BRANT WATCH

A much-bruised, unidentified youth dodged yet another expertly flung baseball at the Brant...

Wed, 15 May 2013 17:43:00 -0400

A much-bruised, unidentified youth dodged yet another expertly flung baseball at the Brant compound’s Peg-A-Fuckin’-Ginger celebration, held annually since 1985, for reasons that no one fully agrees on. “I seem to remember a ginger prick we came across on the beach in Cannes,” Patriarch Peter I surmised, “one of those real gangly bastards, all ruddy cheeked and meek, with body hair like a bunch of fire ants. He kicked sand in my face, so I thought: Why not organize an event in which everyone throws lead-weighted baseballs at these fuckers?” Peter II took home top honors at this year’s edition, racking up 4 black eyes, 6 broken ribs, and 3 subdural hematomas. Florence + the Machine played a 6-hour durational cover of Simply Red’s “Holding Back The Years” organized by Icelandic artist Ragnar Kjartansson, who later admitted to being ignorant of the event’s specifics. Harry, as usual, abstained—not out of ethical concern, but because “I throw like a freaking girl,” he said.

Moments after his mistress Fernanda Pokum brutalized the cabana waitress at bottom right, Patriarch...

Wed, 15 May 2013 15:17:00 -0400

Moments after his mistress Fernanda Pokum brutalized the cabana waitress at bottom right, Patriarch Peter I’s volcanic temper erupted on the chin of Argentine playboy Ju-Ju Palacho, who had just (jokingly, he assured) mentioned that the Patriarch’s “budding manbreasts” would one day “make perfect ski jumps for dainty, miniature leprechauns.” After his initially timid left hook, bystanders reported that Patriarch Peter I straddled Ju-Ju in the sand, delivering one punishing blow after another and generating a frenzied scene that “was like some shit out of Silence of the Lambs,” according to one witness. Hours after the violent outburst the pair had already made amends, and were spotted sharing a two-strawed Zombie on the patio of Fernando’s, St. Bart’s go-to spot for top-shelf novelty cocktails. The renewed friendship was likely the result of obvious financial and interpersonal considerations: Patriarch Peter I is a majority investor in Yo No Lo Creo!, the oft-sued franchise of outpatient penile augmentation parlors that Palacho founded in Buenos Aires.

Patriarch Peter I poses with a steely-eyed Leonardo DiCaprio at the Brant Foundation’s...

Mon, 13 May 2013 11:33:00 -0400

Patriarch Peter I poses with a steely-eyed Leonardo DiCaprio at the Brant Foundation’s Mother’s Day Pig-Flaying. ‘Leo’ wears a rumpled blazer from Target X Ralph Lauren’s Great Gatsby collection and a Newsies 20th-anniversary commemorative cap; he flaunts goatee micro-cultivation courtesy of Sim-Jook Industries. “I’m not surprised that so many well-known individuals turned up here, despite the supposed holiday,” Patriarch Peter I said. “I’ve always held that celebrities are birthed by the Universal Collective, arriving here on earth through the vaginal canal of fame. They are, essentially, orphans. It’s a sentiment that Warhol would have approved of.” The shock-haired contemporary art icon was well-represented at the Pig-Flaying, with previously unseen selections from his “Death & Disaster” series, including silkscreens of Balinese castration mishaps and a Honduran blimp accident.

Harry, wearing a crotchet-embroidered baby-T designed by Ryan McGinness, stretches a recently waxed arm around billionaire Alan Lindehamm, erstwhile art critic and director of the vanity project, Penis Over Manhattan, whose quirky dual focus (vintage Tiffany lamps, and East Indian sculpture depicting tumescent male genitalia) has earned him the title of “most unpredictable art maven on the East Coast.” (Lindehamm rose to notoriety last year for an essay, entitled “I’d Rather Give Myself A Drano Enema And Then Punch Myself In The Face With A Dead Rabbit Than Go To Miami Basel,” in which he lambasted the “hangers-on and poor, groveling dumbfucks” who were “turning the once-proud fair into an orgy of slutty non-socialites with tons of student debt” and “shabby journalists who don’t even have health insurance” who “I hope will drown themselves in the ocean quickly so that the real people can go back to doing what they do best: Making and spending money.”) “I wrote that article as a considered, passionate thinkpiece,” Lindehamm said at the Brant Foundation. “After people got pissed off, I cleverly went back in time and recast it as social satire. I don’t see why no one understands that.” Lindehamm wears a suede Member’s Only jacket and a pair of color contacts expertly modeled on the eyes of Leonardo DiCaprio.

Anton Kerbunkle III, 7, and Davis ‘Skipper’ Rhoades, 6, watch as employees of Quik-Mexicans-Now! (the contract-hire labor force that recently erected the Frieze Art Fair) tend to a series of roasting pigs on the south lawn of the Brant Foundation. The gruesome food sculpture, a clear homage to the oeuvre of Francis Bacon, utilized Corten steel stakes designed by Richard Serra, and a proprietary barbeque sauce curated by Cyprien Gaillard.

“I wanted to look like a werewolf all hopped up on, like, Blink-182 had just, like, went...

Tue, 07 May 2013 11:40:00 -0400

“I wanted to look like a werewolf all hopped up on, like, Blink-182 had just, like, went fucking punkwild on my shirt and ripped it to shreds,” said Harry, photographed here at the Met’s Annual Sad & Wealthy Ball. “The crazy thing is that this is, like, a $19,000 one-off T, so the little scraps I cut and threw out could probably have fed a fucking family of Guatemalans for a few months.” The Brants were only a few of the A-list celebrities who got “punkified” for the hotly anticipated Met gala. Anne Hathaway, for instance, may have found a cure for her plummeting popularity: Wearing a sheer chiffon skirt, she showed off her platinum-dyed pubic hair, which had been artisanally shaved into the shape of an anarchy sign. Carey Mulligan sported a Chelsea girl hairdo and a henna face tattoo advertising the underground band A Million Dead Cops; Sarah Jessica Parker went edgy and referential by dressing as Dead Nancy Spungen, wearing little more than an XXL t-shirt soaked in actual lamb’s blood. Guests were thrilled to explore the exhibits that are part of the Met’s current show, “fRom cHaOS TO couTURE,” which is underwritten by Hot Topic, Dorito’s, and Vita Coco; the show includes a life-size replica of the infamously nasty CBGB’s bathroom. (“Don’t tell anyone,” Debbie Harry was overheard whispering to a friend, “but I just took a brutal shit in there.”) Fall Out Boy performed at the event, joined by Richard Hell and Iggy Pop for a set entirely composed of Crass covers. “I would say I’m ‘punk as fuck,’ yeah,” Peter II told a reporter. “I once punched a Barney’s salesgirl in the face for failing to separate my purchases in the bag with those little in-between layers of crinkle paper. I’d say that’s pretty fucking punk.” Patriarch Peter I attended the Sad & Wealthy Ball dressed as G.G. Allin—“something of a personal hero,” he explained, enigmatically, while adjusting the reins of his leather-and-metal scrotal harness.

Harry and Peter II provide emotional back-up for Eunice Prask, center, at the Horshance...

Mon, 06 May 2013 16:40:00 -0400

Harry and Peter II provide emotional back-up for Eunice Prask, center, at the Horshance Foundation’s bimonthly support group for former Renaissance Festival staff and participants. “It’s a long fucking road, excuse my language,” said a visibly shaken Nat ‘Pip’ Huckins, the Foundation’s press agent. “I look out there and I see just waves of archaic frills; bosoms squeezed into hellish bodices; lurid patterns that would make Robin Hood and his Merry Men fall into a deep, deep depression. And the headgear, the fucking headgear—there I go again—the braided forehead necklaces, the goddamn feathers everywhere…” Harry and Peter II have known Prask since the late ’90s, when they attended the same survivalist-themed summer camp outside of Greenwich. “I kick myself for not noticing the signs even then,” Harry said, squeezing Prask’s arm to remind her that he’s still there, and always will be. “It started small: those Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett paperbacks, the amateur lute playing. We just never thought it would end up where it did—a full-time job playing M’Lady Trucklefeathers out in Crossford, New Jersey, slowly losing her hold on that dividing line between fantasy and reality…just like Tom Hanks in Mazes and Monsters.” Prask, for her part, is committed to recovery; when pressed, she will admit, shakily, that unicorns “probably do not exist.” She appeared absolutely beatific during the closing performance by Joanna Newsom.

It was hard to stay upright at the 10th Annual Cinco de Mayo and Inspi(RED) World AIDS Fundraiser,...

Mon, 06 May 2013 11:43:00 -0400

It was hard to stay upright at the 10th Annual Cinco de Mayo and Inspi(RED) World AIDS Fundraiser, held this year at the jewel-dappled Skronkquist Hotel’s Venetian Orgy room, in Montauk. “I slipped on somebody’s puke,” explained Paul “Titties” Goober, star of Showtime’s Gigolos, pictured here at the bottom of a veritable Brant pyramid. “It’s fucking amateur hour in this place. You’d think people could calmly celebrate Mexican awesomeness and decry the brutality of AIDS without turning into, like, tequila-spewing asshole fountains.” Stretching a pencil-thin calf across the torso of “Titties” Goober is carpet empire heiress Paula “Jackie” O’nutsausse, still recovering from a price-gouging PR disaster in 2007 in which O’nutsausse Textiles grossly overcharged for AIDS Memorial Quilt materials. Peter II and Harry participated in a joint Win-A-Date-With-The-Brants auction, going for $10,500 to an anonymous Korean bidder via telephone. At the event, 3ball MTY performed a medley of selections from Rent, and Patriarch Peter I participated in a comedy skit which involved Jennifer Rubell rolling him into the world’s largest burrito; he appeared visibly distraught for the remainder of the evening. “I’m going to have gaucamole in my ass for days,” he explained.

The brothers Brant made unlikely but stylish diplomats during a two-day cameo at Estonia’s...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 16:50:00 -0400

The brothers Brant made unlikely but stylish diplomats during a two-day cameo at Estonia’s National Reindeer Refuge, a wildlife heritage site located roughly 45 miles from the capital of Talinn. President Toomas Hendrik Ilves personally invited Harry and Peter II to act as cultural ambassadors at the First Annual Pro-Austerity Bonanza, an elite event organized to counter the recent wave of blowback against the academically influenced policies which have successfully eviscerated most of Europe’s economies. “We have done everything right, and now it’s time to celebrate that,” Ilves said, to scant but enthusiastic applause. “In the following years I plan to balloon the expense of higher education, privatize all natural resources in Estonia, and bring our medical care up to the high cost, low quality standards demonstrated by our friends, the United States. I also hope to build many more prisons, perhaps by importing some minorities, which we can then imprison.” Harry looked visibly perplexed during the duration of the proceedings, and admitted that he only agreed to come in exchange for a tailoring session with Viga Broonsvn, the Antwerp-trained designer known for inventing the popular genre of “shrunken Nordic clusterfuck.” Peter II shocked a gaggle of elderly ladies by relaying an anecdote about the time he accidentally tweeted a photo of his penis to the Prince of Monaco. Sigur Ros performed their new song “Iiiiiu Plik Hiiii*__@aaa” at the event, with accompaniment from the Estonian Castrati Chorus.

“I’m like a sugar pixie in Donut Land!” giggled Harry, excitedly palpating his...

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 16:47:00 -0400

“I’m like a sugar pixie in Donut Land!” giggled Harry, excitedly palpating his clavicle amidst the high-art confectionery of Kenny Scharf’s latest installation, “There’s A Hole In The Middle, You Know What 2 Do With It,” mounted in the ground floor of ABC Carpet & Home, the upscale Manhattan branch of Pier 1 Imports. “Kenny’s like a magician of whimsy,” Harry continued, visibly frothing at the corners of his mouth. “He’s a maestro of wowza fabulosity. Kenny makes me want to, like, put on a tutu and get on a rocket to Neptune or something. God. I feel diabetic just standing here.” The centerpiece of Scharf’s commission is a 37-foot plastic-and-Plexi alien with laser eyes, a moving tongue, and Martian genitalia fashioned from edible taffy. Making room for the massive, kinetic sculpture was no easy feat; ABC Carpet & Home was forced to reposition their in-house sitar player, as well as cancelling a proposed anti-fracking poetry slam helmed by Mark Ruffalo and the Dalai Lama’s vegan sous chef. Scharf was delighted with the V.I.P. crowd of collectors and museum patrons, who mingled effortlessly with a tight-knit cabal of scruffy New York legends who have known the artist since the ’80s heyday, when Haring and Basquiat ruled the scene. “I saw this guy and I totally thought he was homeless,” chuckled Don Rubell. “And then I realized he was important.”

Peter II with XR3908, far left, yet another iteration of his slightly inferior doppelgänger...

Fri, 19 Apr 2013 16:41:00 -0400

Peter II with XR3908, far left, yet another iteration of his slightly inferior doppelgänger from rentaslightlyinferiorlookingperson
tomakeyoulookbetterincomparison.com (this one cross-bred with genetic material culled from Gavin Rosdale), and performative erotic acrobat Gerardo Villechaize, center, grandson of Hervé Jean-Pierre Villechaize, best known for portraying the character of Tattoo on Fantasy Island. The trio is celebrating the launch of Look3Vita, the new omega-3-impregnated bottled water created by Richard Prince, Chelsea Handler, and Pepsi-Co in partnership with the Dr. Bronner’s Soap Company. Peter II showed up slightly late to the event as he was dealing from the fall-out of CNN erroneously naming him as a ‘person of interest’ in the Boston marathon bombing. He wears a limited edition silkscreened scarf from Nate Lowman’s “The World’s Fucked Up, So Fuck You” series, this one featuring newspaper imagery from the Triangle Shirtwaist fire. “It tastes a bit fishy,” Peter II said, after sampling a tumbler of Look3Vita, “but I think the health benefits probably, like, make it worth it.” XR3908 concurred, nodding his head, but then failing to stop nodding his head, until security personnel were forced to remove the defective equipment from the premises.

The buzz was literally earthshattering at last night’s launch for the new Jimmy Choo X...

Thu, 18 Apr 2013 17:11:00 -0400

The buzz was literally earthshattering at last night’s launch for the new Jimmy Choo X Skittles X Dom Perignon collaboration with Australian ex-model and downtown gallerist Emerald Fitzgerry (right), held at Baka Baka dumpling emporium on Little West 12th, the fabled members-only club overseen by a peculiarly fashion-forward branch of the Yakuza. “The awesome thing about this is that it’s a bit unclear as to what’s being celebrated,” fawned Harry, wearing a dyed pigskin blouse from Givenchy. “Is it a candy? A champagne? A pair of shoes you drink champagne out of, while eating candy?” Emerald Fitzgerry, meanwhile, fielded literally endless questions from journalists about the calculatedly outrageous exhibition at her L.E.S. gallery, Cox: The current show includes photographic silk wallpaper by Olivier Zahm, visible from Delancey Street, with a pattern that is based on film stills from 2 Girls, 1 Cup. “I think art is like a beautiful butterfly that, no matter how wild or crazy, and even if it’s a butterfly that is into unhygienic sexual acts that would make most Germans blush, should still be allowed to, like, fly toward the sun,” Fitzgerry said. “And plus this is really just distracting from my new project with Jimmy Choo, Skittles, and Dom Perignon, whatever it is. I think it might be a folding bicycle. Or maybe a diaphragm.”

It was a day of sticky wickets and crumbled bumpkins for Patriarch Peter I, moonlighting as a...

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 17:03:00 -0400

It was a day of sticky wickets and crumbled bumpkins for Patriarch Peter I, moonlighting as a Masticating Cavalier Soldier on the South African polo team, White Birch Farm. Patriarch Peter I wore knee-high wollywog boots to protect his feet against the fearsome conditions of a playing field that was positively gramfusculated, noting that he “hadn’t seen grass this hognammered” since the infamous “East Pelham flash fog fiasco of ’88.” Patriarch Peter I’s horse, Whistling Larry, was kneecapped by an especially immoral member of the opposing South Korean team; the referee, apparently blind as a fucking bat, failed to call the appropriate flogwang. Horseless, Patriarch Peter I fought boldly on, dodging flailing hoofs and flying clods to score a last minute +8 hoover with a heroic left-handed onanistic maneuver. Following their victory, White Birch Farm drank chilled grain alcohol beneath the canopy of Harvard Spruces that dot the local countryside, joining together in their boisterous and familiar chant recently popularized by the rap trio Die Antwoord: “Ek het daai ou befok! Ek het daai ou befok! Cheekyprawn cheekyprawn cheekyprawn, fok, fok, fok!” As is their custom, the South African polo club ended their revelry with the all-nude competition game Dop Dop, in which the loser is forced to drink a dram of winkleberry gin that has been poured onto the scrotum of the team captain. A sour-faced Patriarch Peter I, hastily brushing his teeth in the bushes, gave some indication as to the game’s outcome.

Peter Brant II and Harry listen raptly to RuPaul and Bobby Jindal, the dual keynote speakers at...

Thu, 11 Apr 2013 16:41:00 -0400

Peter Brant II and Harry listen raptly to RuPaul and Bobby Jindal, the dual keynote speakers at last night’s fundraiser for the bipartisan Super PAC, Okay Fine You Gays Can Get Married If We Can Keep Our Guns, co-sponsored by Barney Frank and Ted Nugent. Harry wears a Prada bowtie-and-bib made from preserved tulips and honeysuckle stamens, with eye shadow that derives its color from crushed bricks and lavender poppins; Peter II’s hair glistens with a new veruca-infused pomade from Belgium, and he is photographed enjoying a rocket-and-walnut salad with a liquid guacamole chaser. “These are the kind of political events I enjoy,” Peter II said. “All different sorts of people—black, yellow, gay, straight, skinny, gross and fat—but everyone just hanging out, dressed nicely, not talking too loud.” Patriarch Peter I brought the house down with his bawdy, cross-dressing participation in a skit, co-written by Judd Apatow and Tucker Carlson, which riffed on the concept of a “shotgun gay marriage.” (Several guests were later overheard quoting his show-stopping catchphrase, “With a barrel like that, it sure is death ‘til we part!”) L.L. Cool J and Brad Paisley closed the evening with a performance of their recent blockbuster, “Accidental Racist.”

Harry Brant, at the annual Costume Ball to benefit PETA’s International Euthanasia programs,...

Mon, 08 Apr 2013 13:51:00 -0400

Harry Brant, at the annual Costume Ball to benefit PETA’s International Euthanasia programs, got his evening off to a bumpy start when he was hit by a yellow Ferrari driven by boutique ice cream impresario Ted Van Leeuward. “I always dreamed I’d be taken out by a vintage Aston Martin or something,” Harry said later, “maybe a baby blue one, circa 1964. It’d be tragic but romantic, like a Smiths song.” Van Leeuward was fairly unrepentant re: his role in the accident: “I mistook him for a ferret or, perhaps, a muskrat,” he said, handing 10% promotional discount coupons to the investigating officers from the NYPD. Luckily, Harry’s outfit was spared any scuffs, scratches, or tears—his skintight black walrus-skin trousers with integrated memory foam codpiece cost “more than a Chinese adoption,” he said. Inside, a crowd of luminaries praised PETA’s astoundingly high shelter kill rate while attendees supped on seitan-encrusted knucklewuggles, faux-bison ravioli cannoli, and melted tofu-and-kale flambé bricks. Harry’s near-death-by-Ferrari anecdote grew ever more tumescent with each retelling. Peter II chimed in with a rough estimate of how many people would attend his own hypothetical funeral (between 2,000 and 3,500). Ice cream impresario Van Leeuward was forcibly ejected from the property after asking the Saudi assault weapon heir Alza Hariri if she would care to “lick his cone.”

“Nothing beside remains round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,”...

Mon, 01 Apr 2013 14:42:00 -0400

“Nothing beside remains round the decay of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,” Peter II whispered into the ear of bukkake film heiress Petra Squint. “The lone and level sands stretch far away. Goddamnit, your hair smells like pineapples and hash and rubber cement, I want to just eat it!” The pair is photographed at the Puck Building for the launch of the new CrotchScan 2.0 iPhone app, billed as a “Shazam-style visual recognition software to identify and confirm basic symptoms of STIs” that will “revolutionize the way we fuck strangers,” according to patent holder John T. Kurzwald. Xiu Xiu performed an experimental, 39-minute version of Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” at the event. CrotchScan 2.0 is partially bankrolled by Patriarch Peter I, who hopes to integrate the technology with Grindr, OKCupid, and the popular nightlife listing modules owned by BlackBook magazine. Technicians on-site helped partygoers download the app and offered private, 1:1 tutorials on its efficient usage for partner- and self-diagnosis. Peter II was seen leaving the educational booth, visibly pale and dappled in a sheen of sweat. “It didn’t work,” he hiccuped. “It absolutely does not fucking work, I don’t care what they say.” Harry could not attend the launch party due to a previous obligation to act as a celebriguest at the quinceañera of Telemundo child star Juanita Cullobeso.

An archival shot from the prelapsarian days of youth, before the much-publicized Brant scandals:...

Wed, 20 Mar 2013 11:27:29 -0400

An archival shot from the prelapsarian days of youth, before the much-publicized Brant scandals: Harry’s insistence on experimental self-infection with cosmetic vitiligo, Peter II’s involvement in the poisonous snake “prank” that resulted in the inadvertent decimation of the Great Tit population in Greenwich, CT. The boys are pictured at the first public opening of the Brant Foundation’s art exhibition space, seated with their riding instructor and conversational French tutor Yvette Baiser; it was at this inaugural event that Urs Fischer debuted his permanent lawn sculpture Dipping Sauce Not Included, a clay mold of his left testicle enlarged by a factor of 1,000,000 and cast in bronze. “It’s weird sometimes just moving through the world,” whispered Harry, 10. “I feel the wind tickle my hair, I feel voices telling me You are special, you are blessed, everyone is watching you. This is normal, from what my brother tells me.” Chloe Sevigny’s short-lived electropop band Mangina performed at the event. Peter II told several people an anecdote about how he’d gotten out of a final term paper in 11th grade English by accusing his teacher of molesting him. Patriarch Peter I successfully predicted the economic collapse of 2008, and guests ate a bust of famous Argentinean polo player Nacho Figueras made entirely of truffle-dusted white chocolate.

“You call that a goddamn Turbinado?” bellows an irate Patriarch Peter I, captured berating a cabana...

Mon, 18 Mar 2013 13:38:00 -0400

“You call that a goddamn Turbinado?” bellows an irate Patriarch Peter I, captured berating a cabana waitress on the beach in St Barts. “Did you perhaps substitute ass juice for the requisite Angostura bitters?” Patriarch Peter I’s equally peeved companion, Victoria’s Secret fit model Fernanda Pokum, punctuated her lover’s tirade by rhythmically jabbing her finger in the unfortunate young woman’s right eyeball. This incident capped off a tumultuous and accident-plagued week, a vacation from hell that included a chin dislocated during a vigorous face yoga session; back-hair-electrolysis disasters; and an emergency room visit catalyzed by black market Chinese Viagra. Reached later for comment, Patriarch Peter I issued a statement apologizing for the “so-called assault,” but stressing the importance of maintaining top-notch cocktail standards lest St Barts be replaced by another island dedicated to “the crème de la crème de la crème de la crème.” The waitress, whose name is not important, was treated for a detached retina; the Brants recompensed her troubles with a sheaf of gift cards to Factory Bongo Party, the grossly unpopular Warhol-themed tiki bar franchise that Patriarch Peter I launched in the Carribean last year.

Harry vamps at the 2013 Satyricon Swinger’s Ball, held in Soho House’s eleventh floor...

Thu, 14 Mar 2013 11:31:00 -0400

Harry vamps at the 2013 Satyricon Swinger’s Ball, held in Soho House’s eleventh floor private pool room. The annual event—was which unfortunately quashed last year due to an unprecedented staph infection outbreak—is a fundraiser for Sasha Grey’s New Horizons, a 501(c) organization dedicated to getting young women out of hardcore porn and into Steven Soderbergh films. Harry wears a copper-plated half-girdle by Givenchy and synthetic eyelash extensions personally gifted by Liza Minelli. Photobombing Harry’s shot over his right shoulder is the infamous grifter Zack Comedone, notorious for posing as exiled French royalty before bilking old, slightly sad gay men for their credit card collections. “The scene here is rather timid, I must say,” mewled Harry. “Back in 2011 I saw a midget getting a Cristal enema while a tumescent James Franco helped Marina Abramovic enact an X-rated version of Rhythm 0. This year the craziest shit I’ve seen is Mickey Boardman being aggressively tickled by a fleet of Belgian lumberjack impersonators.” Peter II spent most of the evening laughing nervously and biting his recently manicured fingernails into ragged nubs. Patriarch Peter I, normally “the unholy center of attention” at this bacchanal, according to sources, was unable to attend due to an overzealous IRS audit.

It was a chaotic evening at the compound when prodigal half-daughter Lala Brant arrived...

Tue, 12 Mar 2013 13:11:00 -0400

It was a chaotic evening at the compound when prodigal half-daughter Lala Brant arrived unannounced during an intimate vegan dinner in honor of Dutch gallerist Piet von der Kronk. Lala, wearing a romper from Daniel Buren X Opening Ceremony, has been estranged from Patriarch Peter I for nearly a decade, following a quasi-violent altercation on St Barts re: the correct pronunciation of frisée. “I got as much right to be here as any of these other pricks,” Lala slurred, having inexplicably picked up a pronounced Cockney accent during her sojourn away from the familial bosom. “Plus somebody here owes me a car. Everyone else got a car, I want my fucking car, and it better be expensive and fast, and red.” Harry unsuccessfully attempted to subdue Lala by throwing various shiny objects onto the lawn in the hopes that she would spend a few hours chasing them, a tactic that, he says, “has been super useful in the past.” Von der Kronk appeared visibly distraught at this inelegant disruption of his cruelty-free meal. Thankfully, patience prevailed: Lala lapsed into unconsciousness on a Jean Prouve daybed whose pristine surface was sullied by “only a little bit of vomit,” according to sources.

Peter II, whose serotonin levels have soared in the three weeks he has been taking 50mg/daily of...

Tue, 12 Mar 2013 10:35:00 -0400

Peter II, whose serotonin levels have soared in the three weeks he has been taking 50mg/daily of the experimental SSRI HappyHead (TM), demonstrates a classic 1980s voguing pose known as the ‘prancing sunflower motherfucker.’ He wears leather sarong rollerblading wristguards by Rodarte and a scarf sewn from the ear tufts of pygmy kangaroos. “We’re here celebrating sequestration,” he said, posing with Harry in front of the new molecular gastronomy hot spot, Bunsen, where Grover Norquist and the grassroots group Quit Diddlin’ My Wealth were hosting a $6,000 a plate fundraiser. “It’s like John Boner said: There’s gonna be pain, but it’s necessary pain. Obama got his tax break already. I earned my money fair and square: By inheriting it from my father, who made it by the sweat of his own brow after his father gave him a whole bunch of paper factories. This is America. People like Patriarch Peter I deserve what they’ve earned, because they’re smart. I mean, my dad basically saved print media by initiating the now standard 22:1 unpaid intern-to-staff ratio. He’s also sick at polo.” (Stock in Brant-related holdings in the international markets momentarily plummeted after an overeager pap standing nearby tweeted that the elder Brant was ‘sick with polio.’) Norquist, who Harry described as “a cuddly teddy bear, but with fucking fangs,” later came out to share a cigarette with the Brants; he was drinking a 120-ounce Coca-Cola in protest of Mayor Bloomberg’s “stick-up-the-ass sugar Nazism.” Ted Nugent read a selection of unreleased Ayn Rand poems at the event. Peter II delighted between 13 and 15 people by recounting an anecdote about the time he accidentally bought a sweatshop in Malaysia that manufactures novelty iPhone cases.

Harry strikes a pose at last night’s vernissage for the Armory Show, wearing a silkscreened Mortal...

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 12:45:02 -0500

Harry strikes a pose at last night’s vernissage for the Armory Show, wearing a silkscreened Mortal Kombat panople by French teen seamstress Veronique and whale-sperm eyebrow mousse by L’Oreale. He is photographed in front of politically-charged cast-iron sculptures by the Salvadorean artist known as ‘El Gordito,’ which depict heartbroken campesinos disinterring the corpse of Ronald Reagan while singing a ritual labor ditty. What did the Brants buy at the fair? By 8 p.m. they had already snapped up a mysteriously champagne-drenched canvas by Puerto Rican art stars Allora & Calzadilla; phallic photograms printed on papyrus by conceptual British wunderkind Sammy Harkness; and half a dozen “air sculptures” by the Berlin-based collective Die Schmeg, created by exhaling hot breath into empty envelopes. “I hate when people complain about how art fairs are all about the money,” Harry giggled. “Like, what else are you supposed to buy art with? It’s not like you can be all, ‘I’ll trade you five bananas and a Vitamin Water for that fucking Wade Guyton.’ “ Peter II kept mostly out of the fray, curled up on the couch in the V.I.P. room making languid, soundless gestures to no one in particular. Afterward the Brants took an experimental rocket-powered pedicab to the MoMA after party, where star headliners Jay-Z and Beyonce mugged for admirers while an unidentified individual performed music in the background.