August 12, 2009
The Female Mustache -- an Appreciation - Asylum.com
The Female Mustache -- an Appreciation - Asylum.comThe Female Mustache -- an Appreciation
Our weekly dispatch from the nation's foremost mustache expert.While eschewing capitalistic freedoms that most humans relish, East Germans have always been good friends to people of Mustached American descent. The East German men, certainly, have supported our efforts and heritage, but our cause has also been championed by East German females.
I was reminded of this kinship with our furry lady friends while reviewing the "talent" on Women With Mustaches, a new effort by Matthew Inman of TheOatmeal.com. With this offering, Mr. Inman has thrown the spotlight on a subject that too often leads those sporting a lady lip covering to hide in the shadows, wearing out perfectly good tweezers. Alas, this self-mutilation has gone on for far too long.
Dr. Froman praises the virtues of the female 'stache, after the jump.
Our appreciation of the female 'stache began, in fact, with East German Olympic swimmers Kornelia Ender, Barbara Krause and Carola Nitschke -- best known for being dogged by rumors and accusations of steroid use. These fuzzy ladies have actually led the American Mustache Institute's East Berlin chapter since 1979.
Yes, Ms. Ender, who won four gold and four silver medals at the 1972 and 1976 Olympics, revealed the she started receiving injections at the age of 13. However, her work in leading our chapter and propagating the East German mustached lifestyle has brought a sense of national pride to Germany, even in dark times.
Mustaches for Men Only?
Mr. Inman's Web site reminded me of the question I am most often asked when skateboarding down the streets of Detroit wearing nothing but knickers and a tank-top reading "hot rod." That is, "What constitutes a bad mustache?"
While doing this exercise, remember that there are no bad ideas in a brainstorm (unless they contradict mine), and a "good" breast reduction is not an achievable objective. In other words, there is no such thing as a "bad" mustache.
Whether you look to the lower nose accoutrement of the Lakers' Adam Morrison, film director John Waters' pencil-thin, a patchy growth forest of a 17-year-old stunt midget, or the labia sebucula (Latin for "lip sweater") of a robust, sensual woman -- a mustache is a thing of beauty, art, wonder and pleasure.
Never forget what we teach in the pre-K program at the American Mustache Institute: A mustache -- any mustache -- is a terrible thing to shave.For Dr. Abraham J. Froman's mustache perspective, check in every Wednesday on Asylum.
Cuba Runs Out of Toilet Paper - Asylum.com
Cuba Runs Out of Toilet Paper - Asylum.comCuba Runs Out of Toilet Paper
Cuba, known for its abundance of vintage American automobiles, baseball players and Buena Vista Social Clubs, has found itself in the middle of full-blown Cuban Toilet Paper Crisis.
The state-run company that manufactures the country's T.P. supply, Cimex, said they are currently unable to produce or import enough raw materials to make more toilet paper until at least December. "The corporation has taken all the steps so that at the end of the year there will be an important importation of toilet paper," said a Cimex spokesperson.
Meanwhile, President Raul Castro announced budget cuts last week that slashed imports by 20 percent. That, combined with the raw materials shortage, has led to the rapid disappearance of toilet paper from store shelves.
Until more supplies are produced, citizens are encouraged to conserve toilet paper by tearing off fewer squares, switching from two-ply to one-ply or using cigar wrappers.
From the Web:The Biggest and Most Bizarre Parties In the World. (WebUrbanist)
7 Terrifying Giant Versions of Tiny Creatures. (Cracked)
Johnny Thunders, Willie DeVille...Oh My! - BlackBook
Roxy, Johnny Thunder, Pacha, Oh My! - BlackBookThe death of rocker Willy Deville the other day reminded me of an old story. When rocker Johnny Thunders mysteriously died in New Orleans back in 1991, Willy happened to live next to his hotel. When reporters started to ask him what he knew, Willy made up the romantic story that the New York Dolls Heartbreakers superhero was found dead with his guitar in his hand. In reality, Johnny was found locked in a death grip “u shape” with his large methadone supply, passport and other valuables gone. My buddy Dee Dee Ramone blew the whole thing up and blamed the death on the unsavory characters that Johnny was hanging with. Yet the New Orleans police seemed to not give a damn about anoyher dead junkie and didn’t look too hard for his killers.
I grew up around the corner from the punk guitarist. He was Johnny Genzale back then, and he was the neighborhood creep. I remember him as a loser, a loner, the guy most likely to sniff glue. He was a few months older than me, and I at one point tried to be his friend. Even as a kid i was drawn to the fringe. He repaid me by stealing my baseball glove. I chased him down and got it back. He hadn’t sold it, he just wanted it to play ball with. For months after he would cross the street in fear of me. I reconnected with him back at Max’s Kansas City. We developed a loose friendship based on a common youth and neighborhood. He once pulled a beautiful blond groupie around the balcony at the old Ritz, now Webster Hall, to impress me, and degrade her. She allowed him to treat her like a dog and he winked at me with a “look how far I’ve come” look. It was frighteningly pathetic, but to most he was a fabulous rock star living an enviable life. I just saw the neighborhood sad sack faking happiness. I pulled a few needles from his arm over the years upstairs at Max’s, and bought him a few meals, then drifted out of his life as he sought stardom and embraced demons. I’d see him around the Ramones loft, Max’s, CBGB’s and the rest of the local joints. I’d always catch his bands. On stage he was lightning, power, anger, fear. He was a guitar hero. The dolls broke out glam, broke all the rules, but then broke up. Malcolm McClaren pushed the Heartbreakers who were just a hair from stardom. One night when his face looked like it was going to crawl away, Ramones artistic director Arturo Vega turned to me and said “when he first hit the Bowery punk scene, he looked like an angel. His skin was perfect, white like porcelain.” The price of limited fame and not enough of really anything except drugs and groupies was exacting its toll. Advanced leukemia was his very secret burden as well. Willy Deville said that “he went out in a blaze of glory,” and told a little white lie to add to the legend. Now my boy Black John has adapted a screenplay called Who Killed Johnny Thunders? into a one man rock show. I’m gonna catch it next time it plays out.
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