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.
Any claims I might make to possessing a natural predisposition to surfing are belied by my pale complexion and, at times, questionable equilibrium. This is probably for the best, as I have celebrated Shark Week long enough to know that those sea-bound carnivores despise the hobby; the wave enthusiasts perturbing them to the point that they oftentimes resort to physical intervention.
There are no sharks in the oceans of photographers Steve Gorrow and Dustin Humphrey. No, in their series for Dopamine — an art installation sponsored by Intrepid51 — the world beneath a surfer’s board is occupied by nude women astride motorcycles, submerged shanty-towns, and strange, Dr. Seuss inspired automobiles; and in contrast to our own, it appears to be a world blissfully unaware of the wave riders skimming the surface above their heads.
Be careful where you click if exposed, female breasts are frowned upon in your workplace.
I have no idea of the title of either of these (hit the jump to see the other), unable as I am to read Japanese, but I was struck by the granularity of them; it’s as if they have been painted with iron filings.
A word of warning: The site has some images of nude female types.
German photographer Mark Steinmetz’s photo-essay on the plastination process invented by Gunther von Hagens’, whose BodiesBody Worlds exhibit tours the world nauseating and fascinating people in equal measure. In the top photo von Hagens examines the corpse of a 77-year-old woman who died of lung cancer. The second shows eighteen slices of plastinated brain being cured under ultraviolet light. The black stains are the massive hemorrhage that killed the donor. The rest of the set, which includes a fantastic photo of von Hagens using a band-saw to slice a cadaver into paper-thin sheets, is equally as fascinating but may be unsafe for the workplace.
Perhaps a realization of George Putnam’s apocryphal fear-mongering, Farm Sluts is a short film by director Collin Friesen and starring Cgris Parnell. Made for Fox Searchlight’s Searchlab project, it chronicles the meteoric downfall of a gentleman who unwisely opens some pornographic spam. One guess as to what’s inside.
A recent press conference held by Gary Kasparov was interrupted when a radio controlled penis flew toward the former Russian Grandmaster in an attempt to merely disrupt the proceedings or, perhaps, sodomize him. The offending member was struck down by a one of Kasparov’s seemingly unamused security detail. As the bodyguard gives the flying dick the rough treatment Kasparov says, “I think we have to be thankful for the opposition’s demonstration of the level of discourse we need to anticipate. Also, apparently most of their arguments are located beneath the belt.” Someone in the audience then shouts, “Finally the political power shows its face!” To which Kasparov quickly replies, “Well, if that’s its face…”
Channel 4’s look into one of modern western culture’s more enduring urban legends, the snuff film. An interesting look a the history of the idea and people’s obsession with it. Only one downside: the presence of Eli Roth.
Before the epic meme of doing crazed things with Garfield strips put Fatal Farm in the upper echelons of internet stardom they had previously worked on a number of reworkings of classic televison intros; none of which were nearly as disturbing as their reworking of DuckTales in which Webbigail “Webby” Vanderquack meets a hottie on myspace. Unfortunately said hottie is, in reality, a Beagle Boy cruising for underage ducks to exploit for child pornography. A harrowing tale with a twist that will stay with you long after the clip has ended; most likely a queasy, empty feeling from having watched your beautiful childhood memories perverted and degraded. On a web-cam. In a basement dungeon.
Babel Fish insists that the tag-line screams “With this in God hand!” while the description — somewhat unsurprisingly — references echoing and mechanical impact. What is known for sure is that this terrifying device is a vibrator meant to be strapped onto one’s hand, or penis as is shown on the product page, and then in theory, used to pleasure another human being. I’m really not sure who is shelling out the money for this or who in their right mind would let someone wielding one of these things anywhere near their genitals; either way it does little to assuage the fear that the device instills in me. Nothing about it says “consensual”, that much is certain.
When life throws you a terrible curse in which you vomit squid, make calamari. Thanks, Michael!
Yeesh, lady, don’t play with your food. Set is NSFW. Thanks, Karenw!
The beautiful Anna Lucylle sent us a photo of her fantastic, Lovecraftian tattoo; as well as photos of it in its various stages. The ModBlog post contains a wonderfully heated, pedantic discussion on the correct pluralization of “octopus” as well.
It was, perhaps, inevitable that Trent Reznor would have a hard time of it after The Downward Spiral, having been almost universally praised as both a commercial and critical success. The Fragile was certainly his most musically mature and complex work but the lyrics, already a favorite target of detractors, were doing his cause no favors. After another meandering journey through substance abuse he presented With Teeth, an album so transparent as an effort to fulfill a contractual obligation while trying to expand an audience that most critics and fans treated it thusly, though certainly there are many who pointed to it as a sign that Reznor had finally lost it, or at least shown himself to be the untalented sample man that they always thought him to be.
The above is a clip from the “film” Faust: Love of the Damned based on the execrable comic book by artist Tim Vigil and writer David Quinn which featured graphic violence and sex. Also, demons. Occasionally, by which I mean often, these were featured in combination, allowing Mr. Vigil to draw severed penises, severed demon penises, and severed demon penises ejaculating onto a nude woman, or nude women depending on if said severed ejaculation took place during one of the numerous orgy scenes, in which he could render bodies in a vast array of different positions seemingly in order to better display his complete lack of knowledge of human anatomy, meaning that most of the attendees had four hundred extra muscles.
In lieu of padding all of his actors with eight extra abdominal muscles, director Brian Yuzna decided to accentuate the more grotesque side of the series’s sexuality. In this scene Mephistopheles, or “M” as he is known, punishes a treacherous harlot by inducing some sort of powerful, gooey super-orgasm which then inflates her breasts and buttocks until she is rendered a sobbing, quivering mass of lactating T and A with a face. Like I said before, just take my word for it and don’t watch it. Certainly not at work, at least.
Harma Heikens’s work combines mutant babies, prepubescent girls, pigs, and Hans Bellmer to create sculptures that elicit admiration for the imagination on display as well as feelings of acute discomfort. Of course, they might also just elicit a cry of “What the fuck!?”
Based on a Taiwanese television show, Ninja The Final Duel consists of ninety minutes of utter nonsense, introduced by the voice of a WWII era newsreel reading such gems as: “Ninja light skill leaps and bounds. Acrobatics designed to bring a deathly swiftness.” and “Ninja rock climbing formation lightning streaks. Nothing stands in their way.” Featuring a woman who performs nude kung-fu, a rhyming, jive talking, African-American gentleman called “The Black Monk”, and, last but not least, the Water Spider Assault Team, which consists of ninjas on spider shaped paddle boats that occasionally leap into the air. The movie cheese factor was later increased by comedian Rudy Ray Moore, of Dolemite fame, re-dubbed the movie and released the result as Shaolin Dolemite.
Behold, the trailer for the blaxploitation classic Dolemite. Rudy Ray Moore stars as the titular Dolemite: pimp, kung-fu master, and all around badass. The trailer’s combination of Moore rhyming like a foul mouthed Dr. Seuss and footage of Dolemite striking an attacker, causing him to jump into the trunk of a car, or surrounded by a bevy of deadly, afroed hos sums up the film perfectly.
(Clip is NSFW not so much for, what can be described as, copious use of the word “muthafucka” but for a single, naked breast. Thankfully, said mammary does not belong to Moore.)
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.
