Sometimes, there are no words.
Sometimes, there are no words.
Angel City is a strange place, a concrete sprawl with hidden oases of wonderful things not found anywhere else. These things are what makes this city worth inhabiting and tonight my favorite of all closes its doors forever.
Nova Express, presumably named after a William S. Burroughs book and decorated accordingly, opened its doors in the early 90s, the same year, in fact, that I landed in this country. It knew all the ways to my heart - excellent food, spectacular space-decor, low lights and late hours. I’ve now been going to Nova ever since my pre-teens, celebrating, mourning and meeting for, yes, fifteen years. In fact, the very first official Coilhouse staff meeting was held there, over some cosmic pizza and alarmingly powerful martinis.
I’ll miss the vintage anime projections, the hundreds of old plastic robots, the all-seeing Cthulhu in the corner, my favorite amoeba-shaped table in the window with its lava lamp askew, every last bit of the place, damn it. Cary Long is the owner and artist behind the awesome SciFi decor, to whom I tip my hat and say “Well done”. This was the first place I would name when asked about the best spots to visit in LA, the only place of its kind and it will be missed more than Cary may ever know. Please don’t go, Nova.
It’s been an eventful day, hasn’t it? If you’re like me, you have trouble winding down after so much hullabaloo.
So here’s a wistful lullaby to sing you to sleep, courtesy of the brilliant innovators behind Creating Rem Lazar. You’ll be calling Child Protective Services drifting off to slumberland in no time. May you dream sweetly of infinity mullets and oddly bulging blue spandex.
Storyteller du jour Si Spurrier just introduced me to the Mayor of Nightmare Town. Would you like to meet him?
Usually I have a lot of trouble finding common ground with the average YouTube commenter, but in this case, I concur wholeheartedly with dud8112084:
“If i ever see that thing ima blow its brains out with a 12 gauge.”
In the name of all that is good and wholesome, will someone please tell me who was working in ads and marketing over at Ferrero for the Kinder Surprise line in the 80s? Leprechauns? Crackheads? Seriously. I am confounded and terrified. Can anyone out there tell me where these demonic puppetmasters have gone? I must know.
Send any and all pertient information regarding the unholy Eggmaster to coilhouse@gmail.com.
Please help. Please. The kinder eggs grow restless. They rustle and mewl in the dark oh please god help me I may never sleep again.
Dolls have long been fetishised and it’s to be expected, really - perfect skin, stylized features, limitless hair possibilities and endless wardrobe options are all enticing. In alt modeling the idea of the living doll is prevalent, in and out of Japan the Elegant Gothic Lolita style has provided much doll-like fashion, and of course in folklore living dolls exist as well. But now you might be asking yourself - damn it, what about mannequins! Aside from that 80s movie, what’s out there?
Behold, the Living Dollhouse. Not for the weak of constitution, this Pandora’s box of an internet archive has all you ever dreamed of. Mannequin fiction, mannequin photos, mannequin art - it’s all there just for you. Perhaps you, now a bit shaken, are wondering how I came across such a site. Like the Dollhouse owners, I like mannequins. I currently own four, having recently rid myself of four others due to overcrowding, and was innocently hoping to find some costuming inspiration. But, as is the way of the Web, the Living Dollhouse is what I got instead. Now I feel dirty and you will too.
Today we are going to play a game! It’s called “Gothic Outfit or Halloween Costume?” There are eight gothic ensembles in this post; some of them are actual outfits designed by alternative clothing labels to be worn out and about in the scene, others are Halloween costumes intended for adults who want to play-pretend to be goths one day out of the year. Can you guess which is which? Test yourself after the jump!
Internet addict Barbie. Neglected children sold separately.
Okay, who didn’t make their Barbies do obscene things at some point? But The Subversive 11½ Inch Fashion Doll takes it to all new levels of wrong.
The author of the site, alt model Theda B, describes the effort as “awful things I did to my old toys in a fit of boredom” and presents the Mattell-made dolls, dubbed “Bobbie” and “Ben,” in some hilarious, completely un-PC scenarios that draw on politics, illness, subculture, deviant sexuality and criminal behavior. And a good time is had by all! My personal favorites are Pretentious Performance Artist Barbie, Bobbie Christ (or the “I’m Going Straight to Hell” doll) and Trench Coat Mafia Ben. Collect them all!
The site hasn’t been updated in 3 years, which is a shame. It would be interesting to see what kind of new dolls people would submit to the site today. My own contributions would be Internet-Famous Bobbie and Sadistic TSA Agent Ben.
I refuse to believe that anyone really thought this was a good idea. This terrifying combination of dead grey rubber and and the wobbling of an overgrown 2 year old toddler belongs in someone’s dark musty basement, behind locked doors. No, this wasn’t mean to be cute or helpful - it was made by sadists to give us nightmares and to define “Uncanny Valley” yet again.
(From the priceless Sun-Sentinel “Scared of Santa” photo gallery.)
It’s that time again. Can’t go anywhere without getting a shot of rancid Santa splooge in the eye. Can’t escape the mewling, reindeer shit-besmirched legions of consumer whores clamoring to buy perfunctory fad gifts for their relatives and co-workers. Can’t order a freakin’ espresso without someone trying to pour their special brand of putrescent nutmeg-flavored pus down one’s throat. Black Friday has ushered in what is arguably the darkest, bleakest period of the calendar year. Even if it’s a myth that suicide rates are highest during the holidays, some of the frailer agnostics among us will surely be reduced to gibbering husks by December 25th.
But take heart, all ye heathens, Scrooges and secular humanists. There are so many delightful reasons to rejoice in the season besides the miraculous birth of Baby Jesus or being given a luxury SUV wrapped in a giant @#$!*& bow. Explore the wonderment beyond the cut.
EnglishRussia always knows what I need. And what I need, apparently, is an electric bodybuilder. Few things are as helpful here in the 21st century as a shiny robotic companion. While some might be using their model for heavy lifting and dubious pleasure activities, I would use my Russian meat machine primarily for kitchen duties, such as greasing skillets. Be sure to have the sound on when watching.
