CafePress can be a weird place, man. Of course, it’s not like I didn’t know that already. I mean, all you have to do is visit the online retailer of novelty mugs and other merchandise and type in virtually any word, and CafePress will give you a litany of products to choose from on that very topic. Since my mind has taken up permanent residence in the gutter, I spent some time plugging in some of my favorite words into CafePress’ search field and the results were very enlightening.
Some of the words I gave a test drive (so you can play this fun game at home if you’d like) included the following: sex, porn, and erotica. Based on that trio, you can probably figure out some of the others on your own. While I expected to get some weird results, I honestly wasn’t prepared for all of what CafePress spit back at me. Such as a duvet cover that featured a huge color image of a penis that had been surgically cross-sectioned. I’m pretty sure even Jeffrey Dahmer would likely throw that abomination a huge nod of “NOPE.” But that was just the beginning of my travels through the underbelly of CafePress. Are you into “water sports?” And when I ask that question I mean the kinky kind that involves being peed on by your partner (or partners). Well, if you are (and I don’t judge and neither should you), then I’m thrilled to tell you that pillow cases that look like they have already been peed upon can now be yours!!
The nuttiest thing of all is that this smut isn’t cheap, and most of the duvet covers or comforters will run you over $150. I’ve always said that it costs a lot to look cheap, but now I have an actual dollar amount to attach to that saying. Everything that follows can be purchased at CafePress and is NSFW.
A tweet from former presidential candidate Herman Cain’s official Twitter page from Monday, July 17th, 2017.
A friend of mine hipped me to the weird tweets coming from idiotic 2012 presidential candidate and Fox News “personality” Herman Cain. It appears that over the last five or so days Cain has been tweeting images from David Lynch’s television series Twin Peaks along with short rants.
If you’ve successfully blocked memories of Mr. Cain out of your mind, let me help you with that. This is the same guy that once referred to strategic U.S. ally Uzbekistan as “Ubeki-beki-beki-beki-stan-stan” so it’s probably not all that surprising that his Twitter account would be a bit unhinged. However, this new stuff seems a bit nutty even for Cain. I mean, he even went so far as to post a photo of Morning Joe‘s Joe Scarborough next to a picture of John Nance in character from Eraserhead. What are you doing Herman Cain? I don’t know if I should get behind this or get to the bottom of it. Perhaps some of our more investigative-minded DM readers will be able to figure out the meaning of these strange dispatches. For now, I’ll leave you to check out screenshots of Cain’s Twin Peaks related tweets below and after the jump…
Long, long before Lady Gaga did it, way back during the Reagan, Bush, and Clinton “eras,” we had to make do with identity-redacting shades made from cardboard, like the ones the members of Negativland posed in, or the pair of “Joo Janta Super-Chromatic Peril-Sensitive Sunglasses” that came with the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy computer game. While these offered peerless UV protection, and you looked cool in them, even while attending a Vogon poetry reading, they were also completely opaque, which made it hard to skate in them.
But in our modern age of miracles, you can order censor bar glasses with see-through lenses made of light and durable polycarbonate! Which is to say, ones you can apparently kind of see through! They are even available in a mirrored variety which could conceivably, under the right conditions, replace the upper portion of your face with the kind of blinding atomic glare that comes out of the briefcase in Kiss Me Deadly.
Negativland modeling the old “zero/zero vision” censor bar glasses.
A vintage shot of Chippendales dancers from the 1980s.
I’ve always found the phenomena of the Chippendales all-male striptease ensemble one of the weirdest 1980s things. And that’s saying a lot when you consider all that decade bestowed upon us—whether we wanted it or not. I mean, the music scene was pretty amazing—and if you want to arm-wrestle me over that fact, you will lose because it’s a fact. Prince put out Controversy and 1999 and Purple Rain. MTV played music videos and Larry Bird was named the MVP of the NBA Finals in 1986 after the Boston Celtics took town the Houston Rockets in Game Six. Okay, that last one is one of my favorite moments from the 80s, but it just proves my point that a lot of great things happened back then. And love them, hate them, or just plain don’t fucking get them, the dancers of Chippendales were everywhere. Just like shoulder pads and spandex.
Much like Gene Simmons and his devotion to slapping the word KISS on anything and everything, the Chippendales’ empire did the very same thing. From calendars to a board game and even a mini hand-held movie viewer so you could watch the beefy dancers in the privacy of your own home, there was something “Chippendales” for everybody. The calendars were incredibly popular items, and are nearly impossible to find now. I’ve included a few choice color photos from the calendars as well as some black and white print ads (which you can buy here) featuring individual dancers. Lastly, I included footage from a workout tape put out by Chippendales called Muscle Motion that is about as cornball as anything I’ve ever laid my eyes on. And trust me, these eyes have seen some cornball shit that you can never unsee. I hope you enjoy this gyrating trip down memory lane!
A waitress taking an order from one of Alcatraz ER’s many dining “cells.”
Because Japan truly strives to keep things weird, Alcatraz ER is one of two different jail-themed eateries in Shibuya, a bustling trendy neighborhood in Tokyo. As its name implies, Alcatraz ER incorporates both a jail and hospital setting theme going as far as to handcuff incoming patrons as they lead them to their drinking and dining “cell.”
The interior of Alcatraz ER looks like a set design from the horror film franchise Saw, and the shock tactics don’t stop with the decor. Just opening the menu is a glimpse into hell with items such as “Sausage in the shape of a bowel” that comes with a pair of scissors so you can cut it up and eat it, and a dessert item called “Napkin Jelly” that is served on a sanitary pad. Beer is served in bedpan urinals and a drink called “Sperm Juice” comes to you in a cup with a banana protruding out of it that looks like a penis that just blew a money shot. As much as I love the grotesque, just writing this post made my gut churn. And I suspect the images I’ve posted below of Alcatraz ER may have the very same effect on your digestive system and are without a doubt, quite NSFW.
In 1980, Paul McCartney released his first solo album since 1970’s eponymous McCartney. Cleverly titled McCartney II, it’s a so-so album at best, as a fair few Sir Paul’s albums are, and it remains noteworthy mostly because he recorded it entirely by himself while Wings was in stasis pending their breakup a year later, and because it contains “Temporary Secretary,” a wonderfully bonkers experiment in synth based electro-pop that’s held up well enough to have earned some overdue respect in recent years.
The lead-off single from that album was the kinda crappy but virulently catchy “Coming Up.” It boasted a chipmunk vocal effect that struck a lot of people as so weird that Columbia records promoted the single’s B-Side, a 1979 live version of the song performed by Wings in Scotland, as the US single, which actually worked, and the live version became the one that ended up on best-of comps. There’s a great story about John Lennon hearing the song for the first time, related by Tom Doyle in Man on the Run:
Lennon was being driven by [personal assistant] Fred Seaman through Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, when he first heard “Coming Up” on the radio. “Fuck a pig, it’s Paul,” he exclaimed, before turning up the volume and nodding along. “Not bad,” he decided at the song’s conclusion. He asked Seaman to buy him a copy of McCartney II and set up a new stereo system in his bedroom specifically so he could listen to it. The next day, “Coming Up” was still rattling around John’s head. “It’s driving me crackers,” he told Seaman, before venturing the opinion that even if its parent album was patchy, at least Paul was back trying to do something eclectic and experimental.
“Fuck a pig, it’s Paul”: The immortal words of one of popular music’s most politically aware and sensitive bards.
That McCartney album is credited by some sources as one of the factors that motivated Lennon to get off his ass and record the music that would find its way onto Double Fantasy, his last album of new music released in his lifetime. But lest anyone think all was hunky-dory between Lennon and McCartney, Lennon also had some sharp words about the cringeworthily goofy “Coming Up” promotional clip—in which a video-composited McCartney played every instrument (except Linda McCartney’s backing vocals) in a band called “The Plastic Macs,” a dig at Lennon’s Plastic Ono Band—saying that it must have been a dream come true for McCartney, who always wanted to be the only member of the band.
Trainspotters will note that in addition to portraying his own younger self in that video, McCartney also pays homage to Ron Mael of Sparks, Hank Marvin of The Shadows (easily mistaken for Buddy Holly), and Andy Mackay of Roxy Music, among others. In 1980, that was a difficult technical feat which won that video a lot of attention. Now, of course, such compositing techniques are far more effortless, and director Adam Harding has used them to pay ridiculous homage to (or make fun of?) that classic McCartney video with Melvins drummer Dale Crover, in a hilariously stripped-down way. “Bad Move” is Crover’s first solo video, from his first full length solo album The Fickle Finger of Fate on Joyful Noise. (Yes, he did a solo E.P. in 1992 as part of a KISSparody the Melvins did. And then there was last year’s six minute $100 record/art object Skins…) In Crover’s video, he plays three members of his band, sharing his stage with Acid King bassist Dan Southwick in costume as The Birthday Party’s Tracy Pew (!!!), and producer Toshi Kasai as keyboardist—well, I honestly can’t say who that’s supposed to be.
A black and white portrait of Prince covering an adult-sized onesie from Rage On.
If there is one thing I can’t stand more than white shoes, it is seeing someone out in public wearing pajama pants. I mean, I get it. Life is hard. And most days can flat out suck all the brain cells that make you care about things right out of your head. But you can still get dressed. Come on, man. How hard is it really to exchange an actual pair of pants for the stupid flannel ones you wore to bed last night before you leave the house? As someone who sometimes works in their pajamas (one of the many perks of my “job” here at DM), if I ever left the house wearing my PJs, it had better be because I was fucking dead. But as I often do, I’ve digressed away from the subject of this post which features another one of my triggers, the adult onesie. Because almost nothing says “I give up” like reverting to wearing clothing you wore when you were a baby. Ug.
Not all of the grown-up onesies I’ve culled for this post make me want to get on the next shuttle to the Moon. In fact, a few of them are pretty damn cool like the black and white one featuring a photo of our dearly departed Prince pictured at the top post. But I did include some that are truly terrible too, and I’m just going to leave you to ponder that thinly veiled warning while you scroll through the images below. Each onesie will run you a cool $109 over at Rage On. The company also takes custom orders so if you don’t see the onesie of your dreams (and my nightmares) below, just have one made especially for you… baby. I’m going to ease into the “bad” ones so you can prepare yourself for the moment you audibly say “fuck no.” Some of the images below are NSFW.
Actor Max Schreck in character as the vampire Nosferatu.
I’m going to do a slow-clap to celebrate my latest “who knew this was a thing?” discovery, the SOM Hand Type Handjob Machine from Japan. According to the makers of the Handjob Machine, this creepy creation exists due in part to the popularity of their SOM Rocket Type “masturbot,” which sounds utterly terrifying even to yours truly, and I don’t even have a penis to put in one.
According to the description I found at Kanojo Toys, the SOM Hand Type Machine has been around since 2012 and can deliver 80 to 110 “thrusts” per minute. All you do is put the base of the jerk-off machine between your legs, add some lube and voilà! The device retails for $529 plus $59 bucks in shipping from Japan if you’re interested in picking one up so you can give your hairy palms a rest. I’m also pretty sure that using this contraption might help reduce the risk of going blind while you’re knocking one out because if you’re not using your own hands, it’s not your fault! Right?
‘Justin Bieber says “I love you so much I fucking cum hearts”.’
Joe Becker is a Canadian artist who paints big bold canvases filled with the rich detritus of pop culture. Hellbound TV hosts, masturbating pop icons, cadaverous singers, cretinous comic book superheroes, ravenous cuddly toys, and deranged cartoon characters jostle for attention. His cast of Bosch-like figures can be seen performing strange, perverse, and often comic rituals which may once have had some sacred meaning but are now just empty responses against an ever-encroaching chaos. Others are full frame portraits of lovable furry creatures who look half-bemused by the attention they’re receiving as though such vanity was solely reserved for humans.
But Becker isn’t being cynical in his use of pop culture iconography from the ‘80s and ‘90s. These are characters to which he has a “generally honest and sincere” connection.
There is a sincere affection for some of the pop characters I paint. As a kid I was a weird little shit, I once individually drew every character from He-man, I then coloured them and then cut them out and placed each one in a heart shaped box, I still have it. Some people think that my paintings are fucked up or weird but I think the stuff I did as a kid is truly bizarre.
Oddly, some people find his work offensive. In particular, his paintings aimed at the cult of celebrity—Bieber cumming love hearts, Oprah taking a shit, Cobain after his suicide. These paintings may be “cheap shots” but Becker is serious in his “loathing” for the vacuous adulation of such “celebrities.”
I highly doubt frenzied 13 or 14 year old Biebettes or dippy North American white suburban woman who worship Lord Oprah are into emerging contemporary Canadian painters, so those two demographics will likely not be exposed to my work, but if they ever were and they were enraged by my work then fuck them. I have never received hate mail yet, and if I did I would print it out and frame it. What kind of an asshole gets mad at a static, silent work of art anyway?
Becker’s powerful, complex, and darkly comic canvases have been exhibited all across the globe with a selection of respected collectors snapping up his work as soon as its on the market. Understandable, as Becker is mining a rich seam of pop culture icons to create his challenging, beautiful, and subversive art.
More brilliantly rude paintings by Joe Becker, after the jump…
The first episode of the PBS anthology series Trying Times (originally called Survival Guide) was directed by Jonathan Demme. “A Family Tree” stars Rosanna Arquette as a science major and aspiring astronaut on a nightmare first visit to her future in-laws’ place. Everything that can go wrong does, but nothing is worse than the behavior of her presumptive brother-in-law, Byron, the boorish pie-hoarder played by David Byrne. “Ask me what’s the most poisonous snake in the world,” he dares her.
I recommend the whole half-hour episode (split into 123 parts on the YouTube), but the “Who ate my pie?” scene below is a satisfying quick fix of David Byrne acting like a total asshole.
The New Yorker posted this review of “A Family Tree” shortly after Demme’s death.