A small town where I spent several years as a child. A small town where the words “nothing”, “wrong” and “here” have very little value.
I have been holding out on you. Remember these?
Of course you do. Well these guys were born in Lamalou. Speaking of birth:
The sights and sounds of Lamalou are like no other on Earth. Take a look at Mr Owl here: standing there, ridiculously expensive in a shop window. Clearly pregnant. Translucent abdomen and all. Standing next to a giant-ass owl and a short, fat, impish, gross-looking, really cheap one. He’s obviously been Lamalooed.
But enough idiocy, what about Lamalou’s museums?
Ok lets forget for one second that the concept of handpainted eyeglass holders in the shape of noses is very, very silly. That’s…just not how you write museum, I’m sorry. Besides, if body parts start having their own museums, I’m gonna need a new anus. A cleaner one.
Speaking of which, this was right next to the noses:
Now I know the pics are somewhat blurry but bear with me. These are 2 metal beings: one of them a woman (see the breasts and skirt?) the other a man (see the no breasts?). I think the original idea was to have a nurse give the guy an injection but the size of the syringe and the angle it appears to be gravitating towards suggests otherwise.
Nothing wrong here’d out yet?
Plunger for kids!
Oh yeah, almost forgot the mug…
I’ll be honest…I don’t really understand the mug. At first I thought it was just a really, really cheap, shitty mug. And then I realised it was probably so much more. You’ll notice on the top left some writing: mug message. I think these mugs are meant to be written on. They love that shit. Which is fair enough. I don’t like that the mug is thanking me (us?) and I don’t trust that smile though.
It’s about this point where I decided to leave Lamalou, see other small towns around: Lunas, Gruissan. To try and make some sense of this world, try to find somewhere where honestly nothing is wrong anywhere…
The world’s just one big Lamalou store window, isn’t it?