Gentlemen, I am outraged.

Your gross negligence in assuming I am ashamed of any of my musical predilections is noted, and will be revenged. There is absolutely no reason to assume, self-righteous pricks that you are, that the carmine creeping up my collar is anything other than stoic pride, a touch of the ol’ toxoplasma gondii, and perhaps a brief spike in my everyday, baseline feelings of discomfort.

Listen you, I was enjoying the Ruski pop nymphets way back, before any hoity-toity English remixes got loose, much less actual American album releases. This shit was edgy and inaccessible. Hell, it still is! I would get home from my live-action Vampire the Masquerade roleplaying session at the local college campus (back when I was a ginger-curled nymphet myself), maybe boot up a game of Fallout 2, invite my BFF Steve over, and we’d watch these videos, on repeat, in silent awe. Why, I thought to myself, did I not have a dark pixie of a partner, an eternal semi-succubus, someone to cling to during the long nights of crippling self-doubt, someone to share my pants and lipgloss, someone to hold my hair while I purged, someone with whom to ghost ride the whip? I mean, someone besides Steve?

Now, emerald-haired, naked in a wooden trunk, chugging Red Bull and typing on a keyboard for which I cannot see the screen, I ask myself: if I had found her, this dark unicorn, would things have turned out better?

But then I think: how could they?

Let me lay this on you, Jim: Sometimes you surf the tubes, looking for strange diversions with which to entertain your readers. Sometimes you find something a little too strange. Maybe it’s a nude man. Maybe this nude man is wearing a number of different, inventive thongs. The aforementioned, mostly nude, thong wearing man may, perhaps, also be wearing a horse mask and maybe, just maybe, he’s dancing while he gathers, sautés, and consumes wild mushrooms. Make no mistake friend, when that time comes, you better be prepared.

Slightly NSFW.

Dancing man wearing a horse mask cooks wild mushrooms. [YouTube] : poeTV

Because nothing says fun like applying some of your sisters’s makeup and going out for a game of rugby with the fellows.

A Game for boys…a Game for men… [Rugby-Pioneers] : The Cartoonist

There are a few things to note about this clip. It appears to be some sort of performance art in which six gentleman, painted with a powdery substance lie naked and face down while Handel’s “Messiah” plays over some loud speakers. There is also a strobe type lamp projecting colored light over the men. The whole thing takes place in a sort of parking garage, and there are at least three bystanders. Oh yes, each man also has what appears to be a feather duster inserted into their anus, which, through what I must assume can be rightfully described as “precision sphincter control”, they are wagging.

The title of the clip “??????” seems to roughly, and humorously, translate from traditional Chinese to “Anus door bolt chicken feather” although Babel Fish’s translation from simplified Chinese produces the far more interesting “The anus inserts Mao?”

?????? [YouTube] : Nothing To Do With Arbroath

Some people love Jesus and some people, perhaps, wish to make love to Jesus. These people usually listen to Christian rock or form a Christian rock band. However, if you find that neither of these options appeal to you or that you lack the musical “talent”, there is the Inflatable, Love-Making Jesus. Features include a “Sopping Wet, Hungry Mouth” and an “Oversized Male Clitoris”, lest the word “penis” make you feel in the slightest bit like a homosexual as you sodomize your savior. For an extra two dollars you can upgrade the son of God with natural hair. Get one today or give one as a gift! The very real, very NSFW picture for this very fake product can be seen in all its glory after the jump.
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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.

Barnaby Whitfield [Artist’s Site] : Phantasmaphile : traveling with the ghost

Imagine you’re Sean Connery. You’ve made your mark playing James Bond. Someone approaches you about starring in a film where you will chase a giant stone head while wearing an outfit comprised of an orange diaper held up with orange suspenders, go-go boots, and a ponytail that reaches down to the middle of your back. What do you do?

Zardoz [Wikipedia]

A gaggle of buff, half-naked He-Men, humping the moon while drinking beer and fondling one another. The subtext eludes me.

Paper Moon covered with handsome shirtless men, some of them holding beer tankards [Flickr] : Hugo Strikes Back!