Brothel Offers Free Sex to Returning Troops

Here's the subtle-but-sordid part:

The first 50 servicemen and women through the door will receive a sexy knockoff of their military-issued "TA-50" kits of personal hygiene items. Instead of toothbrushes and soap, Hof's kits contain condoms, lubricant, an adult magazine and a certificate for free sex. (Emphasis added.)

And the jewel in in the crown:

Thirteen men and three women in uniform have shown up so far to claim their gifts.

Cue the '70s porno soundtrack! Three uniformed women, yeah baby! Don't ask, don't tell!

A number of the books on my favorites list (to the right) are graphic novels. Generally, they're collections of storylines that ran as serial issues in a regular (monthly or bi-monthly) title. Most were recommended by friends, though I managed to stumble across "The Invisibles" on my own.

The graphic novel is a curious beast. When I bought comics on a more frequent basis in high school and college, the format was still very experimental in a lot of ways– there were a few original ideas, and a few collections (in those days the collections were of limited series such as "The Watchmen" and "Batman: the Dark Knight Returns"). Alan Moore's "The Killing Joke" was very much a ground-breaking title; it was a completely new story, not a collected serial. It won pretty much every award it was eligible for, and went into at least 5 printings (the copy I have is from the 5^th printing). My last year of college (well, the summer between my junior and senior years) I was even able to take a philosophy course titled, "Philosophy and the Modern Graphic Novel" that looked at how some of the themes explored in these heavy-paper comic books could be traced back to the core philosophical questions. To me, it was a relatively easy "A" for a summer spent (re-)reading a lot of Alan Moore.

Now, when I go to any of the local shops I buy from, I barely look at loose issues anymore. If it's a good title, I can count on it being collected at some point. I may have to wait an extra year or two, but one book is easier to keep track of and store on my shelves than six. Seven half-inch volumes span the full collection of "The Invisibles". I'm getting into Garth Ennis' "Preacher" title these days, and it's infinitely easier when you can get the story in these pre-sized chunks. Enough story to make a really good, gripping evening's read. Enough to leave you ready for more (I'm through the first three volumes, and I'm anxious for my next trip to the store).

Some reviews and recommendations to come. Soonish. In the mean time, if it's Alan Moore, Frank Miller or Garth Ennis, it's probably safe to buy. Neil Gaiman or Warren Ellis, you should already have it anyway. And Kyle Baker. And Judd Winick's comedy material (the Barry Ween and Frumpy the Clown volumes). But I'll get to some specifics later.

As I turned the key in the lock of my apartment this evening, two very different vehicles happened to converge on the street behind me. They passed each other, probably oblivious to the strange juxtaposition they had just created.

Vehicle #1 was an ordinary car, driven by an ordinary person, probably a teen. Blasting from the speakers of his sound system was some fairly hard-core rap. (I'm more of a goth/industrial fan with a taste for classical, so I won't pretend to know what it was.) Not overly-loud, about the volume you'd expect from a neighborhood kid in the mid-evening.

Vehicle #2 was the local ice-cream truck, noodling along at a slower pace and trying to lure kids out into the still-somewhat-hot evening. To attract their attention, he was playing that timeless classic, "Turkey in the Straw."

And as it would happen, the tempo and beats of the two sound streams matched up perfectly, creating what may best be described as "Gangsta in tha Straw (Neighborhood Street 2003 Mix)".