ECTOPLASMOSIS!

The Friday Fez

Eliza Gauger — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 23:12:33 +0000

The Folio Society’s Edition Lord Of The Flies

Ross Rosenberg — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 19:22:01 +0000

Oh my.

The Folio Society has released a gorgeous edition of William Golding’s classic novel with paintings by Sam Weber. Unfortunately, it is only available to members and the entry fee ain’t cheap.

Lord of the Flies [Folio Society] : DRAWN!

And Baby Said

Eliza Gauger — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 11:22:52 +0000

The photographer’s 4-year-old daughter as Jareth the Goblin King.

Christina Ragusin [Twitter]

Waterlily

Eliza Gauger — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 09:48:53 +0000

Waterlily, originally uploaded by Minnaloushe.

Noise du Jour du WTF: “Japanese People Are Weird” by Nice Peter

Eliza Gauger — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 23:06:37 +0000

[thanks Jhonen!]

Sunday Sketchdump: Octopus Tub (the Musical)

Eliza Gauger — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:36:15 +0000

23/10/09 by Station

Last week I ran a $45 painting commission special on SWEATSHOP. My first request was from a chef and restaurant owner, who sent me the following story and asked me to illustrate it.

Meanwhile, Station00023 was idling in the SWEATSHOP chatroom, as he usually does. At the end of the night, he sent me the music at the head of this post, having composed it while he watched the painting going up.

Between the three of us, we nearly had an opera. Please enjoy.

I purchase my fish from various fish mongers, (local fisher gentlemen) they come to my back door with their fresh catch looking to sell. Depending on a number of things, I usually buy. Usually they all have the same types of fish and/or crustaceans.

About 4 years ago on a Friday afternoon I opened my door to a 20 gallon cooler of squirming alive medium sized Octopus. It was glorious! As I was bargaining with the fisherman, he labored to keep them in the cooler, dozens of tentacles slithering over the edge trying to go free, dark sack-like bodies with little eyes peering over the edge, as he unstuck something, others popped up.

When I saw the cooler, I had no idea what I was going to do with them, all I knew was that this is the SPECIAL for the weekend. I had to have them, they’re so fresh and alive! I would make something great in their honor.

As usual I was busy getting ready for dinner, which meant the Octopus had to wait. (I had other things to do before I dealt with them, except they had to be cleaned and eviscerated quickly to avoid spoilage.)

Transferring them quickly to a large plastic food bin with ice (no lid), I then placed the writhing bin on the floor up against a ceramic tiled wall which extends 12 feet to the ceiling in my prep kitchen. After icing down the little guys, they calmed down and barely moved. Planning to prepare them a little later, I returned to my work on the hotline (stove, grill area. The small prep kitchen is in the back and cannot be seen from the hotline). An hour later, I’m open for service, leaving the hotline to my cooks.

Returning to the prep kitchen I find my wife (She’s the pastry chef), with her back to me, a bowl of tempered chocolate in one hand and a kitchen towel in the other, staring at the tile wall with this blank/surreal look on her face, cocking her head slightly to the side. I didn’t notice what she was staring at until a dark bulbous tentacle mass came into view inching up the wall! Blargh!! HOlyshitwtf!! Octopus moving sideways on the wall, vertically up the wall, horizontally on the floor, leaving thin clear ooze in their wake. Some wedged themselves in corners, under tables, a few others suspended vertically 10 feet up the wall making their great escape! After gathering them up, I’ll never know if I got them all. I paid for them by weight and didn’t do a head count. The following weeks there were no strange smells in the kitchen so I assume I got them all, but I like to think at least one got away.

Your Midnight WTF: Mos Eisley Spaceport

Eliza Gauger — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 09:55:05 +0000

[thanks Jhonen]

The Apiatrix

Eliza Gauger — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 06:58:27 +0000

, originally uploaded by Minnaloushe.

Wild, wooly, and free.

Your Midnight WTF: I Love You Jesus

Eliza Gauger — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 06:51:52 +0000

Thanks Malpertuis!

Noise du Jour’s Pantheon: “We Own the Sky” by M83

Eliza Gauger — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 14:00:06 +0000

Before it turns into an animated presentation of Look at This Fucking Hipster, the first two thirds of this video are an extremely arresting portrait of the classical Greek gods.

The descriptor attached to the YouTube video seems to inaccurately name the gods in question, so I’m going to assume something was lost in translation

It opens as Hephaestus, jostled from his kingdom of steam and ore, limps on crippled legs to his dirtbike. He sets out to meet Persephone, who has paddled over the Styx from the Land of the Dead to meet him in the winter-blighted woods. Picking up Orpheus along the way, they head to Aphrodite’s graffiti-anointed love shack, where she’s entertaining a lumberjack. Once the band is back together, they head to Olympus to overthrow their tyrant father Zeus, using only the power of Terrible Dancing.

Things fall apart there, but that’s no reason to discard the really stellar opening sequences. Every detail is perfect, and mythologically sound. Persephone’s woods are snowy because her mother Demeter curses the land for the six months of the year she is kept by Hades. Hephaestus’ legs are braced from the injuries he sustained after being flung from Olympus by his father during a domestic dispute. Aphrodite wears the bewitching golden girdle her husband forged for her, idiot that he is, and matching golden leggings.

I have no explanation for Orpheus’ ensemble. I guess he’s just a little bitch.

I love low budget done right. And most of this is so very right.

M83 - Saturdays=Youth [Amazon]

Law & Order: Swan Victims Unit

Eliza Gauger — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 10:07:23 +0000

Even the gleam in the eyes of this young tattooee speaks volumes on the subject of mythological rape. One cannot imagine him taking his pleasure without feathers billowing from the bedsheets, and thunder rattling the windowpanes.

Fine Print | Ink, Inc. [NYTimes : knickersoakers : thanks Nadya!]

Moustache Monday: His Horse Is Amazing

Ross Rosenberg — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 19:02:18 +0000

From the same people who brought you Fulton’s autobiography, I present the story of a woman and the moustachioed man who wishes to take her away on his amazing horse.

I’m mostly linking this so I don’t have to be the only one with this on a constant loop in my brain.

Amazing Horse [Weebl’s Stuff] : Thanks, VKlaus!

Noise du Jour: “Pet the Lion” by Moufette

Eliza Gauger — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 00:03:47 +0000

You said you had a good idea
involving business and pleasure…

Pop duo Moufette’s Pet the Lion seems to be a song about making porn, but I can’t be sure. The refrain–go pet the lion, you know it wants you to see her–is so obscure that I spent many minutes looking for the lyrics before finally giving up. It is mournful, perplexing, and catchy by turns. A perfect little pop-dollop for a Thursday afternoon.

Moufette - Pet the Lion [thesixtyone]

Charles Bukowski Is Gonna Get Himself A Jewish Attorney To Skin Your Ass

Ross Rosenberg — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 16:06:14 +0000

He’s not going to put up with you staying out six nights a week, no he’s not.

Bukowski and Fiancee Arguing [YouTube]

The Only Known Film Of Anne Frank

Ross Rosenberg — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 15:39:23 +0000

Perhaps the most famous victim of the Holocaust, Anne Frank is best known by her diary, published as The Diary of a Young Girl and a few, iconic photographs. Recently, however, the Anne Frank Museum uploaded this amazing clip onto YouTube, the only known film footage of Miss Frank. Taken on July 22, 1941, the clip shows the young girl looking out the window of her apartment to get a better look at the wedding of a girl who lived in the next building over. I love clips like this, as all too often these people, well known as they may be, seem to have never actually existed beyond the confines of a photograph; my mind unable to conceive of them moving, speaking, and just, well, living.

Anne Frank: the only existing film images [YouTube]

Moustache Monday: Infidelity

Ross Rosenberg — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:30:43 +0000

Shamelessly cribbed from my other gig but, really, it belongs here.

Infidelity [YouTube]

DDR Pulps: Trucker-King, Issue 152

John Brownlee — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 10:34:34 +0000

There’s no hint at what action this cover is even attempting to convey. Is Manfred Weinland, Trucker Hero, engaged in a fierce tug of war with a rig, or is he simply trying to drag his truck like a fearful and reluctant calf over to the awaiting biplane, perhaps for a ride? The Secret of Clear Lake indeed.

Noise Du Nuit: Dub FX - “Step On My Trip”

Qais Fulton — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 01:39:58 +0000

Dub FX, a street performer hailing from Australia, employs loop & effects pedals in conjunction with his own voice to weave layers of sound into awe-inspiring beats. When introduced to this video I sat slack-jawed and nodding unconsciously in time, and in my subsequent evangelism I’ve found the effect on others is much the same.

Dub FX [Thanks, Petra!]

DDR Pulps: Trucker-King, Issue 238

John Brownlee — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 16:40:58 +0000

(Note: Yes, dammit, I know. I don’t care! ‘DDR Pulps’ just sounds better.)

Continuing yesterday’s post, today’s DDR Pulp is issue 238 of the oldest and most veritable of Germany Trucker pulps: Trucker-King. Let’s examine the cover.

Note the fleeing children. Each is rendered with the garish ineptitude of a palsied Mört Drücker, and each reacts to the crushing onslaught of Der Katastrophen Truck with bizarre discordance. Perhaps most understandable of all their reactions, the eyes of the first child seem drawn to the hovering ghostly head — as massive as the sun — of who I can only imagine to be Der Katastrophen Trucker-King himself, Michael Connors (”Nothing and no one can stop him,” the cover grimly notes). On the other hand, the girl on the extreme right seems more alarmed by the font choice than the impending gelatinization of her friends. A Helvetica snob, no doubt. Admirably, the flouncy lavender, second from the right, will not let even imminent death disturb his attempts to master a perfect attitude en pointe. Meanwhile, the retarded girl in pink tries to escape Der Katastrophen Truck by flapping her arms, thus invoking the secret power of all Downies: spontaneous flight.

Speaking of which, one thing that can be deduced from the action on the cover is that we, ourselves, are in no danger. Luckily, the adventures of Der Katastrophen Truck take place in an alternate world where the laws of physics have been repealed. Note that the jungle gym and the lamp post have all crumpled before being hit by the front grill of Der Katastrophen Truck, while the springed rocking horse, having been alerted to the imminent catastrophe, has cut his losses and fled the scene with one spectacular pogo leap.

Cthulhu Cthursday: The Soothing Embrace Of Madness

Ross Rosenberg — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 17:13:11 +0000

We are aware that some, perhaps even many, ectomites have not only engaged in the sticky and awkward physical act of love but have gone the distance, so to speak, and reproduced; pushing new, wriggling life into the world. We do not judge. Now that you have a needy tadpole to take care of though there are, apparently, things one must do to ensure good growth and retard cellular breakdown. Fuel helps as does avoiding exposure to corrosive substances. We at ectomo, therefore, suggest that you never, ever touch your child. Better to place the neonate inside an antiseptic environment and insert food through an airlock. You could include a habitrail for exercise.

Should you not have the funds or not care enough about your offspring to keep it hermetically sealed then, at the very least, do something to keep it warm. We suggest this crocheted Cthulhu blanket which not only prepares the child for its inevitable death at the hands of the mighty master of R’lyeh, but also sports a handy pacifier to silence it and, thereby, help it to avoid a fatal shaking.

Scary cute Baby Cuthulu Blankie [Craftster] : Thanks to everyone who sent this in!

The Pulp Covers of Ed Wood, Jr.

John Brownlee — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 16:07:02 +0000

While we’re on the subject of lurid pulp covers, here’s a link to a gorgeous (albeit small) gallery of Plan 9 and Glen or Glenda director Ed Wood, Jr.’s pulp covers.

The Killer in Drag cover seems misleading: at best, that is a killer in post-operative transsexuality, not drag. And given the cover copy for Satan, Demons and Dildoes — “A journey into the darkness of man’s soul!” — the unwary reader, expecting the dildonic probing of the redhead on the cover, might instead have been exposed to a cautionary tale about pegging.

If I had to pick a favorite, though, it’s this one: Watts… The Difference. The title punningly attempts to reference the recent Watts Race Riots, but the book itself seems to have had a very different plot, according to this Ed. Wood Jr. bibliography: “A series of flashbacks as a Hollywood cowboy actor and his lover reminisce. While not a transvestite-themed novel, one of the main characters does have an angora fetish.”

Other novels that Ed Wood wrote include such luminous titles as The Sexecutives, Night Time, Lez and the unforgettable It Takes A Homo.

Ed Wood Pulp Covers [Flickr] : Thanks, Dad!

DDR Pulps: Dinoland Vol. 1, Issue 1

John Brownlee — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 15:18:23 +0000

While recently wandering the Hackescher Markt flöhmarkt with the inamorata, our joint bibliophilia inexorably led us to a slush pile of DDR-era East German pulps, fifty pfennigs to the kilo.

Although the quality of ablauted prose in these magazines is as cheap and itchy as the newsprint, the covers are fascinating. Judging solely from these covers, there seem to be four genres of DDR pulps.

The first genre is also the largest: romance pulps that are usually bound in bright and florid photographic covers featuring the real life weddings of alarmingly mucousy looking East German couples. Given the romance pulps’ cover models, all of whom have a certain Smeagol-like quality that identifies them as villagers caught at the peripheral of Chernobyl’s fallout area, these photographs are likely plucked from submissions of wedding pictures sent in by actual readers.

There’s then an additional three genres:

a. Pulps about trucks.
b. Pulps about monsters.
c. Pulps about both monsters and trucks.

As an example of the vibrant subgenre c, then, I give you the cover to Dinoland vol. 1, issue 1. There’s no actual publication or copyright date anywhere in the magazine, but given the Dinoland logo’s font, this must have come out around 1993, around the time of Jurassic Park.

Still, the cover is interesting. One can only imagine the progression of events that led to this snapshot in time. Two stranded RV campers are changing a flat tire in Germany’s vast and arid desert wastelands when a rampaging Tyrannosaurus pulls up to them. Eager for help, one camper lifts an arm in an insistent attempt to flag the dinosaur down. However, his companion is more cautious, and places one hand — quivering with trepidation — upon her boyfriend’s elbow.

“Gunter!” she whispers, “Look at his arms! That dinosaur’s never going to be able to help us change this tire.”

Infolinks

Eliza Gauger — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 22:20:25 +0000

Hello drooglets.

You may have noticed that there are now in-content advertising links on Ectomo. They appear as green, double-underlined words and phrases and I am sure you’ve seen them on other sites. I’m doing a trial run of these bad boys for a few days, after which they may or may not remain.

Overall, I agree that more advertising = worse site. But Ectomo is a place where we work, and thus a place where we would like to get paid.

What are your thoughts? Are the little green links more obnoxious than is tolerable? Do you notice them at all? Do you have alternate suggestions? Do tell.

Give ‘im A Dip

Qais Fulton — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 21:17:55 +0000

We go out of our way to avoid political discourse here on Ectomo. This is usually the place for discussing disturbed German Dwarves and R’lyehan (-ese? -ish?!) delicacies, not Democrats and Republicans. However, when an intellect of downright otherworldly proportion deigns to speak from on high, we are but thralls to its phlegmy gurglings. Reel in horrified wonderment as this jowly political maven delivers a slurred rendition of what Wonkette calls the “most devastating critique of the Obama administration yet.”

Do listen to the entire diatribe if you can, it’s well worth it.

Inpeached [Wonkette

The Final Moment Of A Worthless Mule

Ross Rosenberg — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 13:43:02 +0000

On June 6, 1881, in Willet’s Point, NY it came to the attention of General Henry L. Abbot — head of the Engineer School of Application — that a “worthless mule” was to be destroyed and it struck him that this would be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate to a military class the sensitivity of photo-geletine plates. To this end the unfortunate beast was positioned in front of the camera with a a bag containing 6 ounces of dynamite strapped to its forehead. Both the fuse and the camera shutter were connected to the same circuit and, at the press of a button, the mule’s head was separated from its body in a spectacular and gruesome fashion. The resulting photo was published in the September 24th edition of Scientific American that same year, complete with expository “Before” and “After” engravings. Recently, what may have been the original copy of this photograph was found and sold at auction for $2750.00

Rare Important Instantaneous Photograph [Stereoviews] : Thanks, John Brownlee!

Mechanical Tumor

Ross Rosenberg — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 13:35:18 +0000

I’m not sure I would remain as calm if my computer suddenly sprouted a fleshy, pulsating tumor.

mechanical tumor [YouTube]

My Father, the Cemetery Man

Eliza Gauger — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 10:41:06 +0000

Lately, my father Rick Gauger has been dropping into the Sweatshop chatroom to hold court, and to regale the audience with stories both real and imagined. He’s a two-tour Vietnam War veteran who has worked in every adventurous occupation from private investigator, to science fictional novelist, to Dungeons and Dragons professor, to cowboy.

He told us the following story during a recent Sweatshop. I have edited it into paragraph format, although he told it in the chatroom, complete with commentary by the other guests, thoughtful pauses, and ellipses to heighten the suspense as we waited for his next sentence. Some of the timing of the chatroom delivery is lost in this format, but really, you had to be there.

I used to be the night watchman at the Memphis Methodist Cemetary. One night, I was sitting in the little caretaker’s shack, about to make my rounds. I noticed an awful stink, and there was a knock at the door. There had been a huge constuction project right across the cemetary, many graves had to be moved. It was a high-voltage power line, from the (then) brand-new TVA Rural Eletrification Project.

There had been a big political fight in the city, people who wanted the power line and those who objected to messing with the cemetary, which dated from Andrew Jackson’s time. They had just powered up the high tension lines the previous week.

Even though the stink was awful, I went to the door, thinking it was a motorist in trouble, a not infequent happening. I got the shock of my life. A walking corpse was standing at the door!

(lurid description of zombie)*

“W-wha do you want?” I finally was able to say.

To make a long story short…the fresher denizens of the Cemetary had a complaint. The electrical induction from the power lines was activating their decaying nervous systems just enough to make them aware of their situation. I actually recognized this one; he was the pastor of the local Baptist Church, a very religious man.

I said, “Brother Phil is that really you? Have you risen from the dead?” Anyway, Bro Phil spoke in a gurgly voice. He said he really wasn’t Brother Phil, he was only Brother Phil’s body, Brother Phil having gone off to the afterlife, about which I naturally inquired. Phil replied that he was sorry, but he knew nothing about it. Brother Phil’s corpse went on. It said that he had been elected to visit me in the night to ask that the powerline be shut down.

I was backed all the way to the rear corner of the shed. I asked Brother Phil how he expected me to call the authorities with this story. They would fire me from my job.

[At this point in the story, Rick announced that he had to go to bed. We clamored for him to stay and finish!]

Oh, I was just giving the preamble to telling about how I led the first civil rights demonstration in Memphis that had nothing to do with race! We had to march down the power line right of way that day, not the street.

[And that was that.]

*Unedited. Rick decided to skip the details of an animated corpse, which we all know by heart, anyway.

Sunday Sketchdump: Batmans Forever

Eliza Gauger — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 10:07:05 +0000

Several times a week, I host a live video broadcast of my daily drawing and sketching. It’s called the Sweatshop, and it’s slowly growing in popularity.

Sweatshops are my own personal nighttime open mic drawing lessons, storytellings, and heckling opportunities. I announce the session is starting via my Twitter, and the call to arms is bounced around by viewers as the night goes on. Sometimes I point my cam at a page, sometimes at a Photoshop window, and very occasionally at a canvas. Guests wander into and out of the chatroom, offering wisecracks, critique, and shaggy dog stories. It’s a blast.

Over the past few nights, my nibs have strayed to the Dark Knight. These are the fruits of my (and our) labor.

Your Daily WTF: Hard Ticket to Hawaii

Eliza Gauger — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 23:45:11 +0000

When being shot in the heart doesn’t slow your roll, you might be the kind of man who keeps a bazooka in his Jeep.

Pixelle Horreur: Uno Morales and the Ultimate Weird

Eliza Gauger — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 22:41:18 +0000

I spend too much of my precious time looking at art on the Internet. I stopped recently–abandoned my feeds; stopped clicking links from friends, eschewing anything that told me I HAD TO SEE THIS!!!1. I became an artistic germophobe: fearful of contamination by all these outside influences. I think my output was better for it, and it’s a policy I keep up these days.

But I check the ectotips, of course. And I trust your collective judgment, of course. So it was with hope glazing my beady little eyes that I clicked the series of links Ectomite Tobin sent us recently. I was not disappointed.

Uno Morales’ work is by turns grotesque and gorgeous. It is the first genuinely frightening art I’ve seen in ages, and this is so, so refreshing.

supernature! [Uno Morales|Livejournal] (NWS)

Moustache Monday: I Am the Bat

Eliza Gauger — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 12:00:26 +0000

Uno Moralez [Artist’s site - thanks Tobin!]

Noise du Jour: Ninjasonik - Tights Pants (the Rap Remix)

Eliza Gauger — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 08:42:00 +0000

I showed this to my friend Aaron, a fellow denizen of the Yay and thus, a connoisseur of urban culture. He said, “Well, that’s it. Being white is officially back in.”

Well, It Is.

Eliza Gauger — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 02:39:38 +0000

niceblimps, originally uploaded by evilrooster.

The Hirstening

Qais Fulton — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 20:28:38 +0000

Damien Hirst is a “conceptual artist” with an affinity for dead animals in preservative fluid, over-long, pretentious titles for artwork, and charging obscene amounts of money for combinations of the two. The piece that launched him into fortune, A Thousand Years, consisted of a cow’s maggot-infested head encased in glass. The pieces for which he is presumably best known, The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Someone Living and For the Love of God, consist, respectively, of a vitrine encasing a 14-foot tiger shark preserved in formaldehyde, and a platinum skull encrusted with 8,601 diamonds totaling 1,106 carats.

Around the time of Hirst’s budding success, he was quoted as saying, “I can’t wait to get into a position to make really bad art and get away with it.”

In a bit of disingenuously friendly supposition, I’ve imagined a world in which video clips of adorable animals doing their adorable animal thing are all shot, and subsequently entitled, by Damien Hirst.

I call this one Man’s Endless Struggle Against The Inevitability Of Death, Suffering, And Oblivion.

Noise du WTF: Juicy Karkass - “Punch ‘Em In The Dick”

Ross Rosenberg — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 18:03:03 +0000

Be aware: You do not have to listen to this entire song. After the first verse of “Punch ‘Em in the Dick” you will know all there is to know about its thesis. This song is, indeed, about a gentleman who will, if provoked, punch ‘em in the dick. This may be all you need. You may not require any further exposition. Should you be like our Eliza, a connoisseur of penile pugilism, you may desire elaboration on the subject, an insightful dissection of the act that delves deep through the meat of the topic, straight to the bone. This song is for you. Lyrics, such as they are, after the jump.

Punch ‘em in the dick! Punch ‘em in the dick!
Motherfuckers talk shit — Punch ‘em the dick!

Yo! Look at that chump! See the way that he struts?
Don’t kick him in the rump, go nuts on his nuts!
Just pop a squat, start lettin’ off the shots
Like knock-knock-knock, just cold-cocked his cock!
To all the cock-knockers, nut-crackers, ball breakers,
Peter-beaters, keep on boxin them baby-makers
With a sock to the jock, better make that a double
Just a couple rounds of knuckles beneath the buckle & he’ll buckle!
If you’re in trouble, give him some urine trouble,
Hand him his balls and tell him, “Better learn to juggle!”
Turn his pebbles into rubble, make him wonder what mighta been
Make it so the south will never rise again!
Now every man claims to be the toughest and the meanest
But watch your crotch cuz soon the losers will be the wieners
And the winners in all the gladiator arenas
Are always the ones who go straight for the penis!

Chorus

I’ll give your willy a welt like you aint never felt,
Soon as I’ve knelt, I’ma pelt ya below the belt
Like BANG! Bust ‘em in the wang like it aint no thang
Now you really can’t hang!
But you ain’t gotta be a dude, shit I’ll dick-punch a chick
Cuz I don’t discriminate when I punch em in the dick!
Whether Suzy Homemaker or a floozy home-wrecker
I’ma deck ‘er in the pecker motherfecker!
It could be yo’ mama, better be no drama,
You could be the Dalai Lama, I’ma still put it on ya
With a right, left, right, left - you’re dick-punched!
Then you say, “Goddamn my shit’s crunched!”
Scrotum? Hell it damn near killed him!
I don’t care if you live in Bodom, man, forget about children!
You ain’t gotta know Kung-Fu to bust some ninja shit
Fuck Sun Tzu, you wanna learn the art of war?
Just punch em in the dick!
Chorus

We got a brand new dance, it’s called, “Punch his
ass right in the dick.” (x2)

Any o’ you snotty kids be talkin’ shit,
I’ma drop a fist on your naughty bits
I got punches a plentiful, you bet yer rear end it’ll
Sting when I start swingin’ on ya genitals,
Cuz then it’ll swell up, all outta proportion,
Lookin’ like an eggplant forced in through your foreskin
Nevermind abortion, forget vasectomy,
I got yer birth control: POW! Nut check, homey!
Yo, I’ll punch God in the dick, I’ll punch Mary in the dick
I’ll punch Jesus Christ in the dick
I’ll punch Cheney in the dick, I’ll punch Powell in his colon,
I’ll punch George in his bush, I’ll punch Condoleeza Rice in the dick!!!

Chorus

Fitna punch ‘em in the dick
Watch me punch ‘em in the dick
Love to punch ‘em in the dick
Born to punch ‘em in the dick
Forever punch ‘em in the dick
Sucker punch ‘em in the dick
Fruit punch ‘em in the dick
Hawaiian punch ‘em in the motherfuckin’ DICK!

Punch ‘Em In The Dick [YouTube]

Punk Rococó

Eliza Gauger — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 05:17:27 +0000

Punk rococó, originally uploaded by amoelbarroco.

Your Daily WTF: Hitler Has The HIV

Ross Rosenberg — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 16:41:53 +0000

Everyone’s favorite holiday is swiftly approaching. That’s right, December first is World AIDS Day, that magical day when we all gather around the AIDS tree and sing AIDS carols. Or maybe it’s a holiday invented to help spread awareness about a horrible disease. I can never be sure.

To bring awareness to this awareness bringing day in Germany Regenbogen e.V. has teamed up with das comitee to bring us “AIDS IS A MASS MURDERER” an inventive — and NSFW — campaign featuring nubile young women copulating with the likes of Saddam Hussein, Joseph Stalin, and, of course, Adolf Hitler making for disturbing images like this. Of course, if you are going to go all Godwin’s Law on the HIV you might as well go balls deep, so to speak, which leads, of course, to the horror of the television ad shown above; an ad that really draws the attention away from AIDS and places it squarely on, well, fucking Hitler.

AIDS IS A MASS MURDERER [Official Site] : Ads of the World : The Daily What

Noise du Jour: Department Of Eagles - “No One Does It Like You”

Ross Rosenberg — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 16:41:18 +0000

Marcel Dzama directs a video depicting a war between pirouetting soldiers holding cardboard guns, replete with a singing ghost and piles of amputated limbs, set to a song sung in falsetto by a band with a painfully hip name.

Department Of Eagles - No One Does It Like You (Official Video) [YouTube]

Noise du Jour Gets Pumped: IAMX - “Kiss and Swallow”

Eliza Gauger — Tue, 01 Sep 2009 12:00:05 +0000

I don’t have to explain myself, or IAMX, to any of you people. This is why I love you.

Noise du Jour’s One-Man-Band Double Feature: Alaska in Winter - “Balkan Low Rider Anthem”

Eliza Gauger — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 17:03:14 +0000

I’ve been twice blessed: once, with a fistful of friends possessing strange (and sometimes questionable) musical tastes, and again by my gainful employment at DNA Lounge in San Francisco. Between these, I am constantly buffeted by the beautiful, and the obscure. In the case of one-man indie band Alaska in Winter, it was a double assault. I saw him live at DNA not so many months ago, accompanied by Geographer and Intermission.

AiW’s show was that rare combination of haunting and whimsical that makes other favorites like Splashdown and They Might Be Giants stuck on repeat in my inner playlist.

This track is one of the most powerful from the sardonically mournful Dance Party in the Balkans album. The album version has vocals, which add much without being obtrusive.