jackassworld

My god … have you ever seen a whiter collection of briefs? Suck it, Calvin Klein! Granted, they’re not all sized correctly, but in a hot, humid, and fetid climate like Mumbai’s you need all the ventilation and breathability you can get. Otherwise, if you’re not careful, your junk can go bad. It’s true, just ask any fertility specialist. The sperm will go belly up, the testes will swell, all sorts of wicked rashes will roil across the scrotum like solar storms on the surface of the sun, and that’s just for starters. So if you’re planning on traveling to India in the near future, please remember to pack light and loose. Not only will your garbage thank you, but should the native bacteria get the best of your digestive system you’re gonna need that spare room in the trunk for Depends.

(photo by Sean Cliver; Mumbai, India; 2006)

Great Ganesh! I can’t believe I haven’t pillaged and posted any photos from the brief encounter with world famous fingernail man Shridhar Chillal during our great million dollar fiasco in the slums of India on jackass number two. But before I go on some random Dave Grohl tangent about how fingernails are cool, let me first say that whoever wants to claim responsibility for introducing “chillax” to the linguistic world should be force-fed Exlax until their rectum collapses in on itself like a big black shithole. Really now. I can think of nothing else currently at use and/or abuse in the English language that declares “Instant Asshole!” more than that particular slangtraction of words. Anyway, it was a real kick in the pants to meet Shridhar, because when I was in grade school the Guinness Book of World Records was King Shit in the library—and mostly because of the black-and-white photo of the wild-looking guy with the curlicue fingernails. Talk about an inspiration. Olympics? Ah, whatever. Run, jump, whee. Some nut who dedicated and compromised his life to have the longest recorded fingernails in the world? Now that I can get down with. And I never forgot him. And then I met him! Twenty-six years later in this crazy thing called life. If that’s not a Nora Ephron screenplay in the making then I don’t know what is.

And now … it’s Miller time!

(photo by Sean Cliver; Mumbai, India; 2006)

If this was a chimpanzee and not a spider monkey, Chris would be missing most of his face, both eyeballs, definitely his genitals, and possibly one nipple in this photo.

Now in Wildboyz terms I’m pretty sure you’re beyond conditioned at this point to expect the worst from the above snippet, but for once we’re going the opposite direction and literally giving you a monkey. And not just any monkey, but Chico the spider monkey! I know, you’re waiting for that other offensive shoe to drop, but please Belize me when I assure you that everybody’s got something to hide except for me and my monkey here. So relax, come along, and enjoy, as we show you photos of grown men innocently playing with their monkey with absolutely no icky fluids involved.

Is there anything more relaxing than hanging out in the Central American tropics of Belize and stroking your monkey on a sunny afternoon? Obviously not, or Unga would’ve smashed Chico.

Who said anything about there being missing evolutionary link? I see about 200 of them right there linking monkey to man (not to mention the photo above this one).

Chico and Dimitry check for booger bats in the cave. All clear on both nasal cavity counts!

You know, after seeing Trip’s bedroom eyes here, I can’t help but wonder if there were fluids of some sort involved? Hmmm…

(photos by Dimitry Elyashkevich; Belize; 2003)