Friday, December 18, 2009
Happy Fluffy Furry Friday!
Sorry, I'm in more of a fluffy furry than fishnets mood due to this bizarre vintage ad that hasn't yet been fully appreciated over at Akubi Zone.
Can anyone translate this 1967 ad?
BTW, I can't believe that fuckyeahdogs has over 4000 followers now.
Can anyone translate this 1967 ad?
BTW, I can't believe that fuckyeahdogs has over 4000 followers now.
Labels:
Advertising,
Artistic Nudes,
Bizarre,
fluffy,
furry,
Japan,
stuffed animals,
Toys,
vintage
Saturday, November 28, 2009
The Human Zoo Review
Absurd find via Wagga:
In other vintage finds news, I rather liked this FuckYeahDogs post, but I'm not sure if I understand it:
In other vintage finds news, I rather liked this FuckYeahDogs post, but I'm not sure if I understand it:
Monday, October 26, 2009
Snow White Aneurysm
SnowWhite by ~SeparateFromTheHead
billyjane:
Drawing. Aneurysm. Circle of Willis and rupture. “Phyll Anderson. [1944?].
via otisarchives3
billyjane:
Drawing. Aneurysm. Circle of Willis and rupture. “Phyll Anderson. [1944?].
via otisarchives3
Labels:
Aneurysm,
Art,
Blood,
Egg Lady,
Sea Anemone,
Snow White
Friday, October 23, 2009
I really thought I was over my quaint vintage dump RE search...
OK, first here is a hot ass who lost track of her fishnets:
What do you guyz think of this...?
I see some potential that hasn’t been marred by granite countertops and such…
What do you guyz think of this...?
I see some potential that hasn’t been marred by granite countertops and such…
Labels:
49 Dogs,
Fishnets,
Hot Ass in Fishnets,
Humpty Dumpty,
Real Estate,
vintage
Friday, October 16, 2009
Happy Fishnet Friday (1930's Edition)!
billyjane:
Brassai~Le corset noir,c.1934
kvetchlandia: tartanspartan:
Stockings — Iwao Yamawaki, c. 1930
For fans of fishnets.
Brassai~Le corset noir,c.1934
kvetchlandia: tartanspartan:
Stockings — Iwao Yamawaki, c. 1930
For fans of fishnets.
Friday, October 9, 2009
TGI Fishnet Friday!
This is from Kitty's new blog Sweet Heat...
Poison kitty -- oh uh...
Some pre-Halloween fun:
ramacharaka: Little Ophelia
erospainter's fishnets via Molekul
Only in the Reblogosphere do dogs become so political:
Hey Guyz,
My apologies for reblogging this at FuckYeahDogs.
Often I’m multitasking when reblogging and not nearly as meticulous as Tumblrs like BillyJane and… honestly dogs and nude ladies all look the same after awhile – at least when you’re following over 400 people.
I’m posting this message here because most of FuckYeahDogs’ reblog sources are followed by Akubi Zone and to avoid ongoing issues I’ll have to unfollow those of you who continually post unsourced images.
I have neither the time nor inclination to thoroughly investigate your posts.
fuckyeahbulldog:
redjeep:
fuckyeahbulldog:
englishbulldogs:
hm?
fuckyeahdogs:
(viajesuisme)
Oh hey, this photo looks
familiar… Please don’t post fuckyeahBulldog content as your own.
It would
appear my reblog of a reblogged reblog has excited someone… I’m at a loss as to
how one should post a reblogged reblog reblog and give due credit to the
original blogger which I am to assume actually took the photograph or did they
post it from another source….i’m getting confused just reblogging the reblog of
the reblogged reblog .
The real question is who took the fucking original
photograph?
-redjeep
ps. I did add the caption - redjeep
thank
goodness for “edit”
redjeep, that wasn’t toward you at all!
More a
realization that it is possible and a request to avoid it, mainly because people
don’t tend include the original photographer when that happens and the artist
should get credit for their images (as you seem to agree with).
The
photographer can be found here :lv2stmp
Labels:
animated gif,
Artistic Nudes,
dogs,
Fishnet Friday,
Fishnets,
fuckyeahdogs,
Mushrooms
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Synesthesia
Synesthesia (also spelled synæsthesia or synaesthesia, plural synesthesiae or synaesthesiae)—from the Ancient Greek σύν (syn), "together," and αἴσθησις (aisthēsis), "sensation"—is a neurologically based phenomenon in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway. [1][2][3][4] People who report such experiences are known as synesthetes.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
Happy Fishnet Friday!
gustojones:
Lady in stockings : Mons Work
thesweetestpsychopath:
via Heritage Auction Galleries
Lady in stockings : Mons Work
Happy Fishnet Friday!
thesweetestpsychopath:
via Heritage Auction Galleries
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Weird Recipes
Wagga seems to have a new concept brewing over at Nuclear Tentacles...
sixbucks:
fuckyeahdogs:
(via thedirtythirties)
“The Aristocrats!”
mariasoyyo:
“Ocean between us ” by Mariesoaerial [3701983-5] - RedBubble
Clown Porn Meets Social Networking
sixbucks:
fuckyeahdogs:
(via thedirtythirties)
“The Aristocrats!”
mariasoyyo:
“Ocean between us ” by Mariesoaerial [3701983-5] - RedBubble
Clown Porn Meets Social Networking
Labels:
49 Dogs,
Akubi Zone,
Art,
fuckyeahdogs,
Recipe,
Tumblr,
vintage,
Wagga,
Weird
Thursday, September 3, 2009
A Mansion for the Backwards
I wish I could buy this mansion and have my own school for Nervous and Backward Adult Children.
Landmark Bourn Mansion (2550 Webster) Listed And Your Peek Inside
dungeon? i had to look that up to be sure... it has a very specific definition (a room used to imprison people). i hope he means basement!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dungeon
Posted by: hugh at August 31, 2009 4:56 PM
Dungeons are called "oubliettes" in French. A very cute name meaning you'd dump people (for instance unruly servants) in there and forget ("oublier") about them.
Another more common usage was as a meat storage room. In some cold regions, you'd lay a depth of snow, throw cattle or game carcasses over, one layer of snow, one layer of meat, and so on. The food would stay cold way into the spring.
I don't know which of the 2 usages he was talking about, but I'd open the dungeon doors with extreme precaution.
Landmark Bourn Mansion (2550 Webster) Listed And Your Peek Inside
dungeon? i had to look that up to be sure... it has a very specific definition (a room used to imprison people). i hope he means basement!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dungeon
Posted by: hugh at August 31, 2009 4:56 PM
Dungeons are called "oubliettes" in French. A very cute name meaning you'd dump people (for instance unruly servants) in there and forget ("oublier") about them.
Another more common usage was as a meat storage room. In some cold regions, you'd lay a depth of snow, throw cattle or game carcasses over, one layer of snow, one layer of meat, and so on. The food would stay cold way into the spring.
I don't know which of the 2 usages he was talking about, but I'd open the dungeon doors with extreme precaution.
Labels:
dungeon,
Housing,
mansion,
Pacific Heights,
Sweet Deal,
Victorian
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Gotta love the internet
thesweetestpsychopath:“Remain Akubi Zone and FuckYeahDogs participant..FuckTeahThis and FuckYeahThat…FuckYeahRetards”
—
akubizone , why don’t you keep your comments to yourself instead of tagging them on to what others post.
So sad, so sorry. I can't believe I've fallen into this absurdity.
—
akubizone , why don’t you keep your comments to yourself instead of tagging them on to what others post.
So sad, so sorry. I can't believe I've fallen into this absurdity.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Feeling "Functionally Heterosexual" Today
reblog with your sexuality
“functionally heterosexual.” Would now be the time to call into question the use of our sexualities as a primary element in our identities? What’s the going logic on this amongst the Foucaultians and late night chat show hosts?
“Functionally Heterosexual” mantis or dog?
“functionally heterosexual.” Would now be the time to call into question the use of our sexualities as a primary element in our identities? What’s the going logic on this amongst the Foucaultians and late night chat show hosts?
“Functionally Heterosexual” mantis or dog?
Labels:
49 Dogs,
Absurd,
Blue Ball,
Foucault,
Functionally Heterosexual,
Funny,
red ball,
Structuralism
Monday, August 31, 2009
Leave me alone
ryoichi yamazaki
The children here are patients with a Japanese culture-specific syndrome called “Culture-bound syndrome”, the symptoms of which include a fear of people (Taijin-kyoufusho) and eating disorder.
In other news, Santa F. Clause has provided another varation on the Banking Queen...
And Akubi Zone just reblogged this...
hungryghoast:
the sex issue.
(via Punks Is Hippies)
Also via Akuzi Zone, a brilliant poet in the making...
Rant
cupcakedonutmuffin:
My back hurts and I have to study for a biology test. Basicly this day was going great until break comes and then I’m on the floor. Or maybe it was lunch.
I hate lunch. Lunch is stupid. I hate the people I sit with at lunch. They are stupid. I hate that I continually sit with them at lunch when I can find better people to sit with at lunch. I wish that people would just listen to people, and not wait till it’s too late. I’m not too late, but I still want someone to talk to me and care about my problems. Someone who could just know that something’s wrong and help. I wish that I wasn’t so quiet. I wish I had something to say. It is absolutely ridiculous that I haven’t found a group of friends to hang out with yet. I hate high school. I hate being timid. I hate being tired. I hate not being able to concentrate. And I hate not knowing what to wear in the morning.
I hate the fact that I have to get organized for tommorrow morning. I hate that I looked bad today. I hate that I can’t get my hair to look good anymore. I hate that I can’t apply makeup in an attractive way anymore. I hate that I have to walk home by myself everyday. I hate that I have a biology quiz on Wednesday. I hate that my friend broke her ankle. I hate that I have terrible posture. I hate that I’m not friendly. I hate that I’m not happy. I hate that I’m not welcoming. I hate that I’m introverted. I hate that I care too much. I hate that my parents liked me better when I was younger. I hate that they don’t like me now. I hate that I can be a bitch. I hate that this year is going by so slowly. I hate that I regret what I say sometimes. I hate that I like this guy in my last class. I hate that I am a freshmen. I hate that I didn’t sit next to this girl at lunch. I hate my bad breath. I hate that I am unattractive.
I hate that I hate so much.
I hate my sweaty hands. I hate my flat bangs. I hate my ugly hair. I hate my aching back. I hate missing middle school. I hate that this year doesn’t go by quicker. I hate that last year was better. I hate that last summer kind of sucked. I hate that I’m unhappy. I love that you read this.
I like your rant. I cannot imagine any hell worse than being your age again… If you liked it, there would have to be something seriously wrong with you.
The children here are patients with a Japanese culture-specific syndrome called “Culture-bound syndrome”, the symptoms of which include a fear of people (Taijin-kyoufusho) and eating disorder.
In other news, Santa F. Clause has provided another varation on the Banking Queen...
And Akubi Zone just reblogged this...
hungryghoast:
the sex issue.
(via Punks Is Hippies)
Also via Akuzi Zone, a brilliant poet in the making...
Rant
cupcakedonutmuffin:
My back hurts and I have to study for a biology test. Basicly this day was going great until break comes and then I’m on the floor. Or maybe it was lunch.
I hate lunch. Lunch is stupid. I hate the people I sit with at lunch. They are stupid. I hate that I continually sit with them at lunch when I can find better people to sit with at lunch. I wish that people would just listen to people, and not wait till it’s too late. I’m not too late, but I still want someone to talk to me and care about my problems. Someone who could just know that something’s wrong and help. I wish that I wasn’t so quiet. I wish I had something to say. It is absolutely ridiculous that I haven’t found a group of friends to hang out with yet. I hate high school. I hate being timid. I hate being tired. I hate not being able to concentrate. And I hate not knowing what to wear in the morning.
I hate the fact that I have to get organized for tommorrow morning. I hate that I looked bad today. I hate that I can’t get my hair to look good anymore. I hate that I can’t apply makeup in an attractive way anymore. I hate that I have to walk home by myself everyday. I hate that I have a biology quiz on Wednesday. I hate that my friend broke her ankle. I hate that I have terrible posture. I hate that I’m not friendly. I hate that I’m not happy. I hate that I’m not welcoming. I hate that I’m introverted. I hate that I care too much. I hate that my parents liked me better when I was younger. I hate that they don’t like me now. I hate that I can be a bitch. I hate that this year is going by so slowly. I hate that I regret what I say sometimes. I hate that I like this guy in my last class. I hate that I am a freshmen. I hate that I didn’t sit next to this girl at lunch. I hate my bad breath. I hate that I am unattractive.
I hate that I hate so much.
I hate my sweaty hands. I hate my flat bangs. I hate my ugly hair. I hate my aching back. I hate missing middle school. I hate that this year doesn’t go by quicker. I hate that last year was better. I hate that last summer kind of sucked. I hate that I’m unhappy. I love that you read this.
I like your rant. I cannot imagine any hell worse than being your age again… If you liked it, there would have to be something seriously wrong with you.
Labels:
Baby Art,
Banking Queen,
Crash,
Fishnet,
Hitler,
Housing Bubble,
Japan,
PJ Harvey,
Poetry
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Ritual Cat
remblr:
猫に学んだ大切な・・・ : 動物 ペット 写真 あにまる。|ウーマンエキサイト ライフスタイル あにまる。
Janitoroflunacy:
When the spiritual teacher and his disciples began their evening meditation, the cat who lived in the monastery made such noise that it distracted them. So the teacher ordered that the cat be tied up during the evening practice. Years later, when the teacher died, the cat continued to be tied up during the meditation session. And when the cat eventually died, another cat was brought to the monastery and tied up. Centuries later, learned descendants of the spiritual teacher wrote scholarly treatises about the religious significance of tying up a cat for meditation practice.
Zen
Hmmm, once my batteries recharge I’ll have to take a photo of my insane cat but she looks nothing like this.
This mst be a Rinzai puzzle.
In other news, Candide seem to be on the front page of a Wikipedia - yet another depressing book that ruined me as a kid.
The work describes the abrupt cessation of this existence, followed by Candide's slow, painful disillusionment as he witnesses and experiences great hardships in the world. Voltaire concludes with Candide, if not outright rejecting optimism, advocating an enigmatic precept, "we must cultivate our garden", in lieu of the Leibnizian mantra of Pangloss, "all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds".
猫に学んだ大切な・・・ : 動物 ペット 写真 あにまる。|ウーマンエキサイト ライフスタイル あにまる。
Janitoroflunacy:
When the spiritual teacher and his disciples began their evening meditation, the cat who lived in the monastery made such noise that it distracted them. So the teacher ordered that the cat be tied up during the evening practice. Years later, when the teacher died, the cat continued to be tied up during the meditation session. And when the cat eventually died, another cat was brought to the monastery and tied up. Centuries later, learned descendants of the spiritual teacher wrote scholarly treatises about the religious significance of tying up a cat for meditation practice.
Zen
Hmmm, once my batteries recharge I’ll have to take a photo of my insane cat but she looks nothing like this.
This mst be a Rinzai puzzle.
In other news, Candide seem to be on the front page of a Wikipedia - yet another depressing book that ruined me as a kid.
The work describes the abrupt cessation of this existence, followed by Candide's slow, painful disillusionment as he witnesses and experiences great hardships in the world. Voltaire concludes with Candide, if not outright rejecting optimism, advocating an enigmatic precept, "we must cultivate our garden", in lieu of the Leibnizian mantra of Pangloss, "all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds".
Friday, August 21, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Hoff FYD find
What I love most about The Internet Traditions is some old meme can reappear and leave you laughing all day.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Happy Fishnet Friday!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Favorite Finds of the Moment
gkojax:
yuiseki:
tomisima:
via blog.geisai.net
akubizone:
mirc:
Bison Skulls, ca. Mid-1870s ****:THE SLAUGHTER OF THE BISON The extermination of the bison was inevitable. The plains and prairies that supported those roaming herds of huge beasts are now dotted with cities and towns, crossed by a network of railroads and highways, plowed to produce vast acreages of wheat, corn, cotton and other crops, or fenced and grazed by millions of cattle and sheep. We should be ashamed of the cruel senseless waste when they were slaughtered and left to rot but the cold fact is that the buffalo were doomed by civilization. Until we came, the Indian was still living in the Stone Age. His weapons were primitive, his needs were simple, and until horses appeared — wild descendants of those left behind by the early Spanish explorers — his only domestic animal and beast of burden was the dog. At least nine tribes of Plains Indians, such as the Sioux-and Comanche, were nomads who depended almost entirely upon the buffalo, but they killed no more than what they could use — usually less. To several other tribes, like the Pawnee and Kansas, who lived in villages and grew corn, tobacco and other crops, the buffalo was less essential. That was even more true of the eastern “woodland” Indians. The typical Plains tribes attempted no agriculture and made no pottery. There culture, including their religion and mythology, was based wholly upon the bison which furnished them with food, clothing, weapons, tools, utensils and shelter. Their teepee was a conical framework of long slender poles covered with dressed buffalo hides. They used every part of the animal. Its flesh was their chief food, supplemented by berries, edible roots, and by corn obtained from other tribes. The tongue was a delicacy and the liver was eaten raw. The surplus meat was dried into “jerky” to be eaten in emergencies or pulverized and mixed with tallow, marrow and berries to make pemmican. The brains were used in preparing skins for robes, moccasins, leggings, shirts, parfleches and bags. Buffalo hides were stretched over the frames of saddles, shields, and the tub-like “bullboats” for crossing rivers. Spoons and other articles were made from the horns which, with the hoofs, also furnished glue. Small bones were used for needles and awls; larger ones for weapons; shoulder blades for hoes. Buffalo droppings or “chips ” were the principal fuel on those treeless plains. The wholesale slaughter of the bison began after the Civil War, at first for their meat — of which only the tongue, hump and hindquarters were used. During the 70’s and early 80’s, millions were killed for their hides alone, and the carcasses left to rot. As the railroads penetrated the West, they advertised cheap excursions for “sportsmen” who liked to see how many buffalo they could kill in one day. Eventually the bones, which in many areas covered the plains as far as one could see, were gathered by nesters (homesteaders), and a strange wild breed of men called “bonepickers”, shipped East, and used for fertilizer or to make charcoal for refining sugar. Then there was nothing left of the buffalo But a memory. In l900 there were only about 800 left alive.
good little pussy...
yuiseki:
tomisima:
via blog.geisai.net
akubizone:
mirc:
Bison Skulls, ca. Mid-1870s ****:THE SLAUGHTER OF THE BISON The extermination of the bison was inevitable. The plains and prairies that supported those roaming herds of huge beasts are now dotted with cities and towns, crossed by a network of railroads and highways, plowed to produce vast acreages of wheat, corn, cotton and other crops, or fenced and grazed by millions of cattle and sheep. We should be ashamed of the cruel senseless waste when they were slaughtered and left to rot but the cold fact is that the buffalo were doomed by civilization. Until we came, the Indian was still living in the Stone Age. His weapons were primitive, his needs were simple, and until horses appeared — wild descendants of those left behind by the early Spanish explorers — his only domestic animal and beast of burden was the dog. At least nine tribes of Plains Indians, such as the Sioux-and Comanche, were nomads who depended almost entirely upon the buffalo, but they killed no more than what they could use — usually less. To several other tribes, like the Pawnee and Kansas, who lived in villages and grew corn, tobacco and other crops, the buffalo was less essential. That was even more true of the eastern “woodland” Indians. The typical Plains tribes attempted no agriculture and made no pottery. There culture, including their religion and mythology, was based wholly upon the bison which furnished them with food, clothing, weapons, tools, utensils and shelter. Their teepee was a conical framework of long slender poles covered with dressed buffalo hides. They used every part of the animal. Its flesh was their chief food, supplemented by berries, edible roots, and by corn obtained from other tribes. The tongue was a delicacy and the liver was eaten raw. The surplus meat was dried into “jerky” to be eaten in emergencies or pulverized and mixed with tallow, marrow and berries to make pemmican. The brains were used in preparing skins for robes, moccasins, leggings, shirts, parfleches and bags. Buffalo hides were stretched over the frames of saddles, shields, and the tub-like “bullboats” for crossing rivers. Spoons and other articles were made from the horns which, with the hoofs, also furnished glue. Small bones were used for needles and awls; larger ones for weapons; shoulder blades for hoes. Buffalo droppings or “chips ” were the principal fuel on those treeless plains. The wholesale slaughter of the bison began after the Civil War, at first for their meat — of which only the tongue, hump and hindquarters were used. During the 70’s and early 80’s, millions were killed for their hides alone, and the carcasses left to rot. As the railroads penetrated the West, they advertised cheap excursions for “sportsmen” who liked to see how many buffalo they could kill in one day. Eventually the bones, which in many areas covered the plains as far as one could see, were gathered by nesters (homesteaders), and a strange wild breed of men called “bonepickers”, shipped East, and used for fertilizer or to make charcoal for refining sugar. Then there was nothing left of the buffalo But a memory. In l900 there were only about 800 left alive.
good little pussy...
Labels:
Art,
Bison,
Electricity,
Japan,
schoolgirl,
Skulls,
Slaughter
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Buddhist Monk Mummy Suffers the Indignity of Ray-Ban Sunglasses
This is exactly why I want to be pulverized in some environmentally friendly manner upon death...
Loung Por Daeng died in 1974. He is still sitting in the original cross-legged meditation position as when he died, and his skin is very white in contrast to mummies that have been specifically embalmed where the skin usually takes on a darker tone. When his eyes fell into his head (don’t be squeamish), the monks at the temple fitted him with some sunglasses (Raybans, of course!) and he still wears the traditional orange robes of monkhood.
Loung Por Daeng died in 1974. He is still sitting in the original cross-legged meditation position as when he died, and his skin is very white in contrast to mummies that have been specifically embalmed where the skin usually takes on a darker tone. When his eyes fell into his head (don’t be squeamish), the monks at the temple fitted him with some sunglasses (Raybans, of course!) and he still wears the traditional orange robes of monkhood.
Labels:
Buddhist Monks,
Indignity,
mummy,
Ray-Bans,
Sunglasses,
Tom Cruise,
Tumblr
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