In this unusual technique I decided to draw a well-known politician. Zhirinovsky bright politician, how could I not draw him ... for a portrait Vladimir Zhirinovsky, I chose the color purple, my favorite. I heartily Vladimir Zhirinovsky! Artist Irina Romanov painted a portrait of Vladimir Zhirinovsky [with her] breast. Especially since breast painting difficult to draw, the process is very time consuming and not fast any inaccuracy can lead to what is necessary to re-start all over. For the portrait used only breast. In this technique, I have in front of strangers do not draw. Irina Romanov technique will update continuously , working hard and getting the hang of drawing [with] breasts and body. Foreign collectors often buy my works, paintings painted [with] breasts [sell] well and expensively sold. [Her] works are in private collections in Russia and abroad.
Vladimir Putin, as painted by Irina Romanovskaya’s left boob.
In the video below, she demonstrates the process… which is remarkably totally safe for work.
There’s a “Left boobs painted by left boob” joke someone could make here, but I think serious breast art aficionados such as ourselves are above all that, aren’t we?
The tale of acid sage Dr. Timothy Leary’s prison escape and subsequent exile is among the most amusing stories in the annals of drug culture lore—though sentenced to an absurd twenty years for utterly petty offenses including possession of a couple of roaches, Leary was able to game the prison system: as a reputable Harvard psychologist, it happened that he himself had designed the psychological examinations he was given by prison administrators to determine his security and work situations. He got himself assigned to a cushy gardening job in a minimum security facility, from which he handily escaped, issuing an outlandish revolutionary screed to taunt authorities shortly after he fled. Via a series of sneaks involving the Weather Underground, the Black Panthers, an arms dealer, and a socialite whom he eventually married (how has this not been a TV mini-series yet? Get on this, Netflix…) Leary ended up in Switzerland, where he met with the German Kosmiche band Ash Ra Tempel, with whom he recorded the album Seven Up.
Formed by musicians from Eruption and Tangerine Dream, Ash Ra Tempel mostly shunned structured songs in favor of lengthy and often downright fierce improvisations. Their albums typically featured two side-length compositions, a feral freakout on side one, and a more ambient, electronics-driven suite on the flip, presumably to help sand the edges off from side one. From Peter Buckley’s Rough Guide Rock:
Manuel Göttsching (guitar) and Hartmut Enke (bass) had played together in various psychedelic blues and pop combos for a few years before they formed Ash Ra Tempel in August 1970 with drummer/keyboardist Klaus Schultz, who had just left Tangerine Dream. The most cosmic of the Krautrock bands, Ash Ra Tempel became legendary for their wild improvisational free-form live jams, influenced by Pink Floyd but eschewing songs to take the concept of space-rock much further, enhanced by both Schultz’s and Gottsching’s interest in experimental electronic music.
Schultz soon left for a solo career but several other musicians passed through the group’s revolving door, and with some of them Göttsching and Enke recorded the amazing Schwingungen (1972). With the idea of recording the ultimate psychedelic trip, Ohr label-head Rolf Kaiser next took Ash Ra Tempel to Switzerland to party endlessly and to record the album Seven Up with LSD guru Timothy Leary, who was living there in exile. The results were a more song-orientated first section, with Leary singing, followed by several conventional rock songs melded into a single track divided by spacey electronic segues.
Hotshot Brazilian jazz drummer Felipe Continentino maintains a YouTube channel and Facebook page, both of which showcase his sick skills on the skins, but what caught my ear last night was his rather freakish ability to improv in time to movie dialogue.
This is unreal.
Continentino “plays” the famous “You can’t handle the truth!” scene between Jack Nicholson and Tom Cruise from A Few Good Men and absolutely NAILS IT:
Continentino has also uploaded a video of himself drumming to Publio Delgado’s guitar interpretation of the infamous “Jones Big Ass Storage” viral video.
Between Continentino and Delgado, it’s clear that there are some musicians out there operating on a much higher level, albeit with strange priorities, who make the rest of us fumbling with instruments look completely useless.
This is simultaneously incredible and dumb as shit, but, DUDE, go on with your bad self:
I found this completely by accident yesterday searching for something that wasn’t even Woody Allen-related. What in the name of Silence of the Lambs did I stumble upon? Apparently this latex Woody mask was sold on eBay back in 2007. I-I, I have no words…
This is as hellish as it gets, mi’ frenz.
I can’t find much background information on it, but you can click on this link and maybe you’ll have better luck than me.
All I can say is, if you’re able to get your hands on one these for Halloween, you’ll definitely be the creepiest-creepster creeping around your burg. Ugh.
The Minnesota State Fair accepted Nick Rindo’s rapeseed portrait of Bill Cosby as an entry into its crop art competition—but before it could become a blue-ribbon prize-winner, it was removed by Fair administrators after complaints came rolling in.
Rindo’s portrait had the word “rapeseed” in parentheses on the portrait’s label, and was allowed entry into the competition after the Fair’s crop art superintendent made one small alteration—covering the word “rapeseed” with a piece of tape. According to superintendent Ron Kelsey: “We call everything canola in this country.”
Apparently the tape was not enough to keep controversy away. Outraged emails poured in. One even called the portrait “pro-rape,” which was not Rindo’s intention at all.
Rindo stated on his Facebook page, “The guy in charge let it in. The Administration received too many angry emails, so they came down and removed it. I imagine it’s in a corner of shame somewhere.”
A second seed-portrait by Rindo, of Star Trek’s Mr. Spock, was allowed to remain in competition.
Last week I posted here about a musician who had taken a handful of iconic horror soundtracks and turned them “soothing, triumphant, and dorky” by reworking them in a major key.
One of my favorite things about blogging stuff I think is cool is that sometimes the people you are blogging about read what you wrote and respond to it. In that previous article I had mentioned that John Carpenter’s Halloween soundtrack, playing in a major key, sounded a lot like the Chariots of Fire theme (mashed up with “Baba O’Riley”). I went on to say, ” the Halloween theme left me wondering… what would the Chariots of Fire theme sound like in a minor key? I bet it’d be scary as hell. Perhaps Mr. Gordon can get on that and let us know?”
Well folks, Mr. Gordon DID get on that and Dangerous Minds got a nice email from him:
I’ve taken Christopher’s advice and converted Chariots of Fire plus a few other classics to a MINOR key.
So here we have the themes from Indiana Jones, Police Academy, The Great Escape, Chariots of Fire, and Jurassic Park—all reworked into a minor key. The results here are just as interesting as the major key horror soundtrack revisions.
Indiana Jones in a minor key suddenly sounds militaristic and would be an appropriate theme if the Nazis had been the film’s protagonists, seeking to rescue the ark from the idiot American archaeologist with no idea of its power.
Police Academy in a minor key suddenly becomes an epic sword and sorcery theme. It’s the sound of Conan (the barbarian, not the late night host) marching through the desert, trying to solve the riddle of steel and defeat the evil Captain Mauser.
The Great Escape theme sounds like a montage sequence from a Jewish comedy.
Chariots of Fire, as I imagined, does indeed sound like a horror soundtrack. Specifically one that is very ‘80s and very Italian.
Jurassic Park‘s theme in a minor key is utterly oppressive. It sounds like slavery.
It’s hard to believe that another summer’s almost over. It won’t be long before the dreaded holiday season is bearing down upon us like Bill Cosby in a rutting reindeer sweater once again. After all, there are only 126 shopping days left until Christmas. Can you believe it? With that ominous deadline looming large on the horizon, what rational person has the time to think straight, much less participate in the crass commercialization of that most holy of days—Black Friday—by getting all of the family handgun Christmas shopping squared away before Santa’s annual home invasion drill down the chimney? Maybe it’s time to take a deep breath, wash a Xanax down with some of last year’s slightly expired eggnog, and think upon simpler times. More Pagan times.
An Etsy shop doing cosplay the hard way, Chaos Costumes, features a line of hooved leggings suitable for your next Pagan holiday celebration.
Shop owner, Blair Ondria, specializes in designing, fabricating, and selling a line of very unusual “custom fantasy costumes and accessories.” Most of her designs are based on creatures with hooves—from horses to fauns, creatures both real and mythical, creatures with both cloven and non-cloven hooves. In fact, the only creature with cloven hooves whose costume they don’t seem to stock is Donald Trump.
Bear in mind that the holiday season begins with Halloween (or Samhain) —and that’s only two-and-a-half months away— so get cracking if you’re looking to receive your faun hooves in time to frolic in a glen (or whatever) on October 31st. Just add horns, a tail, and a pan flute, and you’re either a satyr dreaming of nymphs, or a hirsute Zamfir ready to serenade his flock.
Halloween out of the way, we have to deal with the agony of a traditional family Thanksgiving. I suggest you score a pair of these werewolf stilts, brandish a turkey drumstick in one hand and a flagon of mead in the other, and attend your own private Bacchanalia until the alcohol and tryptophan kick in to put you out of your misery. With any luck, the synergistic effect will allow you to sleep until December 5th.
Or perhaps line the family up for the traditional holiday Osculum Infame.
December 5th (or 6th, depending on your ancestry) is Krampusnacht, on the eve of the feast of Saint Nicholas. In Alpine folklore, Saint Nicholas, who rewards good children, has an evil, devilish counterpart called Krampus , who appears on Krampusnacht to punish the children who have misbehaved. This antithesis of Saint Nicholas is a hairy beast with cloven hooves and the horns of a goat. Needless to say, a pair of cloven-hooved leggings are tailor-made for creating a Krampus costume to wear on Krampusnacht while running wild in the streets, whipping townfolk with branches, and stuffing children into gunny sacks.
“A tisket, a tasket, stuff this brat into a basket.”
With all due respect to those who struggle with nicotine addiction (especially my good pal, the “indestructible” Lemmy Kilmister), these anti-smoking advertisements make me wish I never smoked for the week or so that I did back when I was fifteen.
Hi, Hitler! Anti-smoking advertisement, India
Unless you don’t watch television or read print media (which is of course plausible), then you may not be aware of how much anti-smoking crusaders have stepped up their campaign to raise awareness of the dangers of smoking, and to help people quit. Television ads featuring graphic testimonies and images of former smokers that have lost limbs, lips and teeth thanks to their habit are now commonplace. It’s no longer legal to smoke in clubs or bars in many places in the U.S. and starting on October 1st of this year, it will no longer be legal to smoke in your car in England or Wales if a child (or anyone under 18) is present.
Anti-smoking advertisement, UK
For people that treat the world as their ashtray, while I sympathise with your plight (I’ve watched friends go through withdrawals trying to quit - it’s not pretty), I will never understand the lack of respect or empathy most smokers seem have when it comes to the environment, or deciding to light up by a public doorway, a playground full of kids, or at the damn beach. It is not my goal with this post to be judge-y of smokers. I’ll just leave you with fact that smoking is a real fucking, life sucking drag. On us all. Thought provoking NSFW images that will hopefully help you quit, follow.
Transposing minor key songs into a major key (or vice versa) has become a thing on the internet in the past couple of years—a process that has been made rather easy with the advent of pitch-correction software. The results are often astounding. Some popular recent examples that have gone viral are REM’s “Losing My Religion” and Metallica’s “Nothing Else Matters,” both reworked into a major key. These minor-to-major reworks often give the songs a “triumphant” quality. A good example of this is this reworking of Europe’s “The Final Countdown”—already pretty “triumphant” as it was—now it sounds like a goddamn national anthem.
Musician, writer, and amateur filmmaker Ian Gordon has recently reworked a handful of iconic horror themes into a major key. The results, for the most part, turn creepy dread into pleasant elevator music. YouTube user Muted Vocal has uploaded a selection of five of these reworked themes: The X-Files, Halloween, A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Exorcist, and Saw. The changes are fascinating:
The X-Files theme played in a major key sounds exactly like Weather Channel “Locals on the 8s” music.
John Carpenter’s iconic Halloween soundtrack now sounds like Vangelis mashing up his Chariot’s of Fire theme with “Baba O’Riley.”
The Saw theme is now the intro music to an imaginary Hugh Grant film.
Mike Oldfield’s “Tubular Bells”—the theme from The Exorcist—now sounds like the wimpy, tinkly breakdown part of a Styx track, right before the “rock part” kicks in.
A Nightmare on Elm Street‘s theme played in a major key is the only one that retains any creep factor whatsoever—and maybe that’s just me, because I think Christmas is creepy. It sounds like the theme to a Hallmark Channel Holiday special.
These are all really great, but the Halloween theme left me wondering… what would the Chariots of Fire theme sound like in a minor key? I bet it’d be scary as hell. Perhaps Mr. Gordon can get on that and let us know?
Enjoy, here, the pleasant sounds of transposed horror:
Manualism, or as we like to call it, “hand farting,” is the use of one’s clasped hands as a musical instrument. By pushing air through the hands, the manualist is able to produce a juicy, flatulent sound. It’s not really difficult for one to make such farty noises by putting his or her hands together, but perfecting tone and pitch in order to make those noises “musical” is a significant challenge.
A couple of years ago we posted about this kid who performed a hypnotic hand-fart cover of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sounds of Silence.” While that kid clearly has a bright future ahead of him in the manualism game, he’s an amateur act compared to Gerry Phillips of to Troy, Michigan—as you can see right here:
Phillips claims to have discovered his talent at the age of nine. In the time since then, he has perfected his technique to such a degree that he can hit notes—in perfect pitch—from baritone to fartsetto (yeah, I said it) with incredible speed and accuracy on a par with the world’s greatest musicians. In fact, Phillips may be too good. He stopped producing new videos four years ago, and a 2011 interview may offer an explanation:
Most songs are repetitive and boring. When I find a song that is technically hard to play and has great lead solo or I just have too many people requesting it, only then will I do it. I feel I have done just about everything I set out to play. I always thought that when I could play “The Green Hornet Theme” or the full “Fur Elise” that I would be as good as I could get. That is why I haven’t made any new videos lately.
Imagine being so good at something, achieving such heights of accomplishment, that there was no point in continuing with it. Now imagine that thing is hand farting.
Phillips’ videos really are a treat to watch, though—not only for his astounding talent, but also for the ever-present look on his face, which manages the paradoxical combination of the smugness of knowing he’s really fucking good, while at the same time seeming to be humbled by the realization of the butt-trumpeting ridiculousness emitting from his magical hands. If humblesmug is a thing, it can be witnessed on the visage of Gerry Phillips.