The Cotton Gin refers to the alcohol consumed by those working on cotton farms.

I thought it referred to the card game played by those working on cotton farms.

Wait. No, that's Cotton Gin *Rummy.* My bad.

I firmly believe that the crucifixion is not something you can do to yourself simply because you do not have enough hands.

It is the "simply because" that gets me!

I have the world's crankiest pants today- I had a meltdown over a show I am doing (I work with the director) because he had misunderstood me about something, and now I have crying hangover.

More interesting portraits. (This time: painted.)

Speaking of ass deaths, an article yesterday taught me (via comments) of the following interesting method: Stick a hot poker up someone's ass, but do it inside a funnel-shaped thing to avoid external burns.

Obviously this would not get past a post mortem today, but at the time when it was supposed to happen...crafty. And the butt-funnel was a length of bone.

Of course, I can't remember who this was supposed to have happened to, nor who did it. Just--really hot poker in your arse.

More of the snake-handler who died after being bitten by a snake and refusing medical care: Why I watched a snake-handling pastor die for his faith - The Washington Post

Camera in hand, I watched as the man I’d photographed and gotten to know over the past year writhed, turned pale and slipped away, a victim of his unwavering faith, but also a testament to it. A family member called paramedics when Mack finally allowed it, but it was too late. Mack Wolford drew his final, labored breaths late Sunday night. He was 44.

The scene has been playing over and over in my head since then, and the questions are weighing on me: As a photojournalist, what role did I have in this tragedy, and what is it now, in the aftermath? Was it right for me to remain in the background taking pictures, as I did, and not seek medical attention for the dying pastor, whose beliefs forbade it? Or should I have intervened and called paramedics earlier, which would have undermined Mack’s wishes? Finally, what was I supposed to do with the images I shot?

Wasn't there a gay king centuries ago who was killed by people pouring molten lead or gold into his ass?

This is why we can't have nice things.

I read that article, and it claimed more than one ancient despot was killed by molten gold poured into the mouth.

what a waste of gold.

Right?