Tag: childhood

The Gashlycrumb Tinies Set To Music

Welcome to Today’s FYB Post featuring the Poem The Gashlycrumb Tinies by the Infamous Writer,  Artist, Illustrator, and Tony Award winning Costume Designer Edward Gorey (February 22, 1925 to April 15, 2000) set to Music by Daisy Chapman and Red Carousel. Gorey’s Characteristic Pen-and-Ink drawings often Depict Vauge and Unsettling Narrative Scenes in Both Victorian as well as Edwardian Setting that have Built a Long Term Cult Following Gorey wrote The Gashlycrumb tinies in 1963 and the Poem that serves Cautionary Tale of being Aware of all the Deadly perils of Life that can bring about a Person’s Early Demise. The Poem was once summed up by George Boomer who said “(The Poem) Is a rebellion against a view of childhood that is sunny, idyllic, and instructive.”. The Poem follows a Fairly Simple and Dark Theme Combining The Alphabet, Children, and a Horrible Fate for Each of the Children. The Poem consists of Child with a Name Starting with each Letter of The Alphabet in Chronological Order. What makes this Poem rather Demented is Each Child Mentioned Meets a Variety of Gruesome Deaths carried out  in Some Brutally Creative Way.

Throughout Gorey’s Illustrious Career Gorey was known for His Illustrated Books as well as Drawing Cover Art or Illustrations for Other Writers. Gorey illustrated Over 200 Book Covers for a Variety of Publishing Houses including Doubleday Anchor, Random House’s Looking Glass Library, Bubbs-Merrill, and as a Free Lance Artist. Among other Works Gorey illustrated Bram Stoker’s Dracula, H.G. Wells’ The War Of The Worlds, and T.S. Elliot’s Old Possum’s Book Of Practical Cats. When Gorey was working as a Freelance Writer/Illustrator He used several Pen Names, some of which were Anagrams of His First and Last Name like Ogdred Weary, Dogear Wryde, Ms. Regera Dowdy, just to Name a Few. Meanwhile Gorey used Other Pen Names for His Original Work Too such as O. Mude (which is German for O. Weary), and Eduard Blutig which is a German Pun on His Own Name. Also During His Career Gorey conducted Literary Experiments like. Creating Wordless Books, Books the Size of a Matchbox, Pop Up books, and Books that were/are Comprised Entirely of Inanimate Objects.

Gorey Classified His Work as Literary Nonsense, and in Respone to being called Gothic Gorey Replied “If you’re doing nonsense it has to be rather awful, because there’d be no point. I’m trying to think if there’s sunny nonsense. Sunny, funny nonsense for children—oh, how boring, boring, boring. As Schubert said, there is no happy music. And that’s true, there really isn’t. And there’s probably no happy nonsense, either.”

 

It is What it Is,

 Presented by Les Sober

Cartoons Craziness: Practicing Pat

Welcome to Cartoon Craziness Featuring the Animated Short Practicing Pat One of Our Favorite Animators David Firth Under His fatpie2 Moniker. The Cartoon is about a Kid and His Special Friend.

For those of You Who do Not Know or May Not Be Aware David Firth is an English Animator, Director, Writer, Musician, Actor, Voice Actor, Video Artist, and Broadcaster of Whom We are a Big Fan of Here at FYB. Several of Firth’s works in Flash Animation, along with Multiple Music Videos and Works of Video Art, have Garnered a Large Followings.

Premise: A Young Boy has an Imaginary Friend Named Practicing Pat who Lives in a Broken TV in His Backyard. At Night Practicing Pat Taps on the Boy’s Bedroom Window and They take Walks Along the Sea Front. That is Until One Day the Boy’s Father comes Home from Work Angry and Starts a Fire in the Backyard. The Boy’s Father then Tosses the Broken TV into the Flames. What Happens Next and What Happens to Practicing Pat? You’ll just have to Watch and See for Yourself.

From The Creator Himself:

“This is a Cartoon I made for Playboy website in 2008. I’m not sure if They ever used it. Their Animation Section didn’t show up on Google for some reason and They mysteriously Disappeared.” -David Firth aka fatpie2-

Enjoy.

Thanks For Watching,

Presented By Les Sober  

DINNER IS NOT OVER (Animated)

Welcome to this Installment on Tidbits For Shits And Giggles Featuring the Animated Music Video Dinner is Not Over by the One and Only Mr. Jack Strauber.

Jack Stauber is a Singer, Songwriter, and Animator from clean, Pennsylvania. Jack also Publishes under the Name Jack Stauber’s Micropop, in which He releases Hist Short Songs from His Social Media or Extended Versions of His Short YouTube Songs. So Far, there are Six Micropop EP’s One Compilation Album, and One Soundtrack Album. Jack Stauber’s Music is often Described as Avantgarde, or Indie Alternative. His Music is a Blend of Pop, Electronic, and Folk.

Strauber’s Videos typically include MS-Paint Animation, 3D Animation, and Other Mixed Media. Nearly all of His Content is Recorded onto a VHS Tape, giving it an Old-Timer Aesthetic. Themes within the Videos may be that of a Typical Song or Something More Cryptic in Nature. Strauber also makes Animated Cartoon Shorts using Microsoft Paint, but more Recently His Videos have been appearing in Different or More Unique Styles of Art. He has also Gained Attention on the Cartoon Network’s Adult Swim, and has Aired One of His Videos on an Episode of “Off the Air”,  made an “Adult Swim Smalls”, Created a Whole Mini-Series called SHOP: A Pop Opera, and made the a Short Film Titled OPAL.

Premise:

As Any Child Knows Dinner is Not Over (and You May Not Have Dessert) until You’ve Cleaned Your Plate especially when it comes to Vegetables, But Have You Ever Tasted Death?

Enjoy.

Thanks For Watching,

Presented By Les Sober  

Tidbits For Shits and Giggles :John Kenn Mortensen’s Comic-Dub

In this Installment of Tidbits For Shits and Giggles Features the Work of Danish Artist John Kenn Mortensen(Also Known as Don Kenn) who Writes and Directs Television Shows for Kids, BUT During His Free Time Kenn pays Tribute to the Darker, Disturbing side of Childhood filled with Monsters and Ghosts. Kenn’s Ugly, Terrifying, and Bone Chilling Creatures come Creeping out of the Darkest Childhood Nightmares into a Lurid Limelight. Kenn Draws His Highly Imaginative and Unsettling Scenarios where Children meet Ghastly and Goulash Monsters entirely on Yellow Post-It Notes. The Creative Intimacy of Kenn’s Creepy Creations truly leaves One in a State of Shock and Awe. Enjoy.

Thanks for Watching,

  Presented by Les Sober

A Longstanding Joke Goes From Funny To Fubar* In Seconds.

When I was growing up there where two eccentric’s if you will. One I have already written about in a previous post who was known as Smiley Jesus among the neighborhood kids. This post pertains to the second.

She was a woman in here mid to late fifties with long mostly white hair tied up in a loose bun. She wore a full length goose down style winter coat no matter what time of year it was. She was always sporting  Jackie O. like sunglasses the ones with the huge circular frames. She also had applied so much rouge that it fully covered both of her cheeks in giant clown like circles. Her uncommon attire also included a Golf Visor, and lastly a pair of cheap white velcro sneakers. This may have well been her official uniform because it NEVER changed EVER.

Aside from her bizarre sense of fashion the other key aspect about Her was she never spoke. Not a single word. At most she might have flashed a quick smile as she walked by with her hands in her jacket pockets. Come to think of it I don’t think I ever saw her hands out of her jacket pockets.

Now we fast forward a bit and I’m now 16 or so and dating my first real Girlfriend/High School Sweetheart who lived in the neighborhood adjacent to mine. I asked her one day if she had seen this odd woman walking around in her neighborhood as well growing up. Not only did she yes she had, but she went on to tell me that the Woman in question actually lived somewhere  in her neighborhood.

We tried half assed measure in lame attempts to locate the weird Woman’s house to no avail. We had all but lost interest when we got some additional information pertaining to the peculiar Woman’s back story.

The information came from my Girlfriend’s Mother. It turned out that her Mom grew up at the same time, in the same town, and went to the same school as the strange Woman. Apparently the Woman was not what you would call popular by any means. In fact she was bullied pretty brutally from the few stories we were told by my Girlfriend’s Mother, and she was as guilty as the rest when it came to relentlessly tormenting the Woman as a Girl.

The one story I remember was my Girlfriend’s Mother telling us she and her gang of friends from school lured the Woman then just a girl to some near by woods. They then tied her to a tree and berated the shit out of her non stop for over an hour. Once they got tired of teasing her to the point of tears they up and left her there tied to a tree. No one knows the exact details but obviously someone heard her crying for help or passed by and cut her free.

Needless to say as the story got darker the more I found myself fascinated by the morbidity of it all. A months or so after hearing the tortured tale of the Woman’s unhappy childhood (on no day in particular) my Girlfriend and I decided to go for a late day walk. It was the middle of July so we hid inside clinging to the Air Conditioning until dusk when it was cool enough to venture outside.

We had only gone about 5 or 6 blocks when all of a sudden we became aware of a extremely heated argument. This wasn’t surprising since being Summer many people left the front door open optimizing their screen doors to enjoy the cool Summer evenings.

The chaotic commotion was coming from a house to our right that stood atop a small hill. The front door was indeed wide open allowing anyone passing buy to hear the insanity inside, and I do mean insanity. We heard a lady screaming at the top of her lungs, and we knew that we had accidentally stumbled across the Weird Woman’s house. We both turned and stared at one another in shear shock and awe at first, and then we returned our attention back to the madness raging inside of this otherwise absolutely normal looking suburban home.

The sounds emulating from the front door where like none I had never heard before in my life, and have rarely heard since. The Woman was in the middle of what seemed to be an argument that was spiraling out of control. The Woman was intensely enraged and her blood curdling screams in were purely primal.

I couldn’t tell you what the fuck the argument was about, but that is more than likely because we only heard one side of the argument. This was due to the fact that whoever the Woman was yelling at so savagely DIDN’T EXIST. They weren’t imaginary either like a hallucination (though now that I’m mulling it over she could have been hallucinating, but not because of Drugs but due to Mental Illness of some sort.) Anyway for all intensive purposes it appeared that the Woman  having a knock- down-drag- out fight with her Dead Husband.

We stood there for several minutes completely mesmerized by the madness we were witnessing. It was quite clear that this Woman was just an eccentric  she was legitimately batshit crazy. Once the terrible trance wore off my Girlfriend and I hightailed the hell out of there, and didn’t even pause for a brief second to look back.

And ever since that fateful evening We have  never passed by that house again even though the psychotic Woman passed away many, many years ago.

(*FUBAR stands for Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition)

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober  

The Tale of The Hellacious Hospital

I was 13 years old and it was the beginning of Summer Vacation. The first 2 weeks went splendidly as all I did was fuck off with friends all day, and cause minor trouble as our Town was boring as shit. Then one random morning I woke up with what felt like the worst cramp of my life in my lower left side. In addition I was nauseous as all get out as the pain increased to the point I walked virtually bent over at the waist. After a couple of days of this my Parents took me to our family Doctor. It took him less than 30 seconds to double check his almost instant diagnosis, and then informed us it was Appendicitis that would require immediate treatment. So instead of heading off to camp the next day I headed off the the local Hospital.

Now Appendicitis (along with Tonsillitis) are the two easiest fucking things not only for a Doctor to Diagnose its equally as easy for a Surgeon to remedy through simple Surgery. As one might imagine it plays out as your sick, you go to doctor, doctor makes his/her diagnosis, go strait to the nearest Hospital, get Admitted, and then immediate Surgery. This is specially important for Appendicitis as the longer it goes untreated the higher the risk it could rupture causing Secondary Infection(s) a real bitch.

Well thats not quite how it went with me thats for fucking sure. The first part went normally until I arrived at the Hospital as shit went down hill from there rather quickly. Now once I was admitted in stead of preforming the needed immediate (not quite an emergency but pretty damn close) Surgery they did the exact opposite they waited. They waited for the sole fucking reason of using me as a case example for the small Army of Interns. The next 36 or so hours Doctors came in and poked and prodded the shit out of me in-between marching in groups of 6-10 Medical Students/Interns?Residents.

Nothing like lying in the Hospital as your Summer Vacation rots away, but to be treated like a fucking Lab Animal was the worst of it all. Doctor’s are such disconnected Cunts, they really are. Doctor’s have no what they call Bedside Manner, and Bedside Manner translates to Talking/Treating the Patient like a human not a project. So all these Medical Motherfucker’s keep parading in apparently whenever the fuck they felt like it.

Finally they preformed the Surgery or Appendectomy, and shit went back to normal as far as protocol was concerned. I hung out post Opp for a day or so and the Hospital Released Me. Once again I settled into a regular Summer Routine until one day I woke up sick as a dog. I a fever, Cold Sweats, Nausa, Diarrhea, No Appetite, and all that Super fucking Flu symptomatic shit. Again after several days it became apparent this wasn’t a cold, flu or food poisoning and I went back to the Doctor. He couldn’t tell us the root cause, but he did strongly advise taking me back to the Hospital and my parents did.

Long story Shorter I was readmitted, examined, and tested. The Doctor’s came to the conclusion that (and this is the only fucking way we found out this even happened as in They never said shit about it) because my Appendix had in fact Burst that there were 2 pockets of Infectious Puss lingering around the Surgical site like two Sepsis Clouds. The Doctor’s next task was to locate the pockets of infection, and then administer proper treatment due on location alone.

Long story shorter I had to go through 2 additional Surgical Procedures to actually drain the infections. Now of these 2 Procedures I’m only going to take the time to address is the first of the two. This is how it all went down. One of the Diagnostic Tests was an MRI which located the pockets of infection in the first place. Now based on the MRI Results the Doctor’s opted to preform this fucked up little maneuver. This one must remember was in the days LONG before Twilight Anesthesia was even considered. In spite of lacking the current anesthetic options of today came over to me (I’m shirtless and still laying prone on the MRI Machine arms stretched above head) and inform me their going to attempt to drain one of the pockets of infection right then and there. Their reasoning was that it was very close to “the skin” if by that you mean under all 5 layers of skin and then the subsequent muscle. They then I shit you not hit me with 17-21 shots of Novocaine in my abdomen as Anesthetic.

Then this little feeble wobble of a man came out of the control room and over to me. This guy looking like a goddamn 5th grade Science teacher mustache, Bowtie, and all. This douche informs me that he is going to take a  very thin needle (about 2 feet long I shit you not) and then jam it into my abdomen. From there he is going to manual suck out the puss and shit with a large syringe attached to the other end of the motherfucking needle.

Things didn’t start well as the Fat Fuck stabbed me and fucking missed the Soft Ball sized pocket of infection in spite of being able to see exactly where the fuck it was. Once we withdrew the needle he had to insure there was no internal bleeding by pushing down with all his might (not to mention body weight) on the injection site. He then manages to finally after over a fucking hour of this horse shit torture got the job essentially done. To this day if I ever see this Guy on the street I’m going to stab him repeatedly in his fucking fat little face with a rusty Screw Driver, Just Saying.

With the pockets of infection drained I spent a few more days on intravenous Antibiotics, and then sent on my way once again. Summer was back on track for the next 3 weeks anyway. See this is where shit gets really weird. I woke up one day exhibiting the exact same symptoms of Appendicitis though my Appendix for all incentive purposes had been Surgically removed over a month ago at this point. Needless to say I was off to and readmitted to the Hospital. I honestly have no fucking clue why my parents would take me back to that Shithole Hospital for a 3rd time, but I digress under protest.

Long story shorter the Doctor’s spent days subjecting me to what turned out to be every test in the fucking book to No Avail. The Doctor’s were perplexed as they to couldn’t figure out how a surgically removed Appendix could affect someone with a classic example of Appendicitis. After toiling away with machines and men in the Lab they were no closer to finding the reason. Exasperated and exhausted the Doctor’s came to talk to us about what the fuck to do. The Doctor’s started by stating the now obvious that regardless of all the fucking tests, everything for all intensive purposes looked absolutely normal.

This left the Doctors with only one last option and that was to do an Exploratory. See Exploratory Surgery sounds all nice and fucking official with a hint of NASA to it, but here is what Exploratory Surgery is in Laymen’s terms. Exploratory Surgery means going more Medieval in Medical Methods. That is the Doctor’s can’t figure out why your sick so they actually cut you open, and literally poke around like a car mechanic under the hood of a car. Thats it, they slice you open to actually see if they can find shit out first hand since the million dollar machines produced shit as far as results.

What they found was truly intriguing. Since the Scumbags waited so long before operations that my Appendix had ruptured, and ruptured spectacularly (meaning huge amount of infectious collateral damage) that we all knew already. The Doctors went on to explain that the middle of my Appendix blew the fuck up when the Appendix ruptured, and when the Surgeon went in initially  he removed the base or bottom part of the affected Appendix. Now what no one could have foreseen the Tip of the Infected Appendix broke off with a independent blood supply (not sure to this day exactly what the hell that means), and then slid down by my right Kidney. Once it reached my right Kidney it proceeded to hug up against it so tightly that on tests it just appeared to be part of the Kidney’s natural exterior.

The odd thing (at the time it didn’t compute with my parents) was my Parents were approached several times by various Doctors not associated with my case reassuring them the Hospital handled my case fine, and all this other shit was unavoidable. What that says to me is “We fucked up bad, but we don’t want to get the shit sued out of us so we’re backpedaling to save our asses with False Reassurances.

Any who for all the bullshit, time, and consequent suffering I did achieve one thing note worthy. On the Medical History for said Hospital I’m on the Books as the only Patient to have His Appendix out Twice.

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

A Hard Sell Apology

My Mother has been lurking around her basement as well as attic, and along the way she keeps finding fossils from My childhood during Her adventures.                                       (I’m not so sure if My Brother is being subjected to this or if He dodged this particular bullet?!)

When My Mother finds something She thinks is especially special She is taking a photo and then texting it to me along with Her 2 cents worth.

Her exceptional find for today was indeed odd. It seems to be a letter I typed, and then I signed at the bottom by hand. From the content I believe I had to write this because I was beating up or tormenting my Little Brother Phil.

After reading this little bit of personal history I have decided to post it here Verbatim  Any Names of course have been changed as I believe in getting a person’s permission before using their name in a Post, and in this case I have not.

Ladies and Gentlemen I give you now, THE LETTER!

I agree NOT to Push, Pull, Poke, Hit, Smack, Kick, Bite, Curse, Shoot, Ax, Knife, Mutilate, Kill, Smash, Bash, Mow*, Choke, Assault or in any other way Inflict Bodily Harm on the 2nd party being Phil.

If I break this agreement I promise I will write Phil a letter of apology.

Sincerely Les*

(1* When it comes to MOW I sure I meant Mow him over with a Lawn Mower.)

(2* I love the omission of a comma between Sincerely and Les.)

Thanks for READING,

Les Sober  

One of the Strangest Memories of Mine from Childhood

When I was growing up I attended a Private School from kindergarten through 8th grade, but this wasn’t in any way to do with my family having money. My father was the Head of the English Department so I got a free ride that I never wanted.  Part of this elitist idiots institution of privilege was that they had an ice skating rink so ever winter for P.E. we would walk over and ice skate for class.  Now knowing that kids grow quick and that outside of P.E. I’d never use them my father found away around needlessly spending money on new ice skates. He quite simply located a man who lived near by who rented ice skates during the winter months.

The elderly gentlemen who ran the rental operation ran it out of his house. Now I can’t tell you what the house even looked like as we always went after dark, but in all due fairness it gets dark by 5 p.m. during winter. What I remember is the following. I remember my father making a right hand turn off a residential street and driving down a short driveway were he parked the car. Once we got out of the car the house was on the left and when you looked over you saw your basic 2 car garage with a plain old run of the mill white exterior door. We would enter through the plain white door into a completely dark area about the size of your average closet. To the right once you stepped through the door was a doorway that led to a set of steps (approximately 5-6 steps in total) that we’ed walk down into base of the operation if you will. The room was dimly light by outdated and well worn florescent lights who’s originally sterile soul sucking silent office light had degraded into a flickering odd shade of grey with a loud humming buzz. The floor was bathed in a 1970’s Ultra Shag carpet of dark brown with flecks of deep yellow and orange through out. The walls were completely bare with off white paint that during countless years had developed a time worn yellowing. The only other thing in the entire room was a home made wood bench that was wrapped around the walls and had some poor excuse for padding.  There was a small laundry room directly across from the steps that housed a washer, dryer and an ice skate sharpening machine like the one you see at regular ice skating rinks. There was in fact a 3rd room but we will get back to that in a minute.

Once you sat down on the bench it was vertically identical to buying shoes. The Old man probably mid 60’s standing about 6 feet 3 inches tall wearing a plaid shirt, suspenders, work pants (Dickies) and a pair of beat down construction boots would gather up 3 or 4 pairs of skates. After collecting the skates he would walk over and kneel down as you tried on the skates he would lace them for you. While lacing and unlacing the skates until finding the right pair would exhale heavily through his nose periodically like a long nasal sigh. Now I don’t believe this was out of discomfort (i.e. old joints, bad knee etc) or emotion (anger,irritating,disgust etc.) ,but rather a peculiar personal trait the man developed over his life time, and more then  likely wasn’t even aware at his advanced age he was even making a noise. Once the correct and proper pair of ice skates was found the Old man would collect the rental fee and that was that until returning them in Spring.

Now remember that 3rd room I said we’ed get back to well we’re back to it. See just like with shoes you have to walk around a bit in a pair of skates as you would a pair of shoes to insure they fit correctly. I had always wondered since the beginning of these yearly rentals exactly where the skates to be rented where. So while testing out a pair of skates one year to see in they fit I got up enough nerve to really walk around the room. I normally you see would only take a few steps as not to be too far from my father or the exit door as I found the whole situation creepy as shit as a kid, and as I write this I have the same feeling. As I walked around the room I noticed there was a slight 3 foot long extenuation coming out of the wall to create a degree of privacy, (I don’t know why someone would build a basement with a privacy wall of sorts unless your a serial killer) and around on the other side was the 3rd previously unseen room. I teetered and wobbled around until I could see in the 3rd room and what I saw is the strangest part of the story. The large room was filled to capacity with pairs of ice skate, hundreds upon hundreds of them like it was the Fort Knox of ice skates. There were pairs of skates lying side by side in row after row covering the entire floor, and there were cubbies lining the walls from the floor to the ceiling each one housing a pair of ice skates.

To this day my one and only question has created plentiful hypothesizes BUT NEVER answered is simply “Where the Hell did this Old Man get Hundreds and Hundreds of pairs of ice skates?” How did he amass so many pairs? This question alone only brings more questions and no answer.