Rob Clarke

Thanks! I've been called many things, but sophisticated is a first. I love it😘

In 2001, I was included in a book project by the Austrian conceptual artist Matthias Herrmann. I felt so classy being in a publication that could be found in artists’ bookstores instead of my usual venue—the porn section of gay novelty shops next to the penis party favors.

Pleasure Island isn’t all funhouses and salt mines - there are some sylvan glades if you need a respite from all the hubbub and horseplay. Perhaps you’ll encounter some of the fauna unique to the island. If you’re gentle, they’ll even eat Skittles from the palm of your hand.

City-slickers always have a cow when they find out how chocolate milk is made down on the farm.

Rummaging through my dusty bookshelf, I found this collection of short stories that used one of my images on the cover. I’ll have to give it a re-read to see if it gets me to the fireworks factory as it promises.

I should have put a patent on that ol' switch-a-roo device.

Imagine what life on my farm would be like for you cowbois. Think of all the different male creatures you’d meet. Maybe the ones that have retained the ability to speak will be able to caution you to always think happy thoughts lest your milk turns sour, which would be a problem.

“After his milk turned sour, Buttermilk’s days were numbered.” These 26 yr old doodles, made when I was a young wizard, are evidence that I’ve always been a sick fuck. Although I remain an ageless beauty, my cowboi would be middle-aged by now (if he avoided the sausage factory).

I’ve unearthed an old sketchbook I used around 2000 which has my first man-cow images in it. I like to think of these pages as being the Dead Sea scrolls of the bovine fetish, artifacts from a time when I was still figuring things out—like how many teets does a boy-udder have?

BTW, Fragonard’s The Swing is one of my favorite paintings.

🎶He'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease,
That daring young donk on the flying trapeze.🎶
The audience never suspects that during his grand finale, they’ll be covered in the Flying Donkman’s ropey jizzum. What’s more, most will have their mouths agape in awe of the spectacle.

Thanks! It looks like I'm in good company.

Thanks so much for posting this. It made my day, knowing that there’s a little bit of me out there IRL. It was great having a publisher and distributor. Whenever I toy with the idea of having an online store, I have nightmares of ending up with a warehouse of unwanted magnets and tea cozies.

I’m pleased to have a few pieces in the Whirlpool Salon. It’s an eclectic (and greasy) collection, but every piece is magnetic. Admission is free to residents.

My buzzed donkeyboi was inspired by “Le Femeur d’opium” by the French artist duo Pierre et Gilles, which I saw a decade or two (or three) ago.

Some rejected illustrations for a porn website from the early 2000s. There have been times when I’ve tried to tuck in my freak flag and try to make images that would appeal to other gays, but it always ends in tears. Besides, I know this fella would look better sporting donk ears.

High as hell, Lucas had visions of his missing fraternity brothers, Dillon and Jake. “Dude,” they said, “being a donkeyboi slaps! Come and play with us. Forever... and ever... and ever.” I can confirm from experience that the weed on Pleasure Island is as potent as it is skunky.

It looks like one of Caulfield’s buddies slipped a little sumthin’ sumthin’ into his piña colada. Those boys are always pranking each other. It’s mostly harmless horseplay, but sometimes a donk wrangler needs to use a taser on a bruh who’s having a four-legged freak out.

“Hey dude, that mask looks so real! Do you ever get to take it off?” The ol’ unremovable mask/mascot costume is a classic Pleasure Island jape. At the beginning of your stay, you’ll see these burly and mostly mute fellas working as carnies, and at the end, fearsome donk wranglers.

My take on Sinbad and the Old Man of the Sea. I know a blond Sinbad is a bit of a stretch.

Justin’s father was worried that his son would never amount to anything. Little did he know that that very spring, at the Pleasure Island Talent Show, the young wastrel would earn the title of “World’s Stinkiest Donk”. Sadly, Justin’s father never got a whiff of his son’s glory.

Brazil has its butt lifts, and Turkey has its hair plugs, but Pleasure Island is where young men go to get hung like a horse. Actually, they get donkey-donged, which, except for the smell, most can’t tell the difference between. (Their girlfriends back home most certainly will.)

Horse Potatoes You have to watch your step when you visit the Centaurs’ Glade because those big beasts will drop their massive loads wherever they feel like.

All this snow is making me long for springtime in the Centaurs’ Glade. I know that they’re intimidating, but the big-balled horsies don’t mind me visiting as long as my pockets are filled with sugar cubes.
robclarke.net/blog/f/horse...

I know Austin made a complete ass of himself during his Pleasure Isl. Spring Break vacation—his hard-core partying was documented in pics posted in every corner of the internet. So it seemed strange that no one seemed to notice that he wasn’t on the return boat to Daytona Beach.

The Hard Pack I guess the world didn’t think my fusion of Tom of Finland and Joe Camel imagery was as clever as I did. And these days, who even remembers who Joe Camel and his phallic-faced friends were? I’d have t...

I don’t miss coming home from a night out with clothes reeking of cigarette smoke.
robclarke.net/blog/f/the-h...

Gosh, I haven’t thought that far ahead

Jackson knew his father would shit himself when he saw his son’s new look, so he high-tailed it south of the border to a backstreet veterinary clinic rumored to specialize in ear and tail docking. Sadly, it was a cash-only business, and Jackson’s wallet was feeling a little light.

Instead of Keep Calm and Carry On, I say, Hang Loose and HEE HAW! You don’t have to be a PAWB (Phat Ass White Boi) to sport one of my sassy tattoos, but it helps.

Under the Sea When I was a kid, I relentlessly begged my parents for an aquarium in my bedroom (I think it was the summer that Jaws came out). They eventually caved in and surprised me with one stocked with beautif...

You can find some of these fishy fellas hanging around Bikini Bottom.
robclarke.net/blog/f/under...

I like to think of the Loch Ness Merman as being the lovechild of Tom of Finland and Groundskeeper Willie.