Don't Eat a Fudgesicle While Viewing This...

...because I did and now I'm sick. Jake & Dinos Chapman's recreation of their 2000 work (ironically destroyed by an accidental warehouse fire) Hell is entitled Fucking Hell. It looks amazing, some critics are already calling it the first major artwork of the 21st century. Comparisons to Bruegel the Younger and Bosch are inevitable and maybe deserved. Here are some photos but this video gives you a much more horrific picture.





Update: Nick pointed out the similarities to this Halo video proving once again that popular culture has already gone ahead and produced something (almost as) equally arresting for the masses while the obscenely rich and cloistered art world continues to sit around and jerk each others largely half-baked and bullshit ideas off. That being said I am still really impressed with the Chapman's piece although not with the current art market as a whole...

Cereal of the Gods

I hate breakfast. Anything other than coffee in my stomach before 11 AM fills me with loathing. If ever there was a breakfast food that could have changed my mind, I just learned that it was in the works but never made:

Paul Reubens: The cereal was going to be Pee-wee Chow. I had Ralston Purina give me permission to let the checkerboard be on human food. It was going to be called Pee-wee Chow, just like Dog Chow, and had the checkerboard on it. The commercial was going to be a mom pouring a bowl of it and putting it on the floor and kids crawling up like dogs and eating it on all fours.

Gary Panter: That could have changed history.

PR: I thought that was going to be so great. And the cereal was really delicious, I thought. It tasted just like Trix. It was sweetened with fruit juice, no added sugar, had all these vitamins and minerals and was really good for you. Everything was going fantastic until, right at the last minute, they had to do a blind taste test with kids, and kids hated it.

GP: Stupid jerks!

[from a new interview in Swindle magazine]

Alas, Pee-wee chow now enters the hallowed, never-realized cereal Valhalla along with Little Chocolate Donuts.

Official Where the Wild Things Are Trailer is Up!!

(Although you should really watch it huge on the Apple site)

Tracy Morgan's Penis is Sporting a Legwarmer

I pray to baby Jesus that after 30 Rock ends Tracy Morgan is given a radio show. The Sound of Young America dug up this tape of his seemingly random appearance on a sports talk radio show. The hosts make a valiant effort to steer him into sports related comments but there's no stopping a force of nature. I'm pretty positive Tracy Morgan knows exactly what he's doing at all times but as my friend Neil (who passed this on to me) observed, it really seems possible that he doesn't know anything about the show he's on or its hosts and couldn't care less.

Slinkachu

I'm so excited because I finally got the book of London artist Slinkachu's work! He places tiny people all over London in various states of loneliness, despair, or insignificance. Luckily you can see most if not all of the images on his blog but you'll want to have the book handy after EMPs wipe out all your electronics.

"They're not pets, Susan" — [Wallpaper-sized version]

I'll be putting my copy on my bookshelf between Banksy's Wall and Piece and White's Mistress Masham's Repose...

Spoiler Alert!

I can't decide which I like more, the new season of Lost where people on a jet airliner inexplicably travel back in time, or this 1961 episode of the Twilight Zone where people on a jet airliner inexplicably travel back in time:



[Strangely you can watch it fine here but I can't embed it!]

Trivia: The episode's wiki page notes that there is a major scientific inaccuracy in the episode. Shortly before they spot the Brontosaurus, Flight 33's crew identify the contours of Manhattan island. But Manhattan didn't exist hundreds of millions of years ago because of continental drift. While dinosaurs may not have technically roamed New York City, mastodons probably did.

Never Better

I thought I was just normal sick and was going to tough it out but when a mound started protruding from my belly Rae made me go to the hospital. I went, begrudgingly, planning on being told I just needed some tylenol but ended up staying for two nights for a necrotic (my favorite new word), gangrenous, about-to-rupture appendix that even the surgeon was grossed out by. Seven days of pain pills and netflix-on-demand later and I'm almost all better. My enforced bed rest could have been made significantly more fun if Gaby had e-mailed this to me sooner: