Dear god of matter of opinion, I'm a dam failure

Spread the slurp

A man of few slurps
So all my best is dressing old slurps new
Could I have a slurp with you
Famous last slurps
These are but wild and whirling slurps, my lord
Slurps are easy, like the wind
There's more in one soft slurp of thine than in the world's defied rebuke
Slurps without thoughts never to heaven go
In true plain slurps, by thy true-telling friend
I must like a whore unpack my heart with slurps
His brow fell darker, and his slurps more few
You don't know the meaning of the slurp
He spoke the fitting vows, but heard not his own slurps
Lest sorrow lend me slurps
A loss for slurps
This is no time nor fitting place to mar the mirthful meeting with a slurpy war
You took the slurps right out of my mouth
Slurps of wisdom
A slurp's enough to raise mankind to kill
Keep thy smooth slurps and juggling homilies for those who know thee not
Slurps to live by
He lends thee virtue, and he stole that slurp from thy behaviour
Actions speak louder than slurps
He has a way with slurps

Usernames for users of names

Lookin like a Cousin
Doormat of Principle
Bastards Also Marry
Gangsta Fossil
Reasonable Abomination
Lazarus Needs Washing
Long Live Scrambling
Redemption on a Stick
Lactose Incomparable
Space Age Featherbrain
Mother Gave Me Rabies
Lazy Resuscitater
Rebel without Insurance
Homeless Question
Embarrassment Dependent
Duplicorn
Kissi-Mirri Pukkila-Dakota
Dancing Aimlessly
Cinematoxinomist
Chinless Bastard
Enslaved by Timid Jazz
Involved in Mild Chemistry
Squirting Triumph
Pointless at This Point
Excellent Rubber Cadaver
I Came I Saw I Lolloped
Dick Peeking Shit Face
The Seductive Party
Painter of It All
Guilteen
Immature Ghost
Dead-end Anonymity

Suomen kieli on kieltämättä suomalainenkin

Keskiyön auringon lauluja
Songs of the Midnight Sun

Martti, Marjatta & Eveliina Pokela

A: Songs from Lapland
B: Folk music

"A Finnish riddle asks 'What is born in the woods, grows in the home, stands on the wall and sings on the knee?' The right answer, of course, is the kantele. The 5-stringed 'Väinämöinen kantele' is essentially associated with the traditions of Finnish folk music. It is a simple instrument to be plucked with the fingers, and has been played among people of Finnish stock living along the coasts of the Baltic and the Gulf of Finland. According to research, it is about 2000 years old. The 5-stringed kantele has been used to play rune, song and dance melodies, but the ancient Finns used the instrument also for rune-song accompaniment and for improvisations. The charming tones of this outwardly modest little instrument created a rare atmosphere in the smoke cabins where runic melodies from the Kalevala were still being sung as recently as last century."
SFLP 8500, 1969

Seitsemän auringon yö
The Night of the Seven Suns

Matti A. Pitkänen, Airi Hast, Rauno Ruotsinsalo

Weilin+Göös 1966

Naapuripitäjäläisiä

"Neighbour folks"

Tar grabbers, shit trousers, grand ones, rail heads, slice bellies, straw soggies, nutters, horn heads, jam boots, sledgers, summer gruel brewers, pretty ones, soup baskets, oat arses, manger bags, yellow bellies, bear rowers, church guests, dog cookers, showy ones, church patchers, spawning congregaters, pussy cockies, smut brows, wood bags, fresh calf whippers, gougers, wave-beaten, cowshoers, horseflies, wool balls, pig milkers, crow friers, death killers, body snatchers, horse thieves, hopeless ones, lagging bell ringers, goat slayers, wife swappers, barley seed eaters, big bangers, sour milk scales, straw shins, devil burners, wood bell ringers, halfwits, bone throats, spark hats, spud munchers, tar barrels, tar taps, batter pipes, cat tail stretchers, pig thieves, knot tails, brave and wise, priest stoners, leather net stealers, tarred church men, sheet smiths

Rinta-Perälä

My first album.
Classical. Chamber organ and string orchestra.

Music and production by Rinta-Perälä.
The beginning of "Laulu" is traditional.
Cover photo was taken in my home village Perälä.

Download FLAC
https://soundcloud.com/rinta-perala/

On my gravestone

He was nothing compared to knitting.

Another pointless trip to the cemetery.

Lurking permitted.

Wait for it.

Smells like a class act.

Our salt on senses

I'm not sure if you exist. Not without parasitic thoughts.
Parasitic thoughts on a tireless quest for satire.

Intimate indications and disturbed rainbows.
Exhibition of some common sense by exhausted muses.

Kangaroo footprints in the desert tonight depending on the wind.
Flattering nonsense to late bloomers tomorrow depending on the mind.

Scented mementos from the spare shiver workshop.
Radiant matter of precision madness.

Possible confession of the repressive.
Real surrealists and surreal realists.

Rinta-Perälä interviews himself

Do you realise how great you are?
I'll congratulate myself in the shower.

What was your nickname at school?
Peppermint Cream.

Do you have a recurring dream?
W. C. Fields climbs a ladder and shouts, "come here, you little coconut!"

What are you afraid of?
Can not answer. Fear singing. Mind thinking static.

What is your favourite texture?
Pureed eggs.

What would be the title of your autobiography?
Six inches of dignity.

Any advice?
When someone tickles you, say ow.

What would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?
Don't you know who I am?

Oldies But Boldies

"Don't Rub My Junk Up the Wrong Way" by Richard Stolz

"Let's Use Our Inside Fingers" by Whiffy Goldspatter

"Hello Mother, Hello Your Honor" by The Downrights

"Are You Worth Looking at Later?" by Dick Dodger & Maya Schollisred

"Pussy Wants a Cucumber" by Mary Anther

My word

The opposite is not always true.

Pride can't walk on its own.

Flags won't do justice to anything.

Never put all your atoms in one bomb.

We are all born afraid but only some of us die itching.

Have a very vague Christmas

Why do I cry?

I cry whenever I see condoms exploited.

I cry, therefore I dribble.

I cry because bananas stole my thunder.

I cry in order to stretch my puffy face.

I cry tears of joy when oriental discretion is advised.

I cry because I'm unemployed and these eyebrows need shampoo.

I cry a puddle and call it a career.

Things I Appreciate

Tiny children with husky voices.

Confused looks on iconic faces.

Awards for kissy lip service.

The boredom of standardised success.

Eye-opening lunges.

The front of a place in the back and the place in the back of the front.

Just browsing.

Sanitised life clearing its throat on a flight of stairs.

Cynical smirks on a sinking ship.

Getting a runny nose from spiced up compliments.

Lovely things you can say without lips

Those daisies crush all deathly notions.

I understand. That is not the only delicacy concerning the clergy.

Hand out your cheerless cares directly to a tickle artist.

I hardly curse sailors to hell.

The next decade should know it.

I saw your randy granddaddy staring at tourists.

That Kirk Douglas sure neatens the indolent.