Look, I get that time rolls on and that nostalgia kills. I get it, I do. Your average millennial is not all that concerned with rock n’ roll in general, nevermind who the “King” of the greatest American art form of all time is, or was. But I do. It’s Elvis. Elvis Presley is still the fucking King of Rock ‘n’ Roll. And all I have wanted for the past ten years is an Elvis bust that looks enough like him that I don’t have to explain why I’ve got a statue of, like, a generic fat guy with greasy hair in my living room.

Back in the 70s, before he gasped his last pill-shoveling breath on his golden toilet, Elvismania was at its apex. Most American homes had some evidence of Elvis worship, be it a crying Elvis black velvet painting, a ‘68 “Comeback Specal” commemorative ashtray, an Elvis Golden Hits box set, or a giant gaudy Elvis bust. My Canadian uncle Al had one of the latter, a memorial ‘77 Chalkware edition rushed out shortly after his death. That particular model became the standard-bearer. They even made a lamp out of it. It didn’t really look like Elvis, but you got the drift with the scarf, at least.
 

Elvis(?) lights the way
 
There were many others before and after, some as recent as the late 90s. Some are even animatronic. None of them capture the essence of the man who was, lest we forget, as close to a God as any American has ever gotten. I’ve been searching for a decent Elvis bust for years, but so far it’s been a disaster. Here’s a few of the travesties I’ve encountered.
 

Creepy 50s greaser with jaundice making duckface for a selfie, or the King of Rock ‘n’ Roll?
 

Grumpy old neighbor Elvis wants you to move your car
 
More Elvi (that’s plural) after the jump…

Arguably the most “high-end” model, this Santa Claus toilet decor exhibits the closest attention to detail.
 
The original inspiration for a holiday post was this amazing piece of dinosaur-themed Chanukah paraphernalia—the Menorasaurus Rex. Hoping this objet d’art would lead me to a glut of tacky Chanukah kitsch, I scanned Etsy for similar crafts, only to find a disappointingly tasteful (and sometimes downright sublime) array of Menorahs. At the risk of sounding biased, I’ve arrived at the conclusion that when it comes to holidays, no one does garish quite like the Christians.

Unfortunately, lurid displays of Christmas cheer are so predictable, it’s difficult in this day and age to find anything that even registers as gaudy anymore; A Charlie Brown Christmas was bemoaning the spectacle and commercialization back in 1965, and it’s certainly only gotten worse since then. But just when you think you’ve become completely desensitized to Christmas branding, you come across a product—nay, a slew of products—trying to cash in on the season with what can only be described as a virulent animus towards good taste.

Behold, the Freudian fever dream of anthropomorphic Christmas-themed toilet decor. These festive loo accouterments depict reindeer, Frosty and even Jolly Old Saint Nick himself as the guardians—the repositories even—of human waste, and apparently there is a subset of people for whom this idea is “cute.” If you’re one of those people, bless your flagrant disregard for decency. If you’re aspiring to be one of those people, I also threw in some (less literal) Santa-specific bathroom decor at the end, just in case you weren’t ready to commit to evacuating your bowels into Santa’s waiting mouth. This, ladies and gentleman, is why—despite my admittedly boring atheism—I will always refer to myself as “culturally Protestant.” We are the John Waters of religions and I can’t help but be a little proud of our relentless vulgarity. I mean, why treat religion like it’s something sacred?
 

A lower rent version, made all the more disturbing by the fact he has his tongue out.
 

Poor reindeer. Just because they’re animals, doesn’t mean deserve this foul indignity.
 

As members of the exploited proletariat, you sort of expect elves to deal with a lot of shit—albeit usually less literally.
 

Frosty awaits his fate with a stoic smile.
 
More after the jump…

 
Real Soda in Real Bottles’ founder Danny Ginsburg came up with name and idea of Leninade as a joke in 1987 when he drew the bottle’s label in Russian language class.  It became a real drink eleven years ago, “Simple Soviet Style Soda,” that is “worth standing in line for,” with high kitsch value. 

My favorite slogan is “Surprisingly Satisfying Soviet Refreshment, ” a play on the Cyrillic letters CCCP (USSR). It tastes like any other carbonated sweet pink lemonade, but is unrivaled as a conversation-piece beverage (try serving it at your next партия with some Willie Nelson Spring Water for some cool refreshing cognitive dissonance). It supposedly tastes good mixed with vodka, as is only appropriate. 

Previously on Dangerous Minds:
Lenin in Los Angeles
 

 
Some of the better specimens spotted over at Waxidermy (where there are tons more like these on their “Wall of Bone”).