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.
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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.
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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.
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EnglishRussia always knows what I need. And what I need, generic apparently, pharmacy 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.
Breaking news! I realize this is very last minute and only applies to our brethren in Northern California, but tonight Jesse Hawthorne Ficks is hosting a “Disco Extravaganza” at the gorgeous Castro Theater in SF. They’ll be showing prints of The Wiz, Staying Alive, and best of all, everyone’s favorite futuristic spiritual disco rock opera cult classic, The Apple.
Wait, what’s that you say? You’ve never seen The Apple before?
Mister Boogalow disapproves.
The Apple is a steaming Midas turd of a film baked in massive amounts of tin foil. It’s a glitter-encrusted, mylar-ensconced acid trip. It’s Jem and the Holograms’ flea market jamboree. It’s… it’s…. oh I have no idea what on earth these people were thinking, but the result is utter crackpot genius.
A piece from Yoshitaka Amano‘s book “Hiten” serves as a reminder of seasons, while comrade Nadya and I are being scorched by heinous 80 degree November heat here in Angel City. Ah yes, I vaguely recall something about death and rebirth, changes in temperature, nature’s mystery and its cycles changing gears – that sort of thing. It’s fuzzy, like a long-lost dream, really. Until weather takes mercy on us I’ll indulge in all things that remind me of what Autumn and Winter are meant to feel like. At times like these I really miss Moscow. Here’s hoping that today few of us are frying like gutted fish on yellow California pavement and for a swift arrival of rain, too.
The Internet does bear strange fruit. While trying to find some of my favorite works by Otto Dix for you, I came across a fake Otto Dix diary. Presented as a work of fiction by the author, it begins with a disclaimer which is immediately followed by a note from a fictional translator, intended to immerse the reader. I was curious but as I read uncertainty set in.
Dame Shirely Bassey of James Bond music theme fame recently put out an ubergoth video to promote her cover of Pink’s “Get the Party Started.” I showed this to an extremely talented musician friend who shall remain nameless, prompting a hilarious knee-jerk reaction that I did not expect. There were some choice words for this, let me tell you. My friend was like, “it’s the cheese knob being cranked to 11! Combined with out-of-her-prime show tune hag in bad frame composites and uber tacky goth trappings! It’s phantom of the opera meets a Calvin Klein perfume ad! Meets Liza Minelli’s fat ass! Terrible, sterile video and the insincere bellowing of a woman who forgot to take her menopause meds.”
Oh man, harsh! I don’t have my friend’s fine-tuned ear for music, so the horror of the singing did not penetrate me quite the same way. Also, I have bad taste. I’ll be the first to admit this. I kinda like the pretty goth dresses! However, even I’ll concede that the masks are kind of questionable. However, I can watch this video again and again. I now share this bad taste with all of you. Video and stills, behind the jump. Enjoy!
