This morning on the official Dickhouse Twitter feed, @LHUknowBates slipped in and passed a sweet tweet from between her online cheeks that simply said "SLOTH BEAR. Thank you #wildboyz". In kind, I'm more than happy to reciprocate with a photographic outtake from said segment when and wherewith Steve-O mustered up the courage to wrestle an absolutely relentless sloth bear in India. I have so many favorite Wildboyz
(Photo by Jeff Tremaine; India, 2004)
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
(Photo by Sean Cliver; 2010)
Brevity is a bowl of shit, as Shakespeare once famously said, so today's post is a shout out of photographic big ups and mad props to the Earth. Why? Because any fan of the Wildboyz knows we're all about ecological conversation conservation. Good job, Earth!
Love planting trees for Jesus? Like seeing moderately grown men pee? Pick up Season 1
(Photos by Dimitry Elyashkevich, Jeff Tremaine and Cordell Mansfield)
Why is it that the world of wacky news and Dickhouse always go hand-in-hand? Could be a number of things, really, but it all (big surprise) boils down to the butt and stuff. Unfortunately I've already shot my wad when it comes to the amphiuma flicks, so I'm going to have to dig a bit more deep and trivial to the jungles of Brazil. Okay, so it wasn't really the jungle—more like a research facility—but you take 'em where you get 'em when it comes to flirting with exotic animals; in this case, the electric eel (which you can't actually see in the Wildboyz
P.S. Speaking of going a fair distance, I'll go wherever it takes to pull a Danzig reference, so cheers to you if you're eagle of mind and a goddamn son of a bitch at heart.
(Photo by Dimitry Elyashkevich; Brazil 2004)
Okay, so I have to admit to a slight green feeling at present. No, not because I tainted my liver and its other associated innards this past St. Patrick's Day weekend (and, in truth, I only drank Ketel & Cranberries the entire time, so if any coloured thing my interior would be decorated in pure Russian red); and not because I'm anywhere near being under the weather (in fact, I feel healthy as a horse, albeit a miniature Shetland pony). No, it's a classic case of the green-eyed monster, a/k/a jealousy.
You see, I had this idea I'd wanted to do back on jackassworld.rip, where we each would try to poo one color of the rainbow. This would have been accomplished via extensive scientific digestive testing, where each of us ate foods of a singular color to see what emerged on the other end. Now if you've ever heartily eaten of the beet, you know the shocking surprise that awaits after doing so. I've been there. The first time it happened I thought I'd contracted the ebola virus and all intestinal hell was breaking out from inside me to outside me ... but then I remembered the bowl of steamed beets and several glasses of merlot I'd had the night before. Blueberries are another prime matter for scarily colored batter—black-and-blue can be the new brown-and-tan—and then there was this one day I only ate white turbinado yogurt-covered almonds and gave birth to an albino water snake that really freaked me out.
Anyway, the long and short intestinal point of all this being that some other guy went and made some arty crap of a food-based nature and I done missed the shit ship once again. Oh well!
(Photo by Sean Cliver; Orlando, Florida 2006)
It's hard to think of roofs without thinking about roofies. I've never had any firsthand experience with the stuff—at least to the best of my cognizant knowledge—but I do know of this one time in Mexico when Chris Pontius almost was and in the worst possible way. This is only a partial memory though, so I honestly don't know why I even mention it in the first place. What I do know is that the worst possible place for anything to go wrong has to be a roof, because there's really only one place to go from there and it's not a place where gravity is going to lovingly hold your hand to ease the passage. That is the allure, I suppose, but goddamn if that isn't one of the most hard—so hard—lessons to be physically learned, and with the quickness, I might add. Steve-O is no stranger to this elevated danger, but he's also got an uncanny knack for avoiding the extra hard knocks. He's also the guest star on tonight's all-new episode of Ridiculousness with Rob Dyrdek at 10/9 C on the MTV.
(Photo by Shanna Zablow; 2012)
Presidentially speaking, I'm tired of annualy dredging up Johnny Knoxville and his horrifying reenactment of Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address in full "Beard of Leeches" get up, so you, too, must be equally anally tired. So, instead, let's pretend George Washington had nothing to do with a cherry tree and everything to do with an apple tree, because, well, I ain't got nothing but nothing when it comes to cherries. But apples—butt apples!—those I've got more than a barrel full* to go bobbing for with you, the loyal friends, fiends, followers, and fanatics of Dickhouse. Because who wants a boring old White House, anyway? Anyone can paint a house white, but not everyone can build a house out of dicks. It's like what former U.S. President Ronald Reagan once said, "There are no constraints on the human mind, no walls around the human spirit, no barriers to our progress except those we ourselves erect,” and that, by god, is exactly what we've done with our erections. Among other things, of course, but for now let's content ourselves with this.
* Whoops! Looks like Bob beat me to the punch bowl on this particular apple...
(Photo by Sean Cliver; 2010)
In functional conjunction with MTV's "Mancation Weekend" and keeping it short, fat, and to the tuna can point, this weekend you can find the entire jackass catalog on iTunes, including discounts on full seasons. Go to: iTunes.com/Jackass
Bummed on bootlegs and jonesing for authentic jackass apparel? Check out this newly updated selection of clothing articles to hide your boobs, moobs, and regrettable tattoos: http://www.popfanatics.com/search/jackass
(Photo by Sean Cliver; San Pedro, California 2010)
Dave Carnie once put the "bromance" in our lexicon, but tonight and tomorrow MTV is putting the brogramming back into effect for its "Mancation Weekend" festivities. I've always been a sucker for official press releases, so lick this for all the fine details:
"Before settling for Sunday’s Pro Bowl, tune in to MTV’s Mancation Weekend on Friday and Saturday. The Kick-Off is 10 PM (EST) Friday with a special presentation of jackass the movie
giving viewers the opportunity to live tweet on the air, followed by classic jackass episodes, Walking Tall starring Dwayne Johnson and Johnny Knoxville, and MTV2’s Guy Code.
The second half starts 3 PM (EST) Saturday with the network premiere of DodgeBall: A True Underdog Story
, starring Ben Stiller and Vince Vaughn, along with healthy helpings of Ridiculousness, Rob Dyrdek's Fantasy Factory
, MTV2’s Guy Code and another opportunity to live tweet on the air during jackass 3.5 at 10 PM (EST)."
Incidentally, what's funny about the photo above is not merely the fact that Wee Man is kicking himself in the forehead but that a major motion picture is being filmed with a Sony PC-10. Believe me, I'm no camera nerd, but it doesn't take a prosumer to know that this little one chip rig was strictly consumer grade and not meant for big-ass "silver screen" use. That didn't stop our monkey-asses, though, giving further credence to the credo: Don't dream it, be it.
Want more jackass? Get the entire jackass catalog, including discounts on full seasons at iTunes. Go to: iTunes.com/Jackass
(Photo by Sean Cliver; Bithlo, Florida 2002)
A few weeks back I shared Chris Pontius's behind from behind-the-scenes on the set of jackass 3D-ish*. Today I'd like to share another behind, but one of an altogether different backside nature. It's a monkey butt! And balls! And what a sweet pair of balls they are. I still can't get off—I mean, get over all the wrinkly scrotal details that went into those monkey nuts and the puckered starfish. Can you even begin to fathom the installation of something sculptural like this in America? Ha! Those kooky Westboro folks would have a field day protesting that erection, I bet, and I'm not even a gambling man. No siree, Vegas holds no allure for me. Thailand
* Sorry, but there's just that weird descriptive area between jackass 3
Have you ever visited a mushroom farm before? If you ever get the chance to take a field trip, I highly suggest checking one out. It really can be an eye-opening experience—on several levels, in fact, but for today's purposes we're only going to focus on one and it's the shit. Literally. Piles of shit. Hot shit. Moist shit. More shit than you can shake a shitty stick at. Sure, you can dress it up under the fancy guise of "manure" or "compost", but when you get right down to it, it's all just shit. And mushrooms not only grow in it—they thrive in it. They're farmed in it. Great big heaping piles of shit. Then they're shipped off to grocery stores and we buy 'em and eat 'em up as if none of that other shit involving shit ever happened. Ain't that some shit? I mean, nothing like a little funghi to bring out the inner shit eater in us!
From our own stable, we have Steve-O, whom I've always held in high regard when it comes to blazing trails through wildly diverse craptastic frontiers. A true "pooineer", you could say, especially if you're into fudge packing words with as much fecal material as colonically possible as I am. What's nice though is that he's always up to share his excellent excrement adventures with anyone close at hand—especially when that person just so happens to be Jeff Tremaine. But I digress to the year 2000 when this relatively unknown young man made a tremendous pop-culture splash in a kiddy pool filled with elephant poo. Since that time the whole world over has embraced shit in a way not since seen since ... forever? So much so that it has become no big thang, if I may wax urbanic with regard to this particularly rural venture. That said, behold! The Ladies of Manure!
(Photos by Sean Cliver; 2006)
Fleshback, fleshfront, when wasn't there a substantial amount of flesh estate displayed by Steve-O and Chris Pontius on Wildboyz
(Photo by Dimitry Elyashkevich; Belize 2004)
SNAFU! Gesundheit! Welcome to another unofficial Wildboyz
(Photo by Jeff Tremaine; South Africa 2003)
In last week's wildery world of willies, I shared the stupendous dong of the tapir. Today, let's go down under to examine the utterly bizarre undercarriage of the echidna. At first glance, I wanted to say I'd seen something like this penis reimagined by George Lucas as a creature in the cantina scene from the original Star Wars flick, but after far, far more concentration and thought than necessary I've since concluded it was actually the inspiration for the barely seen beast in the trash compactor. My only regret after peeping what awesomely out of this world privates the echidna has to offer is that the Wildboyz didn't do their own firsthand examination while in Australia, circa 2003, because I'm sure Chris Pontius and Steve-O would have had a lion's share of dick jokes to dish out.
Do you remember the very first time you saw an elasticated butthole? I do! It was a week before Christmastime in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and eighty-seven. I had just flown the parental coop and was living on my own, well within spittin' distance of a video rental shop that catered to my swiftly diminishing standards in film appreciation. Having decimated the schlock horror and sci-fi selection, I was looking to widen my VHS horizons and delved deep into the world of cult film, starting with John Waters and his landmark contribution to sleazy cinephiles: Pink Flamingos
Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm gettin' there. That's Chris Pontius. That's Steve-O. And that was the little bungee ski bit that got stretched somewhere between jackass 3 and jackass 3.5.
* I now formally make the motion a third marker be added to our history of time, e.g. B.C. and A.D., with that of "P.I." to denote the age of Post-Interweb life—simply because anyone to grow up under the all-consuming umbrella of P.I. cannot fathom an A.D.D. existence without it.
(Photo by Cordell Mansfield; Truckee, California 2010)
