What? Oh, a New Year?

Time's running too quick with you, feeble humans. I forgot My new year congratz, so here they are. Or not.
Hopefully, those young Maya were right and your new year will be the last. We, The Great Ol'Ones, don't really care. We have plenty of other toys in this Universe and others!

So, I owe you some explainations for My silence on this thingy, this blog, well...

Many things happened.

You know at thend of your December month, We, the Great Ol'Ones have a small fest, Yuletide. For once, We decided it would not be boredcasted, your TV streams are already full of shit to empty your smallish brains, you mindless mongrels.

So we had a private party, full of bloody living corpses, whores and chips.
I made a record there: got fucked by an astounding number of Cosmic Horrors, They even found some I didn't know yet. Thanks Boyz!
I fucked also a bunch of so called "male" entities. Remember, feeble humans, sex and gender are not an immutable parameter for Us, We don't have your moral and mental walls and prejudices.
I sprouted at least two full load of Young as a consequence. Be sure to bring your whole families when walking in the woods, during this spring; My Young will have to be fed!

As usual, January and this February were peaceful. Clean up, Young fostering, and reading.
While reading, I discovered a young fellow, of only a bit more than two hundred of your years: Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade.

Yes, he was one of those feeble among the feeble frenchies. But he almost made Me revise My views about your filthy race, feeble human maggots.

This guy knew the point. Pornography is not the goal, it's only a way (mostly backdoor in his case).
He didn't respect any law, any limit, so he spent more than half of his life in jail. Not for his sexual perversion, it was the norm of his class in his time, but for his ideas, his philosophy.

A guy writing about a monk putting an hostie on the top of his cock before fucking a teen girl in the ass; this was deemed a blasphemous crime deserving to be locked in the Bastille for the rest of his life, in those pre-revolutionary days, when the Catholic Church made the laws and had the state at her service.
But what stun Me, and surely upset the child fucker priests, was not this kind of action scenes.
Between the orgies (much) detailed descriptions, the good marquis set his characters to rest, and made them describe his philosophy views in great details, just like most of this time Enlightened Philosophers, those insipid Voltaire, Rousseau...

And THIS is really powerful!
Crime of any sort is common among you, feeble humans; remember you were created by some of Our spawns for Our pleasure!
But the good ol'marquis made a point describing, justifying, philosophically reasoning about these.

THAT was the reason which led him to spend most of his life in prisons or sanitariums, whereas the law was the King's, the Republic's or the Emperor's.

His views about private property, theft, society and moral were a draft for the following 19th century's utopist, anarchist, socialist and communist philosophers and ideologs.
Pierre-Joseph Proudhon, Karl Marx, Friedrich Engels, Louis Auguste Blanqui, and al. just followed the track.
All were French or French influenced Germans, see the pattern ?
And wonderful slaughters came from these guys brains!

The legend also tells that some days before July 14th, 1789, when he was imprisoned in the Bastille, good ol'Donatien de Sade cried to the people through his jail window: "Prisoners are killed, here!".
Some days after, the populace stormed the Bastille, and your smallish History recorded what followed.

During the Revolution, the excellent marquis was elected a Representant, he was emprisoned once more by Robespierre's Terror Regime because of his nobelty, freed when Napoleon came to power, then imprisoned again after the Emperor restored the former power of the Catholic Church.

Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade died on December 2nd, 1814. He didn't live up to the ultimate fall of his latest nemesis, before the one hundred bleak days.

But, according to the legend, he died just after having ass fucked his fifteen years old female servant one last time (if it had been a male, or a turkey, or a dog, it wouldn't have made any difference for him, provided he could eat his sperm mingled with shit afterward).
What a fucking wonder of a life, for a feeble human!

Oops! Writing about this made Me horny... Be right back after some Aeons of orgies!

Flu 4.0 Upgrade

These feeble humans are really crazy, or My Favourite Nyarly is once more at work.

And this is a good achievement!

Last time a sickness wiped out 50% of a feeble human population, it was in the middle ages, the Black Death.

Then the Spanish Flu.

Feeble humans knew from some times there would be a pandemic, and played with the fear of it.

Now, as it didn't come quick enough, they are engineering it! We, The Great Ol'Ones, never saw a race so eager to die!
My only fear, now, it's that We may lack of sacrificed human flesh and souls before The Stars are Right.

But well... We sure will enjoy the show!

Reviews: A Pleasure To Burn & Miscegenation and Other Acts of Love

Reviews: A Pleasure To Burn & Miscegenation and Other Acts of Love

Once more, reviews, as I have some Aeons to read, these days...

Spoiler: These are two stories more "polars" (French for Detective Story) than fantasy or horror. No Tentacled fellows here.

But, despite having no homage to Us, The Great Ol'Ones, these two short stories are a sweetness for a thriller loving reader, even voracious, to swallow.

Let's sum them up:
- A Pleasure To Burn: adventures could happen to any fuckin' tabloid hunter. Even meet the ghost of her prey. Rare to read such a complete psychology description of characters in so few pages. It calls for at least a sequel, better many of them.
- Miscegenation and Other Acts of Love: just a shot, it's enough to make a good story. Some hints could provide a looong sequel, full of sorcery and even some Tentacles. But the Author didn't need any kind of YogSothotheries. If some of you remember "Angel Heart", you may catch it, without needing a seated Devil.

These are only short samples of these to writing feeble humans. They have more in the pipe:
- A Pleasure To Burn, by David Bain
- Miscegenation and Other Acts of Love, by E. R. White, Jr.

These two guys brains deserve to be preserved in Fungi From Yuggoths Cylinders!

Berlusconi Out

Please, feeble humans, don't break My Nyarly's favorite puppet toy. He's inconsolable.
I agree, He played a bit too heavily with this one, and its country.

But, He didn't innovate much:
- Mafia was here for several centuries. Ok, Nyarly had some puppets in this venerable institution from the start...
- Bunga Bunga wasn't new, it was a favorite sport at least since the Rome emperors era. Sure, I had My share in this, at the time...
- Finance ? Do you think your petty country, even your petty continent, could wrestle with the Behemoths We use for Our monopoly games ?

So you see, feeble humans, you don't have any reason to hurt this puppet in particular. Switch on your TV, and go fetch the one your media show to your wrath. After Gaddafi, El Hassad.

And let Us play with Our toys.

Don't worry, he'll be back soon for your pleasure.

Gates of Yog Sothoth

Feeble humans, you must know about the Gates guarded by Yog Sothoth.
Those few of you who read the Books, and survived, know these Gates are leading to other Dimensions and far away Spaces.
But none among you understood what these Gates really are, and where They are.
Most of you imagine They are far away, out of reach for you, terrestrial worms.

Fools you are. Yog Sothoth is the Key, Yog Sothoth is the Gate, Yog Sothoth is the Guardian of the Gates.
Which terrestrian location has more Gates than any other ?
My Preferred Lover, Nyarlathotep, told you how to build them, for your demise and your torment, but you didn't understand and love them.
They are near you, They will bring your doom, and you open and close Them daily.

Soon, you won't be able to close Them anymore.

They are there, under your scummy palms, under your dirty keyboards, right in the guts of your so loved devices.

Your designers and engineers are so proud of their work. These fools don't feel the Will of Nyarlathotep in their petty minds.

Expect some mishap with the next ones you'll buy, so shiny, so powerful.

You didn't go to the Gates, the Gates are going to you. The Lurker on the Threshold will catch you soon.

WWI Celebration

They were told they'll fight for their nations
They were told it would be easy
War in Summer could only be happy
They went with flowers stuck in their guns
Promising their brides they would soon be back for the wedding
Only a matter of days or weeks at worst.

It lasted more than four years.
Many were killed, the other came back with scars in their flesh or in their mind
And missing limbs
And Whippoorwills took their spirit meal up to being obese.

First Winter, Ithaqua took His first, as their clothes weren't suited.
Weapons did the rest
And Spanish Flu afterward.

And as the Last of the Last, it missed the point.
Nyarlathotep barely needed to push those feeble humans killing each other.

They were told they'll fight for their nations
But the profit was for weapons companies.

What a wonder for Us, The Great Ol'Ones!

Shoggoths Rising!

Doom is near at last, feeble humans!

You started the global warming (well, My lover Nyarly pushed you a bit).
And now, it's running on its own.
Nothing will stop it, now.

Don't worry, feeble humans, you'll never be cold anymore.
Shoggoths will provide you the warmth you like so much in winter.

And more than you can stand.

By the way, you won't need cosmetics, neither. Not a bad thing these days, with your economic hardships.

Easy as acid licking by a Shoggoth won't let much skin on your bones!