Sugar

  • Absurd Suggestive Card Game

    When you need a change of pace from Strip Twister: lemon candies, orange suckers, and strawberry sugar.

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  • Alternative Facts

    The truth hurts — so why tell it? Muffle the blow with Alternative Facts.

    For example:

    FACT: Following White House advisor Kellyanne Conway’s January 22 appearance on “Meet The Press,” sales of George Orwell’s 1984 skyrocketed, making it the fifth-best selling book on Amazon.com.

    ALTERNATIVE FACT: In under a week, President Trump’s administration has already managed to improve literacy, reflecting the public’s renewed interest in privatized education, as well as its rejection of the mainstream media in favor of more “traditional” forms of information-gathering.

    See how easy that is? With the help of Alternative Facts, even the most unpalatable among us can preside over a gallery of glittering, candy-coated delusions — one in which reality itself conforms to our beliefs, sincerely-held or otherwise.

    ALTERNATIVE FACTS: If you truly want to obfuscate what you really smell like, this is the scent for you! Sugar-crusted vanilla, a firecracker-blast of cherry and sour lemon, a hint of scuttling spiders, encroaching fog, and trumpets of bombast, bluff, and bluster.

    Like its companion scent Fake News, proceeds from Alternative Facts will benefit the ACLU.

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  • Blackcurrant Glogg

    A sweet, dark ember of winter pleasure: port wine, brandy, and bourbon simmered with white sugar, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, orange peel, and wild blackcurrant.

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  • Body, Remember

    Body, remember not only how much you were loved,
    not only the beds on which you lay,
    but also those desires for you
    that glowed plainly in the eyes,
    and trembled in the voice–and some
    chance obstacle made futile.
    Now that all of them belong to the past,
    it almost seems as if you had yielded
    to those desires–how they glowed,
    remember, in the eyes gazing at you;
    how they trembled in the voice, for you, remember, body.
    —Constantine Cavafy translated by Rae Dalven

    Profoundly sensual. The echo of caresses: raw black coconut, ambergris accord, ambrette seed, champaca flower, and sugar cane.

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  • Bread-and-Butterfly – Resurrected

    `Crawling at your feet,' said the Gnat (Alice drew her feet back in some alarm), `you may observe a Bread-and-Butterfly. Its wings are thin slices of Bread-and-butter, its body is a crust, and its head is a lump of sugar.'

    `And what does IT live on?'

    `Weak tea with cream in it.'

    Bread, lightly buttered, with weak tea, cream, and a lump of white sugar.

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  • Edible G-String

    Snap! Snap! Sugar crystals and tart candies with a splash of red musk.

    (DO NOT EAT)

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  • Egg Nog

    Sweet brandy, dark rum, heavy cream, sugar, and a dash of nutmeg.

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  • Elegba

    The Spirit of the Divine Messenger, the Lord of the Crossroads, He Who Owns All Doors and Roads in this World. He is the intermediary between the Orishas and mankind, and stands at the intersection of humanity and the Divine. He opens all paths of communication, both mundane and Heavenly.

    His ofrenda contains coconut, tobacco and sweet, sugared rum.

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  • Fate’s Jester

    Speaking truth to kings, beggars, and popes alike, immune to retribution and lordly wrath as he flings wise quips like cream pies and barbed arrows.

    A motley tunic, festooned in bells: red currant and lemon peel over sugared patchouli and a bit of buttercream.

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  • High-Strung Daisies

    `It says “Bough-wough!” cried a Daisy: `that’s why its branches are called boughs!’ 

    `Didn’t you know that?’ cried another Daisy, and here they all began shouting together, till the air seemed quite full of little shrill voices. `Silence, every one of you!’ cried the Tiger-lily, waving itself passionately from side to side, and trembling with excitement. `They know I can’t get at them!’ it panted, bending its quivering head towards Alice, `or they wouldn’t dare to do it!’ 

    `Never mind!’ Alice said in a soothing tone, and stooping down to the daisies, who were just beginning again, she whispered, `If you don’t hold your tongues, I’ll pick you!’ 

    There was silence in a moment, and several of the pink daisies turned white. 

    `That’s right!’ said the Tiger-lily. `The daisies are worst of all. When one speaks, they all begin together, and it’s enough to make one wither to hear the way they go on!’

    `How is it you can all talk so nicely?’ Alice said, hoping to get it into a better temper by a compliment. `I’ve been in many gardens before, but none of the flowers could talk.’

    `Put your hand down, and feel the ground,’ said the Tiger-lily. `Then you’ll know why.

    Alice did so. `It’s very hard,’ she said, `but I don’t see what that has to do with it.’

    `In most gardens,’ the Tiger-lily said, `they make the beds too soft — so that the flowers are always asleep.’

    This sounded a very good reason, and Alice was quite pleased to know it. `I never thought of that before!’ she said.

    `It’s my opinion that you never think at all,’ the Rose said in a rather severe tone.

    Daisy, pink carnation, pink pepper, and sugar.

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  • Jiaolong

    Sugared coffee bean, black musk, and sugar cane.

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  • Juke Joint

    A bawdy, gleefully wicked and unruly scent: Kentucky Bourbon, sugar and a sprig of mint.

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  • King Cake

    A sweet brioche cake with a hint of almond, glazed with cream cheese frosting and gleaming with purple, green, and gold sugar.

    Some bottles will be shipped – randomly – with a tiny king cake trinket.

    Illustration: Krewe of Comus, 1869.

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  • L’Heure Verte

    Recoiling, you back away from the dicing. A large tent striped in many shades of green grabs your attention, and you walk towards it. You peer inside the open tent flap and see a room crowded with people in various stages of profound intoxication. Tables are littered with glasses filled with thick, cloudy emerald liquid, and candlelight glints on discarded silver spoons. The scent of spilled absinthe, opium smoke, lilac blossoms, and rose water permeates the stifling air of the tent. As you close the tent flap and turn to leave, you see a scantily clad server bend close to a rugged laborer that is sitting slumped in a sagging chair. A low velvety voice voice asks, “Another drink for you, Monsieur Lanfray?”

    Spilled absinthe, scorched sugar cubes, opium smoke, lilac blossoms, and rose water.

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  • Lambs-Wool

    According to William Shepard Walsh, the Gentleman’s Magazine for May of 1784 stated, “this is a constant ingredient at merrymaking on Holy Eve.” He also quotes Vallancey’s etymological speculation: “The first day of November was dedicated to the angel presiding over fruits, seeds, etc., and was therefore named La Mas Ubhal, — that is, the day of the apple fruit, — and being pronounced Lamasool, the English have corrupted the name to Lambs-wool.”

    A popular holy day beverage in 18th century Ireland: roasted apples mashed into warmed milk and ale, with nutmeg, sugar, ginger, and clove.

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  • Lemon-Scented Sticky Bat

    …last week Maddy woke me up early in the morning.

    “Daddy,” she said, “There’s a bat on the kitchen window.”

    “Grumphle,” I said and went back to sleep.

    Soon, she woke me up again. “I did a drawing of the bat on the kitchen window,” she said, and showed me her drawing. For a five year old she’s a very good artist. It was a schematic of the kitchen windows, showing a bat on one of the windows.

    “Very nice dear,” I said. Then I went back to sleep.

    When I went downstairs…

    We have, instead of dangling fly papers, transparent strips of gluey clear plastic, about six inches long and an inch high, stuck to the windows on the ground floor. When they accumulate enough flies, you peel them off the window and throw them away.

    There was a bat stuck to one. He was facing out into the room. “I think he’s dead,” said my assistant Lorraine.

    I peeled the plastic off the window. The bat hissed at me.

    “Nope,” I said. “He’s fine. Just stuck.”

    The question then became, how does one get a bat (skin and fur) off a fly-strip. Luckily, I bethought me of the Bram Stoker award. After the door had fallen off (see earler in this topic) I had bought some citrus solvent to take the old glue to reglue the door on.

    So I dripped citrus solvent onto the grumpy bat, edging him off the plastic with a twig, until a lemon-scented sticky bat crawled onto a newspaper. Which I put on the top of a high woodpile, and watched the bat crawl into the logs. With any luck he was as right as rain the following night…

    Sticky-sweet iced lemon sugar!

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  • Midnight on the Midway

    Lightning splits the sky, illuminating the skeletal skyline of the carnival rides: sugared incense, flickering blue musk, and night-blooming flowers.

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  • Nibble Nibble Gnaw

    Looking down, you see a scattering of breadcrumbs strewn on the packed soil and straw at your feet. A waft of candied apple and pancakes embraces you, as you follow the crumbs on the path. The scent intensifies: sugared nuts, crushed candies, hot gusts of chocolate, and you find yourself standing before a small booth constructed of cakes, pastries, sweet breads, and a cascade of candy tiles. Shards of clear sugar glint in the ambient firelight of the Midway, and an old woman emerges from the shadows within. She extends a gnarled hand to you and rasps, “Oh, you dear, what has brought you here? You look like skin and bones; a strong gust of wind would spirit you into the air. Do come in, and visit with me. No harm shall happen to you.”

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  • Perchta 2018

    Perchta, the Shining One, is the Lady of the Beasts, an incarnation of the goddess Holda. She, too, leads the Wild Hunt, and is the protectress of wild animals, and appears to mortals as either a white-clad, white-skinned, white-haired beauty, or as a brutish, bestial hag. She is called Berhte Mit Dem Fuoze; one of her feet is shaped like a beast’s, which gives away her superhuman nature no matter how she is disguised. She is also called Perchta the Belly-Slitter, for, at Yuletide, she castigates the wicked, slovenly, and idle, and rewards those that are generous, good-natured, and kind. The Belly-Slitter enforced community taboos, punishing those that spun during holy days and those who failed to partake in sacred feasts, thus jeopardizing the next year’s harvest. Her punishments can be a bit over-the-top, though: they include disemboweling the transgressor and filling the empty cavity with refuse.

    Her scent is a blend of wild musk, snow, and alpine flora: Nigritella lithopolitanica, balsam fir, aconite, crocus, touch-me-not, edelweiss, iced sugar crystals, Iris variegate, and violet.

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  • Pink Fuzzy Handcuffs

    It’s not quite as fun when you lose the key. Pink cotton candy, candied rose, and vanilla sugar.

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  • Pure Applesauce

    King vs Burwell

    The Court claims that the Act must equate federal and state establishment of Exchanges when it defines a qualified individual as someone who (among other things) lives in the “State that established the Exchange,” 42 U. S. C. §18032(f )(1)(A). Otherwise, the Court says, there would be no qualified individuals on federal Exchanges, contradicting (for example) the provision requiring every Exchange to takethe “ ‘interests of qualified individuals’ ” into accountwhen selecting health plans. Ante, at 11 (quoting §18031(e)(1)(b)). Pure applesauce.

    Our applesauce is decidedly impure: mashed apples with sugar and honey, slivered with tobacco tar and black tea.

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  • Roof Goblins

    This cabin has roof goblins, and they’re going to steal your apples and milk.

    Honeycrisp apples and sugared milk.

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  • Schrodinger’s Cat

    One can even set up quite ridiculous cases. A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following diabolical device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small that perhaps in the course of one hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none; if it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer which shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The Psi function for the entire system would express this by having in it the living and the dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts. It is typical of these cases that an indeterminacy originally restricted to the atomic domain becomes transformed into macroscopic indeterminacy, which can then be resolved by direct observation. That prevents us from so naively accepting as valid a “blurred model” for representing reality. In itself it would not embody anything unclear or contradictory. There is a difference between a shaky or out-of-focus photograph and a snapshot of clouds and fog banks.

    A paradoxical scent experiment! – tangerine, sugared lime, pink grapefruit, oakmoss, lavender, zdravetz, and chocolate peppermint.

    No cats were mistreated during the formulation of this paradox, or in the process of creating this perfume.

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  • Smut

    We are the smuttiest, fifteen years runnin’. Three swarthy, smutty musks sweetened with sugar and woozy with dark booze notes.

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  • Snake’s Kiss

    And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
    But even so, honoured still more
    That he should seek my hospitality
    From out the dark door of the secret earth.



    Snake Oil with sugar, honeycomb, and thick vanilla cream.

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  • Sweets to the Sweet

    One sight did catch her attention however. Scrawled on the paving stones she was walking over—and all but erased by rain and the passage of feet—the same phrase she'd seen in the bedroom of number 14: “Sweets to the sweet.” The words were so benign; why did she seem to sense menace in them? Was it in their excess, perhaps, in the sheer overabundance of sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey?

    Sugar upon sugar, honey upon honey: white cane sugar and honey absolute.

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  • The Best Lies

    “Such a pity,” Zorya Vechernyaya told Shadow. “In my fortune for you, I should have said you would have a long life and a happy one, with many children.”

    “That is why you are a good fortune-teller,” said Zorya Utrennyaya. She looked sleepy, as if it were an effort for her to be up so late. “You tell the best lies.”

    The melodious sweetness of false fortunes: sugar-swept honey and rose.

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  • The Dream is Big Enough for Everyone

    We believe that the American dream is big enough for everyone, for people of all races and religions, for men and women, for immigrants, for LGBT people and for people with disabilities. For everyone.

    Lilith at the Women’s March DTLA, 2018.

    Nasty Woman? Nah, Nasty Tween: honeyed fig and sugar-dusted patchouli, sweet amber oud, a drop of red currant, and vanilla cream.

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  • Zarita, The Doll Girl

    A tiny woman stands in the center of the stage, the perfect woman in miniature, her copper hair bouncing in elegant curls. She is surrounded on all sides by a necropolis of maimed, mutilated stuffed animals, decapitated fashion dolls, and eviscerated wooden figures. It is a strangely ghastly tableau: the disemboweled toys ooze fiberfill, batting, and sawdust from their gaping wounds. In one dainty hand she clutches a shard of glass, and in the other she nimbly twirls a razor blade. Her face is twisted in a grimace of mad ferocity, and she hisses as she brandishes her makeshift weapons at you. “Play with me?” she growls.

    Soft, yet sociopathic: white carnation, iris, orange blossom, poisonous pale white berries, and sugared cream.

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