This is, to put it simply, an extremely disturbing website.

Forget your goatses, your tubgirls, your Greenpeaces: no, this is disturbing on a whole new level. It's not "art", as was said above, it's just fucking creepy, mm'kay?

My little clickstream went like this. I got shown a contour diagram, then a bear with no face (and the page title "pooooooo..."), then some children laughing at the word "stupidbad", then a face that rotated a few degrees and then went back, then a weird piano pattern, then an ASCII representation of a woman's face.

Now, combining all of these together makes for something very weird. I am writing this at 5:18AM GMT, and it's scaring my nuts off. But still, I visit this dump so you don't have to...

I'm then taken to what looks like a normal article, about meat. Except every instance of the word "meat" is a link. Clickety...I get a 7 year old asking me if I've met the bees. Clickety. "Don't click on me, it upsets the bees" says the 7 year old. Alrighty *CLICK*..."Now you've done it. The bees have left.". Hooray. I hate bees. Click.

I'm asked if I want to go left or right, because these are apparently places bees like to go, Fine, right. Then I'm taken to...well...I'll quote this page entirely:

Dear Kids,

Your Aunt Viv and I would both like to apologize for the incident which occured on Thanksgiving this year. We both felt strongly about the turkey neck, but certainly those feelings are not as strong as the feelings for the members of our family.

Please accept our apologies. I'm sure next year will be much better.

Uncle Jay


But still...clickety...3 pictures of a couple, and the legend "Left: Jay uses this device sometimes". There's nothing there, but there's a sodding bee (It leads back to the 7-year old). I click the second one down, and am taken to a letter. Clickety...

This picture of me was taken when I was in heaven. It was fun. I was bathed in a golden light the whole time. They gave me this suit to wear, but I had to give it back the same day.

Yes. Right. *CLICK*.

More bees. Except this time, we have a whole story. Here it is, for your pain (Note: This really is unpleasant reading. I can't explain, just only read if you have a VERY strong stomach or like pain. Don't sue me if you don't like it. I'm not really sure whether this is legally A-OK, but seeing as Superbad is still up, here goes)

Bees. Swarming buzzing bees. Tickling temperamental bees. Bees with pointy painful stingers.

The boy poured honey down his back and shook his buttocks left to right. The naked crazy boy. He passed by the beehives, jogging not running. Taking his sweet innocent time, through the grass, toward the white perfumy clover field. The bees rose in a fuzzy brown boil, filtered out their hive, cleaved the air like an arrow aiming for honey-dripping bare-bummed Johnny. Little Johnny boy smiled broad and white, his feet advancing toward the clover, tossing his hips from side to side, breathless voice issuing forth, "Beeeeez.Zzzzzzzhahahahahaaaaaaaa."

Little Johnny boy slipped a finger between his perspiring crack, taking away honey as if from the stale edges of a white bread sandwich. Johnny loved the bees, almost as much as the sticky sweet clinging of honey that formed and hung like stalactites from his perineum, dripped dripping drops.

The bees closed in. Thousands of bees, their murmuring buzzing chorus titillating little Johnny boy, stingers angry and shining in the sun, quivering mad. Johnny jogged toward the clover field, licking his finger of the sweet sweaty honey. Honeybuns, Johnny thought, and laughed until he fell rolling over the start of clover. Honeybuns, thought Johnny, and he laughed, giggled, a smile playing over his bare freckled puss. "Beeeeeeez!" Johnny exclaimed, as a fuzzy buzzing cloud converged on little Johnny's honey sticky ass.
The sun rolled in golden fury, and hours later, when it had turned a dark red, and sunset swollen, little Johnny boy lay stiff and puffy, pink and happy, dead stinking sweet.

Now, that has to count as one of the most disturbing pieces of fiction (Jesus Christ I hope it's fiction) ever. But still, I have to keep clicking. I click the large bee at the bottom, and I'm taken to a picture of engine parts. Whee. Now I see a squirrel, talking about (I kid you not) the Soviet Union. Yup, just while I'm suffering permanent psychological harm, a squirrel's giving me lessons on communists. Huzzah. he's asking me if there are any volunteers. Ah...clickety. "Directions of use for proposal form"...OK. Now an outline of two people kissing tiled, click...oh look, the same goddamn picture, larger. Yay. Click...and now onto something about "Monster Mountain and captin America". I quit the browser at this point because a) I was scared shitless and b) I was thirsty.

I hope that gives you an extremely good reason to NEVER visit this website unless very drunk, very stupid, or very unsubsceptible to insanity. And please, for the love of God, don't ask me to go back there...