There’s got to be a band name somewhere between those two concepts. I saw a couple of links this morning that I felt deserved more than a tweet to pass on.
This gentleman went to the Playboy Mansion and “it was kinda depressing”. Yeah, that does seem like a weird, awkward atmosphere, but I don’t find it depressing. The pictures remind me of sex clubs — the not-at-all accidental cushioned locations, the baskets of toiletries, the colorful, tufted birds on the lawn…
If I were running an orgy mansion (and surely it is only a matter of time before I realize this dream), I’d want to go more in the “comfortable home” direction than “super-luxury hotel.” Super-luxury means worrying that some crazy sex move will end in sweeping a leg into a vase worth millions, and having to concern yourself with keeping body fluids off of unwashable fabrics.
Speaking of body fluids, shouldn’t there be baskets of condoms in an orgy mansion? Any sex club I’ve ever been in had them next to any fuck-on-able surface. My orgy mansion (I’m taking suggestions for names!) would be way better equipped than this, and have tasteful, inexpensive knickknacks. Also, books. Books everywhere. First, you can’t just fuck all the time, you need other things to do. Second, reading is sexy. I’d have regular reading salons where everyone would lounge and read to each other, which leads naturally to orgies.
Enough about orgies.
Rocket cats. Actually, rocket-propelled cats and birds in late period manuscripts. How was this a good idea? “I’ll attach a bag of fire to this cat, and it will run into a barn full of straw, thus exploding my enemies!” That’s a Michael-Bay-bad idea. These people have totes never tried to get a cat to do anything.
I was also struck by how the flames shooting out of the devices were conveniently not burning the tails of the cats or birds. Note to artists: cats with tails down like that aren’t stressed (ie, there’s no bag of fire strapped to their backs).