Plumbed from the depths of Something Awful comes one goon’s justification for rape; a heady mixture of pseudo-philosophical posturing with healthy doses of nerd-rage and unfulfilled sado-fetishistic fantasies. Surely, however, this would be nothing but another shut-in’s rant on the internet without the aid of the two Playmobil-inspired individuals. It is most certainly their vacant eyes, the inexplicable nudity of the male character, the silent, smiling demeanor of his lady friend that make Stephen Hawking’s monotonous exposition that much more unsettling. Don’t even ask why they’re on a tennis court. Just. Don’t.
This is one of those clips that any comment from yours truly would ruin. Let it be said that patience is a virtue and by the time the video concludes, you’ll know why this has appeared in our pages.
There seems to be some dispute amongst the animals of the woods as to whether or not Mr. Ando is a penguin as he claims or is, in actuality, a human. There is no disputing that all of the aforementioned animals have the same, human face or that a fish sings a song about loving Mr. Ando and wishing to sleep with him even though he is a fish and smells very fishy. All this from the mind of Takashi Taniguchi.
The title character from Kamen Rider X (Masked Rider X) battles Starfish Hitler, member of the evil Government of Darkness.
This is twice in one week that the Daily WTF has featured one of history’s most infamous moustachioed villains and yet, combined, they do not approach the level of WTF found in the post directly below. That, dear readers, is the work of a professional.
Ye gods. Once the image of a sun containing Hitler’s face rising over an idyllic landscape passed before my eyes I knew that it was too early for my brain to process this sort of thing and I had not yet consumed nearly enough caffeine. From the Danish talk show “Den 11. Time”.
If I have not made it plain before, let me be frank: I harbor a small amount of disdain for “performance art”. And by that I mean that while there is a very large proportion of awful, vapid “fine art” displayed in various galleries, warehouses, and coffee shops around the world, it seems to me that there is a much greater percentage of bad performance art; a statistic that I maintain is due to the intrinsic nature of such exercises. It invariably strikes me as a person or persons doing something absurd and then providing a pretentious, long-winded dissertation on the aforementioned act.
Of course this may also be a case of my own, limited understanding of the milieu. I was once highly critical of a piece I saw entitled The Creation which I later learned was not performance art at all but was, in fact, just a homeless man defecating behind some garbage bins in what he had assumed was privacy. This was, I now realize, the reason for the foul language and remonstrations he directed at me and not some sort of Brechtian trope as I had first assumed.
That said, there is something about this piece by French artist Olivier de Sagazan entitled Return to Close. Featuring a strange graph-like background, some clay, paint, and wool, de Sagazan proceeds to mold and remold a variety of inhuman visages upon his own. It is by turns creepy and humorous. At its heart though it is a fairly basic practice, this modeling and manipulation of one’s features. If anything it is merely a continuance of the childhood activity of fashioning a shampoo mohawk in the bath; only now laden with weighty exposition.
The inherent creepiness found in much of children’s television only really becomes apparent when one enters adulthood. It is only then that we have at last forgotten just exactly what we found so entertaining back in our formative years; back before logic wrapped itself, vise-like, around reality.
Certainly this must be the case, for how else to explain the twisted menagerie of creatures that can be found, parading about for the entertainment of the young? How else do we reconcile the idea of an anthropomorphic record — foul grin on its face — slamming two spoons together in direct opposition of rhythm and tempo whilst dancing, haltingly, to “cooter music”?
Better to remember enjoying them, I think, lest we have to admit to having done some extraordinary damage to our psyches because, should that, indeed, be the case who then is to answer for such crimes? Who among us is blameless anymore?
Kure Kure Takora (Gimme Gimme Octopus) is a children’s television show that aired in Japan from 1973 to 1974, running for 260, two minute and forty-one second episodes. It featured a cast of characters led by Kure Kure Takora an octopus who has a propensity for exclaiming “Kure! Kure!” (”I want it! I want it!”) and who —along with the rest of the cast— is enamored of the pink walrus Munro. The show is delightfully bizarre in a way that only the Japanese have managed to perfect, in the sense that each episode feels like a horrible NyQuil induced hallucination featuring characters inspired by a sushi menu. All 260 episodes can be found at the link below.
When faced with work of this magnitude it’s best not to ask questions. It really is best to simply sit back, and allow the absolutely dumbfounding imagery to wriggle and slime its way around the glistening folds of your brain, eventually taking up permanent residence in the wrinkle directly to the left of all the words to the theme song from “The Fresh Prince.”
But I just can’t help myself.
I’m not particularly interested in why a person would do something such as this. The answer to that much is simple: rainy Sunday afternoon arts and crafts projects get out of hand all the time. What I’m more interested in, almost fascinated by really, is the minutiae of the act.
Is there a specific reason for the order in which each banana is lit? Is this a crucial element in delivering the larger artistic statement behind the work? Why the face? Why not, say, the knees, or perhaps the lower third of the left arm? And lastly — the most revealing inquiry of all — am I the only one that just spent the last twenty minutes pondering the deeper meaning of what may very well be the cornerstone of a soon-to-be ex-househusband’s insanity plea?
Diesel, the clothing company for people who will not wear jeans costing less than $100, has been releasing a number of disturbing videos advertising…clothing? To be honest, I’m not sure. What I can tell you is that their newest short piece, Pete the Meat Puppet is topping this weeks list of weird.
The story follows the life of Pete, created by an overweight, barren butcher out of various meats, who is brought to life through the magical properties of her breast milk. So shocked is she that she promptly dies, sending Pete into the world to find his own way. You’ll follow him as he achieves fame and fortune as a fast food spokesman, eventually entering into a booze, coke, and whore fueled downward spiral that includes bestiality, cannibalism, prostitution, and maggots. Yep, feel-good story of the year right here folks.
Admittedly, I’ve come across many things on this vast internet — either on my own or through our tip line — since I started writing for Ectomo, but few things have presented any sort of internal conflict on whether or not to post. No, the line is usually clear as to whether something belongs on the front page and, in the rare instances that I have been unsure, my esteemed editors have been swift and most often times brutal in their duty, striking down the most heinous of content while simultaneously letting me know just how disgusting they find whatever piece of my buried subconscious I had decided to expose to the open air.
This particular video did, indeed, give me pause. Should this go up? I didn’t know. By its creators own admission it is nothing official; it does not represent some newly discovered mise en scène employed by Microsoft to market their Zune device, and yet there is effort here. It is not merely a collection of images with no inherent meaning, but instead spotlights one of the Zune’s social features that is, the ability to share or “squirt” music between Zunes. In that regard, this faux ad succeeds brilliantly, deftly highlighting that very ability with a splattering of colors. On the other hand, it does this with a rotund, hirsute gentleman who also happens to be nude. I will leave it to you to find out for yourself how the whole visual metaphor works out.
And with that I hit “Publish”. Believe me when I say that I am so, so sorry to have done this to you but, as we all know, misery loves company.
Also, NSFW.
Zune Paint by Sibling Rivalry [Vimeo] : Blame Frank!
Mr. P, an older, Dutch gentleman outfitted with a stunning pair of fake ears lights the keys of his piano on fire and belts out a tune about his desire to perform intercourse with an unnamed female, a desire which must remain unfulfilled as access to the aforementioned woman has been denied, presumably by barring her door.
If, like me, you awake every morning, only to look out the window and let loose a string of blasphemies as you notice that once again the Moon has caught fire, sending down bright, penetrating rays of unholy light into your atrophied retinas then this may clip may instill in you a mixture of rage and confusion.
Why are the people so fucking happy? Why are they singing? Why was that man wearing a catcher’s mask while he slept? Is the African American gentleman with the frozen grin actually going anywhere or is he just wandering in circles, desperate for some camera time? Was that mentally disabled man drooling on everyone’s food? Is there actually a movie entitled Nudist Colony of the Dead?
All of these questions, I’m sure, have answers but in all honesty, it is far too early for me to start formulating answers, so I will leave them with you. Now, to find a few more gallons of coffee and face the day. Blasted fire moon!
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.
