A twisted rider apes a classic Napoleonic pose, mounted upon the fleshy back of a unicorn, its head that of a narwhal. Such things exist in the mind of Mat Brown, an artist whose images are nearly beyond description; sprawling landscapes, lush with alien vegetation and inhabited by hideous figures. It is a fascinating, but horrific collection of sensual grotesqueries.
Be careful as the gallery is, most assuredly, not safe for work.
Lifting the mask was about the worst thing we could have done, under the circumstances.
He shone. I mean, he was somehow confected…caramelian…slick, sticky, and powdery, with golden sugar dusting his lashes that shook loose into motes as he fluttered awake, fluttered and fixed us with a liquid look.
And we looked back, which was perhaps our second mistake. That shell-chocolate masklet, perched on heated brow, began to wilt, and so, for a moment, did our determination. But we remembered our hunger, and drew strength from it as we chose our knives, and the boy began to struggle.
I cannot even begin to tell you just how difficult being a rancher is at times. Used to be you could stake your claim to a parcel of land, put up some barb wire fence, and let your neonates out to graze. If one of them broke loose, it was simply a matter of leaving out some formula baited traps and waiting. With the explosion in demand for infant meat though, more and more people got in on the baby game and the threat of rustling has become a very real problem.
Thanks to modern science, however, baby barons now have a weapon to fight these thieves. This simple, hand held device uses ultraviolet light to brand your babies, making them easily identifiable. Now you can rest easy knowing that, should some dastardly thief abscond with some of your prized, free-range babies, you — and the sheriff — will have the ability to quickly identify them which means more hangings and, hopefully, less baby rustling. Yes indeed, it’s Science and frontier justice working hand in hand.
So the next time your family sits down to a nice, baby dinner raise a glass to Science; branding our babies today, for a tasty, more secure tomorrow.
Barnaby Whitfield’s work is akin to taking a tour of hell as illustrated by a seven year-old girl with a severe case of coulrophobia. It is a credit to his abilities that he manages to so perfectly juxtapose the hideous and macabre with the hilariously absurd. Certainly when one first espies the portrait of an Oompa-Loompa, gazing lecherously at the viewer, or a lipstick smeared maiden riding a purple Pegasus, one realizes that they are in for a special kind of perverse magic, however it is only a taste of the bizarre scenery that lays ahead. Beware: may not be safe for work.
A true classic in every sense of the word, “Lotion” by The Greenskeepers is your typical “boy meets (kidnaps) girl (in order to wear her skin as a girl-suit.)” story. Catchy to the point of inducing insanity, it is a shame that the rest of the album could not live up to such high standards.
Thanks to Jhayne for jogging my memory of this one!
This is what I had in mind upon reading A Modest Proposal. My underdeveloped sense of irony and total ignorance of satire led me to the conclusion that Ireland’s fast food establishments must contain such odd menu items. I can only imagine how this would taste, washed down with a frosty Soylent Cola. Also, I realize that I have now written two posts relating to the consumption of children. This disturbs me just as much as it disturbs you.
Our first Cthulhu shipment went out last Friday and was gratefully received by the young squidlings of Jim and Karen Beesley. Despite the fact that Erin was taking a bath and Sam was douching out his gaping eye socket, they immediately fell into a thrashing frenzy of R’lyehian glossalia in front of their make shift Eldritch Shrine at the dining room table. Jim and Karen write:
The Cthulhus (Cthulhii ?!?) have arrived and they appear to have settled in - they immediately set up a Tupilak and created a candle light shrine in the Dining Room … although we’re a bit concerned about the implications of the Old Bay seasoning, and Sam seems to have fallen under their influence (note how his glowing eyes match the lesser Cthulhu eyes!)
The kids love them - and are reassured by the fact that they are to be eaten last (they have dropped a few pointed hints that we may be moved up the list if we don’t shape up).
Sam and Erin are considering selling indulgences for college tuition (Franchise opportunities are still available, but act fast). Maybe we can set up a banner ad on the site if things take off (and we don’t get eaten first).
As much as we loathe small children, Eliza and I are currently looking into adopting Sam and Erin as our own. True, they already have parents, but if that insinuating box of seasoning is anything to go by, they could invite us over and we could settle the issue of their parentage over a fine meal of Jim and Karen calamari.
Remember, you too can win a Cthulhu! You’ve got one more day to enter our Cthulhu/Ectomeme Contest. Chances are you can’t be as cool as Sam and Erin, but you can impotently try.
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.
