Japanese meme (NSFW if you work isn't keen on epilepsy inducing shots of male buttocks)

Oh poo, since I wrote the title, the best example of this bizarreness which included the flashing bumcheeks has been taken offline. Ho hum, such is life..

I found this brilliant article on Gawker today. In a nutshell, the collected works of gay pornstar Billy Herrington have become massive internet hits in Japan, ten odd years after their release. Being massive internet hits, they have been mashed up in various bizarre forms, and this being Japan these are very odd indeed, generally including rhythms beaten out on arsecheeks, baby's faces covering genitals and lots of grunting. Well, watch for yourself really...





Why have they become hits? Quite simply the English for 'You got me mad now', when growled by a beefcake in an echoey locker room sounds a lot like 'You are not distorted' in Japanese and 'Like embarrasing me, huh?' becomes 'You are sloppy recently' respectively. Oh, and it's like, two dudes wrestling and that is huhuhuhuh so gay.

Can someone with more accomplished (a.k.a any) video skills see what happens if we overlay Japanese tenticle porn with Something Kinda Ooh by Girls Aloud? Oh, but cover all the rude bits with photos of Matt Lucas' head? Then speed the whole thing up so it looks like people having a fit in a fishmongers to the sound of chipmunks singing? Internizze hizzle right there yo.

Nothing is new...or sexy

I expect by now you've seen Morrissey's new 'gasp omg contravorsial' CD sleeve (Dlisted and Ich Luge Bullets have shrieked about it at length) It's here anyway in all it's pallid fleshy glory:

Ha, let us blight the memory of your favourite songs as they will now forever be associated with some hairless pale blokes from the pub stand around nonchalently listening to Morrisey play 'pat a cake' on his head.

Well anyway, vaguely offputting it is. New, contravorsial or different it aint. Get ready for a second scar on your retinas...

Yup, Cosmopolitan, glossy mag for slags (or for those stuck at train stations when WH Smiths has run out of Marie Claire) has had celebrity male centerfolds for years, including this incredibly...honest? one of Radio 1 or 5 or whatever DJ Colin Murray* from a couple of years ago.

One can only assume (or rather would like to assume as it is tres amusent) that Moz is a Cosmo Girl

*I don't get it. If you were of a slightly mouse-like persuasion, why would you agree to have your DJ partner (with her incredible invisible legs and torso) hold a CD over your bits in a delicate pinching fashion one would usually use when trying to pick up a teeny tiny jellybean off a desk? No amount of 'it's THIS big' hand gestures from you is going to offset that.

Scary dolls of Wood Green - an occasional series

Aah the Letchy Unsavoury Loves Arse limited edition vinyl doll... a faithful rendition of the sort of gay alcoholic tramp that occasionally frequents Soho Square - hawaiian shirt? Check. Face distorted and battered through years of alcohol abuse? Check. Fist clenched ready to off any young twinks who spurn his advances? Check. Cock hanging out of star spangled pantaloons...

The Anne Geddes Collection* - bean filled representations that prove once and for all that bestiality is wrong. What better way to educate your child of this irrefutable fact than to buy them a stillborn human-animal hybrid in a box?

The ratbaby is admittedly quite appropriate for Wood Green, situated in the borough of Haringey, best known for A Life of Grime and the Baby P scandal....


*I love that being a 'collection' it means that somewhere, someone has got a whole shelf of dead animalbabies lovingly displayed. It must look like aftermath of some hideous genetic experiment or possibly a nuclear explosion in the nursery of Fuckedupland.

Can I get a reeeewiiind?

I've just redone my old post on Paris is Burning.

I think you should read.

On the Bed, On the Floor,On the Towel by the Door...

Sarah Silverman and Jimmy Kimmel's hilarious love songs are quite old now (basic moral of this blog appears to be I should post stuff when I see it opposed to when I can be bothered, approximately three months after they are cool and new) but I still nearly 'lol' every time I see Sarah's.. and I guess it makes sense to post Jimmy's too while I am here, even though he covers his lack of wit with a boatload of celebrities..

What the Ill Informed Have Been Muttering About Today

* Was the Camden Market Fire caused by developers desperate to drive out the last few stall holders who were refusing to sell their pitches to them, so they could build a big glass monstrosity like the Ice Warf on the opposite side of the road?


*Have you ever seen two couples more in the throes of love than the Smiths and the Cruises? Look at the way they are touching! Nothing says 'we have lots and lots of straight up heterosexual relations' more than pointed touching and a dead eyed gaze. (okay pic not great, but if you read the London Paper you will know what I mean)

Yeah okay the ill informed have not been muttering much today. But they will be back tomorrow I am sure

Designer Vagina Recliner

Parents coming round for tea? Thinking they are starting to question whether Rico the 20 year old hairdressing apprentice is really your lodger? In your one bed loft apartment just off Soho Square? With your pet dog, who inexplicably has a nametag saying 'Dolly' when his name is Rover?

Well this is then this is the sofa for you! Nothing screams 'I am a heterosexual man! God I love doing it, doing it with women!' more than a giant pink vagina sofa.. why you are loving women every time you sit down!

Also suggested for women who are fed up with 20 years of boob grab, roll, shove, shove, shove, sigh, roll, snore from their husbands, or anyone who is old enough to buy a sofa but still calls their vagina a 'noo noo' or 'foo foo' or 'front bottom'

Liberace is a giant vagina

how ironic..

Look and Learn: An Interesting Story from 1980's New York Black/Hispanic Gay Culture

Dorian Corey was a 'legendary' transexual in New York , who in the 1980's - early 1990's was head of the House of Corey, one of the many Houses that dominated the New York Ball scene.

If you haven't seen the documentary 'Paris is Burning' then you really should, it's an utterly fascinating view of an underground world that doesn't exist anymore. Young, mainly black and hispanic gay men flocked to New York City in the 70's and 80's where they could be free to be who they wanted to be...within limits. These were aspirational times, when you didn't just want to be yourself, you wanted to be you but better, a banker, a yuppie, Joan Collins in Dynasty. Being poor, gay and an ethnic minority meant you had the faintest chance of this happening, except at the Balls, where you could dress fierce, compete in catwalks or vogueing competitions to win prizes and for that evening you WERE fierce.

Most of these young men were rejected by their real families for their homosexuality or transexualism and so saught solace in a new sort of family. Called 'houses' and named after the great fashion houses of Paris such as 'House of Dior' or 'House of Chanel', they consisted of a house mother (usually an older transsexual a.k.a a Legendary, a veteran of the ball scene) and a house father (usually an older butch gay man), and all the other members were the children.
They would all take the surname of their house, and compete in Balls for them.

Anyway, back to Corey. Wikipedia had this unusual little tidbit:

After Corey's death in 1993, a mummified body with gunshot wounds was found in Corey's belongings. The body, which had been shut in a trunk for more than twenty years, had a note attached to it which read "This poor soul broke into my apartment and I was forced to shoot him." It was later identified as Robert Worley.

For more on Ball Culture, which is quite frankly fascinating, see:

Wiki entry on 'Paris is Burning'

NYT article on the aftermath of the documentary.. Paris has Burned

Article on Angie Xtravanganza and Dorian Corey

Wiki entry on Ball Culture

Wiki entry on Venus Xtravaganza

or look up Willi Ninja on youtube

Take me to the Phillipines so I can do wrong!

I'm sure most of you will have seen that north Korea thing where thousands of little kids do synchronised gymastics and praise communism and whatnot, but never in your life (unless you read dlisted today) will you have seen - or even dreamed of - hundreds of inmates at a Philipino prision doing the Michael Jackson Thriller dance. I wonder how they decided who got to be Michael and who got to be the girl....maybe it's like the top dog and his top bottom, hell, I wonder why on earth they decided to do it at all, and how they convinced so many hardened crims to join in!

Frankly, unless I now see the inmates of Guantanamo Bay doing Hit Me Baby One More Time, this video will officially be Most Random Shit of the Year 2007

EDIT: Having just seen to the end I am infact now convinced that the whole thing was set up as an elaborate ploy to assasinate the ladyboy in the gayest way possible bar actual homosexual activities. And it is still fabulous! If only those Russian spies had tried to assisinate that guy in the london hotel via the medium of TATU 'All the Things She Said' then we would have none of this trouble.

David Miliband - 'Ha great. Yeah you keep on playing silly buggers like something out of a James Bond film. In fact, why not try it to a theme tune next time? May I suggest Live and Let Die? I love a bit of Wings Me'

Putin - 'HEATHEN! We dispise Wings here in the mother country. They will die to manly music like the great Journey or Bruce Springsteen. You female dog English with your love of all music gay and derivative, we lull you into false security with TATU assasination'

Miliband - 'Frankly this will not do. We do not condone the murder of British citizens on British soil for any reason. I am not gay and although Wings did not quite live up to the Beatles in any way shape or form, Live and Let Die was a good song.

Putin - Guns and Roses version?

Miliband - Oh okay, but any Welcome to the Jungle and we extradite your arses.

Boys Had Better Beware...

So should girls who liked indie music circa 1996...before you know it you will be dusting off a CD collection that died at the advent of broadband internet, digging out Dig! (arf!) and working out the love compatability between you and Courtney Taylor Taylor.

ahem.

kudos to Owain for the vid...Okay, so I didn't say the obvious things, but eeeh, there is too much bile on this site lately. I need to get some Rennies.

Sometimes You Just KNOW...

If I was this darling child's mother I would buy him a subscription to Vogue toot sweet...that's what Karl Largerfeld's mother did for him when he was eight and look how he turned out! (ok, rather scary looking, but very succesful and rich and from that I am shallowly guessing happy) I think that would be the most lucrative industry for someone of his pursuasion - well, certainly better paid than a backing dancer for Beyonce, who by the time he is old enough will be about forty herself; no doubt still shaking like paint mixer, albeit a large wobbly one that sheds bits of weave, the odd tooth and false eyelash as she 'dances'.

No, I definitely would not want my child to be a backing dancer for Beyonce, he would be crippled by the age of twenty five and then he would move back home again and I would be like 'goddamn Mani, could you at least do the washing up? I support you all your life and what do I get in return? Stall tickets to a Beyonce concert and a load of pubes in the shower. It isn't good enough. Why can't you be a successful fashion designer like your co-incidentally also gay brother? He's at Dior now, and sends me freebies all the time! I don't care if your lower back is shot - those dishes aren't doing themselves!'

p.s Why we are on the topic of man love; just watched Eddie Murphy: Raw and it sent my usually accurate gaydar into overdrive..I think he must be a bit of a Robbie Williams as the large amounts of children he has sired suggests not a total aversion to womanly pleasures; although I think we can discount Scary Spice as she is
a)not particularly straight herself and
b)looks like a tranny.
(Called their child Fortuna btw...makes me just think of tuna, in particular the smell of tuna, but that might just me and my lack of imagination when it comes to word association)

Welcome to My Fagalicious Home

Ok, this video is very long, and most people (me included) have no bloody idea who this woman is, but quite frankly I don't care as she has the most FANTASTIC wardrobe ever, and looks like one of the faded posters I used to gaze at longingly as I had my usual bowl hair cut in the Salon part of Pearsons in Wood Green Shopping City as a child.
I long for the day when I can dress up as a fireworks explosion and have a giant airbrushed photo of my face on the wall... sure beats accidentally dressing like the unabomber most days and posters of Judy Garland! (ok, it does not beat Judy, only me dressed up as Judy could possibly beat Judy)

My Bad Taste in Music

There appears to be a trend amongs pop bands what I like to make really boring videos where cool twatty people hang out in clubs and get a little bit lezzer, as you do apparently. Observe, two great great songs, rather marred by unorigional videos. I think there should be more synchronised swimming in modern pop videos. And dance routines with lots of people. And a little bit of origional thought.


The Sounds - Tony the Beat



Dragonette - I Get Around.

Now THIS is how music videos should be:

Photo of the Day - Best Tattoos Ever part deux

Yes, that is right, your eyes do not decieve you - this bright spark had pac man tattooed all over his arse. Actually I think the term 'best tattoos ever' is a bit of a lie as the more I look the worse it gets. Don't the maze bits look like primitive penises? Is it a subtle hint at a love for rimming?

What is the actual point of tatooing your arse? Unless you get it out often to show the lads in an 'me-redblooded-me-no-homo' way it is only ever appreciated by toilet microbes. I mean, if you bring a lady home (I am assuming this is an ostensibly straight male who has done this, if it was a lady or a 'bottom' it would make more sense) she isn't going to see too much of it anyway, UNLESS you use the line 'come home and check out my arse' in which case you may be in for a lonely night.

Still, each to their own, it is origional and it will keep the grandchildren entertained until their mother comes home, kicks your saggy naked sixty year old arse out the door and calls the police.

The fine art of the 'come-hither'

I am writing a novel at the moment, so may be a bit less frequent with the hi-larious anecdotes about my bowels, Britney Spears and general rubbish at the moment, but fear not! I will keep writing the blog.

Not exactly sure why I am posting this, seeing as I think this is mainly an exercise in me talking to myself without feeling like a loony rather than a site that is read by, well, anyone really, but still (it is a bit misleading, the number of profile views is not the number of time the blog has been viewed so there is always the possibility I have lots of regular readers who don't need to double check what my favorite film is everytime they come visit...although if they did exist, they could comment, the fuckers)

Annyway, here is a little video I told Robin about today...



Occasionally someone tries to be sexy but ends off acting slightly creepily (you know, the licking the lips, the 'come-hither 'eyes which can also be read as 'I want to gut you with a spoon') , this is sooooo far into the creepy side of sexy that it made me want to staple my bum shut and sellotape my mouth over...just in case Samwell changes his orientation (not that is seems likely)

See now THIS is how you should make music about being a fun-loving young man about town...


I wish those late night ITV adverts were like this video, rather than those lame blonde girls who can't read autocues and also appear to have learnt from the serial-killer school of sexiness. What is it with people today? I would kill to be shot a good 'come-hither' once every so often across a crowded pub... although being that they are smoky crowded areas, sore eyes, spilling of pints and crushing of toes are a regular occurance and everyone is pretty much always squinting to some end or another. Sad.

Actually I think if someone did give me the eye I would probably interpret it as 'he is givin me eeevils' and then spend the rest of the evening sulking into my wine.

It really is a shock to find out I'm single, isn't it?

Photo of the day

Just what you wanted to see - the most powerful man in the world shaking his bon bon with a closeted latino lothario who must keep some sort of magical portrait in the attic as I swear he hasn't changed a jot in the last....hundred years.