dickhouse

tonight it's jackass 3 on the mtv!

So you've seen the dementia dimensionally, now see it lay pipe on cable. Tonight at 10/9 C the MTV will be premiering jackass 3 in whatever capacity can be done for the first time ever during the course of its latest #MANCATION weekend. We won't be officially tweeting it up live along with the broadcast, but the MTV is running some other kind of promotion where you'll have the opportunity to win random shit for correctly guessing how many nuts get kicked in the course of the #MANCATION event (and if you haven't guessed it by now it's real important to use that hashtag or you ain't gonna have a corn kernel's chance in Dave England's rectal hell of winning jack shit).

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Burbank, California 2010)

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photo of the day: chris pontius

Okay, so I said we'd be back to dicks today after yesterday's extreme vaginal departure, but instead I bring you butt. Hey, it's not like I promised you a rose garden, so get off my back, jerk! What's special about this particular photo—aside from its centerpiece being one of the more awesome humans around—is that Jeff Tremaine often cites it as one of the moments when he knew he'd truly made it in life: To be able to film your friend running around bound, gagged, and dressed only in a thong and then present it to the masses via the television on a show titled jackass (in Helvetica!), thereby putting the boob back in the tube. Call me silly, but I'd rank it right up there with the discovery of fire, the invention of the wheel, and a cure for the clap. Good times!

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Los Angeles, California 2000)

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history lesson: the blown away guy

In honor of Ryan Dunn's birthday today, I've held onto this clip that was posted a few weeks ago on the Interweb spotlighting the history behind "the blown away guy" from the Maxell advertisement. This was, of course, the inspiration behind our situating Dunn behind the engine of an Aero L-39 Albatros jet fighter in jackass 3D, so it was nice to see him memorialized in the piece.

We miss you, Ryan. Not a week goes by in the office when you are not quoted warmly and fondly—my personal go-to favorites being, "Who gives a shit?" and "Eat that dick", but "N'awesome" is oft uttered as well.

(Photos by Sean Cliver; Camarillo, California 2010)

no, it's the mashed potatoes—not the beehive

Remember the first time you stuck your penis in a beehive and realized that perhaps it wasn't the best idea? No? Not surprising. Even our dumbasses know enough not to insert your penis into one of those. Okay, yeah, I can see where the concept of a "honey pot" might sound enticing—especially if you've the marginalized gray batter of say, oh, Winnie the Pooh—but at some point during the insertion process surely a few Darwinism alarm bells are likely to go off and be accordingly heeded. So, although it made for a wonderfully charming evolutionary tale about the culling of the human herd, this "news story" about some sweaty Swede doing the dumb dicky deed and made dead was indeed a hoax. However, it would make for a great title in Helvetica Bold, don't you think? I can hear Dave England saying it now... "Hi, I'm Dave England and this is the 'Beehive Sex Toy'." Although the odds of that happening now are a pubic hair slim to absolutely fucking none. After all, he was pretty chapped about being stung up after playing "Beehive Tetherball" on jackass 3D, the movie that took a critically acclaimed upwards dump in the third dimension! Watch it now or own it forever—you be the consumer judge.

(Photos by Sean Cliver; Florida 2010)

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Generally speaking we are upstanding law-abiding citizens, give or take what happens behind closed doors in the neighborhood of Sunset and Gower on occasion, but it would appear we really stepped across the thin blue line during the run of the late great jackass TV show when Danger Ehren donned a pink tutu and pranced hard—so hard—around the streets of Portland, Oregon, bestowing quarters upon those parked souls in need of a helping hand. Little did we know this was actually a heinous crime on par with certain forms of manslaughter and, perhaps, human organ trafficking on the black market, but you're going to have to take into account I don't know shit from peanut butter when it comes to the long, short, or baby arm of the law. By the way, should you or anyone you know be in possession of a baby arm, I salute you, but that's beside the point, the point being this is just another half-ass reach around on yet another random ass news story to break wind in America: http://www.washingtontimes.com

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Portland, Oregon 2001)

 

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breaking wind on the interweb

Color me disappointed. Possibly disenfranchised. Maybe just outright jealous—I mean, if we're really going to call a spade a spade. The idea of fart noises being heard on any website should have been jackassworld.rip for starters, but then that whole deal went up in smoke (taking all the mirrors along with it). True, JAW did have its landmark moments of auditory brilliance when it cames to mousing over particular photos, e.g. "HUNH?", "Go Fuck Yourself," and, of course, the soothing regurgative sounds of Steve-O, but we really should have planted our flag in online flatulence. Anyway, The Onion since has—scrolling no less—so good on 'em. Download farts for your website here: http://theonion.github.io/fartscroll.js/

Love the smell of ass napalm in the morning? Is the "Covered Wagon" your signature bedtime move? Take a moment, stop exorcising anal spirits in your underpants, and own jackass number two on DVD today!

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Orlando, Florida 2006)

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eat a dick? ship a dick!

Looking for that special something for that special someone who is all out of dicks and so lost without one? Ship a dick! The latest cardboard craze that's erecting cardboard sensation around the nation. Or something full and chubbed out like that. Despite all Bam-ish brand appearances/proportions from jackass number two, we are in no way affiliated with said dick-shipping company, but when it comes to dicks we have nothing but (butt!) love to share. So whether you prefer them in bowls, buckets, or ye olde ports of classic entry afore and aft, ship a giant cardboard dick today: http://www.shipadick.com/products/

P.S. Double the ribbed pleasure and double down on a quality Dickhouse garment for extra dicky derring-do: http://www.merchmethod.com/dickhouse

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Florida 2006)

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happy birthday to wee man!

Like your eggs sunny side up? How about Wee Man downtown Hindi brown? Whatever your tanned ham pleasure, we're sure you'll join us in wishing Wee Man a "Happy Birthday!" because that's just the kind of celebratory out of the canal and into the world day it is.

(Photos by Sean Cliver; India 2006)

everybody poops... even newscasters!

 

Okay, this one has been around a while, but what better place for wrong butt stuff to be adopted, right? Right. The language alone tells you something is bound to be slipping down the poop chute sooner or later, and my god if it doesn't come with the explosive quickness when it does. As always, this reminds me of the warm and fuzzy time Dave England shat the van during the filming of jackass the movie in 2002. It's a well known fact his tummy doesn't handle south of the border combos that well, and our usual lags in production let him stall out far too long in the danger zone while the hardware store was being scouted and plotted for toilet pranking purposes. Granted, his being tickled and jabbed in the van by a feisty Jeff Tremaine didn't help matters much, and when the backfire came it had both bark and bite, like any well hung and no longer containable shart. Lucky for all Dave was wearing pants then. I mean, can you even imagine the pooey level of devastation had he gone Ol' Faithful while having his gooch stimulated? Talk about pop music, Armageddon, and handbaskets all rolled into hellish one!

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Portland, Oregon 2002)

inflatable poo for you to view

Lord knows I wonder about a lot of random shit about shit, but what if when Mike Judge was running air up Preston Lacy's bottom during the "Butt Bellows" segment from jackass 2.5, he actually inflated a lump of poo in Preston's intestine? I mean, that would have been really interstine, right? Anyway, if it had happened, I'm guessing—no, make that wishing, it would have looked something awesome and huge like this fecal-inspired art installation currently on display over in Hong Kong of all places:

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Hollywood, California 2006)

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Not to gangbang a meme, but thanks to the good folks at NASA cock graffiti has launched to a whole new planetary level. Case in celestial point, this sweet penis drawn by one of NASA's two Rover modules tooling about on the surface of Mars. Part of me wonders if the red planet couldn't look any angrier than with this full-blown rager, but another part reflects on the time we sent our own probe to Uranus—well, Bam Margera's anus to be wholly specific.

Should the launch above look significantly different than what you may remember from jackass 3.5, that's because this was our first imperfect emission at delivering a payload into Bam's heavenly body. Apparently there was not enough forward thrust to penetrate his assmosphere, so it was back to the drawing board for a few weeks until a little more oomph could be packed into our pocket rockets. Even then we still had our fair share of limp-shipped misfires, but I hear that happens to every exploration unit at one time or another.

Prefer moon to poon? Have your sights set on Mianus? Explore the sea of tranquility that is not jackass 3.5 on Blu-ray!

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Since yesterday's adventures in the third and possibly close to turd dimension went over so well, here's one last gastric blast from Will the Farter's jackass 3D past. Plus, it keeps up our poo-poo pee-pee throw-up web cred. Anyway, you may now be asking yourself, a pastor, or a Subway sandwich artist, "How exactly did Bam get from Point A to Point C in this image?" The correct answer is a beeline straight from Will's blustery bum to Bam's mouth—utilizing a cigarette as the intermediary link between the two (yes, it does appear to be a pertinent missing link as well, but it's actually inside the styrofoam cup that Danger Ehren is holding up for a closer inspection of the partially eww juice-stained filter). By the by, this very same couch still resides within the hallowed halls of Dickhouse and has probably never received a proper cleaning… just a word to all the wise that have sat and held counsel with Tremaine and Knoxville over the years!

(Photo by Sean Cliver; 2010)

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a party boy makeover in the future?

Before you go and get your undies in a bunch, no, we're not giving Party Boy a makeover. Not here, not now, nor in the forseeable future. That was basically just a big mistruth in advertising, a/k/a dangling a meat carrot, to get your little ass in the door here. However, there is a certain something in the male undergarment department that Party Boy should definitely put through the paces at some point—mainly because I'm having a hard time believing this could ever work in the practical sense. It's called the "Flash Blue Side String" and it is every bit as confusing as the name would imply. First off, it's more of a sling than a string, but that may just be their French showing; and secondly, this has awkward written all over it, notwithstanding the freshly manscaped male model (personally, I would've preferred to see a vintage Gabe Kotter bursting out from behind the blue rather than this plucked chicken).

All preconceptions aside, one does have to wonder if this is a thong so wrong it just may be right ... well, that and if it could even begin to contain the beast of Party Boy, much less stand up to the frictional rigors of his sexy routine.

(Photo by Sean Cliver; India 2006)

art sharts: the balls of chris pontius

It's been a good while since we've simply sat and pondered a photo for photo's sake without going out on a linked limb, so let's examine the post-pubescent, extra-spatial relationship between Chris Pontius, his balls, several other balls, and all immediate witnesses thereof. Actually, let's not, because anyone who deconstructs the meaning to anything should be tried and convicted of crimes against humanity. Okay, maybe that's going a bit overboard, but can't we all just sit and enjoy an image of a man spilling out of a common hotel elevator with his umbilicus and package presented to not only the heavens above but a hefty fraction of the Nitro Circus family—Street Bike Tommy and Andy Bell, to be precise—and the wilderiest nine-and-one-quarter fingered man on Earth, Manny Puig? I would sure hope so, but I'm naturally the hopeful sort and will spring eternal as such until the last of my pseudo-cynical waylaid days.

Tune in next week* for another negligible installment of Art Sharts to see further shots of shit** with accompanying senseless*** rants about nothing in sharticular at all!

* Complimentary cheese and crackers not included.

** Offer void in Delaware until its existence is proven otherwise.

*** Buy jackass 3 and jackass 3.5 on DVD for the full digital bitch of an experience!

(Photo by Sean Cliver; Orlando, Florida 2010)

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It's been a while since I've heard a good joke about Mianus. Until now. But it's not Mianus that's so funny, but rather that of Danny Mainus—although through no fault of his own, mind you. This clipped-up, beat down clip fest is all thanks to an announcer's mispronunciation of Danny's last name, and it's incredibly reminiscent of the time Rick Kosick was pumping in Mianus, circa 2000. So watch, listen, and laugh as Mianus soars to all new heights as it gets cut up, beaten on, slashed open, flattened out, bloodied, watched, and popped in on by Zac Chavez.