Stress can take it’s toll on you, although granted, it varies from person to person. Take this gentleman for instance who went from happy and fresh-faced to weary and wizened in a span of in three years, if these photos are to be believed. The price paid for the life of a news anchor is, it seems, high indeed.
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.
“She’s tough. She’s dangerous. She’s all woman. She’s Leroy’s mama; and as long as she’s alive the Surf Nazis Must Die!”
The trailer for this 80s-era Troma production doesn’t really explain who Leroy is but his mama is on a mission; a mission to take down members of the Surf Nazis whose leaders have historical, Nazi names like Adolf, Mengele, and Hook. I would be lying if I said that the most realistic post-apocalyptic scenario was one in which Nazis took over California’s beaches and waged war on gangs of Asian stereotypes and blond-haired preppies in DayGlo Jams, however, this trailer seems to paint a fairly believable picture of just such a future. I can’t help but feel that I should prepare in some way, perhaps by attaching blades to the edges of my long-board.
A clip from the 1930 film The Dogway Melody which was a twenty minute spoof of The Broadway Melody in which all the parts were played by dogs. In this scene an ebony, four-legged gentleman bestows a few glittering rocks on young Queenie. However, when she refuses to put out he’s left with only one choice: groping of the non-consensual variety. Lucky for Queenie though, there is a telepathic drunk in the next room ready to dash to her rescue.
I admit to being properly confused by this image for Don’t Cry Brand sweet potatoes. What is going on here? Is it the story of one man losing a game of dice to a sugary tuber, or maybe the other way around? Is the gentleman rolling dice in order to procure said tuber? Are they comparing the consumption of sweet potatoes to illicit gambling? If anyone can definitively explain the imagery here please, leave a comment. Any illumination would be most appreciated.
This clip has all the trademarks of a sequence that, even if it were to be viewed in its proper context, would still make absolutely no sense. Inexplicable bikini-clad girl dancing by the side of the road? Check. Ninja, complete with katana and badly animated leaping effects? Check. Person in a bear suit with a shotgun? Check.
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.
The hits just keep on comin’ folks. This time our diminutive dancer has some real star power behind her, bumping and grinding along to the Amy Winehouse hit, Rehab and her friend in the mask has an expanded speaking groaning role.
If you suffer from paruresis or coulrophobia this clip may be your worst nightmare. Nothing is more likely to paralyze one’s bladder than the leering, demonic, clown visage shown here except for, perhaps, being filmed while trying to urinate on what is essentially a kiddie ride.
I still remember coming downstairs for school in the morning as a boy, hungry for Apple Jacks, and to discover that my parents had slopped a ladleful of Cream of Wheat into my breakfast bowl instead. “Great,” I’d say, choking back my prolapsing gastric tract and fixing my parents with a hateful glare. “Semen.” And that’s when the beatings would start.
Apparently, I’m not the only person who has equated the texture of Cream of Wheat with lumpy, grainy ejaculate over the years. In fact, apparently, there was a fetish for Cream of Wheat going as far back as the early 80’s, as used-up, bouffant-ed porn stars eagerly fellated prancing coke heads dressed in cardboard Cream of Wheat boxes.
This is work safe: it was also my worst nightmare when I was ten. Stay until the end, for the violent jactitations of a man dressed only in a pair of sunglasses and a foam-rubber costume resembling a piece of toast. Cocaine is a hell of a drug.
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.