Taste the RAINBOW! The jumbo rainbow dick pop, that is. Get yours here.
 
Oh, the places I go to keep all you wonderful Dangerous Minds readers entertained on a daily basis. I took one for team DM today as my “research” for this post took me to places I would never have innocently wandered myself unless I was planning on pranking a pal by sending them a Piña Colada-flavored candy penis. To answer Jimmy Buffet’s age old question regarding my current disposition on Piña Coladas, no. No, I do not like Piña Coladas, Sam-I-Am. Not anymore anyway.

So here’s the thing, after digging up a few different varieties of edible candy dicks, I found a bunch of other goofy foodstuffs like “Dickorice” which is marketed to people who love dick and licorice equally as well as the awful-as-it-sounds “Gum Job” candy that you put on your teeth before you engage in oral sex. There are even gummy handcuffs that for some baffling reason exist. Of all the weird sexy candy in this post, I can’t lie—I am partial to the lollipop by Naughty Talk Pops that says “Let’s Fuck,” because sometimes you just need to be direct. I’ve posted links along with the NSFW images below on where you can get these naughty novelties out there on the Internet.
 

Piña Colada-flavored “Cocktail” flavored sucker. Get it here.
 

“Screaming Orgasm”-flavored sucker.
 
More after the jump…

 
The world is ever divided into the superstitious and the enlightened, and while the enlightened have shown the clear trend of being on the rise, it doesn’t always seem so. Ghosts and horoscopes and good-luck charms abound, and poindexterish explanations of why they are all poppycock merely tend to make one an un-adored party pooper—even though this is certainly the correct view.

There’s a tendency to consign all of pre-modernity to the superstitious (one might say “religious”) camp, but that really isn’t the case. Mathematicians and scientists have existed for the entirety of recorded history, which must be the case since language and writing technologies are products of the experimental mindset. The Enlightenment was a turning point, as rationality was increasingly given a central place in the arrangement of social affairs, and even if irreligious skeptics were (and are) outnumbered, you could still always count on finding someone in the vicinity willing to scoff at the hocus-pocus of superstition.

In the 19th century, some scholars were able to use interest in the paranormal to undermine its premises entirely. One such person was J.H. Brown, who published a book in New York City under the title Spectropia; or, Surprising spectral illusions showing ghosts everywhere and of any colour in 1864. The book was popular enough to merit a print run in London in 1865 and a Dutch edition in 1866.

Here is the cover of the U.S. edition:
 

 
To produce his popular occult-adjacent book, Brown relied on the optical phenomenon of “cone fatigue,” whereby prolonged exposure to an image of a specific color produces an afterimage (with reversed colors) in the eye for a few seconds after the initial image is replaced with a white field. A common example is an inverted image of the U.S. flag, which produces a more or less color-accurate version in the eye afterward.
 

 
Brown didn’t use the flag—he used pictures of demons and angels and skeletons. In the book Brown stated that his goal was
 

the extinction of the superstitious belief that apparitions are actual spirits, by showing some of the many ways in which our senses may be deceived, and that, in fact, no so-called ghost has ever appeared, without its being referable either to mental or physiological deception, or, in those instances where several persons have seen a spectre at the same time, to natural objects

 
Here are Brown’s instructions on how to see the “spectres”:
 
To see the spectres, it is only necessary to look steadily at the dot, or asterisk, which is to be found on each of the plates, for about a quarter of a minute, or while counting about twenty, the plate being well illuminated by either artificial or day light. Then turning the eyes to the ceiling, the wall, the sky, or better still to a white sheet hung on the wall of a darkened room (not totally dark), and looking rather steadily at any one point, the spectre will soon begin to make its appearance, increasing in intensity, and then gradually vanishing, to reappear and again vanish ; it will continue to do so several times in succession, each reappearance being fainter than the one preceding. Winking the eyes, or passing a finger rapidly to and fro before them, will frequently hasten the appearance of the spectre, especially if the plate has been strongly illuminated.
 
Here’s an amusing item from the New York Daily Tribune of September 13, 1864, in which the publisher introduces to the public “the new ghost marvel” that can produce “without apparatus, machine, or expense” all manner of demons and ghosts “upon the wall, the doors, the curtains, or any white surface whatever!!”
 

 
I figure this was sort of the Magic Eye of its day. Below are some of the images from Spectropia, but you can see the whole book at Public Domain Review.
 

 
More spectral demons and skeletons after the jump…....
 

 
On May 30th, 1977, ABC aired the pilot for a sci-fi sitcom called Stick Around. The program starred Andy Kaufman as “Andy,” an android servant that had seen better days. ABC decided to pass on Stick Around, so the pilot is the only episode that was produced. It’s been on YouTube for years, with a relatively low number of views. Kaufman’s cult is big, yet somehow Stick Around has flown under the radar. It’s not only worth a look as a Kaufman curio; watching it 40 years later, it’s clear the show had potential.

Set in 2055, Stick Around revolves around a married couple who live with their android butler. “Andy” is an older model that is a bit worn down, thus in need of constant maintenance. The droid’s also prone to erratic behavior—comic gold for an unpredictable sort like Kaufman. His portrayal of “Andy” will be instantly recognizably to Kaufman fans, as it’s very similar to both his “Foreign Man” character, and “Latka Gravas,” his role on Taxi, the successful series that premiered a year after Stick Around failed to impress executives at ABC.

I think our readers will dig the Stick Around pilot. The episode uses the sitcom format and the sci-fi subgenre, social science fiction, to explore social commentary in a way that’s a heck of lot more meaningful and interesting than the average silly sitcom that made it onto network television—then and now. Perhaps that’s what scared off the suits!

More after the jump…

 
It all started out as a bit of fun when artist Ambera Wellmann “plunked” an egg into a watermelon. The strangely irrational satisfaction Wellmann felt when combining these two foods started her visual investigation into juxtaposing unlikely objects together. The end results have been described as funny, creepy, and even “gross.” Take, for example, the toilet with a wig which looks like Donald Trump. Or, noodles sprouting from a bikini line making us think about pubic hair. Or what about the close-up of seemingly wrinkled hand with a bra sketched which becomes some grand dame by a pool in Miami?

The best artists make the viewer see the world anew. Ambera Wellmann certainly does this. She takes her photographs quickly using whatever objects she has to hand. This usually means food, clothes, and her own body:

“I enjoy manipulating context and composition to defamiliarize these things and illuminate the conventions that structure our understanding of, or attraction to them. I try to make materials behave like something other than themselves.”

Ambera Wellmann is primarily a painter who also works in porcelain and sculpture. Originally from Nova Scotia, Wellmann won the Joseph Plaskett Award for “her virtuosic painting abilities and her confidence in engaging the grotesque and the uncanny” in 2016. The award allowed the artist to travel to Europe where she based herself in Germany.

Since posting that first egg in a watermelon picture in 2015, Wellmann has been producing and posting an impressive array of her improvised photos which you can see on her Instagram account.
 

 

 
See more of Ambera Wellmann’s fab photos, after the jump…
 

“The genius of Port Lligat.” A painting done in 1985 by Dutch painter Johfra Bosschart. Johfra is pictured to the left of the giant Dalí head.
 
Up until his death at the age of 78, Dutch painter Johfra Bosschart was driven to create his art by mystical and occult ideologies. The artist himself has said that he has been inspired by many things, including astrology, magic, and organized religion—specifically citing the Bible as a creative force in his work. Following his passing, his large portfolio, including writings and never-before-seen paintings were shown in public eventually leading to the publication of a book in 2001 that compiled 60-plus-years of Bosschart’s inspiring endeavours, Johfra: Highest Lights and Deepest Shadows.

Like his art, Johfra’s life was a bit strange. Born Franciscus Johannes Gijsbertus van den Berg in 1919, he would work under the moniker “Johfra” beginning in 1945—a name he devised by borrowing the first three letters from his first two names, Franciscus Johannes. Later that same year his home in the Hague and approximately 400 of his paintings were blown to bits by a bomb, thankfully while the artist was not in it. During the German occupation of Holland, Johfra and his fellow artists were rightfully afraid to showcase their work and had little contact with the world beyond their homeland. It was during this time that the artist got his hands on a copy of a German publication that condemned the work of various artists whom the Nazis had labeled “degenerate” such as Salvador Dalí, Rudolf Schlichter, and Yves Tanguy. Deeply moved by the work of Dalí, Johfra began to cultivate his inner-surrealist once the war was over. His obsession with Dalí would culminate in Johfra traveling to Dalí‘s mythical home that he shared with his wife and muse Gala in Port Lligat, Catalonia, Spain. At the time, Dalí was working on his massive masterpiece, “The Discovery of America by Christopher Columbus.” The eccentric artist welcomed Johfra into his studio to see the painting, though the fairy-tale meeting with his idol left Johfra rather underwhelmed, prompting him to write an entry in his diary about it. Here’s an excerpt from the entry below:

“This visit left a storm of conflicting thoughts and feelings behind us. I found him repulsive yet sympathetic and tragic. An imprisoned person who is forced to be the figure that he himself has created. A victim of a world in which he is the fool, and of himself through his boundless vanity, making him impossible to break out of this situation. What I missed completely was every trace of joy and humour.”

Johfra would marry twice—both times to other influential painters, Diana Vandenberg in 1952 and later Ellen Lórien in 1973. This would be the same year that Johfra would receive a commission to paint posters based on the twelve astrological signs of the zodiac. The series was wildly popular and the artist and his wife—who often appears in Johfra’s paintings—would live out their days in a remote mountainous region in the French Alps. Sounds dreamy. I’ve included a collection of Johfra’s incredible, perplexing work below for you to peruse. Some of the images are NSFW.
 

“The Apotheosis of Dalí “1971.
 

 

 
More Johfra after the jump…

 
My very first post for Dangerous Minds concerned an amazing television performance of “De Futura” by legendary prog rock band, Magma. As exciting as that clip is, it was, unfortunately, edited for TV, no doubt due to the fact that “De Futura” is a loooong song. At nearly eighteen minutes, it took up one whole side of an LP, and live renditions of the number were frequently even longer. Over the years, extended live versions have come out on archival releases, with one, in particular, standing out from the rest.

Magma was formed by drummer Christian Vander, who assembled the group in the late ‘60s. After five records, plus a live release, Vander loosened the reins a bit, allowing other members to contribute songs for studio album number six, Udu Wudu (1976). Two of the tracks were written by bassist Jannick Top, including “De Futura.” As always, the lyrics are sung in Kobaïan, the language created by Vander.

“De Futura” premiered the previous year at the Nancy Jazz Pulsations 75 festival in Nancy, France. On October 10th, 1975, Top led a group performing as Utopic Sporadic Orchestra—with Vander amongst the eighteen musicians on stage—through the paces of “De Futura.” It’s been reported that the band played the song three times that day, with one recording from the show, as well as a rehearsal take, appearing on the Nancy 75 release.
 
More Magma after the jump…

Photo by Amy Lombard
 
Photographer Amy Lombard‘s series “Nails Pt.2” explores what might be charitably described as excessively exaggerated toenail art. Now obviously these are acrylic nails on the toes and not the real thing. Lombard worked with nail artist Sonya Meesh to create this, er, rather interesting effect. I dig the shrimp cocktail fork image (Is this a clever visual pun on “shrimping”? Methinks that might be the case.) You can follow Amy Lombard on Instagram and Twitter to see more of her work.

After looking at Lombard’s series, I got curious if people actually did do this in real life with their real toes. The short answer will come as no surprise: yes they do! I got lost looking up long toenail art on the Internet. I had so many burning questions: like WHY? Do you have to buy bigger shoes? Do you put holes in your socks? Can you even wear socks? How do you walk without breaking them? How do you drive a car? Do you scratch wood floors? Do you your toenails hang over your bed?

I don’t know if these questions will ever be answered but I do know the answer to one of my questions: Why not?

I’ve added images of folks IRL who sport super-duper long toenails. Those are posted after Lombard’s photographs.

Photo by Amy Lombard
 

Photo by Amy Lombard
 

Photo by Amy Lombard
 
More after the jump…

 
I’m a big fan of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, so when I caught wind of this amusing archive find over the weekend, I knew I would have to pass it on.

Dave Addey runs the brilliant website Typeset in the Future, which looks at typefaces in sci-fi movies. He is currently turning the content on the site into a book for Abrams. On Saturday he tweeted an amazing find he had stumbled across, namely an advertisement in Seventeen magazine an ad from Seventeen magazine, promoting 2001: A Space Odyssey tie-in knitwear. The date of the issue is August 1968, the movie came out in April of the same year.

Here’s the entire spread, it’s absolutely awesome:
 

 
I hunted around on the Internet for a while and came up with very little. I’d love to see more of these, so please do write in if you happen to see one!

I did find this black-and-white advertisement in the August 21, 1968, edition of the Ukiah Daily Journal, which served the good people of Ukiah, county seat of Mendocino County, California:
 

 
Pretty much impossible to read any of it, but the text repeats language found in (and also mentions) the Seventeen ad—underneath the picture you can make out the following text:
 

OUT OF THIS WORLD KNITS
FOR JUNIOR PETITES
INSPIRED BY 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY

 
While we’re at it, here is some design art from Brian Sanders pertaining to the stewardess outfits in 2001: A Space Odyssey:
 

 

 
Ever wonder why anyone thought it made sense to have a weird little ceramic homunculus taking up real estate in your front yard? Who came up with that, anyway? Garden gnomes are a fun part of homeownership for some, and they surface in popular culture in unexpected places with some frequency, such as the globe-trotting gnome in Amélie or (my favorite) the Gnome Chomsky garden gnome. 

The trope of the hermit, on the other hand, seems a bit more distant from our concerns. I recently finished a brief trip to the Azores in the Atlantic Ocean, and while I was there I had the opportunity to visit a hermitage on an extended hike (I opted to do something else). Right this minute I’m in the Austrian countryside, and I can hike for less than an hour up into the woods and encounter a hermitage there as well. The man who is currently occupying the position of local hermit is (somewhat paradoxically) quite welcoming to visitors.

One appearance of a hermit in popular culture that I can think of was courtesy of Monty Python, who inserted a sketch about gossipy hermits into episode 8 of Monty Python’s Flying Circus, right before a certain unforgettable two-hander about a dead parrot. Anyone who has seen Tom Stoppard’s outstanding play Arcadia will surely recall the salience of “the hermit of Sidley Park” to that narrative.

Americans don’t really have hermits—we have crackpots, cranks and crazed loners—but there is a phantom relationship between the hermit and the garden gnome. Because the garden gnome really started out as a hermit—a hermit who was encouraged to live on an individual’s private estate. The term for the such a person was “garden hermit” or “ornamental hermit,” and their heyday was Europe and England of the 18th century.

One of the earliest hermits of this type, according to Wikipedia, was St. Francis of Paola, who lived in a cave on his own father’s estate in the Italy of the early 15th century. It’s a little unclear how this phenomenon went big, but sometime around 1700 some tipping point of excess wealth among the gentry led to the popularization of ornamental hermits, who were hired on to spend years at a time in hermitages, grottoes, or rockeries on the estates of wealthy landowners.
 

 
Abby Norman found a wonderful example of a want ad for an ornamental hermit that dates from the early 1700s that was placed by Charles Hamilton, 6th Earl of Haddington, who was renowned for his innovations in park layout and topiary and suchlike. Hamilton’s hermit would…
 

be provided with a Bible, optical glasses, a mat for his feet, a hassock for his pillow, an hourglass for timepiece, water for his beverage, and food from the house. He must wear a camlet robe, and never, under any circumstances, must he cut his hair, beard, or nails, stray beyond the limits of Mr. Hamilton’s grounds, or exchange one word with the servant.

 
An ostensible reason for bringing a hermit onto one’s estate would be to forge some connection to nature, representing a return to authenticity that today’s enthusiasts of artisanal macaroons might also understand. But that explanation is somewhat undermined by the fact that some of the ornamental hermits were replaced by, um, robots. As Karl Shaw writes in Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know: The Extraordinary Exploits of the British and European Aristocracy:
 

In the 1830 a Lord Hill installed a human hermit in the grounds of his home at Hawkstone in Shropshire. The bare-footed “Father Francis” was required to sit in a cave with an hourglass in his hand and exchange bon mots with passing visitors. He was eventually replaced by an automaton that would nod its head whenever someone came by, but according to regulars, the effect was disappointing.

 
I’ll bet.
 

 

 
More after the jump…

 
Well, since everyone is talking about wishing they could buy Glenn Danzig’s now iconic house since yesterday’s popular Dangerous Minds post—good news! We all can!

Well, sorta. The weird folks at Meth Syndicate, one of the top new companies that does the enamel metal pins that are so popular with the kids (along with their friends at Pizzaships) have come up with a way for all people to buy Glenn’s house! Yup, the “Danzig’s House hard enamel pin”!
 

 
It’s posted on their Instagram page along with this text:
 

 
As some of you reading this know, I used to be in Danzig and I lived in the guest house there for quite a while and it was bat shit crazy! Not because of Glenn, mind you, but because of YOU! YOU PEOPLE are crazy!

A little after I started living there we had to start chaining the driveway gate to keep the nuts out. I’d wake up many mornings to “the spray can girl” who would walk up and down the driveway slowly shaking a spraypaint can (KA-CHUNK, KA-CHUNK, KA-CHUNK) like some kinda tribal death march. Notes, records, dead things, you name it. When people showed up and were calm and friendly, Glenn was always unfailingly nice. I have known him since 1978 and he’s super cool, he was always fair and generous as a bandleader and I think all the kookoo fans that come up with these weird trips about him are both a blessing and a curse. It’s great to have fans but put yourselves in Glenn’s hooves, imagine being bugged by creepy nuts who all have your address, day and night? Just living with it was pretty unnerving. So remember “Do what thou wilt” unless thou art an idiot! Then do the opposite!

Leave your dark idol the hell alone!!