Halloween in the Big Easy

YO, word up! My name be Sniff Doggy Do

And I gots some real scary rap for you.

Be Halloween, all my ghouls and witches

There be haints, and a whole lotta blood and stitches





Back up now, you gotta give me some room

Gonna do a little dancing right here on my tomb

Watch me now carefully because here I go

Learned this number from Marie Levaux





Let’s take this party to Rampart and Dumaine

Goin’ to the French Quarter so don’t complain

I’m gonna dance all night, on the street in ths here fog

I’m Sniff Doggy Do and meaner than a junkyard dog.









Tim D. Culey

October 21, 2012

Ghost in Car Commercial

This one is really wild, but make sure you read the info below before you view the video and turn up the volume if you can. This is a car advertisement from Great Britain. When they finished filming the ad, the film editor noticed something moving along the side of the car, like a ghostly white mist. They found out that a person had been killed a year earlier in that exact same spot. The ad was never put on TV because of the unexplained ghostly phenomenon. Watch the front end of the car closely as it clears the trees in the middle of the screen and you'll see the white mist crossing in front of the car then following it along the road....Spooky! Is it a ghost, or is it simply mist? You decide. If you listen to the ad, you'll even hear the cameraman whispering in the background about it near the end of the commercial. A little creepy but it seems to be authentic!

Role Reversal

In this video the guy in the red flannel shirt plays a sterotypical Conservative, which is the compete opposite of his real life position. Similary, the other guy is normally Super-Conservative, but plays the part of the stereotypical Liberal.

Amazing how much parody reflects reality.

A Ballad: The Lake of the Dismal Swamp

Thomas Moore 1779–1852 

Written at Norfolk, in Virginia

 

A Ballad: The Lake of the

“They made her a grave, too cold and damp

For a soul so warm and true;

And she’s gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp,

Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp,

She paddles her white canoe.

 

“And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see,

And her paddle I soon shall hear;

Long and loving our life shall be,

And I’ll hide the maid in a cypress tree,

When the footstep of death is near.”

 

Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds—

His path was rugged and sore,

Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds,

Through many a fen where the serpent feeds,

And man never trod before.

 

And when on the earth he sunk to sleep,

If slumber his eyelids knew,

He lay where the deadly vine doth weep

Its venomous tear and nightly steep

The flesh with blistering dew!

 

And near him the she-wolf stirr’d the brake,

And the copper-snake breath’d in his ear,

Till he starting cried, from his dream awake,

“Oh! when shall I see the dusky Lake,

And the white canoe of my dear?”

 

He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright

Quick over its surface play’d—

“Welcome,” he said, “my dear one’s light!”

And the dim shore echoed for many a night

The name of the death-cold maid.

 

Till he hollow’d a boat of the birchen bark,

Which carried him off from shore;

Far, far he follow’d the meteor spark,

The wind was high and the clouds were dark,

And the boat return’d no more.

 

But oft, from the Indian hunter’s camp,

This lover and maid so true

Are seen at the hour of midnight damp

To cross the Lake by a fire-fly lamp,

And paddle their white canoe!