Apparently, people are finding the whole “Leatherface Bakery” post a bit strong, particularly in concert with the “He’s eating my BRAIN!” post which immediately followed it. To offer salve to your traumatized synapses, to pay Spiegs back for allowing my shameless link whoring (subject to revocation if I wake up to find I’ve been executed again), and also to keep the whole Heads In Danger theme we’ve got going today on the ol’ raincoaster blog, I offer the following amusing (and only somewhat bloodthirsty) images of foodheads, which I stole from Fabulously40 via Gawker.
I think Mister Potatohead has had a little work done, don’t you?
Who did the business plan for this one, Jeffrey Dahmer?
“Of course, people were shocked and thought that I was mad when they saw the works. But once they knew the idea behind it, they understood and became interested in the work itself, instead of thinking that I am crazy.”
Thai artist Kittiwat Unarrom has a bakery in Ratchaburi, Thailand, where he sells these lovingly-made, home-baked loaves of bread. The ShapeAndColour blog has some video of him at work, plus more mouth-watering shots of the finished product. I don’t know how expensive these things are, but I’m already wondering if he takes requests. Just the thing for a party, don’t you think? You could really surprise the guest of honour (with, say, an ex? Hilarity, especially if you invite Claus von Bulow).
I’ve been meaning to steal this from Stiletto and max for some time, but every time I tried, my computer crashed. I have no idea why it’s suddenly working; perhaps I’ve just exhausted its crash muscles? In any case, here’s Queen Adreena with her smash hit (on Yuggoth, that is) Cold Fish and more from the album Taxidermy
Cold Fish
Strip me down and bare my soul,
Cut my heart out,
Eat me whole,
Taunt and bait me, invalidate me.
Cold fish,
In my little dish…
Cast your hook and reel me in,
Faster more fast,
Break me in,
Castigate me, go on and make me.
Cold fish,
Splish splish splish.
Madraykin
Let not your hold be so tight,
She’ll return in the morning,
If you give her the night.
Madraykin is she suffering?
Is she suffering?
Madraykin is she suffering?
Revealing her birthmark you cast out her eye,
Clipped are the wings of the angels sighs,
Revealing her birthmark you put out her tongue,
Clipped are the wings of the fairies who run.
Madraykin is she suffering?
Is she suffering?
Madraykin is she suffering?
How deep does she weep in your well of unkeep,
The kiss of Madraykin will keep you from sleep.
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep,
Keep you from sleep.
My boyfriend and I played a fun game when we went to the Murakami exhibition at Brooklyn Museum: we stood near the cum-cloud sculpture for a few minutes and watched people’s facial expressions as they turned around the corner and realized what they were seeing. Priceless every time.
raincoaster 