when I read this, with little liza jane playing in the background, my first inclination was to cop some Klimt and post it… Danae probably, that face, the curves, beautiful ripe young womanhood with a shower of gold coins. Klimt totally tops Titian in the Danae dept.

I remember the good old days, when I was Zeus…

Watching Leslie watch.

Halley Suitt (Webbly 2.0ischenfrau and mother) and Jeannine Gailey Hall (tech writer and poet) take their lickin’ from Madame L. this morning in a brilliant post that includes the line..

let’sputthemotherfuckerbackinmfa

…and Ponzi’s got the look. See what happens when the spacebar breaks?

thephotoshop:
Thelma&Louisecar
insteadofthelma&louise
it’sDaveWinerdrivinginabigbadwolfgetup
andScoblewithahuge(huge)videocam
backseat’spackedwithmommybloggers
wearingsexyshoeswhoshouldhavebeenincollege

andponzi*coughZsaZsa*LargeFont

andcandy

andlesbians

(dexterity 3 jury-rig 3; I roll 20s.)
((Nerd alert))

’s a pity my favorite mommy blogger wasn’t at the gathering.

Just a couple of Dylan verses then…

Inside the museums, Infinity goes up on trial
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles
See the primitive wallflower freeze
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze
Hear the one with the mustache say, “Jeeze
I can’t find my knees”
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel

The peddler now speaks to the countess who’s pretending to care for him
Sayin’, “Name me someone that’s not a parasite and I’ll go out and say a prayer for him”
But like Louise always says
“Ya can’t look at much, can ya man?”
As she, herself, prepares for him
And Madonna, she still has not showed
We see this empty cage now corrode
Where her cape of the stage once had flowed
The fiddler, he now steps to the road
He writes ev’rything’s been returned which was owed
On the back of the fish truck that loads
While my conscience explodes
The harmonicas play the skeleton keys and the rain
And these visions of Johanna are now all that remain

Images captcha’ed and returned to my own infernal dialog by RB and Madame L.

Trying to get a handel on that JMo’s birthday.

Forever Freud, Forever Freud… may you stay-ay-ay-ay, forever Freud.