This video is spreading like wildfire, and it’s too good not to repost here. It’s Gilbert Gottfried reading steamy passages from Fifty Shades of Gray, an extremely popular erotic fiction novel about a BDSM love affair.
Written by E. L. Leonard, the book started out as a Twilight fanfic titled Master of the Universe, published under the pen name Snowqueen’s Icedragon. Once the book was reworked for publication, high schooler Bella and vampire Edward replaced with college grad Anastasia Steele and powerful business magnate Christian Grey, the novel became an overnight success, recently landing on the New York Times #1 bestseller list with major movie studios vying for the film rights.
If I were a member of the Christian right, sitting on my front porch decrying the decadent morals of working American women, what would be most alarming about the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomena, what gives it its true edge of desperation, and end-of-the-world ambience, is that millions of otherwise intelligent women are willing to tolerate prose on this level. If you are willing to slog through sentences like “In spite of my poignant sadness, I laugh,” or “My world is crumbling around me into a sterile pile of ashes, all my hopes and dreams cruelly dashed,” you must really, really, want to get to the submissive sex scene.
Roiphe’s piece is clever, but flawed in its premise that feminism is at odds with the type of sex described in Fifty Shades. “It is perhaps inconvenient for feminism that the erotic imagination does not submit to politics,” Roiphe writes in one passage. ”Nope!” counters Maya in a well-written rebuttal on Feministing. “Really don’t care! I don’t want the erotic imagination to submit to politics. That sounds horrible. I’d like to create a politics that affirms the full range of the erotic imagination, though.” Well-put.
Pardon the clipped, crass commentary but that’s what leapt from my mouth upon watching The Eagleman Stag, the 2011 BAFTA award-winning short film from Mikey Please. The stop-motion animation used here is incredible, with everything from the characters to the sets having been constructed using pure white foam, requiring a meticulous use of lighting to create shadows and, thereby, definition. The site for the film features a teaser of a behind the scenes look at how it was made. Even if the process underpinning the film isn’t something that usually gets you hot and bothered the film itself is still an utterly captivating, Existential study. Well worth eight minutes of your day, though Dr. Eagleman may disagree.
It’s hard to believe Dick Clark is gone. Is it safe to surmise that secretly, many of us kids who grew up watching him on the boob tube decided long ago that Clark (or, at the very least, legions of indiscernible vat-grown clones of Clark kept in a top-secret underground facility located a few miles beyond the city limits of Fresno) would be Rockin’ our Eves for centuries to come? Alas.
In (somewhat oblique) honor of the departed (and because NO halfway decent excuse to feature the Mael Brothers on Coilhouse should ever be passed up) here’s a fabulous performance of “Pulling Rabbits out of Hats” by Sparks on Dick Clark’s American Bandstand in 1984, followed by a unexpectedly sweet and silly “interview” between three very disparately distinguished gentlemen. SO GOOD.
Previously on Coilhouse:
“This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us” Top of the Pops, 1974. (A very old post, wherein I get grumpy about Bedford Ave. hipsters and the SPARKS energy drink. Ignore that bit. S’all about the MAEL LURVE.)
An hour ago, the darque benevolent sartorial powerhouse known as Mildred Von launched her official Mother of London website, with a webstore containing her glorious new, never-before-available, ready-to-wear line of MoL garments. Creaking black stroppy strappy happiness. Studs and grommets and buckles. Softly eldritch curve-hugging knits and witchy tees. Go take a look. Go.
You’re still here?! GO!! Drool. Spontaneously ejaculate. Cry molten rubies. Fer serious.
Having some inkling of just how many years of blood, sweat, orgone depletion, and fiery cussin’ went into making this uncompromisingly exquisite line a reality, we here at Coilhouse could not be more happy for Milly, or for everyone lucky enough to snatch up one of her amazing pieces before they sell out.
(And they WILL sell out. Soon. So if you want ‘em, go git ‘em. ASAP.)
GORKON
Quoth Mildred: “Yes, I might have named all my products after Klingon warriors.” Nope, not fucking around.
More images after the jump. All photos by the fabulous Twink. Gorgeous model is Lacy Soto. Immaculate hair and makeup by Cazzie at Gorgeous Salon on Melrose.
LONG LIVE MOTHER OF LONDON. CONGRATS, DOOD. HEGHLU’MEH QaQ JAJVAM.
Last week’s BTC starred a gorgeous, mega-talented yogini in an elegant-yet-questionable ad that blurred the lines between art, athleticism, sexuality and voyeurism. This week’s BTC features, uh… these guys:
As of yet, no confirmation –though certainly a lot of speculation– as to whether this was a Playgirl or Chippendales production. Either way, what bliss!
“We are presenting for sale a limited edition bronze sculpture of a centaur couple in love’s embrace. The sculpture is entitled UNBRIDLED LOVE. The statue is cast in bronze by the traditional lost wax method. Each sculpture is individually patinaed and will therefore appear slightly different from any other. The sculpture is newly cast upon order. Delivery time for this statue is three months. Each statue is hand detailed, numbered in a limited edition of 50, and signed by the artist. All image and production rights are retained by the artist. $4850″
When I initially saw Nadya’s “Hot Human-on-Centaur Action” post in drafts, I just assumed she’d beat me to the punch with this gloriously (and mysteriously) perverted silliness:
Via Douglas, with thanks. And a vague, yet all-pervading sense of awe.
How delightful to realize, no! Apparently, there’s just some redolently centauromachian vapor riding the air currents right now.
Editor’s Note: Coilhouse reader Dicyfer just commented that this is “Centaur Kiss” by George Leonnec. It ran as cover artwork for the magazine La Vie Parisienne back in 1924. Thanks, Dicyfer!
“Robert Cornelius, the original daguerreotype boyfriend. (1839 self-portrait of Robert Cornelius, one of the first photographs of a human to be produced.)”
