Richard: I haven’t spent much of my life thinking about Eskimo cock, but this pic has made me reconsider my foolish ways. Seriously: who knew Nanook of the North and Peter North were cousins? My only question: did this caribou queen shave his balls so that grandma could finish off that handsome duvet?
David: I love the symbolic nature of the bedding. There are three historical stratas involved here. First there’s the patchwork quilt that is barely visible in the picture. The fact that he’s retained the old spread and covered it with the rambunctious gathering of faux “fur” is a statement of sorts — a breaking free signal. Most likely a fleeing from the adolescent closet.
Then we have the choices of fur, the wild mix-matching of patterns, shapes and animal forms. This indicates a movement away from the structured, gridded design of the quilt. The box-like constraints of living with one’s parents.
And then we have the guy himself — as the third and final strata. He’s now, in present time, unabashed and feral. As a final flourish there’s that wacky, American Indian-inspired star pillow that crowns his head. He’s the king of his domain and ready to take you in on a cold, cold night.
This is Manet’s Olympia reconfigured for a different gender and a different age (the age of Manhunt and fake fur). The small, frail black cat from Manet’s masterpiece is now a boisterous King of the Jungle. Similar to Olympia, our guy is offering himself brazenly to his potential customers, shaved balls and all. I’ve one word for him: “Sold!”
File Under:Bedroom Terrors
7 Responses to 'What Becomes a Legend Most? Lion King vs. Olympia'
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Notice how his “soul patch” matches the diamond pattern on the pillow - he is truly the King of Coordination. The mirrors serve to reflect what little real light makes it into this room during the long Arctic winter (note the tiny hint of pitch black in the window on the right). I do hope he really lives in the Frozen North because all that fur, both on the bed and on him, could get very gnarly in any temperature above 40 degrees. Maybe that’s why he shaved his equipment. All I can say is, “Mush!” P.S. It is me or does his nose look slightly frostbitten?
Jesus. I can’t focus my attention on the naked guy on the bed or any other detail in the photograph. I’m too creeped out by those two fur throws in the foreground–it looks uncannily like someone has skinned a couple of purebred chow chows.
I can’t be the only one who immediately heard “Caaan you feeel the loovve tonightt!” upon seeing this photo.
I bet that’s playing in the background.
Is that Sylar from “Heroes”
avenged sidewinder sevenfold avenged sevenfold dear
I am impressed yet distressed by the color-matching of the radiator with the garroted curtain, which picks up the same shade from the smothered quilt.
N.B. to David K.: Stratas is the last name of famously talented opera singer Teresa. Strata is the plural of the word stratum, which seems to be what you intended. Why do good design and good grammar so seldom go together?
[resigned sigh, with wistful tilt of the head at memories of more grammatical days]
In addition to the fur and throw theme, faux or otherwise, our eskimo seems to have coordinated the browns here, of his skin and elements of the fur. In the land of scarce sunshine, he needed to sunbathe, whilst fishing, for every day of the short summer, in order to achieve this ambition.
Having spent so much time fishing, and shaving his balls to a satin finish, he’s now so tired, he can’t even show his delightful eyes to the camera - maybe he will be recognised, if he does this, so it’s worth keeping a little anonymity, as the other eskimoes don’t know of his lusts. Albeit, he does pose naked with the curtains open - though up here, no-one ventures outside in the cold dead of night, even budding peeping toms. And it’s thirty miles across barren ice to the neighbours.
Lavender walls and matching mirror frames, painted with the same brush, add a finishing warm touch, adding some heat to the sizzling picture of the naked stud, laid brazenly against the soft fur. He daren’t move much, in case the nylon creates sparks of static, something that his visitors must take note of, in case they go up in flames, having squatted too near the parrafin heaters.