of her Elf Strippers for it with one sexy Santa to have a fivesome with the little buggars  for our pleasure. I didn’t want to miss that! As a gift from the owl for all the humiliation I have had to endure since working for him, he promised a sexy date.  My wife was away at volley ball practice. I had on my best clothes to make an impression. So I put on my Khaki shorts and red Marks and Spencer’s top, making sure the label was sticking out just so she knew it wasn't from Pennies. It was going to be my night for once, no observing the sexual appetites of Simian masses. All me me me me me me!

When I took out the directions to the venue that the owl had scribbled on a piece of paper for me, I noticed that it was unreadable.

It was in Chinese or something ‘fucking great I thought, more humiliation, perhaps my date who was picking me up would know?’  But once she turned up she didn't even know my name and spoke little English but at least she was hot. I was tempted to ask her up to the bedroom but it was a date and I didn’t want to seem like a sleaze ball, besides she might freak out seeing all the children’s toys everywhere and my wives dirty knickers and bra still on the bed.

Why do all Asian women look like they are 12 years old! She happily swung on my elbow and we made off like a happy date. I didn’t know where we were going but if we went to the MRHP office maybe we'd get a clue there. I was pulled over after around ten minutes of driving, the policeman grabbed me not tenderly but like totally brutally yeah. He then told me I was under arrest for sexually soliciting a fourteen year old South Korean girl. I was shocked I didn’t even think to be nervous on hearing the charges against me; the shock was so much voltage on its own. Then I realised that bastard set me up, that owl prick! The police man did a search and found the note on me, he told me that a man informed him that I would be carrying this, and that it was enough evidence to bypass courts and let me rot in a cell for years. After nearly shitting my pants, I heard him laughing and the girl too. I had been had! He let out more laughter like garlic farts in my face. When I looked back at the car she was gone she had vanished into the actor's car. This was the shittest night in a long time,  I felt so shit that I hooked up with an uber fat hooker whom barely squeezed into my car. She told me a man dressed as an owl paid her to look after me for the night, 'No he doesn't' I said and tried to oust her from the car but she was too strong.  I cried during sex or more like my dick rubbing around her whale vagina trying to find a way to end my misery yet I couldn't stop, we did it five times that night, the tears got more violent each time it was like a form of physical therapy . There you have it owl! You have it, your sadistic column of emasculation, fuck you a thousand times over! I hope your party sucks!

Ostrich Steak Review

So where do I find myself on Christmas Eve? Jetting off to the remote island of Tasmania, within arm’s reach of Australia where Santa’s lips would turn to dry husks. A man dressed like Indiana Jones sits at the table with me.  I wonder if he is for real. He is my guide and smells of cannabis and lizard feces. 

I am in a strange abode with a Hispanic woman snake-eyeing me with peek-a-boos from the arabesque curtain that veils the kitchen from the guests.The waiter looks like a malnourished camel, his eyes dripping of browned perspiration.

The ostrich steak has a rough texture strewn with tassels of heat, retentive flabs. The unkempt meat is  ‘Darling let me give you a massage with my broken fingernails’ on the teeth I rely on for mincing. The plain, apple chutney glaze was not home-made. No! It was from an unholy jar, like it was straight from the kitchen of Faulty Towers! I spent my formative food critic years working for a food critic consortium who taught me how to detect these things. It now seems silly to learn such a thing, it comes naturally those with the Force.

Other than that, it was just about alright, a stocky bird, one for those who like their meat with some subculture, desert personality, with a coarse hue; for those of you are rough diamonds slurp it up like bitches! For now me and Indiana Jones are off for some Soviet delicacies, Crikey! Catch you later bitches!

Different types of Santa Claus

We are all familiar with Santa Claus or Father Christmas. This is the guy that squeezes down a chimney, rides a sleigh pulled by reindeer and delivers presents all around the world, in particular Ireland, the UK and the US amongst many others. However, Santa Claus has many transformations and molds around the world. Let's go through a few of these. 

In the Netherlands Sinterklaas and Schwarz Pete arrive by boat on the evening of the 5th of December, children leave a wooden shoe filled with hay and carrots for the donkey which carries St. Nicholas' pack of toys. The good children get gifts. On the 6th of December St. Nicholas arrives in eastern Europe, the night before children leave a boot on the window and if the have been good it is filled with treats and if they are bad coal and onions. In Germany on  Christmas Eve whilst the family is out at mass the Christkind arrives with presents. In Australia Santa Claus wears a red bathing suit and rides along on water skis. In China Dun Che Lao Ren is on old man who arrives on Christmas and gives children gifts. 

In Sweden Juletomten a gnome that is pulled on sleigh by goats delivers presents to the children. In France Pere Noel brings the gifts for children. In Switzerland it is the Christkindl who is an angel that comes from heaven to deliver gifts. In Italy the kids have to wait for a witch called La Befana to arrive on the 6th of January with gifts, she too goes down the chimney, except she flies around on a broomstick and seems to have been reinvented recently, probably a decision made by the incumbent Italian Prime-minister Silvio Berlusconi.

Children in Spain, Mexico and South America also have to wait until the 6th of January for the three wise men to arrive bearing gifts, children leave shoes at the door for them to fill. Things have advanced from frankincense and myrrh. And finally what about the real Santa Claus, what is he up to now? I read a recent report that because Christmas had become so commercial and all meaning was lost (for most people) along time ago, Santa Claus gave up the sleigh and now runs ultra-marathons around the world. Good luck to you Santa Claus and Merry Christmas to all from MRHP!!

Crystal Castles - She-Ra and her Fortress in the Sky

Ever since Crystal Castles electrocuted the scene with a unique set of EPs that circulated between 2006-2007, their position was predicated by the instant sales of their niche 7" singles. Their eponymous albums in 2008 and 2010 cemented their positions as the King and Queen of experimental electronic music and proved that their first album was not just a glitch in the sytem. Either this or their unique blend of electro- clash with noise, chiptune, glitch, low-fi... has carved a notch in the system for this glitch to be appreciated as a form of music that is not bound to the barricaded mouths of music aficionados and elitist cherry pickers. It is there for the dump-truck downloaders who delete as fast as fast as they listen, although in many cases it lingers on like an empty trojan. Their first album has many eargasms to offer, but the one that stands out the most is the track called Courtship Dating.







This track sparked a lot of debate of whether or not Timbaland stole samples from Courtship Dating and used it as the background music for the 50 Cent Ayo Technology song. This was then flipped back on Crystal Castles as they had become notorious for their illegal use of Creative Commons-licensed chiptune music in their early, non-album works posted on MySpace. The reality of this specific similarity is more likely due to the fact that Timbaland and Crystal Castles both used the same sample CD, something available for purchase to use in any way without attribution, as has been hypothesized by the Timbaland blog The Thomas Crown Chronicles, which specifically cites 8 Bit Stylez by Ueberschall.


On the 24th of May 2010 waiting ears finally got to enjoy the long expected release of Crystal Castle's 2nd album. Initially I didn't know what to make of the album. A lot of my expectations were based on the Doe Deer single that I had heard from the 12" Record Store Day single that I picked up. The single promised a push to a more punk based sound that seemed to have left many of their other defining aspects to the wind. Thankfully the single was only part of a very diverse and eclectic return to form. It also offered many surprises in its more mellow tracks that still dripped with their atypical style, but were a lot more refined at the same time. Empathy is a prime example of this. 




This offering not only gives a sense of the bands development over the 2 years of non-stop touring that followed their 2008 album release, but also stands as an indicator of the potential that they still have to fulfill. Some interesting trivia regarding their 2nd Album is that the album was produced by Ethan Kath in various places, including a church in Iceland, a self-built cabin in northern Ontario, an abandoned convenience store garage in Detroit, Michigan, and two songs recorded in the London studio of Paul "Phones" Epworth. Ethan's travelling production style is almost palpable in the album. As one song breaks from one to another we find ourselves joining in on this strange and eccentric electronic journey that proves that Crystal Castle's game is far from over.


Over the last couple of weeks XFM have been pumping out Crystal Castle's cover of Platinum Blonde's "Not in Love" featuring the vocals of Robert Smith (The Cure) on the label Fiction Records, which was planned for release on the first week of December. A recent Twitter feed from Crystal Castles provided a free link to a Sane Smith Rmx of this track @ http://www.mediafire.com/?afipps1gptdmq85. Both the Robert Smith and this Sane Smith Rmx version are really interesting to listen to and and both deserve a place in the realm of She-Ra and her fortress in the sky. 

Comedic Genius: The Primal Scream of Sam Kinison

How familiar are you with the comedic genius that is Sam Kinison? Before becoming a comedian Sam was a Pentecostal Protestant preacher, following his divorce with his wife he began his career as a stand-up comic. He took much of his fire and brimstone style and charisma that he had developed as a preacher to the stage, the pinnacle of which was his energy and fury encapsulated in his trademark scream. He had a short but successful comedic career spanning from 1978 to 1992. His career took off in 1984 when he made an appearance on a young comedians' special hosted by the legendary Rodney Dangerfield (Larry Burns from The Simpsons). He became heavily involved in the LA rock'n'roll scene and was in/famous for his insatiable appetite for alcohol and drugs. He was killed in a car crash in 1992. I wonder if he pulled his trademark scream as he saw the pickup truck that killed him ploughing towards him? Anyway here are few samples of Kinison's magic that MRHP has selected for you. Enjoy...

Captain Beefheart's Heart Has Stopped

Tom Waits, Beck, Pixies and Nirvana to name just a few musical entities influenced by the idiosyncratic whiskers of Don Van Vliet aka Captain Beefheart. Captain Beefheart, avant garde musician and visual artist passed away aged 69 in the snowy appetite of December 17^th 2010. Trout Mask Replica will long be considered his masterpiece, it was the first Beefcake I got. I remember lending a copy to my friend who came back to me the next day in English class smiling and proclaiming it to be possessed by a mad genius. At the time this boy wanted to be a nuclear physicist, after this album he wanted to be a brain surgeon.

We both went through the liner notes, the insane lyrics and madcap images, inspired by this glittering star among the concrete mentality of our school surroundings, we started to act more independently, more self assured in our lizard skins using our imaginations as a violent and beautiful paintbrush for our actions. People thought we were on drugs, we were not, we had seen the light, the pink salmon beacon, the power of music and personality instilled in such a marvellous way by the Captain. We salute you here at MRHP Captain Beefheart, may you rest in peace and break out as a zombie if the chance comes, may our brain surgeon friend find a way to resuscitate your imagination from the gratuitous grave!   

Don't Be a Gangsta - Interview with MC YurMoma

During the week one of our MRHP sock puppets had the chance to speak with one of the Ukraine's biggest up and coming hip-hop stars. In this interview we got unprecedented access into the mind of MC YurMoma. On top of this, we were also given permission to screen and provide a link to his new track called Don't Be a Gangsta. This is included after the interview and is quite possibly his most socially aware piece of work to date. To add to this commentary MC YurMoma insisted that he wore our interviewer on his right foot whilst recording. He hoped that this combined with a savage injection of hyper-stereotyping would help in establishing his new line of self-titled "Ukrap". Here at MRHP we not only think he has achieved this, but has brought a flaky scalp of opportunities with it. For this reason we give his new single a long hard throbbing Ten.

 

IN DEFENSE OF { AND }

SIT AND THINK

Have you found yourself wondering, as I often have, sitting at home, alone, about the untouched keys on your computer keyboard? The ones with that glossy factory-veneer still winking back at you? I bet if you leant over and sniffed them you’d still get that new electronics smell.

Switch the light on a moment. The lamp beside your smoking chair will do - No! Don’t get up. Make yourself comfortable. Light your pipe, unbuckle your belt, throw your pantyhose across the room if that’s what’ll relax you. Don’t walk to your keyboard, or don’t look down at it, if you are using it right now - I know you want to! No, let’s use our imagination for once - no search engines allowed here, we’re not taking the easy way out anymore. You can’t google your memory - not yet at least and I’ll be damned if you can anytime soon. 

Now: I want you to remember the moment you unpackaged the keyboard, or the machine the keyboard is attached to. Pray tell.

REMEMBER

Did you tear the box asunder?

Did it squeak against the Styrofoam packaging as you yanked it out?

Did you leave the umpteen plastic bags, cable ties, adapters and so on strewn about the room in which you made the unveiling?

Did anybody watch you undress your new machine?

Since then we can realise that your keyboard is a microcosm of society: bodily juices spread from Q to P, the time you didn’t wash your hands after peeing, the time a glob of your sneeze landed on B; the eyelash hairs that protrude from under your space bar, demanding rescue; the dead skin rubbing off the warmer keys; and the tarnished miscellany of stained plastic that remains (and always will be) unaccounted for. The mechanics and the accountants and the bankers and the foresters and the artists and the judges and the teachers (and so on) of your body, they all live under your keyboard.

E T A O I N S H R D L C U M W F G Y P B V K J X Q Z

Where do they live? It depends on your occupation, or how you occupy yourself with your keyboard.

The rough areas can be found under the buttons indicating the letters V, K, J, X, Q and Z. There is little movement around these areas, and unless you start writing science-fiction novels or naming planets, you’ll find you won’t have to go down these neighborhoods very often. Stay with your E, T, A, O, I, N and S, and if you occasionally have to venture out of bounds, do so carefully and for god’s sake don’t act the mug or you’ll only draw attention to yourself. The other letters are the office blocks, the industrial buildings, the motorways and the other constructed ephemera that pepper the transient spaces of our green earth with grey, grey, concrete.

The punctuation is where the elite live: ? ’ ” , . These men and women and torn arm-hair follicles make the journey twice a day to the numbers 2, 3 and 4 where they run the stock markets of your keyboard. Every time you denote currency with a press, you tickle their tummies. You know the rest: ENTER is an old reliable whore, ready for a press when you are my dear; the neighbourly hatred between SHIFT and CAPS LOCK knows no bounds; the ALT key that will never find out it has a sibling across the wide space bar, jokingly referred to amongst the upper classes as The Void.

THE MORAL

But spare a minute for the old parts of town. The buttons that were left behind in the pressing-boom during the great domestication of the computer, the very ones that now make up the wooden-boarded facades, the houses with broken and cracked teeth, and the bent-out-of-shape lampposts (a relic of some drunk's midnight cruise for a alcohol-refill back in ‘86), and the piss-stained walls of London red brick. 

These are the sad homes that ne’er get a look: in fact some of you may have forgotten their existence. To the right of P, you will find { }. Do them a favour. Next time you write an email, throw in a couple of { and }. It will mean the world to them.

Wheelchair Boy Witnesses the Tyranny of the 21st Century

A young man can be seen in this footage paying to be thrown out of his wheelchair and beaten. If these men were not paid to do this, they would be in prison by now. Who pays them, we do! They get paid from our taxes. What do we get...? The archetypal bully who threatens you for your pocket money, claiming they will save you from blows and bruises and then once the money is handed over they will beat you to a pulp. Then if you talk back about your rights, they in fact threaten you further for even daring to accuse the bullies and their tyrannical authority.

So the message is kids, once you put on the blue uniform can you do what the fuck you want? You don’t have to have any cognitive skills or ethical training to be a Cop, no no, none of that, just the art of thuggery. Being a policeman has the same appeal to child molesters and malevolent men as it was to be a priest back in the heyday of Catholic oppressed Ireland; raping young boys, good wage, authority beyond question...? Ring any bells?

What was this young man in a wheel chair doing? Fighting for his rights in education and equality.  So this raises the question, are our supposedly progressive European regimes and democracies any different that Nazi Germany or Stalin’s Russia? A scientist from the depths of a laboratory in the alps bordering Switzerland has done experiments using computer date extracted from biographies, interviews and profiles of such political leaders as  David Cameron, Nicolas Sarkozy and Pope Benedict XVI. In his research he found these leaders to be worse than either Hitler or Stalin, ‘if they have any more power, god help us all’, concluded the report. The only leader who came out with any credibility was Italian prime minister Silvio Berlusconi, who was compared with that of the personality of a well fed bear from Hamleys toy store with plenty of young girls to cuddle him.

I proclaim we reanimate Che Guevara from the passive sewn seams of t-shirt merchandise and symbolically behead these leaders in a tribute to the French Revolution. We use this anachronistic act to show history can be used to empower and not just oppress people. It can be done, if everyone fights the tyranny, if everyone uses history not to make the same mistakes as NAZI Germany and go along with the oppressive government (whom nobody wanted there in the first place) and not to hide their support for students (i.e. your children, sisters, brothers and friends) like those who turned a blind eye to the massacre and genocide of Jews, you are just as bad as them, massacring their education, changing their lives by depriving them of the education that would give them agency, instead you pay the police to systematically beat up a young man in wheelchair, nice, go you! NO not go you! Now stop the tyranny before Auschwitz 2: Return of Ignorance arrives!

Amazing Animal Behaviour

Here are a selection of five remarkable aspects of animal behaviour. They include magnificent mimicking in the Australian Lyre bird, mourning in a group of elephants, complicated tool use in a Capuchin monkey, a masurbating Chimpanzee that also utilises a natural tool and finally a very resourceful chimpanzee.

Robotic Urinal: Saviour of TURD?

In the last few years we have seem many failed urinal advancements turn to piss. The people at  TURD (Transnational Urinal Research and Development) have spent over a decade trying to lure men out of their cubicles and into a more cost effective open air environment. The first major shift to the urinal format was introduced in the Vatican for market based product testing. The aim of the project was to target Christian conservatism and pipe it through the common respect held towards Nuns. The following product was implemented for a short stint Vatican-wide. 

For a brief period this project worked and they had a huge effect on overall bathroom etiquette and cleanliness. Unfortunately the products were disbanded after some Catholic nut got it into his head that it was infact mildly offensive to both Nuns and their Religion in general. So the products were zipped up and left to rot in the bowels of the Vatican. 

To respond to this issue TURD spent the next couple of decades developing products that carefully displayed humorous respect to gender objectification in a bid at making the outside world realise that they were not being offensive they were just 'having a laugh'. The following products ensued.

After the release of these products TURD turned to shit. After an internal investigation it was discovered that a senior executive falsely named R.Mutt (after an artwork by Marcel Duchamp) was taking the piss. The group has since been holding itself in, waiting for that perfect product to redeem them and they may have just found it. Integrating their urinal skills with recent technological advancements they have poured the remainder of their money into a robotic urinal. The device will not only unzip, hold and flick, but it will also anonymously record the users actions and stream them as premium live pornography. With the possibility of this huge product flow TURD may have just reached the point where they are no longer pissing in the wind.

Sex and the Suburbs 2: Amnesiac Nights

I decided that I want out after last week. This just got the owl’s cock hardened behind his velvet apron, ‘Why I know you hate it, but it gives me such great pleasure knowing this is how you feed your family, now come, I have your outfit picked out and your babysitters too, to make sure you stay out into twilight and not pussyfoot home to watch the end of Baywatch'.

I decided I didn’t want to be there for the whole thing so I downed a litre of Sooty, made my way proclaiming how I downed it in one go, proud and falling to my knees, they hoisted me up and well the rest I cannot remember until returning to my humble abode where several men were shouting at me to apologize and ‘how could you do such a thing in front of my sister, what the fuck is wrong with you’ and I confused and pleading my innocence through not remembering anything.

One of my babysitters recounted everything in glorious detail and to my shrieks of embarrassment , firstly I thrashed a gentleman’s bathroom after he saw blood on my forehead and invited me off the street to wash it off. Where did the blood come from? I was kicking and head butting every car along the promenade, alarms swirling to the chaotic noise it delivered. And that is not the worst of it, a shed with Christmas decorations for an upcoming children’s charity event I broke into and stole and wore and smashed in glee. Although a Christmas lights coat is pretty awesome! The Trinity guards ejected me swiftly with threats of jail. I not there, but an amnesiac scarecrow, does little heed their words. Before leaving I took a piss on your man’s leg before legging it like a downsyndrome kid toward freedom, in the form of some nightclub, where I exposed my cock and started by dry humping the babysitter’s sister’s thighs who was hired to be my escort. And here I retire in embarrassment and hope that next week I will have to no longer do these shameful exposés, but I have a sneaking suspicion this is exactly what the owls wants.  

Wikileaks Brian Cowen

It has recently emerged that another article spawning diplomatic consternation has been released. This time however, it turns out that the focal point of the leak was none other than the Irish Taoiseach Brian Cowen. The reports suggest that some time in early 2008 George Bush Jr. sent a group e-mail to many of the world leaders asking them to rate an image of Brian Cowen. The e-mail went a little like this:

Hello my fellow Presidents, Prime ministers, slave drivers, communists and drug lords.

I recently came across this image (no not literally) of one of our fellow leaders. I was taken aback by this mans beauty and aura. I would just like you all to rate him in terms of attractiveness on a scale from 1 to 10. Get back to me with what you think? And remember God bless America.

All my love

George Bush Jr.

And here are some of the scores:

George Bush: 9.5

Gordon Brown: 9

Nickolas Sarkozy: 10

Bertie Ahern: 10

Angela Merkel: 9

Barack Obama: 9.5

So thrilled and excited by the image many of the leaders sought more material from Bush and he duly obliged.

He sent this final image with the simple message:

Enjoy :)

Thank god  for Wikileaks

Interior Semiotics

Uploaded from what appears to be a young hipsters wet dream comes the Interior Semiotics video that only continues to grow in popularity amongst youtubers worldwide. The video shows Gabbi Colette's now infamous performance that if anything resparks the age old question of what is art? I'll let you make your own mind up after watching the video, but one thing I will say on her behalf is that to do such a performance in front of a crowded room dripping with hip and post-teenage angst takes a lot of courage. For this reason and the sheer controversy/debate surrounding her video I have decided to post it up. Enjoy... ;-)   

Can Two Snowflakes Ever Be The Same



What are snowflakes: they are supercooled conglomerations of microscopic cloud droplets. They form when two of these microscopic cloud droplets freeze together. Snowflakes come in a variety of complex shapes and sizes that are determined by temperature and humidity changes as the flake falls from the sky. It is necessary for several water molecules to freeze together and form an ice lattice so that a droplet can freeze around this nucleus at temperatures lower than -35'C. The individual ice crystals often have a hexagonal symmetry but are they unique? Are there any two snowflakes that are the same? It is very unlikely that two snowflakes will ever be the same because each one contains roughly 10 to the 19 water molecules that is 1 quadrillion or 1,000,000,000,000,000, but it is however possible. If two snowflakes were created in the same environmental conditions, save for the difference between the actual water molecules it would be possible for two snowflakes that were identical in shape and size to exist. In 1988 two ice crystals substructures of a snowflake that were identical were found in Wisconsin. So MRHP would just like to remind you that nothing is impossible...

Daft Punk - Tron Legacy

Well after finally getting a chance to wrap my ears around the new Daft Punk score for the up and coming Tron Legacy film I can't say I wasn't but a little surprised with what met my ears.


After listening to the entire album a few times now it has really grown on me, but what must be kept in the back of our minds is that this is a soundtrack for a movie and not just a straight off album. In that respect I find it difficult to gauge some of the tracks as I will probably respond differently to them after I have seen them synchronised with the film that they were designed for. If you are unaware please note that this is not a case of the duo just making music with 2 synthesisers and a drum machine, for the purpose of this soundtrack they also brought in a 85-piece orchestra and recorded at AIR Lyndhurst Studios in London. What I find funny though is the hype that surrounds this and how a lot of Daft Punk fans will fall privy to this hype and what frustrations will eventually ensue.

What I find funny about the situation is that when Thomas Bangalter takes off the helmet and produces and directs soundtrack music for the likes of Gaspar Noé nobody turns a blind eye, but when he dons his alter ego all hell breaks loose. Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo also manages to evade the mainstream until he too puts on his mask and the duo rise to the fore. It makes for an interesting analysis in terms of the autonomous machine that Daft Punk has become.
  

My advice in relation to this album is unless you really have to have it, go see the film first and if that manages to emotionally engage you enough to build a visual memory to complement the album then my advice is go for it. Until then hold off as it has the potential to disappoint a lot of Daft Punk fans. 


Here are a few of my favourite tracks to wet your pallet and help with the decision. 





Let's hope for a remix album soon...