(This is obviously going to go where no kids or sexually modest people should go, and it’s going to get there fast.)
The commercial names Doggie Diner and Mr. Whippy, both surely conceived in all innocence, but, to the prepared mind, easily evoking sexual images (as it happens, my mind is prepared for man-on-man sexual images, so that’s where I’m inclined to go): the doggie / doggy position for anal intercourse; and a leatherman master whipping a leatherman slave.
(Warning: some discussion of sexual slang in a serious but straightforward tone.)
From the annals of masculine meat holidays in my country, a Blackstone tv spot “Father’s Day: Griddle Envy” (first aired 6/1/22), in which the announcer projects macho good-buddy enthusiasm for a Blackstone griddle as a Father’s Day gift (6/19 this year, just two days away! And the next American MascMeatHol, Independence Day, aka the Fourth of July, is only two weeks away):
(#1) The envy-inciting appliance: a Blackstone 4-burner 36″-griddle propane-fired cooking station with side shelves (about $300); you can view the ad at this site
From the alliterative text:
Give him what he really wants … Your Dad can be the master of the meat, the king of the cookout, the sultan of steak
(Warning: much of this is heavy in male bodies and man-on-man sex in very plain language — you know me, Al — so it’s not for kids or the sexually modest.)
Yesterday’s installment — “Bunnies with baskets”, here — only got through some amiably very dirty doggerel of mine and analysis of its poetic organization, when the draft for the rest was eaten in a computer disaster. But now I’ve re-composed the whole damn thing, and added a bonus section, so today you’ll get not only stuff about the 2001 film The Fluffer (which is not at all fluffy), but also the 2011 film Going Down in LA-LA Land (which has some joyously fluffy moments).
So today it’s about the noun fluff, the verb fluff, the agent noun fluffer, and the adjective fluffy. Inspired by entertaining vrai-gai exchanges on Facebook beginning on 3/31.
(Considerable discussion of sexual practices in this posting — largely in cautious language, but some may find the topics — male masturbation and male-male sexual acts — distasteful.)
To understand the brilliant 3/11 Wayno / Piraro Bizarro, you need to marshal detailed information about the Pillsbury Doughboy, the Roman Catholic confessional, the language of male masturbation in English, and self-rising flour (I wonder what, say, a Japanese exchange student in the U.S. would make of the cartoon; there is just so much culturally specific knowledge needed to understand it):
(#1) (If you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there are 5 in this strip — see this Page.)
You must recognize the central figure as Poppin’ Fresh the Pillsbury Doughboy (though you can’t see the Pillsbury label on his chef’s hat), the dough-creature mascot of the (American) Pillsbury baking brand since 1965; and you must recognize that he’s at the grill, or screen, separating the penitent from the priest in the confessional box of a Roman Catholic Church, where he is confessing his sins (seeking absolution from the priest); then you must understand that the particular sin he’s confessing is masturbation (stimulating his penis by hand to become erect — to rise — for the purpose of sexual pleasure), and that this is a grave sin, requiring confession; and finally, and crucially, you have to see that his reference to his masturbating as self-rising (metonymically causing himself to rise) is a play on words, the ordinary use of self-rising being to flour (available mostly in the US and the UK) with added ingredients that will cause dough made from such flour to swell — to rise — on its own.
What makes the cartoon so delightful is that all of this is woven together by the fact that Poppin’ Fresh is an anthropomorphic being — a male one, with the desires of a sexually mature male — made of dough.
We advance upon a surprising gift of the Pennsylvania Dutch to American culture: Groundhog Day (February 2nd). In earlier years, this blog provided coverage of Marmota monax (the groundhog / woodchuck), its holiday, and the comic movie, comic movie, comic movie. Now comes Alex (Alessandro Michelangelo) Jaker on Facebook:
I think that, the same way that the Easter Bunny visits and leaves candy [notably, chocolate eggs] and jelly beans at Easter time 🐰🍬🍫, we should start a tradition where, on Groundhog Day, the Friendly Groundhog stops by to visit during the night, and leaves the children a bag of nuts. 🐿🌰🥜
I replied (alas, emojilessly):
Even better: Marmo the Enchanted Groundhog, who leaves a bag of magic nuts.
And Alex countered with:
Or how about: “Chuck the Magic Marmot”.
Much to munch upon here.
(Lots of off-color jokes, some of them gay-inflected, along with a number of peanut cartoons. So: crude, and perhaps not to everyone’s taste.)
Today’s Rhymes With Orange — entertaining if you get the crucial pop culture allusion, incomprehensible if you don’t:
(#1) An elephant at the doctor’s office, with an x-ray showing the contents of his stomach to be a top hat, a monocle, and a cane; in the face of this evidence, the doctor asks the patient if he’s sure that all he ate was one peanut (presupposing that the patient has claimed just that)
How does this even make sense, much less be funny? Even granting the poploric association between elephants and peanuts — which is actually pretty baffling (see below) — why do peanuts come up in #1 at all? We have a trio of men’s accessories and no visible peanuts.
There’s a hint in the bonus commentary on the left: elephant to elephant, “It’s a medical Mister-y”, where the clue is Mister. But the clue is useless if you don’t know your way around the symbolic figures of American commerce.
You have to be a friend of Mister Peanut.
(Not much linguistics, but there are penguins and mammoths.)
A late birthday present on Friday, wrapped in rainbow tissue paper:
(#1) From the Sock It To Me company in Portland OR: “Penguin Taking Flight” crew socks (artist: Tara Gildow)
The back story from the company:
Blue men’s crew socks featuring a steampunk penguin wearing headgear and a jet pack launching upwards
Tired of being mocked by other flying birds, this flightless penguin is taking matters into her own hands…err wings. Steamed she couldn’t fly, she built herself a marvelous flying contraption and finally took flight. Wear these magnificent penguin socks when you feel a little too earthbound and need to take things to the next level.
Just strap it on and take off.
In today’s mail, a wonderful conjunction of two images: a vintage ad for Spangles (a classic British sweet, or candy), subject (in modern eyes) to an entire constellation of giggly racy interpretations; and a Daily Jocks ad (quite fairly labeled NSFW) for an item of fetishwear, a Locker Gear jockstrap with an open pouch for easy access. As it happens — surprise! — Spangles bring with them allusions to the adventures of the American screen cowboy Hopalong Cassidy and his young sidekick Lucky Jenkins.
You can see where this is going when all three elements are set in motion.
I’ll start with the Spangles ad, with its unintentional silly sexiness, and then (after a page break) go on to a male couple experiencing raw mutual enjoyment of the Locker Gear jock; the image and my accompanying caption are not suitable for kids or the sexually modest. (It’s the most sexually explicit, and dramatically hot, underwear ad I’ve come across so far.)
But first (hat tip to Tim Evanson): “Handily packed, delicious to eat, SPANGLES are the fruitiest sweet!”:
(#1)
… provided by friends in a time of unspeakable violence, though neither is a totally unmixed pleasure: from Mike McKinley, the 1962 boys’ space adventure yarn Lost City of Uranus, just for the cheap but evergreen double entendre in its title; from Betsy Herrington, a link to the rainbow dreadhead stone lions of Monza, Italy, an admirable exercise in yarn bombing.
The centerpiece:
(#1) “Rainbow Dragons” (for LGBT Pride 2018) by Ross Sanger, on Deviant Art (hat tip to Kim Darnell)
Two effects here. One, in popular culture, dragons are tamed, almost to the point of cuteness; otherwise, they’re creatures of great power and potential danger (in Western traditions, active malevolence) — but here are cicurated (tamed, rendered mild or harmless), or even cutesified. And then, dragons have become loosely attached to gay culture; they’ve been homoized in some contexts — Homoland is, at the very least, congenial to dragons as symbols, perhaps as symbols of gay power, so that dragons and rainbows have come to have some affinity for one another, in draconical rainbows and arcipluvial dragons (like Sanger’s).
Especially in places where dragons bear some specific symbolic weight, gays and their rainbows are likely to follow: the red dragon of the Welsh flag; the logo of Dungeons and Dragons; and the dragon of Chnese astrology. But gay dragons, often in rainbow, might pop up anywhere (as in #1).
