dickhouse

happy new year!

The first time I ever saw Wee Man's bare hammy ass was in the spring of 1993. Earl Parker and I had been dispatched from the offices of Big Brother magazine, then located in the toxic Mayberry of El Segundo, California, to hang out with Wee and Heavy Metal Chuck for an afternoon in Torrance. We went to a duck pond, a backyard pool, and eventually a mall, where he dropped his pants on an escalator. Even then he had airs of being a Lord of the South Bay, and, mark my words, he may just turn out to be the future Sonny Bono of Redondo Beach, California.

Remarkably, I still recall the second time I witnessed his bare bottom ... it was at The Whisky on Sunset Blvd., circa 1994–95. This may have taken place during a Pennywise show, but this may also just be my imagination making it out to be more of a South Bay event then it really was. All I definitely do know is that I was seated up on the second level with Jeff Tremaine when Wee Man found his way onstage below, about-faced, and mooned the crowd, slapping his meaty cheeks for all their worth.

What does any of this have to do with the new year about to break upon us and possibly take a liver or two with it? Shit the fuck if I know. But while searching for that picture perfect Dickhouse image to herald the arrival of 2012, this shot of Wee Man floating in full Porky Pig regalia with airborne wieners galore just seemed to scream, "F' YES!" (The next shot in this sequence screamed something else entirely as nothing was left to the imagination once the frank 'n' beans came into full-frontal view.) 

Asses to asses, cuss to cuss. Here's to a new year filled with butts. Cheers!

(Photo by Sean Cliver; California 2010)

happy birthday to dave england!

Coincidence or not, I don't know, but does it really come as a surprise to anyone that Dave England was born at the very rectal end of the calendar year? Some things are just meant to be, I guess, without having to get all ill and asstrological about it. But hey, let's wish him a good one, because if the Mayans have any say so in the end of days matter then this is Dave's last birthday to be had before we all go out in a blaze of meteoric glory. So happy birthday, Dave! Now blow out your candles and make a shit.

Feeling inexplicably German? Have a paddle but can't find Shit Creek? Check out this post of yore for all things HO scale and pastoral.

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Los Angeles, California 2010) 

field trip to dickhouse, pt. 3

And so we come to the end, my friend. Parting will, as always, be such sweet sorrow, but I'll be back again someday. Just like Frosty and his big frozen snowballs. So without further ado, I bring you this last installment that makes much ado about the material poo that has glommed itself into the nooks, crannies and ass-crack of Dickhouse over the production years.

If you're going to be sentimentally challenged then this wood pecker is without a doubt the penilultimate jackass 3.5 artifuct to hold onto. It is, after all, scientific proof of how many pecks it takes a woodpecker to peck through a wooden pecker to find Chris Pontius's pecker—or, to be more precise, the very pee hole itself (hey, if you're a bird looking for bugs then the urethra has to be the place). Before I go off and buh-CAAAWCK, this other artful nudie is none other than Dave Carnie as penis-painted by the acclaimed artist Tim "Pricasso" Patch. Unfortunately, the painting was a casualty of war and sustained a rip in the canvas during the pink bat escapades that took place at jackassworld.rip, circa 2009 (the Post-Its on Dave's member, however, are merely the remainders of a routine kid-proofing of the halls that must be done every so often).

Where do big-time meetings get conducted in Hollywood? Here. On the ping-pong table. Once upon a time it used to be the foosball table, but apparently things have "matured" since then. And, yes, that is THE director's chair that you've seen used in virtually every jackass talking head special, be it the Tribute To Ryan Dunn (2011), Steve-O: Demise and Rise (2009), jackass: the beginning (2010), jackass: where are they now? (2005), the making of the jackass video game (2007), et al. Last but not least, while the whole of the photographic film world was being sent straight to hell by the new digital gods, Johnny Knoxville did his damndest to keep the Polaroid dream alive and this is the lunch room memorial to prove it.

This concludes your exclusive behind-the-scenes field trip to Dickhouse. I hope you've enjoyed the tour now don't let the door hit your ass on the way out.

(Photos by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, California 2011)

field trip to dickhouse, pt. 2

In sequel terms this is not The Empire Strikes Back. Nor, for that matter, is it an Evil Dead 2 . But if it's anything other than The Godfather III ... that I can live with. Sometimes you just gotta know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, and know when to open a roasted chicken joint. So let's carry on with the tour through the paneled warrens of Dickhouse, shall we?

The hills may be alive with the sound of music, but here at Dickhouse the halls are lined with photo after photo after photo of ridiculousness. How happy would you be coming to work if each and every day you exited the elevator to see Danger Ehren's mug all pubed up and ready to blow? All access, bitch! Speaking of which, Johnny Knoxville wasn't in town the week I was there, but that didn't stop me from going in his office and ... well ... I shot this photo for one (Knoxville, you can make of that what you will from there). But you may remember this cannon from such jackass 3.5 tomfoolery as "Argh, you mad at me?"

Other works of art that adorn the halls include numerous lithos courtesy of artist Sarah Green. Jeff Tremaine and Knoxville, joined at the hip—hey now!—and then Ryan Dunn graces the place where visitors sit while awaiting audience with the Emperor. And yes, that would be the entire cast and crew of jackass 3D found at the base of the rainbow. The random clothes bag ... I'm not sure. Could easily be Amanda's or Shanna's, as the dress looks much to slim-fitting for Tremaine (but the animal print is spot on).

Tune in tomorrow when this exciting, no holes barred tour of Dickhouse concludes!

(Photos by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, California 2011)

field trip to dickhouse, pt. 1

This past Thanksgiving I jumped out of the jungle and back into the concrete sprawl of Los Angeles for a week of long overdue face-to-face time with friends—90-percent of who all work within the Dickhouse empire in some capacity or another on various projects happening under the rainbow, e.g. Fantasy Factory, Ridiculousness, Loiter Squad, A Tribute To Ryan Dunn, or the Inner Circle itself. While there, roaming from paneled wood room to paneled wood room, I popped off a few random photos from behind the hallowed pink doors of dumb...

My absolute favorite item of interest was found in the Loiter Squad offices, where Dimitry sightings are treasured and recorded for posterity. Color me lucky because I just so happened to spot the Russian sasquatch myself that day! Next up is a relic from late 2007 when the Dickhouse Three went toe-to-toe with Scott Aversano in the Saga of the Van Toffler Mural (to learn more about this heist click here). Somehow* this damn thing has survived three-or-four Dickhouse relocations so far.

I don't know about the women's bathroom, but this is the men's and it comes complete with jackass 3D promotional wall stickers featuring photos taken by Terry Richardson. And while we're on the promotional tip, go, go Gojira! It's the Japanese theatrical poster for the release of jackass 3D with !!! and all.

* That "somehow" is probably actually a "someone", meaning JxPx Blackmon, the master of all shady Dickhouse props.

(Photos by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, California 2011)

boxing day booger blow out

So it's the day after Christmas. Boxing day to some; discount shopping to others; toilet bowl blow outs for all. Wahoo! Good gravy, did I ever stuff the shit out of my stomach ... only now I'm still waiting for it to pass and go into the porcelain light like a good little Carole Anne, at which point it will most definitely be a joyeux noël for my poor constipation-torn rectum.

Whatever, I'll live to poo another day, so no sense whinging about it now. Instead, let's box the shit out of Boxing Day. And, if I may be so bold, I'd like to recommend jackass: the lost tapes for your optic digestive system. Why this one particular DVD out of so many others? Well, let me count the ways...

1) It came out in 2009, prior to the big brouhahaha brought about by jackass 3D in 2010, so it may not have received the best coming out party possible.

2) It contains (almost) all the loose ends, segments, and transitions from the TV show, as well as numerous never-before-seen loose ends, segments, and transitions that had only appeared on jackassworld.rip.

3) There's this clip with Dimitry and Steve-O that's beyond priceless, making it well worth whatever heavily discounted bargain bin price it's now available for!

Casually intrigued? Easily persuaded? Love "Denim And Leather" by Saxon? Buy jackass: the lost tapes on DVD today! Or tomorrow! Or whenever the uncontrollable urge suits you and your financial instability!

new and improved happy holidays from dickhouse!

I don't live on 34th Street (hell, I barely live anywhere near anything remotely resembling a street), but it's a Christmas miracle, kids! I hadn't wanted to bother anyone about the momentary lapse in reasonable resolution late last night, but Dickhouse super assist Amanda Adelson came through big time despite her vacationing in Mexico. So here's a fully erect Dickhouse greetings on this the merriest of all days—well, aside from St. Patrick's Day, because those Irish folks sure know how to turn a liver upside down and inside out.

happy holidays from dickhouse!

Okay, so it's not like the Grinch stole Christmas, but he definitely stuck his uncircumsized asparagus dick into my plans.

Today I'd hoped to present you with this extra-special video that was guaranteed to tickle your twisted pink, but ... well ... in the spirit of the day I shan't point any fingers at dropped balls and the hands that once held them. Just something to look forward to in the new year, I guess.

My back-up gift was foolproof, I thought, but guess what! Turns out fools can indeed outwit a halfwit. You see, I wanted to share the annual Dickhouse greeting card that gets sent out to all our significant others, but when I finally received the image and got around to assembling the post it was 12:22am on Christmas Day—and only then did I realize the image that I'd been sent was the size of an f'ing postage stamp. So here you go. Good luck making out with the pixel faces.

Happy Half-Ass Holidays!

pre-season's greetings

I am, by nature, a very visual person. So every time I tap out the word "Dickhouse"—which is a lot, mind you—I picture a quaint little chalet constructed of dicks that is buried balls deep in the heart of Dickland (this is, of course, my vacation property and not to be confused with the veinglorious mansion of meat erected in Mianus). In a way, you could almost say this idyllic idiocy is my "happy place" that I go to during times of difficulty or extreme duress, a virtual dickbridge of slim jims over troubled water. Today, however, is not one of those dire escapist days. If anything it's much more of a happy-go-lucky, over the river and through the woods to Dimitry's house we go through blowing gusts of magical snowflakes straight out of Rankin's ass. We'll have more holiday cheer in days ahead, so please consider this no more than a pre-ejaculate dab of festive things to come!

(Snowflake by Dimitry)

and that's the way it is...

Once upon a time there was a great man named Walter Cronkite. He reported the news of the day in a responsible and objective tone, something virtually unheard of now as entire network news programs are openly biased in what passes for journalistic practices. Good night and good luck indeed. Anyway, what really gets my billy goat's muff is that even when it comes to trife Interweb fluff these jokers still can't rub two dicks together to start a remotely erectile fire. Seriously, how can you even think about putting together a comprehensive (much less half-ass) article about things "mysteriously" found inside peoples' butts and not make mention of the famed little car toy that went there and back again in the tail end of a number one box office movie? Woodward and Bernstein wept.

The article in question: Patients Get Bottles, Cell Phones, Buzz Lightyear Stuck Inside

the producers and the water bottle

The year was 2004. The show was Wildboyz. The season was number two. The room was the editing bay of our dear departed friend and editor Liz Ewart in a building that launched an empire of inside job jokes. It was not the summer of love. It was not the winter of our discontent. We were not legends of the fall. If anything, it was springtime for Hitler, and we were producers! You hear a lot about producers in Hollywood. Trouble is, not many can really explain what it is they do. It can be as much as a shit ton of everything or as little as smoke and mirrors, but so it goes in Hollywood where working up to 12 or 16 hours a day is commonplace and it's super easy to get a bit punchy after sitting in a 12 x 12 windowless room for weeks on end. That's exactly how this little water bottle* quickie came to be produced with me and Jeff Tremaine ... back when we probably should've been grinding it out in the edit bay.

* Hate to open a perennial Dickhouse debate—and no, for once it's not asking if it's wrong to be strong—but if Dimitry had his way, this and every other "Bottle Skating" bit from the TV show to the 24-hour Takeover would've been called "Jug Boarding".

the zeitgeist of ryan dunn

Remember the 56k days of WebCrawler? AltaVista? Netscape? Excite? Lycos? Man, did they ever get an 800-lb. banana stuffed in the tailpipe of their search engines. I'm no Nostradamus, but if I was Falco and had to write an international pop hit about the book of Revelations and the coming of das Tier, I'd be yodeling Google all over the Austrian Alps. Until that Day of Rock 'n' Roll Reckoning comes, Google is the master and commander of the Interweb with all the statistics that could possibly matter to anyone. Today, this one matters to us: a self-reflexive look back on the top fastest-rising searches of 2011 that proves just how much zeitgeist cred was held by Ryan Dunn. Wow.

Remember when Kim Jong-Il was the administrator of jackassworld.com? Want to honor the memory of Ryan Dunn and go flipping through time like Buck Rogers? Take a Sunday drive in this time machine.

tonight on ridiculousness... season finale!

Everyone knows that whenever a show comes to its last episode of the season it's always good to go out big. So big it is. Big Black. On the couch. A sturdy couch. A stern, stern but fair couch. Something a Russian policeman could really get a feel for if he was in the market for just such a home furnishing. Me, myself, I've never been much for couches, but people like Dimitry ... now there's a man who lives for a good comfortable couch. Especially when it's located in a dimly lit editing bay. Don't think I'm foolin' you either, because I have the footage to prove it. Well, not yet ... but soon, very soon (*cough* Kosick *cough*) I should have it in hand. Until then, hot batch the season finale of Ridiculousness with Rob Dyrdek tonight on MTV at 10/9 C.

Ridiculousness - Full Episodes

the big ass happy family jubilee tribute to alan "horse nuts" francis

This week on the Big Ass Happy Family Jubilee we answer the question, "Who is the most dominant athlete of all time?" Mickey Mantle, Lionel Messi, Tiger Woods, Richard Petty, Michael Jordan, Mat Hoffman, John Hopoate? No to all of them. It's Alan "Horse Nuts" Francis, the greatest horseshoe thrower of all time. He has won the last 16 titles in a row and he is the only man to throw 90% ringers.

By the way, I dont think his nickname is actually "Horse Nuts". Rog' just made that up to give his name a little more zip for the show. Oh well, like my cousin says, "If you want to learn something, go the library." But if you want to hear some great outlaw country music and some mildly funny jokes listen to our show! Wahoo!!

Love,

Knox 

tribute to alan "horse nuts" francis

mouse over link to play

 

horse nuts 1

horse nuts 2

horse nuts 3

horse nuts 4

horse nuts 5

 

Bad Boy – John Prine

Amazon | iTunes

Get Out Your Big Roll Daddy – Levon helm

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Living Legends – The Highway Men

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Devil's Right Hand– Johnny Cash

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The Shoe Goes On the Other Foot Tonight – Loretta Lynn

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More and More – Willie Nelson

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Happily Married Man – Duane Allman

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If the Shoe Fits – Leon Russell

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Where Have All the Average People Gone – Roger Miller

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Manifesto No.1 – Shooter Jennings

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Big Iron – Sonny George

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The Beat Don't Ever Stop – Trent Summar And The New Row Mob

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Out Of The Rain – Jessi Colter

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Tune in every Saturday night at 8:00pm EST and 5:00pm PST on Sirius/XM's Outlaw Country Channel 60. It replays on Mondays at 12:00pm EST; Wednesdays at 8:00pm EST; and Fridays at 12:00am EST.

anatomy of a behind-the-scenes prank

You know what they say about being an early bird to catch the worm? Me neither, but I'm guessing it's a lot like trying to prank Johnny Knoxville. The man has a sixth sense for any dastardly thoughts in a half-mile radius of his person, and it really takes a bucket of luck to penetrate his perineum—I mean, perimeter. Over the years we have learned a few sleight of hand tricks (none of which I shall disclose here for future pranking purposes), but every so often he does let down his guard and forget where he is. Kind of like sitting here in plain sight at the racquetball court, where I think Rick Kosick told him he wanted to do a little behind-the-scenes interview and could he be so kind as to please sit down in this isolated chair? Knoxville ever so briefly smelled a rat (it was actually a Russian!) but then must've thought the better of it. Or maybe he didn't even think at all. Whatever the brain fart of a case was, it was just enough time for Dimitry Elyashkevich to slide up from behind and kick the plastic shit out of his chair leg and send him cackling to the floor all asprawl.

By the fucking by, this was one of the scariest shoots I've ever had the pleasure to be involved with. The sound of the golf balls as they caromed off the walls at ridiculously high speeds was absolutely terrifying, and the janky "camera hide" we were all huddled behind in the corner of the court had more holes than Blackburn, Lancashire. I also damn near split a spleen and shit a kidney when Knoxville took that golf ball straight to the Adam's apple. Nothing but throat! I'm agnostic by nature, but it's miraculous times such as these that almost make me believe in a Caucasoid God kicking back behind the Pearly Gates, pulling the strings on humanity and occasionally yanking a chain just for His holy shits 'n' giggles. Amen!

Intrigued by Flash Gordon? Bewildered by Freddy Mercury? Confuzzled by Jodie Foster? Whip out your ray gun, set it to consume, and aim it in the vague dimensional direction of jackass 3 on Blu-ray/DVD this holiday season!

(Photos by Sean Cliver; Glendale, California 2010)