Major Label De Pew


You know you’ve made it when the art you’ve passionately poured your heart and soul into is given away with toilet products. That same goal has driven A New Low for years. Thank you, Jo Dee Messina, for paving the way…

Yetti vs Taem

The warmth of a friend’s vomit brings joy to our hearts, sunlight to our souls, bile to our crotches, and pleasure to all of life.

Be sure to snatch up a Yetti vs Taem sticker and a copy of our AN’L Lies DVD! Awooga!

Yetti vs Taem A NEW LOW shirts are now available as well!


I missed…

Toilet paper should come in rolls of plush, absorbent, flushable gloves…not awkward, difficult-to-maneuver, foldable square sheets. Each finger on T.P. Gloves™ would provide for easy insertion, allowing you to get in there and really dig out any unwanted brown moisture (or unpleasant crust, depending on how long you typically sit on the toilet reading Cosmopolitan with an open hole)…then again, T.P. Mittens™ would offer a unique scooping alternative for those of us with looser anal cavities.

Most importantly, the palm coverage of these revolutionary new products would prevent mishaps (like the one pictured above) from constantly happening to innocent people around the world.

proper McDonald’s bathroom etiquette

Here’s a lost clip from one of our many trips to Virginia.

Yes, A New Low…the mark of quality.

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the bear claw

It attacked me from behind, so to speak.

The buildup was fairly steady; there were no complications in the delivery, which was conveniently timed and effortlessly consummated; it had a soft, almost spongy texture and a subtle piquancy…yet, in its wake: a menacing formation…

…a bear claw.

Not to be confused with the pastry delight of the same name…this was more than some inanimate cluster with a coincidental likeness. I’d first believed this to be the gentle paw of some sort of aquatic bear, reaching out to tickle my clean-shaven ball sack…or then, perhaps lacerate it; as a savage, bloodthirsty beast would; and ostentatiously march it back to the darkened sewers of Horseheads from whence he came.

With irreplaceable (not to mention above average in both size and performance) assets dangling within his reach, I ultimately chose not to trust this unknown dweller of the deep and made a harsh, but instinctual move.

As you can see, he fought with every ounce of his life as I flushed the toilet. The claw marks left in the porcelain only hint at the potential damage that might’ve claimed my strapping (yet, given the circumstances: vulnerable) lady pleasurin’ mega machine. Looking back, however…my genitals, ravishing as they are, should’ve been the least of my worries…for I might not have made it out of that Barnes & Noble bathroom alive. I was lucky.

I don’t have any solutions to this problem, shall it surface again…as I, myself, have many questions left unanswered. My only advice for the next time you’re squirtin’ chunks is to keep one eye between the thighs…because you never know just when you’ll have a close encounter of the turd kind.

SWM seeks thickening agent for pee

When I was a boy, the sound of Doug Craven’s pee stream was epic. It was loud, powerful, intimidating. It sent shivers down my spine–not to mention light splashes against my face as I tried peaking over the bowl to see what all the commotion was.

I couldn’t wait for the bathroom to shake with the impact of my golden thunder.

Now, here I am at the tender age of 27, with a cock bigger than two Christmas hams, and–though my stream has respectable width and passes at a considerable rate–the consistency of the pee itself is a bit light-bodied for my taste…it’s just too thin to make the splash I’d hoped for by this point in my life.

I’ve increased the amount of pectin, arrowroot and carrageenan in my diet, which has aided in giving my urine a velvety smooth texture…but not the rich, thick density that I’m really hoping to spank the toilet water with. I guess what I’m looking for is something to augment the viscosity of my pee without sacrificing its astringency.

I’m open to suggestions. I just want results, and I want them now. When I piss, my neighbor needs to hear it over his snowblower. The guy at the urinal next to me needs to know that my stream could cut him in half. Most importantly, without needing to press his ear against the bathroom door, Doug Craven needs to know his baby boy has grown up a man.

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the wipe refusal manifesto

I, Eric Thomas Craven, hereby declare wiping overrated. I’ll let all remaining brown moisture residue and goo chunks dry on their own, for they’ll eventually crust up and flake off as I walk. This new practice will save me time, effort and a few bucks at the grocery store. I may have discomfort, or perhaps even a rash, but at least I’ll have my dignity.



I’m starting a new holiday to be celebrated on a bi-weekly basis. Don’t flush the toilet. At all. Especially if you poo’d. Even in your own bathroom. Push the burden of jigglin’ that little silver handle onto someone else. You deserve the rest.


fair trade policy

When I take you out to dinner, I intend on picking up the tab, because I’m a gentleman. Once I have paid for your food, legally, I own it. Since the food in your belly is technically my property, I reserve the right to watch you poop it out later that evening and/or the morning after. I also get dibs on flushing.