subterranean homesick alien

Via Bookforum and then something called Gelf Magazine, we get to UFO Digest wherein we learn about someone's UFO experiences:

I distinctly remember coming to after being returned to bed finding water in my ears that at the time confused me since I had not been swimming or had taken a shower while asleep.

It is, as a former supervisor used to say while reviewing something I'd written, a "rattling good read" and if you are in the slightest way uneasy at what aliens are doing to some people every night, you would be well advised to read it.

There are no references to anal probes specifically, but plenty of poking and prodding and being forced to have sex. And making metal boxes.

This, on the other hand, is far scarier as it appears to demonstrate that a focus on the superficial is really the sine qua non for both writer and reviewer and so increasingly represents the average level of public discourse and interest. But wait until you get to the first comment.

There's been an ad on TV for some time, advertising some silly thing made by Kentucky Fried Something which has as its USP that you can eat it with one hand. So some bloke ambles into a party, scratches some vinyl, performs a ludicrous hand ritual with someone and walks out. I hope they really were scratching that LP, not playing some Bach.

However, the main thing about the ad is that the rolly thing has switchity mayo among its ingredients. Switchity. I'd never heard of that stuff before. Wonder what it tastes like.

Well I was really tired last night, hence the one-picture blog instead of the usual listless traipse through the weird and wonderful, such as we have just undertaken.

But oh the horror, we have not had a song in our heart to take into the weekend. OK, now we do: ladies and gents, give it up (how on earth did that expression originate?) for the Manhattan Transfer. You don't get stuff like this on the all electric radio any more.