ART ON REVIEW II: I condemn these freaky, ancient people [NSFW]

In my adventures as a freelance writer, I got an assignment to write a series of blog posts about Peru. Through my research, I happened across some art history morsels that made me want to shout from the rooftops, because HA HA HA EW!

But first, a spot of history.

You’ll often hear the Inca referred to as “ancient.” They came to power in the 15th century, started to eat it when the Spanish arrived in 1532. They finally cried uncle in the 1570s, after the Spanish ransomed their last emperor for a bunch of gold, took the gold, said “Gracias for the gold!” and then murdered Emeperor Tupac anyway. “Ancient” indicates something existed before the middle ages. If someone calls the Inca ancient in your presence, yank their still-beating heart right out of their rib cage. It’s what the Inca would have wanted.

The Inca had some help establishing themselves as the bad bitches we know today. From cultures way older, and way freakier.

Come with me on a nasty journey back in time.

The Moche proliferated in northern Peru from 100 AD to 800 AD. They contributed a lot to the field of Boys Will Be Boys.

Unlike the ancients of the Mediterranean, or the Chinese, they didn’t have the perspicacity to leave behind anything tasteful. Much to the delight of Peruvian gas station kingpin Señor Cassinelli. Cassinelli loved collecting the erotic work of the Moches, but let’s assume his wife didn’t want that stupid shit in the living room. He eventually opened a museum behind one of his gas stations, and Museo Cassinelli was born.

Many of the pieces in his collection were purchased from grave robbers.

 

Cassinelli

 

As we can see from the Moche collection, the Moche, like all civilizations, were concerned mostly with weenies. Touching weenies, having a big weenie, and most of all, making sure everyone else sees your weenie.

Did somebody say weenie?

Son, if you choose play with yourself,  there’s nothing I can do to stop you. But I should warn you, there’s a chance the top of your dick will shoot clean off.

Yet, somehow, you’ll still feel smug about it.

 

ART

 

Is he holding out his hand? Does he think he’s earned a tip?

You contribute NOTHING. I hate you, and I hate your hat.

We’ve caught this little goblin in a moment of solemn contemplation. He’s not sure how he feels about this anymore. He donned a helmet to go for a bike ride, and then he remembered he can’t wear pants or use his legs.

 

Exaggerated

 

This statuette bears witness to a dark night of the soul, a realization that no matter how enormous your weenie is, at the end of the day you’re a porn star garden gnome with stubby legs and no butt.

And you’re alone.

And one day you’ll die.

Below is one of the Moche’s famous masturbating skeletons.

He stares, hollow-eyed, at his own peeny-weeny. Seeing nothing, hearing nothing, he grimaces. But his penis remains, pointing the way unto eternity.

What does he think about, as he massages the shaft of his undead tube meat? What furtive thoughts race through his desiccated, shriveled-up cranium? We like to think that our greatest works, our smartest thoughts, and our best jokes are what will live on after us.

The Moche have a different idea.

All that remains is the pluperfect bliss of being left along with your weenus.

 

bony bator

 

The Moche also made a lot of sexy tea pots. From what I can gather from various unreliable internet sources, these pots were used as ceremonial whistles, during rituals that historians speculate would make your butthole pucker for days if you saw something half as icky.

In the image below, the artist captured perfectly the wide-eyed uncertainty of someone who has just realized she doesn’t always make the best choices. Yet we see that she brought her comfy yoga mat with her, carefully unrolled on an ergonomic hump-o-sphere. I interpret this as a sure sign that she planned this encounter.

Still, there is something kind of weird about this image.

WHAT, THOUGH?

 

sexpot

 

I almost skipped this one, since he’d so obviously prefer to be left alone.

 

Fatty

“Go away. I’m busy.”

What’s wrong, buddy?

His hat has a crown-like quality, larger and more elaborate than the fitted caps of the previous figures. Perhaps it denotes him as a philosopher-king, too busy and important to grant us the time of day. He ignoring me, he’s ignoring you, he’s ignoring his disproportionate manhood. Or the curator in charge of the display pointed him in the wrong direction, for reasons lost to history.

Also lost to history: this guy’s weenie.

 

serious business

Or was it?

Maybe it didn’t simply snap off during an especially giggly archeological excavation. Maybe he’s got a teeny-weeny munchkin peeny. The eyes stare into the abyss, and the abyss of insufficient dink stares back.

Heavy stuff!

These two seem fun. And kind of British, like ancient Wallace and Gromit characters. This piece repudiates the notion that cheekiness first emerged in Europe.

 

Cheeky

 

KEEP SCULPTING! I’M SO HORNY!

 

Cuddle

 

But it can’t all be normal stuff. The Moche were a proud people, unafraid to bring to light the grim reality of uncomfortable fellatio. (Every generation thinks they’re the one that invented it.)

 

do I have to

 

Archeologists still have lots of work to do piecing together the riddle that the Moche left behind. What made them tick? What drove them to conquer? Their ingenuity and fighting spirit is woven into the very fabric of Peruvian civilization today. Although long gone, they still have so much to teach us.

This one is of a monkey licking a girl’s butt.

Oh good, a bunch of people who Googled that have just arrived. I’ll get the Mountain Dew.

 

smell it

 

And now, a turtle. My spirit animal, pointing to the world beyond my laptop, to the great outdoors and purer thoughts. It is my sincere hope that looking at this baby turtle will make you less horny, and you can continue on your path in peace.

Namaste.

 

Sea Turtle Moche

 

LIKE WHAT YOU SEE? Here’s some more art that wants to shake its titties in your face.

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