#prison ballads

[theoutcastrogue]

[From a 2014 article by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. He's talking about how a random spam email ended up inspiring a part of his book Wolf in White Van. Later, in 2020, the album Getting Into Knives came out, and I think it inspired its artwork too.]

"It took years for me to be able to just reflexively delete spam, or filter it so that I never see it at all. I blame the spammers for this; the quality of their work took a sharp nosedive at some point. But during whatever period of the internet’s growth you’d call the early 2000s, it seemed like you’d still get some winners: things that had been typed up by a person, sent out to a bunch of email addresses they’d bought or rented for 5 or 10 bucks from the only guy who was ever going to make any money in this particular exchange. Most of them went directly, if manually, into the trash; but once in a while, there’d be one that seemed to earn, at the very least, the minute it’d take me to read it.

The one I’m remembering here was subject-lined SUPPLY OF KNIVES. [...] The subject line opened on an all-caps email that boasted, in ornate, antiquated English appealing to the reader’s more refined sensibilities, about the high quality of the knives on offer at an external website. You shouldn’t click on links in spam email. I live my life on the razor’s edge! I clicked the link.

I want to tell you about these knives: They were beautiful. They were weird. They had elaborate designs in the handles, moons or stars of wolf heads, and special grips, and a variety of points. They were made from metals whose pedigrees were described lovingly, and had been struck — smithed? wrought? — via processes I knew absolutely nothing about, but that sounded fantastic, difficult, arcane. It’s the joy of specialized language: When you’re an outsider to it, it can’t help but sound cool.

Of course this is the whole idea of any operation like this. SUPPLY OF KNIVES could well have been, and probably was, a company in Ohio who’d stumbled across an old warehouse full of knives, and knew enough about sales to describe these things in the most exotic terms they could find. I’m pretty immune to pitches: Who likes to feel like he’s being pitched? But somebody involved with SUPPLY OF KNIVES had had just enough authorial flair — that, or true faith — to caption each knife’s mysterious, blurry accompanying JPEG with a description whose constant recourse to specialized vocabularies seemed to say, “You’re not even reading this unless you already know about this sort of thing. Let us therefore speak like the fellow travelers we are.��

It was like a trade catalog for roadside bandits in need of knives.

I can’t speak for everybody, but I know that when I was a child the life of the roadside bandit seemed like a pretty romantic way to go. I looked at all these knives and read the descriptions and was just generally delighted about the whole thing, so I saved the email in a “memorable spam” folder I used to keep that had maybe two other emails in it. A few years later, Apple came out with this robotic-arm-screen iMac you never see any more, and we were long overdue for a new computer so we got that; and then, after a while, I got myself a laptop, because I was traveling all the time, and eventually both the old iMacs ended up in the basement, and they were both asleep but alive until fairly recently, as far as I knew.

But when I went to check for the email, it was gone. The old blue iMac is dead, bricked, lifeless. Searches on the term “supply of knives” on this laptop and on good old robot-arm-screen find nothing. The backup CD for the blue iMac drive is probably in a drawer around here somewhere, but that’s like saying, “The coin I had in my swim trunks’ pocket is probably somewhere in the ocean.” There is no SUPPLY OF KNIVES. There’s only the memory."

[source]

And this is the wonderful cover art of Getting Into Knives. Back cover and promo material below. Note that "Knives International" and "Knives Wordwide" are not real companies, they appear to be a callback to that elusive spam email.

[theoutcastrogue]

@honourablejester

Cops' prerogative, that's the whole point of bullshit offences like "loitering". If they don't like your face, they get to harass you. It's a kind of urban planning (see here, scroll down to the epilogue).

Note that in the '60s Washington Square attracted people that cops would very much like to harass, from youngsters hanging about (scary by itself, especially if it's the wrong kind of youngsters!), to activists protesting Robert Moses's urban planning, and his grand idea to build yet another expressway by demolishing whole neighbourhoods of Lower Manhattan and the Washington Square Park itself.

"Washington Square" is a 1963 dixie jazz instrumental by The Village Stompers. It became an instant hit, got covered by many artists, and still gets sampled every now and then. Some covers were vocal, like this one by The Ames Brothers, and a similar version by The Cherry Creek Singers. They both came out that same year, in 1963, during the battle for Greenwich Village.

From Cape Cod Light to the Mississip', to San Francisco Bay, They're talkin' 'bout this famous place, down Greenwich Village way. They hootenanny all the time with folks from everywhere, Come Sunday morning, rain or shine, right in Washington Square.

And so I got my banjo out, just sittin' catchin' dust, And painted right across the case "Greenwich Village or Bust". My folks were sad to see me go, but I got no meanin' there. So I said "Goodbye, Kansas, Mo, and hello, Washington Square!"

Near Tennessee, I met a guy who played 12-string guitar. He also had a mighty voice, not to mention a car. Each time he hit those bluegrass chords, you sure smelled mountain air. I said, "Don't waste it on the wind. Come on to Washington Square!"

In New Orleans, we saw a gal a-walkin' with no shoes, And from her throat there comes a growl, she sure was singin' the blues. She sang for all humanity, this gal with the raven hair. I said, "It's for the world to hear. Come on to Washington Square!"

We cannonballed into New York on good ol' US 1, Till up ahead we saw the arch, a-gleamin' bright in the sun. As far as all the eye could see, ten thousand folks were there, And singin' in sweet harmony right in Washington Square.

Say, how's about a freedom song, or the ol' Rock Island Line? How's about the dust-bowl crop, or men who work in a mine? The songs and legends of our land is gold we all can share, So come and join us folks who stand and sing in Washington Square.

André Kertész. Washington Square Park, New York City. 1962

[theoutcastrogue]

Arcane season 2 episode 4 intro: Blue hair, pronouns, and molotovs "Paint The Town Blue" by Ashnikko

Oh, you want a villain? Lemme show you how I evil Oh, you think I'm difficult? I'll show you all my devil

@st-just

[rbfannee]

please please please can we talk about how artoffrostandflame has literally THE BEST fanarts for EVERY fandom couple there is??????

like, each and every one of them makes me weak in the knees, especially the one with warner snd juliette at the top bc MR WARNER THAT HAND PLACEMEENTTTTT IS INSANSEEEE🫠 🥵

[theoutcastrogue]

“This is the rule, only white people are allowed to sing about outlaws. When black people do it, it's evil rap music and it's contributing to delinquency.”

– Patrick Nielsen Hayden, in Censorship and Information Control panel #6: Changes in Media Technology Small and Large

[theoutcastrogue]

It hurt my head when I first realised that the same person who wrote The Sisters of Mercy's "More", "Dominion/Mother Russia" and "This Corrosion" also wrote "Total eclipse of the heart". But in retrospect, and having just seen whatever-the-fuck-this-is, it makes PERFECT sense.

okay so picture this.

You're a man named Jim Steinman. You are one of the most prolific songwriters of the 80s. In your spirit, output and essence, you are eternally popping a wheelie on a motorcycle while a hot half-naked woman clings to you and bats wheel in the sky above.

You wrote a song in which Meatloaf plays a hideously disfigured hunk who steals a nubile lady back to his crumbling manor and introduces her to the pleasures of magic lesbian group sex.

You wrote a song in which Celine Dion sings as Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights, dancing with Cathy's corpse on a beach in the moonlight; a scene which you, Jim Steinman, believe should have been in the book. (The moors of Wuthering Heights are landlocked, but you, Jim Steinman, are too fucking real to care about that.)

You wrote the song for the opening scene of the movie Streets of Fire, in which evil leatherdaddy Willem Dafoe leads his malefic motorcycle crew into a concert to abduct Diane Lane while she's wearing a skintight satin jumpsuit.

You wrote a song in which Bonnie Tyler wanders a haunted boarding school as literal demon twinks gyrate at her out of the fog.

There is no peak of goth camp that you, Jim Steinman, have not summited, no horny energy you have not tapped. They say that Alexander the Great wept when he saw there were no more worlds to conquer. But you, Jim Steinman, are not Alexander the Great. You, Jim Steinman, are better. You, Jim Steinman, have vision.

You take your most successful song, the song everyone knows, the most big-haired, white dress, gothic arches, doves flying, possessed choir boys chanting, bombastic song you have, and think: what if this, but with vampires.

And so you change the lyrics to be about death and infinity and a powerful bloodsucking lord seducing a girl who is ALL ABOUT IT, and then toss off a whole musical for this song to be the centerpiece to, and the musical is bad but it's also a weird hit that's been staged in fourteen countries and revived seven times, because nothing has ever whipped as campily, as ridiculously, as perfectly as this:

It never takes off in America. A prophet is without honor in his own land. But that doesn't matter. How could it matter? You are perhaps the most creatively self-actualized man who has ever lived. Look at that vampire. He's coming in hot and a hundred Venetian nuns gave their lives to make his ludicrously capacious lace sleeves. Look at that girl. She was born in a fog machine. She wore her best red velvet cape. She's down bad. She's singing Total Eclipse of the Heart the whole time.

You are Jim Steinman, and you have reached apotheosis.

[felixravinstills]

I love the narrative as a prison. I love when things escape the narrative.

I love Katniss withholding the names of her children at the end of the Hunger Games!

I love the ambiguity of Lucy Gray's fate!

They, for the most part, escaped the narrative! Lucy Gray had to perform in the Capitol! Katniss had to perform in the Capitol and for the rebels! Their lives were forced into narratives! And then, the story ends, and they are free! The rest of their lives (whether short or long) are theirs!

[theoutcastrogue]

The Bard's Songs

Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

More than twenty years ago (well fuck me) I made a mixtape for our d&d campaign. That was when people used to burn audio CDs, and this was mixtape #39 (out of 271). I think I was playing an elf bard at the time.

I'm posting it here for posterity, for nostalgia, and as a snapshot of vanilla d&d lore/mood, as I experienced it back in the day. If it seems frightfully basic and predictable, well it was. Pretty much everything in that list is from Britain or Ireland or somehow evoking them. But hey, I ain't from there. It was exotic for me!

So it's vanilla and predictable, my little escapism soundtrack. And you know what else it is? A damn good compilation if I say so myself. "Fisherman's Blues" is one of best albums of all time, Loreena McKennitt is a genius, the Chieftains are giants, Pavlov's Dog are one of the few dad rock bands whose hits didn't age terribly, and hey, because I just listened to the whole thing again, when Enya stops singing "May it be" and the track continues with the Shire and the Fellowship leitmotifs, I am FULLY crying again, just bawling over here.

So here's to 2024, and the next 20 years of roleplaying, or as long as we got. Happy new year, everyone. Squeeze every drop out of life, and may your aim be true. The bard's songs will remain.

Tomorrow will take us away Far from home No one will ever know our names But the bards' songs will remain

In my thoughts and in my dreams They're always in my mind These songs of hobbits, dwarves and men and elves Come close your eyes You can see them too

The Bard's Songs

The Waterboys - The Stolen Child [poem by W. B. Yeats, recited by Tomás Mac Eoin]

Van Morrison & The Chieftains - My Lagan love [trad. Irish]

Savina Yannatou - A fairy's love song [trad. Scottish, Hebrides]

The Waterboys - Dunford's fancy

The Waterboys - When will we be married? [trad.]

Van Morrison & The Chieftains - Carrickfergus [trad. Irish maybe]

Loreena McKennitt - All Souls Night

Loreena McKennitt - The highwayman [poem by Alfred Noyes]

Fairport Convention - Crazy man Michael

Fairport Convention - She moved through the fair [trad. Irish]

Marianne Faithfull - Scarborough Fair [trad. English]

Donovan - Guinevere (live)

Pavlov's Dog - Valkerie

Pavlov's Dog - Episode

Enya - May it be [LotR: The Fellowship of the Ring]

Blind Guardian - The Bard's song (In the forest)

Loreena McKennitt - The Stolen Child

This Compilation (P) 2003, Store of the Worlds, Inc. | No Rights Reserved

[jackstheprinceofhearts]

Have you considered...Jacks can manipulate dreams. When Legend couldn't meet Tella irl he did in dreams.

Evajacks...they can kiss in dreams.

i- anon, THE SCANDAL YOU ARE CAUSING??? HELLO??? YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO ENTER MY ASKS AND REMIND ME OF THIS FACT???!!???

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I think we need more stories about how even if you are genuinally a bad person or did something truly atrocious that does not justify the suffering of the mordern Prison Industrial Complex and how prison more than punishment should be about making sure if not all at least most people can go back to society and never do crimes again.

I mean it. Most stories about how bad prison is either follows a thief that did it out of necessity or an innocent man wrongfully arrested and we should think of those people ofc. But we should also think about how prison is not supposed to be karma is supposed to help society (plus we need more assistencial programs to suport victims of violence as well asap).

[theoutcastrogue]

What's your favorite sneaking around music (e.g., Pink Panther theme, Mission: Impossible theme)?

Great question!

I'd say Mission: Impossible is not sneaking around music, it's heist music, and mmmaybe taking itself a bit too seriously. Too much competence implied for my tastes, too much action and epicness, and way too much (and fully underserved, since this is some Cold War bullshit) self-righteousness. A great and iconic theme, just not for our purposes.

Meanwhile, The Pink Panther Theme is 100% trickster music. I don't think there's even been another melody that captures so perfectly the concept of sneaking, but who's doing the sneaking? A trickster, for sure! So the music is all sleight, playful and light-footed and irreverent, and at no point is it remotely tempted to take itself seriously. And if you hear it and expect the graceful and precise balancing act of the most elegant jewel thief in the world to be immediately followed by a fucking piano falling on the hapless Inspector Clouseau's head like some Looney Tunes shit, well the theme did its job, because that's what it's supposed to evoke. 10/10, insurpassable.

I've always said that Henry Mancini was a genius (also notable for the Peter Gunn theme and Victor/Victoria). That said, Lalo Schifrin is also brilliant (he scored Cook Hand Luke! and Bullitt! and Enter the Dragon!), so yay for both of them.

Finally, I think we should give an honourable mention to The Pirates of Penzance where WITH CAT-LIKE TREAD UPON OUR PREY WE STEAL *keeps singing at the top of her lungs*

With cat-like tread upon our prey we steal In silence dread our cautious way we feel No sound at all, we never speak a word A fly's foot-fall would be distinctly heard

So stealthily the pirate creeps While all the household soundly sleeps

Come friends who plough the sea Truce to navigation, take another station Let's vary piracy with a little burglary

Here's your crowbar and your centre bit Your life preserver, you may want to hit Your silent matches, your dark lantern seize Take your file and your skeletonic keys

With cat-like tread upon our prey we steal In silence dread our cautious way we feel No sound at all, we never speak a word A fly's foot-fall would be distinctly heard

Come friends who plough the sea Truce to navigation, take another station Let's vary piracy with a little burglary

WITH CAT-LIKE TREAD UPON OUR PREY WE STEAL IN SILENCE DREAD OUR CAUTIOUS WAY WE FEEL

COME FRIENDS WHO PLOUGH THE SEA TRUCE TO NAVIGATION, TAKE ANOTHER STATION LET'S VARY PIRACY WITH A LITTLE BURGLARY

WITH CAT-LIKE TREAD UPON OUR PREY WE STEAL IN SILENCE DREAD OUR CAUTIOUS WAY WE FEEL

[tellafahey]

i was finally able to read the prisoner's throne and this is the only thought I have that isn't just wailing, screaming, or gnawing on the bars of my metaphorically enclosure

(evangeline by hachandraws on twitter / wren by queen_joey on insta)

[farmerbebop]

You know the drill. Today it's Joan Baez's turn with The Ballad Of Sacco And Vanzetti.

[foreverneverafter]

GUYS I GOT MY COPY OF PRISONERS THRONE FINALLY AHHHH

[writingthroughthenight]

twitter tweety twats #29

[theoutcastrogue]

Dead Kennedys, 1981

They were so real for this one