I don’t know why there are Donald Trump novelty condoms, but there are, and here I am blogging about them. They exist and that’s just #sad, in my opinion. I don’t know how trustworthy these condoms are. Trump condoms? Nacho’s face hardly inspires confidence in such a crucially important product. I’d use them with extreme caution. I certainly doubt that they’re made in the U.S.A. if they’ve got his ugly mug on the packaging.
If you were about to fuck someone and he pulled out his Donald Trump novelty condoms, ask yourself seriously if you really want to go through with this? How important is your dignity to you, anyway?
Believe or not, there are several manufacturers of Trump jimmy hats. I’ve posted where to buy them underneath the images.
If you have any trouble remembering, 2016 was the worst year of our lifetimes, as it featured the deaths of Prince, David Bowie, Merle Haggard, Leonard Cohen, and George Michael but much more pertinently, a victory for the “Yes” vote in the U.K. Brexit referendum in June as well as the election of the worst human being we could possibly find to be U.S. President in November. It was a tumultuous year to be sure, introducing U.S. observers not only to the concept of Donald Trump as an undeniably important political figure but an entire panoply of abhorrent political figures in Great Britain, including anti-Europe demagogue/liar Nigel Farage and current PM Theresa May.
When the debate is dominated by scuzzy vulgarians like Rupert Murdoch and Boris Johnson, their opponents will be obliged to resort to satirical measures that are less than…. dignified. Not that satire is usually very august or lofty, but these nitwits and assholes call for special tactics.
This will probably work better if you’re in Britain, but if you want to put up a fake prostitution advertisement in your town square, only featuring the comely/disgusting image of David Cameron, Donald Trump, or Theresa May on it, I urge you to visit the Wankers of the World website, where you can get any of these six posters for fifty pounds each. That’s a little pricy, sure, but for just 10 pounds you can get the “Political Whores Flyer Pack,” a full set of all six flyers that even comes with “a ball of Blu Tack so you can stick them up in your local phonebox or work toilet.”
When I saw Danzig play the Ritz in 1989 (with White Zombie opening), it didn’t cross my mind that I’d be writing about Glenn Danzig’s political beliefs nearly 30 years later.
I definitely didn’t think that anyone would be seeking his take on President Donald Trump.
But here we are.
Danzig was in Los Angeles over the holiday weekend for the Blackest of the Black Festival, which was held at Orange County’s Oak Canyon Park. He granted a reporter named Mikael Wood of the Los Angeles Times an interview, in which he spoke out in favor of Donald Trump’s so-called travel ban, which would have the effect of restricting hundreds of thousands of travelers from entering the United States without any evidence of wrongdoing. Here’s what he said:
It’s really not a travel ban. When you walk into the country, we want to see who you are and what you’re doing. Well, when I go to every country right now, they look at me and they see whether I can come in or not. And I’ve been turned away from Canada and other places before. Where’s my protest? Where’s my parade?
Leave aside the unspoken premise that the United States is not already scrutinizing all visitors to the country (absurd). What makes this comment all the more baffling is that one of the crooner’s most famous songs is based on criminal misbehavior in a foreign land. Danzig hails from Lodi, New Jersey, and the Misfits song “London Dungeon” was based on an incident in 1979 when the band was on its first U.K. tour. In This Music Leaves Stains: The Complete Story of the Misfits, James Greene, Jr. writes:
On December 2, Glenn and Bobby [Steele] tried to alleviate their hotel-based boredom by attending a Jam concert at London’s famed venue the Rainbow. Outside the concert hall, a group of skinheads began harassing the duo. Things quickly escalated. Somehow Bobby slipped away in an attempt to find some authorities; Glenn stayed behind, arming himself with a broken bottle. When police eventually did arrive they arrested Glenn and Bobby for disturbing the peace. The Misfits spent two nights in Brixton jail, an experience that birthed one of the group’s most solemn and memorable dirges.
“I just turned to Glenn [in the cell],” recalled Steele in 1993, “[and] said, ‘We should make a song about this called “London Dungeon.”’ We were like sitting in this cell, it was like ten feet perfectly square, you know, solid painted walls, it was real echoey in the room ... and we were just like slapping the beat out on our legs and humming ... it sounded so cool ... [and] Glenn took it from there.”
Danzig might dispute that he didn’t really do anything wrong on that occasion, and was unjustly incarcerated. Which might give him a little pause on the propriety of prejudging people who almost certainly haven’t done anything wrong or possess any ill intent towards the U.S.A.
In an attempt to show his supposedly liberal bona fides, Danzig made a problematic comment about Planned Parenthood as well:
I might be conservative on some issues, and some issues I’m really liberal. I’m pro-abortion and I’m pro-Planned Parenthood. But I don’t think Planned Parenthood should be selling baby parts like a chop shop in Brooklyn, OK?
This claim has been debunked so often it’s gotten tedious.
Hey, I’m so old I can remember when punk rock dudes would be ashamed to spout right-wing talking points…......
Here’s “London Dungeon,” in which Danzig’s songwriting talent (and not his politics) is enough brighten anyone’s day:
A few years ago I blogged about the Donald Trump buttplug that was selling for $27.99 here. Now I’m blogging about the Donald Trump pencil holder because it’s something that exists on this planet and you may want one so you can shove a sharp stick up Trump’s rump. Or not. I have no idea what your consumer or psychosexual motivations might be—and I don’t want to know—but here it is. Your coworkers will either love it or hate it, depending on where you work.
If you have no use for a pencil holder, you can buy three of these puppies and turn ‘em into a “Trumpcentipede.” How delightful. How disgusting. How perfect!
They’re made by Etsy shop Amznfx and each pencil holder sells for $27.99.
Whether you consumed it at the time or some years later, one of the cultural rites of our era is spending a couple days devouring all of Watchmen, the genre-bending, formally rigorous 12-issue superhero tale by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons and John Higgins that was published at DC in 1986 and 1987.
Watchmen managed to point up the silly pretensions of costumed crimefighters even as it offered no fewer than three examples of truly exceptional men doing truly exceptional things in Ozymandias, Dr. Manhattan, and Rorschach, all told in a savvy counterfactual timeline featuring a fictitious third term for President Richard Nixon.
I don’t know if it’s that (shudder) third term or the golden trappings of the successful businessman Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias that reminded Aaron Edwards and Arlen Schumer of our current predicament with a distinctly un-super businessman occupying the Oval Office. In any case they have decided to replay the entire election as a Watchmen remix, with Trump in the Ozymandias seat and Hillary Clinton as….. wait for it… Dr. Manhattan. I suspect this interpretation will not go over in all of the precincts of our great nation. By the end of Watchmen, Dr. Manhattan is all-powerful but essentially removes himself from the narrative as his increasingly “universal” mindset makes him insensible to mere human concerns.
On January 20, 2017, Edwards and Schumer unveiled the first installment of “Who Watches the Men?” called “Trump Rises,” on The Outline, and today, May 1, comes the second one, with the title “Hillary’s Escape.” I’m looking forward to more of these.
Weirdly, in the role of Rorschach we have none other than .... Anthony Weiner! (Perhaps Nite Owl will be .... James Comey?)
If you’re not into Watchmen, It’s worth noting that the entire story is told in a long series of nine-panel pages with each cell being the exact same size (there is one exception to this rule), and Edwards and Schumer have done a wonderful job of sticking to that premise.
Here are some of the panels from the strip, but I recommend you read it all at The Outline.
The Smiths’ 2017 Record Store Day 7-inch release came with a not-so-secret message to the U.S. inscribed on the record’s A-side: “Trump Will Kill America.” While I can’t say enough great things about this awesome stunt, it is a rather depressing reminder that this becomes truer every goddamned day. The 7-inch itself is a mix of two previously unreleased demos for “The Boy With the Thorn In His Side” and the flipside features “Rubber Ring” recorded at Drone Studios in Chorlton where the band recorded a bunch of demos back in the 80s. Actor Albert Finney, seen in the “Angry Young Man” phase of his long career, is pictured on the cover.
The news was widely spread across social media by Record Store Day shoppers who discovered the etching on the run-out groove on the A-side and deservingly dragged Donnie on his favorite communication vehicle, Twitter. In case you missed all of that, I’ve included a few posts from Smiths’ fans showing off their records at the expense of our current “president.”
The etching on The Smiths’ 2017 Record Store Day 7-inch release.
Hyperflesh is selling their freaky-as-fuck silicone masks of Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong-un on eBay. These are jaw-droppingly realistic. I cannot get over the detail. They even captured Trump’s preposterously awful combover (that can’t have been easy) and horrible old man skin down perfectly. You can click on each image to get a closer look.
These masks made their debut at Monsterpalooza 2017 and appeared in a viral video viewed by over 60 million people on Facebook.
Anyway, the masks can now be yours! Donald Trump‘s current bid is $4,200. Vladimir Putin is at $2,250 and Kim Jong-un is at $3,050. Obviously these prices will change as more people bid on ‘em.
Living through historically “interesting times” (in the sense of the famous Chinese curse) has long been seen to have an effect on the arts and culture. For the 2017 Whitney Biennial, which opens today, artist Jordan Wolfson has made a violent minute-and-a-half video that must be experienced with a virtual reality headset. In the piece, the artist brutally beats a man with a baseball bat and then kicks him in the face. Repeatedly.
I’ve only read a description of the work, but it seems totally on point for Spring 2017, doesn’t it?
This was sent to us this morning by “Freaks on Harrison.” As of 8:03 AM the video, which was posted just 15 hours ago—has had fewer than 70 views. I expect that’ll change soon enough.
Make of it what you will. Terribly, terribly NSFW stuff.
A clown named “Ron.” A realistic silicone mask by Igor Velgach.
Based in Glenview, Illinois mask maker Igor Velgach is the artist behind the all-to-realistic silicone masks you are about to see in this post. I highly advise you have a good pallet cleanser—such as a video featuring kittens or puppies frolicking in a tub full of flowers nearby because you’re going to need it.
According to Velgach, all of his masks are carefully constructed starting with a prototype made of plasticine which eventually becomes in many cases, a sinister looking silicone creation that is so startlingly realistic it is nearly impossible to tell that you are looking at a faux face. The talented artist can make a mask based on any request—though Velgach notes that to do so requires that a mold is taken of your head in order to guarantee that it fits correctly. This kind of expert craftsmanship does not come cheap and Velgach’s masks, which he sells over at his Etsy shop The Masker, run from $499 to $1399 a pop. I’ve included photos of Velgach’s masks below which include two terrifying silicone masks in the image of our 45th president that look even more lifelike than the real thing. Yikes.
The so-called Wiccan “Rule of Three” (also called the “Three-fold Law” or “Law of Return”) is a moral code held by many witches. Karma is another word that (more or less) covers the same general territory. The energy that you “put out there”—whether good or ill—will return to you three times stronger. It’s not something that’s really a dogma among Pagans, but more of an admonition, or warning to neophytes, that there is a reward—or punishment—in harmony with the magic you work and the intent behind it.
An unflattering picture of the babbling orange idiot who knows the nuclear codes and a candle are all it takes to participate. The event’s Facebook page is here. If you can’t be at Trump Tower at the appointed time, face east and let ‘er rip… Some helpful instructions can be found here. Facebook event page here.
UPDATE: Politico is now saying that the videos were a hoax. It looks like Sidney Blumenthal got punk’d. The spots were pulled on both Vimeo and YouTube. About an hour later the London Review of Books scrubbed the offending paragraph (see below) from their website with this message:
The original version of this piece contained two passages that require correction and clarification. At the time of the Roy Cohn leaks mentioned, the New York World Telegram was owned not by Hearst but by Scripps Howard. A paragraph referring to Fred Trump’s campaign for mayor of New York, although it accurately reflected Trump’s racial attitudes and his hostility towards Mayor John Lindsay, has been removed because the campaign ads referred to appear to be clever fakes.
Yet another skeleton hiding out in Donald Trump’s closet, these unused TV spots were created when his father, Queens-based real estate developer Fred Trump, was mulling over challenging Republican mayor John Lindsay—who had angered Trump by refusing him certain city contracts—in the New York City mayoral race of 1969. Ultimately Trump Sr. decided not to run, but at least two television commercial tests were produced, proving, if nothing else, that the nut didn’t fall very far from the tree in his son’s case.
At first glance, the “Dope Man” spot almost seems like a parody or media-jamming meta-prank. I mean, WHO would have been so classless as to do something like this? [Editor: A Trump?] Although the two commercial tests have been posted on YouTube and Vimeo since mid-October of last year, no one has really touched them. It just doesn’t seem like they could be real… (like that Woody Guthrie song about “Old Man Trump” that seemed so Snopes-worthy at first) but here’s a citation from an article written by Hillary Clinton confidant Sidney Blumenthal that appears in the February 16th issue of the London Review of Books.
Check it out, folks:
In 1969, Fred Trump plotted to run for mayor of New York against John Lindsay, a silk-stocking liberal Republican. The reason was simple: in the wake of a New York State Investigations Commission inquiry that uncovered Fred’s overbilling scams, the Lindsay administration had deprived him of a development deal at Coney Island. He made two test television commercials. One of them, called ‘Dope Man’, featured a drug-addled black youth wandering the streets. ‘With four more years of John Lindsay,’ the narrator intoned, ‘he will be coming to your neighbourhood soon.’ The ad flashed to the anxious faces of two well-dressed white women. ‘Vote for Fred Trump. He’s for us.’ The other commercial, ‘Real New Yorkers’, showed scenes of ‘real’ people from across the city, all of them white. Fred Trump, the narrator said, ‘is a real New Yorker too’. In the end he didn’t run, but his campaign themes were bequeathed to his son.
You can hate smoke out of a Trump bong or alternately you can believe you’re making America great again with every toke of your “Grown in the USA” herb stash when you inhale it via this unique tribute to our illustrious talking yam leader. It’s entirely up to whatever you project onto Trump. Kinda genius in that way.
“Make America High Again” should be the marketing slogan for this. Lord knows we need more like it. Weed brings Americans together.
The bong is designed by Tom Mason, an artist from Byron Bay, Australia. I looked on the website where it was being sold for $89.00 and couldn’t find it. Maybe it’s already sold out? Perhaps contact the site and they’ll bring it back!
I have no idea why someone would get a tattoo of Donald Trump permanently inked on their body. BUT some folks have and I decided to dedicate a post to those unfortunate tattoos. From what I understand, a lot of these tattoos were actually lost bets. Meaning, the person never actually wanted an image of Trump’s mug etched on their body but lost a bet over who was going to win the presidential race. I feel bad for those folks. I really do. If I was in that same predicament and I’d made that same dumb bet, there’s no way I would have followed through with it. No way!
So kudos to those folks who could actually keep a promise. Idiots! Next time bet a finger!
All praise be to Chunklet! If that made no sense or just sounded gross to you, I shall explain—Chunklet was an acutely ‘90s underground music/culture zine that grew in the oughts to become a sort of underground media empire. The print zine itself was strongly in the Motorbooty/Your Flesh vein, proffering extremely opinionated reviews and taking pointed potshots at the shibboleths of indie fandom while itself being openly and rabidly indie fannish. The result was kind of amazing—merely even understanding Chunklet’s jokes often meant the joke was on you. But though it was often as snide as the other publications of its ilk (it produced two consecutiveissues devoted to calling all sorts of things out as overrated and later turned all that into a book), it had its own identity, and that identity was tremendous fun. It’s owner/editor/publisher/pooh-bah Henry Owings devoted plenty of ink to the comedy scene as well as to indie rock, and, like Touch and Go, Chunklet has enjoyed a post-print afterlife as an excellent record label, releasing, among other worthy platters, last year’s must-have Pylon Live, Tar 1988-1995, and even an EP by my old CLErock compadre Lamont “Obnox” Thomas.
One of Owings’ more enduring contributions to mutant culture, though, is a t-shirt. Originally printed in the late ‘90s, it simply reads. “We’re all in this together. Except you. You’re a dick.” This has been so popular as to require countless re-printings in the 20 or so years of its existence. But this year’s reprinting includes a slight alteration—“you” are no longer the dick. The dick is now Donald Trump.
Look, if you voted for this sociopath, I’m sure you had your reasons. However, one week into his illegitimate presidency, lives are being destroyed. America isn’t safe. The world isn’t safe. I’ll be damned if I will sit by idly and let this happen. Let history reflect that we, the majority, didn’t participate in this.
The new slogan is printed in the USA on a made-in-USA shirt in your choice of in basic black or MAGA-hat red, and 100% of proceeds benefit the American Immigration Council (motto: ”Honoring our Immigrant Past, Shaping our Immigrant Future”), an advocacy and resource center that may well be stretched very, very thin right about now. According to the shirt’s vendor, orders will ship towards the end of the first week of February, which would seem to imply a limited offer, so if this is of interest to you, you might consider acting soon. If, on the other hand, you support President Trump and this is anathema to your views, you might consider eating a nice big bowl of double edged razor blades because this utter calamity is your stupid fucking fault. And fuck you.