So pretty. So poignant. So totally not mine. And yet, so fitting for the last days of the year. Especially this one.

Most Americans are currently obsessed with Nigerians and flight security (for good reason), but the revolution not-so-quietly brewing in Iran is equally noteworthy. Yesterday, Flickr user Tamishir posted this photo, which seems pretty evocative — even to someone like me who knows little about the symbology.

Far be it from me or anyone to tell Iran how to run itself, but given the country’s current leadership, I can see the people’s temptation to ditch the devil they know for one they don’t.

In case you missed it, the new, post-Nigerian-bomb-attempt TSA regulations have leaked to the interweb. They make me thankful that this odd-numbered Christmas was spent at my family’s place in Mississippi instead of at the bf’s homestead in NYC (which naturally requires a little airtime). To everyone on the tarmac: GOOD LUCK. And keep your hands where everyone can see them.

UPDATE #1: Although those directives were initially intended for U.S.-bound international flights, apparently they’re being applied to a number of domestic flights, too.  Um, yay?

UPDATE #2:  Ladies and gentlemen, our laps (and bladders) are free once more.

Yesterday, I mentioned my general aversion to holiday traditions, but there is at least one that I like to keep (other than watching certain TV specials): limiting king cake consumption to Carnival season. Sadly, that tradition is being broken right and left this year.

It all started pretty innocuously. I was in the Robert’s grocery store three weeks ago and saw some tell-tale king cake boxes on display. Curious and quietly furious, I marched over to discover that the boxes in question didn’t contain king cakes, per se: yes, the objects were oval-shaped, and they were drizzled in goop and pounds of powdered sugar, but they looked…dirty. Unlike bright, shiny, gaudy Carnival king cakes, these were black, like the mold New Orleanians came home to after living on guest beds, sofas, and floors for six weeks (or more) of their Katrina hurrication. Eventually, I figured out that these were meant to be “Saints cakes”, in honor of our hometown NFL team — which would’ve been much clearer if Robert’s had bothered to lay on some gold frosting like Gambino’s did. Or, you know, if they’d put up a sign.

Anyway: the fact that king cakes had been repurposed didn’t really bother me.  I have a friend who leaves her Christmas tree up all year long and decorates it according to the seasons. I see Carnival beads reprinted with corporate logos and tossed out all year long. Carvel’s infamous Cookie Puss secretly doubles as the less-infamous Cookie O’Puss. These things happen.

However, since my first spotting, the whole “Saints” pretense has been dropped, and some of these grocery stores and corner shops are selling “real” king cakes — the kind layered in thick slabs of purple, green, and gold frosting that are, in theory, only available from January 6 through Fat Tuesday. That’s just wrong.

I am glad that our friends at Blog of New Orleans see the error of these ways. Together, we can stop the insanity.

Speaking of: whatever happened to Susan Powter? To judge from her website, she’s either suffering from Alzheimer’s, or she’s writing in Ukranian and Google Translating back to English.  Or perhaps she’s chosen to stop everyone else’s insanity by absorbing it — like at the end of The Exorcist when Satan leaves Linda Blair and goes to live in the body of that priest, who promptly defenestrates himself. Either way, something’s off.

We have very few holiday traditions in our household. Neither Jonno nor I are religious, nor are we especially sentimental (though we both have our moments, I promise). However, there are a couple of things we do each December to evoke the xmas cheer — namely, watch our two favorite holiday TV shows. The first is the classic Pee Wee’s Playhouse Christmas Special, and the other is the slightly more obscure but possibly more fabulous Mrs. Mouth Christmas spectacular.

For those unfamiliar with the lovely Eva Moskowitz (aka Mrs. Mouth), she was a fixture on New York’s public access channels in the late 1980s and into the 1990s. Wrapped in furs and wigs and low-rent frippery, Mrs. Mouth was notorious for making exceptionally good prank calls, eating terrible snacks (e.g. raw eggs, raw cow’s tongue), and for encouraging viewers to run to the window, throw open the sash, and yell into the night air, “I LOVE MRS. MOUTH!” It was a little like Romper Room for the drug-addled set. Count me in.

Anyway, the Playhouse special is easy to find, so I’ve just posted the first clip below. (If you’re into it, you can go on to watch the second, third, fourth, and fifth bits.) Unfortunately, the Mrs. Mouth holiday show that we like isn’t on YouTube (yet), but Jonno found one that gives a hint at her flavor. If that’s your thing, there are plenty of her non-holiday clips to enjoy. Don’t say I never gave you anything…

Lisa Vanella, formerly of World Wide Child Care and Children of America Incorporated, is suing former Karate champion Thadeus [sic] Pryor, alleging that her boss made a habit of exposing his genitals to her while twisting them into shapes that resembled farm animals and several mammals.

Pryor purportedly called the mistreated woman a “Pig Whore,” telling her to “look at his dick” because she “turned him on,” on a regular basis….

President and CEO of Child Care of America child-care chain, Pryor is a former multi-time Karate Champion. He is also purportedly the owner of very pliable genitalia, being able to fashion a goat, flying bat, and human brain using nothing but his penis and scrotum.

[via HipHopWired]

Of note: this is the only mention I can find of the lawsuit, which seems a little weird, given the sprawling, soul-crushing size of the interwebs. In other words: there may be no truth to this story — or at least the allegations of Ms. Vanella. For the time being, I’m treating it as hearsay, a half-step above creative nonfiction.

However: the thought of some guy making a goat from his junk was too amusing to pass up.

“It has taken me three years to decide on the scent because I really like BO and I think it’s sexy. I wanted to figure out a way to make it palatable to everybody. I was like, ‘How do you get BO in a bottle and make an atomiser of it?’

“Then it was all about trying to capture the sense of naughtiness in a bottle that it would be good for a man and a woman.”

[via DigitalSpy]