The only way I could get a shot of this nude painting in a Beaufort Street shop was to stand behind it to block the reflections on the face. To my horror when I opened the file I found that that she now had my ears. And the shape of my head. And sort of blended facial features. She actually has long hair washed out by the reflection. You may not be able to get this image out of your head. I don’t want to talk about it.
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The Asia Beat
The Worst of Perth 
The body is very well painted, then the apprentice took over to paint the head.
An excellent painting of a hooker on a sofa during lawn collection season with caltex in the background.
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Is the Caltex part of the painting, or the reflection?
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Reflection. You can just see the real shape of her hair over the caltex roof.
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The toothbrush moustache is a particularly fetching aspect to her/(his?) beauty. Stunning would be an apt description….I am stunned.
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Everything is going well till the head. To quote Marlin in Apocalypso ” the horror , the horror”.
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I love that little arm reaching up from the left to grapple the mountain of flesh.
One of Cookster’s daylight saving mannequin zombies?
Is she also wearing your kimono, TLA?
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You an old cunt today Outrage I see from facebook?
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Yes, TLA, 43 today. For my birthday I would like:
* world peace
* a chicken in the pot and a car in the garage of every media worker
* Dockers premiership
* daylight saving
Please drop these off at the Post.
I believe you are a tiny bit older than me, TLA?
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1 & 2 you’ve got a chance. 3 & 4 are a kind of sickness. Wait number 2 no chance either.
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All no chance. Floggin dead horses is part of the outrage deal. Anyways many more years of outraging to you DFOC and happy birthday.
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Happy Birthday, DFOC.
A rousing family chorus of L’Internationale around the Herring Cake this evening, followed by a splash of Howling Wolves?
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Gees 1 year younger than me :-)
Happy Birthday :-)
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happy birthday DFOC
maintain the rage, and the affront.
I cannot give you world peace, but I observed a minute’s silence in your honour at noon today in remembrance of your lost youth.
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Thanks guys. I’m looking forward to getting home after a hard day’s word-processing, unwrapping things (including, I hope, a copy of World War Z by Max Brooks), kissing my wife’s bust and the busts of Marx and Engels, eating pizza topped with herring and getting my drink on. Rage maintenance will resume tomorrow.
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TLA, it’s a long time since I’ve seen your tits. I didn’t realise how much I miss them.
Wasn’t it really uncomfortable, sitting there in “Tranny-tuck” position to hide your equipment?
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artist: “can I smell your minge?”
model: ” certainly not.”
artist: “then it must be your feet.”
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I think she is trailer mounted.
And lucky the station was self serve, remember the good old days when you would wind the window down and say “fill’er up mate”……
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Come for a nostalgic drive in Nihon sometime, Groucho. You’ll have at least 3 impeccably uniformed staff offering you washcloths, cleaning your windows and mirrors, and putting a tiger in your tank before you can say “Mantan Regular, onegaishimasu.”
p.s. I don’t want to talk about it either, TLA.
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This old lady minge/Hitler/Lazy Aussie/Catlex morph belongs atop the Cockburn Central Train Station.
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^^ genius!
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All the streets are crammed with things
Eager to be held
I know what hands are for
And I’d like to help myself
You ask me the time
But I sense something more
And I would like to give
What I think you’re asking for
You handsome devil
Oh, you handsome devil
Let me get my hands
On your mammary glands
And let me get your head
On the conjugal bed
I say, I say, I say
I crack the whip
And you skip
But you deserve it
You deserve it, deserve it, deserve it
A boy in the bush
Is worth two in the hand
I think I can help you get through your exams
Oh, you handsome devil
Oh, let me get my hands
On your mammary glands
And let me get your head
On the conjugal bed
I say, I say, I say
I crack the whip
And you skip
But you deserve it
You deserve it, deserve it, deserve it
And when we’re in your scholarly room
Who will swallow whom ?
When we’re in your scholarly room
Who will swallow whom ?
You handsome devil
Oh, let me get my hands
On your mammary glands
And let me get your head
On the conjugal bed
I say, I say, I say
There’s more to life than books, you know
But not much more
Oh, there’s more to life than books, you know
But not much more, not much more
Oh, you handsome devil
Oh, you handsome devil
Ow !
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Is Mozz touring again? I don’t see the relevance of this Smiths song
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TWOP gets a little like a Douglas Coupland novel at times – repetition of in-jokes, jaded world-weary cynicism, rampant metrocentrism, and apparently incongruous Smiths references.
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I was hoping perhaps to be as Saki novel.
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Happy birthday, David! May the next year of your life be full of living, loving and learning. Maintain your (out)rage.
I’m inclined to agree with most people here; the face spoils what could have otherwise been a nice painting. Jeez, the brushstrokes and the sense of anatomy don’t seem to match up! It’s like what Lovecraft said: what is seen cannot be unseen.
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