The Telegraph has a series of Digg/filler articles up, listing “The 100 ugliest cars of all time” — currently they have reached number twenty. The veracity of such a list is not something which I care to discuss, the subjective nature of such an endeavor making criticism moot. Surely, there are some truly hideous cars on this list, but there are also automobiles contained within that do not strike me as “ugly” per se.
The one vehicle that really stood out, however, was the Mohs Ostentatienne Opera sedan, a car who wore its luxurious absurdity on its sleeve. Powered by a truck engine, the car could only be entered from a large, rear hatch as the long, steel bars that ran the length of the car prevented the use of side doors, and the tires were filled with nitrogen. The name of the car refers to the extras one could request for the interior, including gold inlaid instrument panels, Ming style oriental rugs, and refrigerators.
Yet, while the Ostentatienne is nice, it pales in comparison to the Mohs SafariKar, perhaps the closest a car manufacturer has come to producing a real life Transformer.
Now here is a simple, classic looking beverage container. 15 ounce stoneware cups, with an octopus silhouette in bas-relief. A worthwhile addition to any cephalopod-centric dining experience.
A Bridgestone advertisement, chronicling a dog’s attempt to end his own life after witnessing his bitch’s infidelity, leads to an Ectomite brainstorming session, not regarding the sale of rubber radials, but intead selling the act itself:
I can see it now, The scene opens on a suburban housewife in a black and white kitchen, frantically chopping away at ( and missing) a tomato. The baritone male voice over begins over the scene. “Every day tasks are such a bother. Why not just kill yourself?” The woman turns to the camera, smiles, and then turns the knife quickly on herself.
A Thai ad from all the way back in 2005 — ancient by internet standards — for Bridgestone tires. Giving too much away might ruin it for those who have not seen it but I will say this, he deserved better than her. That poodle was a slut.
A young lady models the work of one of the sixty artists who attended the fifth International Bodypainting Festival in Mainz, Germany. I really like how they have the extra arms connected with wires so that she can make them move. The effect in motion must have been surreal.
Last week, while the rest of the staff suffered under the harsh, pungent glare of The Gauger’s awakening, I was continuing my annual tour of New England, a beautiful land from which I can flee in less than a day’s time when, invariably, the sun and other humans wear my sanity down to a raw nub. This year I was in the lilliputian state of Vermont, which plays host to rolling hills, rolling hills with cows, and W.A.S.P.s, who, if they roll, did so out of sight.
While traipsing though the cow-laden countryside, we came into the town of Barre which can claim one of the Northeast’s more elaborate cemeteries. Here immigrant stonemasons from Italy and Spain settled, working their magic upon the granite from the surrounding hills. It was here, after having soaked in the majesty of a solid granite stock car and having been admonished for forgetting the face of Jesus by a couple of verbose pyramids, that I noticed the first stony visage, bearing that most glorious of facial adornments.
So it began. Our excitement at having espied our first moustache barely contained, we stood, scanning the horizon. She noticed one and immediately set off for it. In this manner it continued, we facial hair connoisseurs, gazing determinedly into the distance before one or the other gesturing at a specific point, letting loose an exuberant cry of “MOUSTACHE!”, before gleefully bounding off, past the massive stone phalli rising majestically into the air, to capture its image.
Not the most appropriate behavior for such a place, perhaps, but we did not care, for with nothing but the stoic faces of long dead gentleman to censure us, and our jubilant cries swallowed up by the drone of the caretakers’s lawnmowers, I have no doubt that we did little to disrupt that place, leaving it no less reserved than when we came upon it.
Oktapodi: The tenacity of an amorous octopus is a terrifying thing to witness. While divorce rates soar the Octopi remain constant companions.
The Bugfather: An advertising spot for Top End Pest Control by The Peoples Republic of Animation. If commercials were this entertaining in the states I wouldn’t be using my TV as a beehive.
NatGeo: A series of spots produced for National Geographic intended to teach children the finer points of ecological awareness. Fun Fact: Banana peels actually do make that noise when you hurl them at animals. My bathtub, however, is the only one that actually speaks … and only to me.
Big Buck Bunny: This CC licensed animation follows in the footsteps of Ratatouille as a paving stone on the path down into the depths of the uncanny valley.
Elephants Dream: Originally I wasn’t going to include this as it doesn’t quite fit the theme. However, it’s so beautiful and has so many images seemingly ripped from my own monstrous nocturnal imaginings that I couldn’t help but to share it with you all.
Apparently this latest plastic creation from Italian designer Plust is a modern take on the garden gnome. Which I probably wouldn’t have guessed had they ruined my dreams of Lovecraftian lawn adornments and squid-like kitsch. But this, my friends, is gnome in name only, especially when it comes to the sickly green shade in which these glow-in-the-dark dwarves come. Perhaps with a bit of chthonic elbow grease these pint-sized Godlings will be just the thing we need to spruce up the dirt and dead animals that currently constitutes the Ectomo HQ garden.
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
