Introducing Julmonster, the holiday home fragrance by Ed Shepp.  A frenzy of fir, green leaves, spices, leather, woodsmoke and musk, Julmonster is unprecedented, indefatigable and emphatically undeniable.  Intense enough to be smelled from outer space, but intimate to enjoy in one’s one home.  In small doses.

Julmonster.  Experience the ferocity.

…if you dare.

Because it’s imaginary, Ed Shepp Experiences is probably the fastest growing conglomerate ever.  The latest pumpkin to sprout from the vine is Ed Shepp Pharmalife, which grew out of Ed Shepp Fragrances as more and more odorants we were developing (e.g., Sheppone-E, Harningal Super) exhibited pharmacological activity.  Ed Shepp Pharmalife is proud to introduce Sweden®, the revolutionary complexion-altering molecule which originated from fragrance R&D.*

-Ed Shepp

*Remember, it’s imaginary.  That means it’s not real.

I Know What You Did Last Midsommar!

It’s Midsommar time again, y’allz.  So to mark the occasion, Nils and I, as the Swedish American Futurimagineering Institut, are uploading our coverage of last year’s Midsommar celebration in Battery Park, NYC.  Enjoy, and glad midsommar!!

(Click here to download an outtake, with Nils singing the midsommar song. The quack quack one.)

-Ed Shepp & Nils Harning

**We interrupt this desert of silence for a movie review.**

OK, I just finished watching Where the Wild Things Are, and like any good GenXer, I’m going to immediately blogify it. 

The first question you ask yourself when you think of watching a movie based on a children’s classic is obvious: Is it faithful to the original?  The answer here: No. Not in the least.  I have to admit that I was absolutely aghast at the beginning of the movie.  It was too realistic, too quotidian, especially regarding the monsters, who came off like a bunch of 28-44 year old middle class urbanites.  So if you’re expecting all the majesty and wonder of the book, don’t see this movie.

But if you’re able to accept that they’re simply telling a different story that’s only related to the book as far as the costumes, then you might enjoy it.  (Also: Don’t expect Dangerous Liaisons-type dialogue.  Think more along the lines of: What would Drew Barrymore say?)  I’ll say this: it is a technical masterpiece.  The photography, the sets, the acting, the costumes, the coloring, the effects (the only times I felt like I was watching the effects instead of the movie were the scene where Max’s boat was crashing ashore on the island—I kept wondering if they did the waves with a miniature boat—and the scene where there were a bunch of orange flowers on a fort—they looked masked in), even the script in terms of what they seemed to be going for: all of it brilliantly done.  And while before watching I was skeptical about the music (because I know they got an indie darling to do the score, and I thought it might turn out a bit precieux), I was completely sold when that Daniel Johnston song (My Worried Shoes?  Is that right?) was a main theme.  Very well done.  It’s a very affecting song.

So it was technically very well done, but I’m left wondering: If the movie is going to be a completely different story, is it then a story worth telling?  Or, rather, is it worth pouring all this money and contrivance into?  I’m not sure.  Yes, all the emotional chords resonated at all the right times, but I was never sure whether it was the story or the music and the shots I was reacting to.  Removed from the context of the book, perhaps put into its own context as a separate fairy tale, I’m not sure there’s enough there.  And I wasn’t left feeling like there had been enough direction in the plot.  What exactly was I supposed to realize from this film? 

Honestly, I don’t remember what I was supposed to learn from the book, but I remember that I never felt like it was an empty story.

The takeaway: See the film for the art direction, but don’t expect Where the Wild Things Are.

—Ed Shepp

The title says it all.  About what’s in this post, anyways.  Below is what Nils originally wrote 1,000 years ago, before the fire, before the pumpkins, before, well, yeah.  I’ll yakkayakkayakka about all that later, when I’m in more of The Writing MoOd, as they say.  But for now, I’d like to ensharize with you a recording that I did special for all y’allz today:  It’s ESRX (Ed Shepp Radio Experiment)-stil, meaning that it could’ve made it into the show when I was doing it.  It’s from What the Nose Knows: The Science of Scent in Everyday Life, by Avery Gilbert.  Chapter 2, pp. 28-30, and the title of the passage is Hey Beavis, Pull My Finger.  It’s about the science of farting. Specifically, the science of olfaction as it relates to farts.  Fair use, y’all.  Anyway, here’s it is, if you wants to download:

Hey Beavis, Pull My Finger

And now Nils’s original entry, entitled Let the Farting Begin!

—Ed Shepp

Let the Farting Begin!

When do I fart in presence of my beloved?  That is the question I get the most. Well, allow me to quote Paula Deen:  There’s no better time than RIGHT NOW!  Let the farting begin!  Don’t be ashamed-it’s spiritual.  (A fart i the spirit of a real poop.)  It has many names:

French: Pet

Albanian: Pjerdh

Danish: Prut

Dutch: Windlaten

Estonian: Pieru

Finnish: Pierun

German: Furz, Pups, Pupser

Hungarian: Fing

In these times of St. Patrick’s Day (Ed’s note: I guess this was written around March.  Feel the chagrin.) , Irish: Yes, fart.

Icelandic: Raefill

Portugese: Dasintestinal, or Pum

Turkish: Osuruk

Welsh: Fart

Romanian: Basi

And a vulgar way to say it in Croatian would be: Prdnuti

See?  Spring is here; so is giving wind.  Fart might be the new black.  Still, though, I’m not as liberated yet.  Maybe only in my sleep.  By pure and ladylike accident, of course.  So this is not a post with a Sex and the City-type confession: I farted!  (giggle, giggle)  No, this is about ED being liberated in front of me.  A great progress in a relationship, I think.  So whatever you call it, fart away!  As long as no one forces me to do it in public.  Because I never do. 

-Nils Harning

Straight and Tall, by Nils Harning.  New York Collection, 2010. (photo—and styling—by Ed Shepp. Bam!)

-Nils Harning

(Warning: The entry below may be read as reeking of jealousy by certain hyperultrasuperfaggotronical Swedish eyes.  And it’s not. very. lagom!  Puss puss!)

Recipe for a Betsey Johnson garment:

-1 chunk of lace

-1 overwrought polyester velvet(een?) ribbon

-a zipper to taste (not required)

-a Japanese girl (can be substituted with a “Japaneezy-type” girl)

Et voilà!  “Mom, I want one!!! It has flownces!!!!”*

I HATE her I want to be her I want to sell sew-by-numbers drivel like her and separate fools from their money!  Read my fingers, Jetsey Bohnson: YUCK FOU!!!!!!!!

-Nils Harning

* Ed’s note: Yes, Nils knows that it’s spelled flounces.  I spelled it that way to convey the level of brainitude of the whining, moneyed daugher. Post-latte.

The Madonna of the Holy Consumption, by Nils Harning.  New York Collection, 2010. (photo by Gennadi Maryash)

“For whosoever hath, to him shall be given, and he shall have more abundance: but whosoever hath not, from him shall be taken away even that he hath.” -Matthew 13:12

Read and reflect.  Assholes.

(Ink-and-watercolor drawing and collage on cereal package-avec-Photoshop)

-Nils Harning

Light & Shadow, by Nils Harning.  New York Collection, 2010. (photo by Gennadi Maryash)

My celebration to the religious television channels of America.

(Ink-and-watercolor drawing on mirror glass)

-Nils Harning