The Art Fart vowed to not miss the Rapture…according to Re-bar.

Inga Ingenue doing something unspeakable with a vehicle... Photo: Eric Pitsenbarger

Flagellating myself for having spaced on “First Thursday” and an entire neighborhood of ‘fine art’ to be observed and disseminated, I’ll be damned if I miss the Rapture! Apparently “The Second Coming of The Second Coming” (as the flyer advertised), was actually happening this last Friday night; and since it didn’t all go down as scheduled back in May (according to that crazy preacher asshole with a Twitter feed to Gawd), thank goodness Re-bar pulled it together and we get a wild ride to the End Days upon the glittering rumps of local burlesque stars like Inga Ingenue, Randi Rascal and the main reason I attended: Ultra!

Apparently a fundraiser for the group K.A.O.S art collective and their pilgrimage to the Burning Man debauchery, the evening’s MCs were a coupla nasty wizards cracking wise and getting red-faced plowed as they held it together between acts. F’ing hysterical. These Mages of Mayhem need to power up those wands of fury and beyond Burning Man, ‘magically appear’ at more Seattle venues. Their side-kick rodeo clown in a red slip kept the stage clean(ish), while bearing up with bad jokes and objectification. There’s most definitely something about a hot, hairy straight man in a shapeless slip to make the blood boil.

Randi Rascal as Tank Girl, the embodiment of real girl power as it will be ‘after the fall’ (and how it ought to be right now), stomping around just naturally being her beautiful butch self, taking what she wants and blowing off the a-holes who get in her way. Don’t get between her and a rubber chicken. Just sayin’.

Inga Ingenue worked that itty bitty frame of hers like the consummate professional she is. Having recently won ‘Miss Viva Las Vegas’, it’s obvious why the girl has a truckload of trophies just waiting at the warehouse. Simultaneously sweet and sinister, buttercup bouffant and power pout bee stung lips sneering, she threw down one of the tightest, snarkiest routines I’ve ever seen. That look of disdain! The one that says (even as she’s shaking those black tassels in your face), “Really? The end of the world?”. So satisfying to be flipped off by this hot bitch.

Boylesque legend Ultra is like one of those pretty boys from Fellini’s Satyricon whose DNA’s been spliced with that of some feral beast. That stylized crouching revery he takes, the knowing smile that turns into a snarl, spewing a viscous lip-sync while dressed in as little as possible (so we can ogle that fine bod)…it’s like watching a beautiful alien communicate with his butt. Augmented with signature abstract war-paint eye-liner and feathered eyes he was of course the next to last performer and worth the build-up. It was all like perfect foreplay; and even though the world didn’t actually vaporize, nor did I end up at that endless theme park in the sky, my poor husband’s ‘power ranger’ met with a certain apoco- lips! Ka-blewie!

Ultra being unspeakably hot... Photo: Eric Pitsenbarger

Eric Pitsenbarger is The Art Fart: “I’ve managed to live a really interesting life of minor success, spectacular failures and occasional peril. I’m a freelance graphic designer / illustrator and love many things and many people. As a cock-eyed optimist, I see beauty everywhere…except when it’s just fugly. I’ll probably explode someday from laughing so much.”