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Richard: Dear Mr. Heaney Seamus:
Thank you for your prompt response to the Swedish Academy’s request for a recent head shot, which we intend to use on the revamped Nobel Prize website. Providing the public with up-to-date information on Nobel laureates—the living ones, anyway—is very important to us and to our constituents around the globe.
However, the review committee feel there are a couple of problems with the image you submitted—the most obvious being that it is not, in fact, a head shot. In fact, your head is the very thing missing from the shot. Perhaps that’s some of your much-vaunted irony. Or perhaps you intended to make a pun on the male genitalia—although that seems a bit lowbrow. Even for you.
Furthermore, the committee find the background of the photo a bit cluttered and “personal”. Of course, we appreciate that you read quite a lot (though it appears the bulk of your library consists of paperbacks, which seems potentially unwholesome). However, we feel that a more conventional head shot against a simpler background—one of your native potato fields, perhaps?—would better serve our purposes.
On a personal note, for many years I have wondered if the carpet indeed matches the drapes, so to speak; I am glad to see that they do, and that the former still shows no hint of gray. You are a paragon of Irish virility, Seamus.
I thank you in advance for your attention to this matter and look forward to receiving a new headshot from you in the very, very, very near future.
David: I have a congenital phobia that remains unnamed by science. This psychological disturbance involves extreme panic at the sight of books being abused. It’s difficult for me to even type out my critique of this interior as the constant tearing of my eyes, uncontrollable hand shaking and gastrointestinal cramping is restricting my abilitttty tupdoe e&j@09340 to TTYyPE ttttt ttype…
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Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!
Curtis: It’s amazing that there is no support structure holding these immense volumes of information in place. Nothing, it seems, but the magic of gravity, physics, and a little spit to brace this triumphal arch of wisdom against the wall. Normally I’d say that using any kind of chair or other furniture to buttress the ascending portions of the structure would be cheating, but I’m so immensely impressed with the span and breadth of the run that I cannot help but applaud this intensely human monument.
Also of some note is the naked man with a glowing head who stands in defiant obstruction of the left section of the piece.
David K. publishes Nightcharm, the only gay porn site ever to be featured on Oprah and regularly compared to Martha Stewart Living.
John Calendo is the Executive Editor of Nightcharm, and a life-long Pop Critic @ Large. His work has appeared in Playboy, Blueboy and boy oh boy everything in between.
Shawn hails from New York and is a member of its young underclass, a little bit Ann Darrow, a little bit Travis Bickle.
Heather Corinna is the undisputed diva of online erotica for chicks. She publishes Scarleteen.com and is a sex guru to thousands of teenagers.
Richard writes the infamous queer blog Sturtle.com . His turn-ons include wainscoting, ZZ Top, and sharp-dressed men. Turn-offs: sectionals, pleated trousers, and pina coladas.
Steve is a lost sort of man who zones out, easily, into the foreheads of strangers. He keeps a blog of his drawings here.
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Was this photo submitted to a personals site, or to http://www.squalorsurvivors.com?
The first thing this photo brought to mind was Jacob Riis’ turn of the century photographs of inhabitants of New York City tenements. What kind of person lives amidst such self-induced foulness, and commemorates it as a backdrop for an unflattering nude photo? What audience does this man believe this will appeal to?
I felt bad about how messy my office had gotten after two intense semesters with little time for tidying up, but my detrius seems positively charming by comparison.
Does this man not know that books belong on shelves, or in the very least, orderly stacks? And such books! Though we can’t make out any titles, many of them are the distinct orange hue of decades-old paperbacks–the sort of worthless old pulp one finds at thrift stores and garage sales. If one were to remove a volume (as precariously as one would remove a Jenga piece), perhaps one would find a copy of an Erma Bombeck collection, or The Loves of Liberace. I am certain that most of those books, like the furnishings in the room, are curbside garbage that this packrat has chosen to scurry home with. Are those books in the back piles onto a window sill? Has this individual completely blocked his only source of natural light and ventilation with old dictionaries and dingy copies of Portnoy’s Complaint?
Most would dispose of the cardboard box once they’ve unpacked their new electronic media–this man chooses to use the box as a credenza. The furnishings are all castoffs and substitutions. Wooden crates as bookshelves, a folding chair facing the desk, which itself appears to be not an actual desk but some assemblage of parts. Perhaps this individual should spend less time trolling the internet, opting instead to go shopping or go to work so that he might affortd to live someplace more desirable and impressive than Mother’s basement.
The chewed chair leg and what looks to be a pile of dog shit on the filthy carpet beside it might indicate the presence of a dog. If so, where is the animal? Perhaps festering away under the pile of fetid laundry?
Shoes and socks, but no pants. Did he manage to remove his pants without getting them tangled up over his shoes? Or did he remove his clothing, then deciding to put the shoes and socks back on?
Most individuals might be tempted to make their self-portraits as alluring as possible, perhaps taking several snapshots, and then choosing the most attractive. They might find a suitable backdrop and attempt arranging themselves in various poses. Another individual might be cognizant of the essence of good lighting, understanding that a close-up flash in a darkened room is flattering to absolutely no one, and is especially risky for those of fair complexion. Another might be chosen to eschew the grungy tennis shoes and athletic socks. But no, this heedless chap decided to take one hasty snapshot, then sent it off into the world without a single critical second thought. But at least he did manage to obscure his own face with the position of the flash, thus eliminating the necessity to crop it out later in Photoshop.
what’s going on here is that he is trapped in a bonfire designed to cremate all bloodnuts and purge the world of ginger pubes forever. This photo is merely his “Anne Frank’s Diary”, to commerate the life that carrot tops have been unfairly subjugated to. Maybe, if future generations look back on this, we can have a world where ginger people can walk amongst the rest of us normal people (wearing sunscreen obviously) and they shall not be treated as second class citizens.
this photograph is frightening to me.i suppose that’s because for many years i lived in an environment such as the one in which he shows himself.believe me,there’s more going on here than a few decorating errors.y’all do the judging on this one.