The Dirty Show

The Dirty Show

What’s that old real estate mantra - location, location, location? Seems it also applies to smutty art exhibits, as demonstrated by the LA installation of Detroit’s The Dirty Show, which had the good sense to abandon the usual galleries in favor of half a seedy downtown motel.

Entering via back alley (naturally), we moved from room to room. Spaces that would have been utterly depressing under normal circumstances somehow became simulacra of themselves (more real than real?) and thus the perfect backdrop for sex-inspired art, dressed with old porn mags and sad sex dolls (Still, I wouldn’t dare go anywhere near the bathrooms…)

The art was a mix of the beautiful, the arousing, the puzzling and the gross. Some of it was clearly artistic erotica - destined for “adult” magazines but created with enough artistry to hang on a gallery wall. Others had far more interesting agendas than mere arousal.

The Dirty Show

Maybe the oddest offering of the night was the gentleman selling three dimensional carved wood portraits of ladies’ genitalia. And, he was quick to point out, the clitoral section was removable and usable as a pipe. Ceci n’est pas une pipe, indeed.

A few of the works gave one the sense of stepping into a room you’re not supposed to enter. Kinks and fetishes make the world go ‘round, sure. But it’s one thing to know the definition of “bestiality” and quite another to see a realistically painted image of a naked man being mounted by an Irish setter. I’m still not quite sure what to think about the one with the lactating duckies swimming in a sea of their own milk.

The Dirty Show

A few that have stuck with me: a very ’80s photo of a top-down view of a woman in a bathtub full of milk and froot loops. An oddly beautiful photo of a masturbating man mid release, cropped like Grecian statuary as just torso and cock. A small curio of a nonchalant satyr getting blown by a pixie. And quite a few others including the images you see here, borrowed from Daily Du Jour’s coverage of the event.

It was all good, not necessarily clean fun, and well worth heading downtown for on a Friday night. That, plus a killer lemon, honey & rye cocktail at The Varnish made for a memorably decadent evening.

The Dirty Show

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now that’s fucking writing.

thank god the democrats are in charge again or this would single handedly get pbs defunded.

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i saw an early preview screening of lars von trier’s antichrist on thursday.

we will be discussing this in october when it’s released. please come prepared.

antichrist poster

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my fondness for faux retro posters and book covers is well documented in this blog.
so imagine my delight when i came across these cleverly updated war propaganda posters by artist brian lane winfield moore. this is my favorite visually, but the most clever has got to be “loose tweets sink fleets.”

my fondness for faux retro posters and book covers is well documented in this blog.

so imagine my delight when i came across these cleverly updated war propaganda posters by artist brian lane winfield moore. this is my favorite visually, but the most clever has got to be “loose tweets sink fleets.”



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"if anybody thinks [bringing summer glau onto dollhouse] hasn’t occurred to me already then they have not met me…summer would be perfect to play an active, but she’s done that [type of role] a lot. i’d rather see her play someone who talks too much. the most fun i have is when i get somebody who’s good and comfortable at doing something, and then i make them do something else."

- joss whedon, to entertainment weekly

echo and cameron, sittin' in a tree...

memo to joss: i know you love girls who kick ass. i do too. but kicking ass is not the same as having range. i mean, it’s not like smg has proven to be the second coming of meryl streep.

get some help, quickly. find someone whose casting instincts you trust. maybe j.j. abrams. ask them if they would stake their primetime network series on the proposition that summer glau posses some secret character actor skills no one has heretofore detected. go, ask. i’ll wait.

dollhouse got a very unlikely 11th hour reprieve, despite the fact that the smart and lovely eliza dushku has slightly less range than jiminy cricket. please don’t double down on glau.

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dear yahoo mail,
are you advertising prostitutes to me now? if so, i appreciate your concern but my sex life is not that bad. yet.
love,
sean

dear yahoo mail,

are you advertising prostitutes to me now? if so, i appreciate your concern but my sex life is not that bad. yet.

love,

sean



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"the very fact of living in [new york city] means our life is guided by pleasure rather than value. otherwise, we’d be living in philadelphia."

recession-era sang froid from the owner of babeland, as quoted in new york magazine

w.c. fields couldn’t have said it better.

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temple of doom

killer tomatoes

brilliant sixties-style paperback covers for novelizations that never were, by mitch ansera

(reblogged from fcr)


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"how you can spend hundreds of millions on contraceptives?"

– house gop leader john boehner (r-ohio), questioning the democrats’ stimulus plan

um…burning man?

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i can’t seem to sleep (likely culprit: too much caffeine) and for some reason i find myself craving original cast recordings and the like.

i just finished listening to hair, which put my in the mood for this inspired sammy davis jr. number from sweet charity.  so brilliant and joyous, it transcends camp and arrives at pure faux-hippy, post-rat pack nirvana.

bonus points if you spot ben vereen and toni basil among the dancers.

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