I recently got to watch some of the Portland SantaCon people make
terrifying hybrid toys to distribute to passers-by during their
drunken tear through the city.
Quietly deranged Burning Man, enginneer and social-justice types
gathered at a house with crates of toys rescued from thrift-shop
bins (many of them Happy Meal discards) , piled them high on
tables, tore them apart, set to them with glue-guns, and made two
sets of gifts -- unnerving hyrids for the kids (mostly involving
the cavalier switching of heads and bodies) and wildy phallic and
pornographic toys for the adults. Footballs were transformed into
sex toys. Some of it was surreal and artful. There were a
surprising number of sacred-cow-flaying 9/11 memorials. It was a
hell of a thing to watch; they cranked out dozens if not hundreds
of these fast-art pieces in just a few hours, only to give them
away a week or two later.
(Those so inclined may view my rather tame comic-strip field report
on the evening
here. Sadly, I couldn't draw the nipple clamps one of the
participants was wearing for much of the evening. Family newspaper
and all that.)
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