And you know it’s going to be an interesting day when you have to spend the first several hours of it image searching for things like “unidentified eyeball spiders” and “how to prevent eye spiders.” Or basically anything combining the words “spider” and “eyeball.”
Teal deer version, I woke up with a spider in my eye.
Ever since primitive man made his first mark on a cave wall, humans have crafted pigments out of things ranging from crushed minerals to charred plants.
But there’s one particular pigment that’s a bit darker, a shade more macabre, than the rest.
What is mummy brown? Ultimately, it’s exactly what it sounds like — a rich brown, somewhere between burnt and raw umber. While its origins can be traced back to ancient Egypt, it experienced a surge in popularity with the Pre-Raphaelite painters. This image, Martin Drolling’s Interior of a Kitchen, heavily relied on mummy brown.
Mummy brown wasn’t just a strangely evocative nickname, either.
In 2011, Guy Fieri had to go to court. The sketch artist’s rendition of the proceedings made its way onto the internet, and ultimately into the nefarious hands of a rogue group with one particular goal in mind.
For some reason, this goal was to put Guy Fieri’s head on things.
It started with this original courtroom sketch…
It is hard to depict the particular chemical-refinery-fire shade of Fieri’s hair using watercolor.
… and an entire tumblr’s worth of myriad rockfuck chaos was the result. Because when life hands you a bowl of fried gold like this, there is no other choice but to turn it out.
I always thought crows, ravens, and other carrion birds were cool (as did any teenager with too much black eyeliner and a copy of The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe). It wasn’t until I moved to Delaware, though, that I fully realized how awesome they could be.
Picture traffic, backed up for blocks, because of what appears to be a black plastic bag perched on a dead skunk. People honk, inch forward like they’re prepared to grind this strange tableau into gritty street pizza, but it doesn’t move. Then, the bag turns out to be this:
Turkey buzzard, photo by Kevin Cole from Pacific Coast, USA. Click image for source.
“I invite you to count the number of fucks that I give, sir. This will not take long.”
I’ve been interested in really old circus posters since I found out they were a thing. From an artistic standpoint, I love the colors, the art style, and the vague sense of nostalgia for happy-things-that-never-actually-existed presented in an oddly discordant fashion (“Don’t you want to pay a nickel to get some cotton candy and see the Lovecraftian horror, Timmy? Wouldn’t that be fun?”). There’s one thing that circus posters are missing, though, that considerably ups the historical fridge horror.
Source: Cult of Weird. Click image for more banners.
I got really into UrbEx when I was a kid (snared in those awkward years between “unironically enjoying Saturday Morning Cartoons” and “my house having a decent internet connection”).
You couldn’t keep me out of this creepy abandoned school behind my house, the drainage culverts in a park a few miles away, or the sewer system (Long Island is not an exciting place when you’re twelve). At some point I found out that there were other people taking pictures of the insides of abandoned things, and I fell hard.
I love having something on when I go to sleep. It’s relaxing, and it helps drown out the tinnitus whooshing and ringing in my ears at night. For the past couple of weeks, my bedtime-noises-of-choice have been old episodes of MST3k or Black Books, until someone introduced me to what’s possibly the greatest podcast I’ve ever heard (and, apparently, a party I am hell of late to). Weather, news, and community events from the quiet little town of Night Vale:
Cecil’s voice is so soothing.
Dogs are not allowed in the dog park. People are not allowed in the dog park. It is possible you will see hooded figures in the dog park. Do not approach them. Do not approach the dog park.