Saturday, July 30, 2011

RIDE THE ZENOMORPH













Artist Roongrojna Sangwongprisarn made this incredible Alien motorcycle out of spare parts and scrap in a Bangkok garage. Seemingly it functions although it may not be street legal.

Click here for extreme motorcycle weirdness

The secret word is Hog

WE BELIEVE IT IS THE BEST OF TIMES…














…to be the pampered playthings of the plutocracy.

HOWEVER YOU EXPRESS IT...

Friday, July 29, 2011

I GUESS YOU COULD CALL IT TASTELESS FRIDAY

We are almost under an obligation to be disgracefully tasteless now and again. We have a content warning and I guess have to do a few things to merit it.

HERE’S MY HANDLE, HERE’S MY…






















But Jimi was never a little teapot. (And sometimes the only answer is to laugh in the face of death.)

Click here for Amy and a restoration of respect.

The secret word is Shameless

AND HERE IS A MAP OF HELL WHICH IS DOUBTLESS WHERE WE WILL ALL END UP





















Me, I’d probably head for the Whipping Chamber. (Created by Jeff Wysaski of Pleated Jeans)

DON'T YOU MISS THE 20TH CENTURY?

Thursday, July 28, 2011

SO THIS IS WHY THE PLUTOCRATS AREN’T WORRIED?










When the world economy collapses, the icecaps melt, and much of the planet is no longer human friendly, or even inhabitable, the neo-robber barons will take to their tropical-island, luxury mega-yachts, no doubt protected by Xe (formerly Blackwater) warships. Now do you understand why Doc40 has always liked the Somali pirates?

Click here for The Pogues singing Bob

The secret word is Blackbeard

IN THE END, THERE’S ONLY ONE ANSWER

LET THEM EAT SHOES

MEANWHILE, BETTY BOOP IS ON DRUGS














Click here for the picture show (Provided by Karlos Fandango via Facebook)

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

THE FUTURE’S UNCERTAIN AND THE END IS ALWAYS NEAR













All I can say is that is a cool piece of analysis by Mike Davis…

“Let me reprise the obvious, but seldom discussed. Even if debt-limit doomsday is averted, Obama has already hocked the farm and sold the kids. With breathtaking contempt for the liberal wing of his own party, he’s offered to put the sacrosanct remnant of the New Deal safety net on the auction bloc to appease a hypothetical “center” and win reelection at any price. (Dick Nixon, old socialist, where are you now that we need you?) As a result, like the Phoenicians in the Bible, we’ll sacrifice our children (and their schoolteachers) to Moloch, now called Deficit. The bloodbath in the public sector, together with an abrupt shutoff of unemployment benefits, will negatively multiply through the demand side of the economy until joblessness is in teenage digits and Lady Gaga is singing “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?” Lest we forget, we also live in a globalized economy where Americans are consumers of the last resort and the dollar is still the safe haven for the planet’s hoarded surplus value. The new recession that the Republicans are engineering with such impunity will instantly put into doubt all three pillars of McWorld, each already shakier than generally imagined: American consumption, European stability, and Chinese growth. Across the Atlantic, the European Union is demonstrating that it is exclusively a union of big banks and mega-creditors, grimly determined to make the Greeks sell off the Parthenon and the Irish emigrate to Australia. One doesn’t have to be a Keynesian to know that, should this happen, the winds will only blow colder thereafter. (If German jobs have so far been saved, it is only because China and the other BRICs -- Brazil, Russia, and India -- have been buying so many machine tools and Mercedes.)” (Click here for the whole thing)

Click her for Nico

The secret word is Lemming

THE POISONS ARE MELTING












What did Tennessee Ernie Ford tell us? "If the left one don’t get you the right one will"?

“The warming of the Arctic is releasing a new wave of banned toxic chemicals that had been trapped in the ice and cold water, scientists have discovered. The researchers warn that the amount of the poisons stockpiled in the polar region is unknown and their release could "undermine global efforts to reduce environmental and human exposure to them." The chemicals seeping out as temperatures rise include the pesticides DDT, lindane and chlordane, made infamous in Rachel Carson's 1962 book Silent Spring, as well as the industrial chemicals PCBs and the fungicide hexachlorobenzine (HCB). All of these persistent organic pollutants (Pops) are banned under the 2004 Stockholm Convention. Pops can cause cancers and birth defects and take a very long time to degrade, meaning they can be transported for long distances and accumulate over time. Over past decades, the low temperatures in the Arctic trapped volatile Pops in ice and cold water. But scientists in Canada and Norway have now discovered that global warming is freeing the Pops once again.” (Click here for more)

THE ANSWER IS DON’T GET CAUGHT

GRATUITOUS BARDOT

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

THIS IS DREW PINSKY. HE CAN ROT IN HELL

He is the unctuous network TV 12-step fascist who attempts to cure fucking-up minor celebs live on TV. Our pal James St. James says it all on World Of Wonder. (Although I do recall some lines I once wrote – “I’ve heard that twelve steps can lead to salvation/But I also recall that one more/Will take you to the gallows.")

“I am so sick of Dr Drew hovering around damaged celebrities like the goddamn Angel of Death, waiting for them to screw up so he can get some air time on Extra! Amy Winehouse had been dead for all of 10 minutes before he was EVERYWHERE, spouting those generic platitudes of his and acting like he had the answers that could have saved her. "Well, I think..." BITCH, YOU DIDN'T KNOW AMY. You don't get to THINK anything. Leave her alone. Let her rest in peace for A DAY – AT THE VERY LEAST – before you start camera whoring in her name. I get that he's the "go-to" guy for the media on all matters of celebrity dysfunction, but to me he's like one of those cats in the nursing home who shows up at your bed right before you die. He's creepy and smug and pompous and just plain awful. He has to go. He makes me long for the golden days of Dr Joyce Brothers' comforting ubiquity. Even Dr Ruth press whored in a more pleasant way than this guy. He is THE WORST.”

Click here for Amy on Letterman

The secret word is Vulture

THIS IS JOHN BOEHNER. HE COULD WRECK CAPITALISM AS WE KNOW IT














His hobbies are golf and his fake tan. My perception is that this man is extremely stupid and a bought-and-paid-for lackey of wealth. Right now he seems quite willing for the US to go into superpower debt default, a wholly unknown situation that could be nothing short of economic armageddon. Especially if the Chinese call in their markers with even non-extreme prejudice. He is willing to risk all this to prevent tax increases on the super-rich. He fails to realize, it seems, that is billionaire masters will not be exempt from a global money meltdown.

I TOLD YOU NOT TO GIVE THE ACID TO THE MONKEY

SPACE OPERA

Monday, July 25, 2011

CAKE OR DEATH?

It’s a busy Monday so this will be a tad brief. This space core from the game Portal 2 is a cake! Yes, it’s a cake, not a sculpture, toy, or weapon of the future. Click here to cut the cake. (It was made by Mike’s Amazing Cakes.)

Click here for Waylon Jennings

The secret word is Icing

DON'T YOU MISS THE 20TH CENTURY?

(When I was able to do so much more with so much less effort and still have time to get drunk at the end of it.)

Sunday, July 24, 2011

SUNDAY BREAKFAST















Yes, my friends, this was the Dark Tower Of The Deviants where I ate many a Sunday breakfast in 1968 and 1969, mostly in the afternoon, and where most of the band and crew – with the exceptions of Russell Hunter and Sid Bishop – plus girlfriends, wives, passing concubines, deadbeats, and hard-to-define mutations, plus an ever-expanding compliment of felines, resided at one time or another. With reference to the photograph (recently taken by Kristian Nihlen and, much to my delight, posted on Facebook after he’d figured the location from my book Give The Anarchist A Cigarette) our flat was on the top floor, stretching from the turret for two more windows to the right and also included the balcony where many a tripping fool would have to be convinced that unmanned flight was beyond the capabilities of humans no matter the measure of micrograms. On the street, what is now a Subway was an off-license where Jamie Mandelkau actually obtained credit.
How we gained possession of such a sumptuous and gothic urban Gormenghast was a simple matter of Deviant blind luck. We inherited it from an on-the-lam cocaine dealer, which meant, now and then, we received visits from wiseguys wanting to kill him, but they needed little convincing, after seeing our squalor, that we were not their intended targets. Our neighbours were Swiss bankers who took one look at us and instituted protracted legal proceedings to get rid of us. The biggest irony was the building on the far right of the picture is the Shaftesbury Theatre, where, during our tenure, the musical Hair was playing. We grew very tired of tourist rubes thinking we were part of the show, and also the blatant rip of what we saw of our culture. So, by way of retribution, UK Steve our Master of Munitions, would set off air/sea rescue smoke flares during the second act. But we also met the lovely Sonja Kristina who was in the cast.
The rubes could never have imagined that reality of life among we stone freaks. Of the methedrine Middle Earth nights, and treaties brokered with the Hells Angels, visits from an epicene David Bowie, or the vampire princesses from the Speakeasy, or the strippers from the all-nite-ouzo Greek cafĂ©, who we lured back on the promise of Mandrax fueled debauchery, and who believed they had lucked into rich rock stars as they rode up in the antique cage-style lift, only to discover – all too late – the same squalor that had convinced the wiseguys. The rubes couldn’t imagine the underage psychopaths who would howl their loud and unrequited love for Steve Took until escorted from the premises by Psychedelic Ladies Auxiliary before the metropolitan scuffers were summoned, or how we watched the moon landing and Manson murders on a yellow TV with a speech bubble and the word “HELP” drawn on the screen in magic marker. Or how we had left the place for a hundred gigs, our concert in Hyde Park, the riots in Grosvenor Square, and even a dire North American tour only to find we’d been evicted on our return.

Click here for The Deviants

The secret word is Nostalgia

MARILYN SEZ...

“He may well be exaggerating a little for dramatic effect. We all do it.”

STAINED GLASS HEROES






















(Created by Neil Fox)

GRATUITOUS BRENDA DENAUT

Brenda Denaut you say? Who the hell is she? And even with a content warning isn’t this a bit forward for Doc40? But wait. HCB explains…

“Every now and then I download an old skin magazine from the fifties or sixties that show up on a website I go to where I find music and books. So I was looking through an issue of Scene from 1962 and there was a picture of this woman Brenda Denaut, who was their longhaired brunette beatnik poet-with-big-tits for that month, and as I'm wont to do I decided to look to see if she were an actual published poet and what happened to her. Turns out she bred a brood of Arquettes. (She is the mother of Patricia, Rosanna, Alexis, Richmond, and David Arquette. She also appeared in the exploitation films Too Young, Too Immoral (1962), All of Me (1963), Olga's House of Shame (1964), and The Very Naked Canvas (1965).”