The briefest of celebratory woofs for the 16th (= 10h-th) birthday of Opal Eleanor Armstrong Zwicky, today:
(#1)
(#2)
You are young, Opal Eleanor, the old man said,
And your hair colors wander astray,
And now if you stand on your head, just right,
You’ll be 91 starting today.
(#3)
(Some totally raunchy text, not suitable for kids or the sexually modest.)
From Daily Jocks, with mailings on 2/17 and 2/19:
DJX TROUGH PRIDE 🏳️🌈
The best selling DJX Trough collection is back with a Limited Edition Pride collection. Get ready for Sydney Mardi Gras [2/14/ – 3/1/20] or show your pride wherever you are in the world.
From Tim Evanson on Facebook, this image of (literally) horny guys in nothing but pouch-thrusting underwear, sucking suggestively on spicy sticks for Christmas:
(#1)
From Tim, I learn that this entertaining photo — a still from a Xmas beefcake video — was created by the Sellers Dorsey Foundation in 2013 as part of a Full Frontal Freedom / Out2Enroll campaign encouraging gay men to enroll in Obamacare. The full video can be viewed on the OUT Magazine site.
He does like them; he will not eat them.
Scott Hilburn’s latest (8/26) foray into language play:
(#1) An Olympic parody
From Jeff Shaumeyer on Facebook on the 18th:
(#1)
We were a little surprised to notice that the logo for the Hotel Amadeus is a portrait of George Washington. Rome, Italy. 20171028
I replied:
Ah, that’s George Amadeus Washington, an Italian con man who made a career of passing himself off as the Father of the U.S.A. and, incidentally, the composer of The Magic Flute.
Jeff:
That’s good to know! My knowledge of history is so spotty.
And then Rod Williams in high mischief mode:
Didn’t he write that opera, Il ciliegio bugiardo?
(An politico-sexual riff, with steamy underwear photos, on BoJo, the MP for Bone Juice and South Blowjob and the Man Who Would Be PM; you should be able to tell from this description that this posting is not for kids or the sexually modest.)
Passed on to me on Facebook by Dean Calbreath on 7/20, a link to a Business Insider article, “Boris Johnson called gay men ‘tank-topped bumboys’ and black people ‘piccaninnies’ with ‘watermelon smiles'”, by Adam Bienkov on 7/12/19.
The cover of the July 13th Economist is yet another variation on the famous 1932 photograph Lunch Atop a Skyscraper (known in these parts as Skylunch I):
(#1) Recalling Skylunch I in content as well as form: Skylunch I celebrated working people (especially recent immigrants) and the rising NYC (and by extension, the US)
A few days back, I presented a little art quiz: to identify the source of a piece of conceptual art I called Skylunch III (mounted on a pickup truck passing through Columbus Circle in NYC)
(#1) The Columbus Circle Skylunch III of 6/28/19 (photo by Bob Eckstein) — hereafter, Skylunch IIIA, or just IIIA for short
This was clearly a version of a similarly mounted Sergio Furnari sculpture I called Skylunch II (in mixed media, with metallic finish), which in turn was a three-dimensional homage to a famous 1932 photograph Lunch atop a Skyscraper (New York Construction Workers Lunching on a Crossbeam).
It turns out that IIIA is just Furnari again, but Furnari overseeing a much stranger world than the one of Skylunch II: a land of fiberglass men, demi-clones of the ones in Skylunch I and II, with features varied in many ways, large and small. There’s a whole universe of potential Skylunch IIIs, populated by the fiberglass men of Skylunchland. Apparently, each day a truck goes out — or, maybe, several trucks, it’s hard to know — with a different selection of men on it, in different numbers, arranged in different ways.
I have clear evidence of two different ones currently on the streets of NYC, but of course any number could be created at any time.
(Several kinds of silliness, some music, and some food, but also very plain talk about men’s bodies and mansex — in the woods! — so not at all for kids or the sexually modest.)
Recently posted on Facebook, this mock vintage food ad:
(#1) [The AZ jingle for Pocket Weenies:] Here we come a-frankerin’ a-frankerin’ a-frankerin’ / Among the leaves so green
No one will be watching us / Why don’t we do it in the woods?
