Oh sure, you can take Xenu into your heart, but can you put him on your toy shelf? Sadly, still no, as this is the only custom Xenu toy that Jin Saotome has done. However, our sources deep within the convoluted Scientology network tell us that once you reach Level 17 you’re awarded a Xenu figurine of your very own.

Jin Saotome’s Super-Cool Custom Superheroes [Wired : Jin Saotome]

For a team-up of epic proportions.

jesus christ - the neverending story [My Confined Space]

Cue ominous music.

The Throne Of The Pope [My Confined Space]

Believing [Dark Roasted Blend]

Meet Max Gogarty, the latest addition to the Guardian’s company of travel bloggers. Don’t let his appearance fool you. Beneath those £400 sunglasses, that meticulously tossed coiffureage and the carefully cultivated stubble perforating his lilly-white androgyne throat throbs the lion’s pulse of an adventurer. The most obvious allusion is to a swarthy Richard Burton, carving away his foreskin with a dirty flint in a cave just outside of Mecca before bravely entering the holy city where white men feared to tread. But more so! This is the face and soul of the adventurer, the hero, the titan.

But like most titans, Max has already found himself the target of a swarm of small, envious Lilliputians. After a few short hours of his introductory post going live, Max has received over 500 outraged comments from the Guardian’s readers: a cacophonous roar of shrill, petty voices from which only the words “twat”, “git” and “wanker” can clearly be discerned. His lithe, twink-like muscles are restrained by the flossy ropes of jealousy. It irritates the gossamer lanugo of his alabaster skin. This incessant biting, of the lesser, lice-like humanoids, sucks the radiance from this Herculean man-of-action.

But what’s the rumpus? Who is this homoerotic love child of Achilles and Adonis? Who is this avatar of colonialist adventure, hearkening back to an age of heroes? Who is Max Gogarty?

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At any moment your computer, the very same computer you are using at this very moment to read this very post, could maliciously and without concern for your well-being, serve up a hot dish of steaming, filthy, malignant pornography. Will you be prepared to do what needs to be done? Will you have the strong moral fiber and grim determination to return said hot dish with a side order of cold, violent tech death? Steel yourself, friends, and make yourselves ready, for porn strikes when you least expect it.

What will you do the next time porn strikes? [GodTube]

Hannah, a librarian, has no respect for religion. None. This smug book dominatrix laughed at Reuben and his insipid belief in Noah and the Great Flood, but who’s laughing now? Reuben, that’s who. Reuben and God, because Reuben decides to challenge Hannah to a race, and after doing so, he seems to defecate behind a bookshelf. Then they, along with mute friends Priscilla and Cain, are transformed into a scarf wearing horse, a rhinoceros who wears a beanie and honks like a goose, if said goose was having its testicles squeezed in a vice, a pig in a top hat, and, lastly, a cougar who, of course, dons a pirate hat and an eye-patch. Then the race begins.

They race through water and they race on land. They dodge exploding barrels and exploding balloons. They weave through animal-crushing pillars and hide searing flames. OH, and they fly! They shoot themselves out of cannons and ride missiles! Then, at the end, they have a big disco dance party with Noah while a disco Ark of the Covenant shoots multi-colored lights out onto the dance floor. Why you ask?

Because fuck you, that’s why.

The Zoo Race [Cougar Interactive] : YouTube : Thanks to Timfastic

Knowing people, as I do, with what I can honestly call a Hello Kitty obsession makes the thought of the feline icon as a tattoo within the realm of my accepted, and unfortunate, reality. Said icon transmogrified into a horrific Frankensavior as the aforementioned dermal adornment, complete with a pledge of eternal allegiance, however, is quite a different matter all together.

Hello Kitty Jesus Tattoo [Hello Kitty Hell] : Neatorama

I hate it when this happens:

Police in southern India are hunting for two men who attacked a Hindu holy man, cut off his right leg and then made off with it.

The 80-year-old holy man, Yanadi Kondaiah, claimed to have healing powers in the leg.

He is now recovering from his ordeal in hospital in the city of Tirupati in the state of Andhra Pradesh.

Local people believed they could be healed of spiritual and physical problems if they touched his leg.

But here’s the thousand dollar question: if the police recover the leg and then touch the stump with it, could Godman (as he is apparently known) grow another holy leg? Slap a Web 2.0 website together and that’s a business plan if I ever heard one.

Thieves cut off man’s “holy leg” [BBC]

“Memento mori from a string of prayer beads, with the inscription: ‘AINSI SERONS NOUS WI OU DEMAIN’ (So shall we be, today or tomorrow). South Netherlands, c. 1500-1525.” On one side is the face and on the opposite is the skull, it is part of a large collection of Medieval carved ivories set to go on display at the Courtauld Gallery at Somerset House, London.

MEDIEVAL CARVED IVORIES AT THE COURTAULD GALLERY SOMERSET HOUSE [24 Hour Museum] : Scribal Terror

The city of the future was not always synonymous with shimmering pods set upon stilts: there was a time when architecture looked less to sci-fi to predict tomorrow’s cityscapes and more to the Tower of Babel. This is the look of Gotham: Biblical enormity, architecture that sets up the ideas of mankind — our dreams, our hopes, our designs — as the new gods, so much larger than our flesh that the individual is something smaller and less potent than an insect. A city of holy dread.

On the forefront of this very retro-futuristic city design was Hugh Fenriss, an architectural draftsman who made atmospheric chiaroscuros of the awesome cities he composed in his head. Clearly, his work was a major inspiration to the look of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. Read more about him here or check out this Flickr gallery for over 300 of his designs. We all live, in small part, in his world.

Hugh Fenriss [Flickr] : Quiddity : Feuilleton

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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Ectomo wishes you and yours the very best on this joyous Christmas Day. We hope that while opening your presents you keep in mind the true spirit of the holiday and remember the story of little baby Santa Claus, born to a traveling encyclopedia salesman, Joe, and his wife, Mary, in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania in the pool shed behind the Holiday Inn Express, for the hotel was sold out and yea, it was indeed Joe’s fault for truly he traveled much and should have known better.

But lo, in the morning did three housekeepers, made to work but getting time and a half, bring them gifts of towels and shampoo and soap and let them bathe in the employee bathroom and were, perhaps, slightly aghast and confused as to why Mary decided to give birth in a pool shed instead of going to the hospital but they did not pry for it was, indeed, none of their business and they had rooms to turn down. So rejoice ye Ectomites! Rejoice, for Santa is born, so that one day he may die for your sins and, on the third day and on that day for every year after, rise from the dead delivering gifts while continuing to quell his eternal hunger for brains. Merry Christmas!