Blogs
We hosted a panel over the weekend at the Stumptown Comics Festival. Why were we asked to talk about comic movies? Because everyone else was smart enough to look at the Blazer playoff schedule before agreeing to committing their fourth quarter of game 5 to arguing whether Frank Miller’s The Spirit was the worst comic movie ever made or if it’s, in fact, the worst thing ever devised by the human mind. The crowd went with the latter, narrowly edging out the Holocaust, infanticide and the ninth season of Scrubs. But during the course of our discussion of which was sillier, Brandon Routh’s Super Speedo or Christopher Reeves’ Super Granny Panties, the discussion turned to taking existing movie or TV properties and giving them another life in comics. In most cases the result is good because you don’t have to worry about effects budgets and poor acting and marketing. All you need is a decent story and a guy who can draw. Well, a TV property that went on WAY too long, only to be capped with a pretty sub-par movie and another movie that I cared so little about that I still haven’t bothered to see it, is about to get another breath of life on the page, thanks to Adam Jones from Tool. If you’ve ever seen Jurassic Park, Terminator 2 or a Tool video, you’ve seen Adam’s effects work. He worked in Stan Winston’s studio before giving up a promising career in special effects to play guitar on songs about the apocalypse and hermaphroditic hookers. But now that Tool is in the middle of one of their decade long breaks, Adam is filling his time helping Steve Niles mash up 30 Days of Night and the X-Files. I’m imagining that Mulder and Scully get a call to check out some murders up in Alaska only to discover a bunch of blood-thirsty vampires. Niles says, “He’s a pal, but I am also a huge fan of TOOL, as well as his video work for the band; not to mention the special effects he did at Stan Winston’s before he became a rock star. He came up with the hook that really made this story come together.” The series is due out this summer.
And so long as I’m on the topic of bands to use as background music to your World of Warcraft game, Pink Floyd plays a couple of songs from The Wall on the rare occasion that they actually do play, but it’s been since the Berlin wall fell that the album was performed in its entirety, and that was by Roger Waters and a bunch of his friends, not Floyd. Well, tired to waiting to be invited back in the band, Roger has decided to take the Wall on the road again and he’s coming to the northwest. This will be essentially the original stage show, with some modifications. A wall will be constructed in front of the band over the course of the show and it will come crashing down at the end of The Trial (spoilers.) Roger Waters will play the Tacoma Dome on December 11th.
And finally, the pressure is on two write your first song in seven years. Your band is beloved and broke up near their height of your popularity and people are excited to hear something new. But you’ve stuffed all your creativity into a second, almost as popular band. You’re tapped. You’ve got nothing to say for this much anticipated record. But you’re committed. What do you do? Well, if you’re Damon Albarn, you just make a list of shit you did on the way to the studio and sing it when the mic goes hot. That’s literally the lyrical content of Blur’s new single, “Fool’s Day.” He talks about waking up, eating porridge, taking his kid to school and riding his bike to the studio to make the song. It’s available for free download on Blur’s website.
I was looking back of the Blog archives currently housed in leather-bound volumes in the Classic American Authors wing at the Library of Congress. They were actually running out of space so they moved Walt Whitman’s stuff over into the Wild-eyed Hobos, Homeless and Prospectors section since most people were looking for his stuff their first anyhow. Seriously, you could replace Walt’s pictures in Mr. Jenkins’ AP English class with a picture of Gabby Hayes and no one would notice. But while I was perusing the abridged Backstage Blog volume nine it occurred to me that I talk about Courtney Love a lot. It’s not that I’m especially fond of her (which you can discover from yourself from the blog titled “Courtney Love’s Vagina Needs to Be Dealt with Before It Attacks New York And Starts Dropping Crab Monsters Everywhere,” or the blog called, “I would Suggest That We Toss Courtney Love into an Active Volcano If I Didn’t Think the Mountain Would Close Up Like A Toddler Refusing to Eat Pickled Herring.”) Actually I would prefer not giving the woman any press at all in hopes that she would either slime back off to whatever scummy pond in SE Portland she crawled from or would attempt an attention grab so grandiose that it ended with her consumed in fire at the end of a strip club stage. But there’s just something so compelling about how fucking retarded she is. And I don’t mean that in the way kids use it today. I mean it with its original intention. Courtney Love acts like she suffers from debilitating mental deficiencies. And it appears that she’s aware of it because with each new botched plastic surgery she gets, she looks more and more like she suffers from Down’s Syndrome. And that’s what makes her so damn compelling. She is the essence of “derp.” And she proved it once again by passing up the chance to perform in front of tens of thousands of potential record-buyers, thousands of potential sun-drunk merchandise purchasers and a nice up front payment to play at Coachella because she didn’t get to play at the right time in the day. Courtney Love turned down the chance to perform at Coachella because organizers refused to give her band a headlining slot. She didn’t get a headlining spot so she told organizers to go fuck themselves, even though to headline her band would have to be a bigger draw than Jay-Z, Them Crooked Vultures, Vampire Weekend, Muse, a reunited Faith No More, Gorillaz, a reunited Pavement or Thom York, which she’s not. She wrote on Twitter, "Promoter wouldn't give us a good enough spot so fuck it no Coachella." Derp.
Guys, I know it’s frustrating when your mom nags you about getting a job or not leaving your jerk socks on the living room floor in front of the TV, but that’s no need to pistol whip her. Flesh-N-Bone from Bone Thugs-N-Harmony was arrested mid-concert in Ohio on a charge that he hit his mother with a gun, leaving a one inch gash in her head. The alleged attack happened in 1998, but as anyone with a radio can tell you, Bone-Thugs have been difficult to track down over the last decade or so. But when the cops saw they would be playing a concert, they moved in. Apparently they arrested Flesh mid-concert because it appeared as though he figured out what was coming and was devising an escape by calling fans to come up on stage and dance so he could slip out in the confusion. Cops caught up to him backstage. Apparently Flesh’s mom and two other witnesses went on record about the incident with the police and Flesh is being charged with felony assault. Flesh denies it ever happened, saying, "I would never do anything like that to my mother. Anyone that thinks I would do something like need to check themselves."
Let the “Michael Jackson faked his death to get out of debt” rumors begin. I remember hearing that rumor right after his death, but that was mostly from the lunatic fringe who think that Viso being sold out at the store is a conspiracy on the part of Red Bull to keep people buzzing on their donkey dick-flavored shit water rather that accepting the reality of the situation is that the burnout behind the counter at Plaid Pantry decided smoking pot and tooting rails of Fun Dip was a better use of his time than restocking the energy drink refrigerator. But this story should get the tabloids to pick up the rumor and run with it like it was a bucket full of Heinekin in a New Orleans flood. It seems that Michael’s former publicist claims she was owed 44 million dollars in salary and profit sharing. The trustees of Jackson’s estate have rejected the claim, leaving publicist holding a fat sack of go-fuck-yourself.
You have to be a dick to heckle an opera singer, but you have to be a four star fuckhead to heckle an opera star on his comeback performance from beating cancer. Placido Domingo underwent surgery to remove a life threatening cancerous tumor and appeared on stage for the first time since his ordeal the other night in Milan. But to prove you don’t have to live on the Jersey Shore to be an Italian asshole, Placido was booed by a few people in the otherwise receptive crowd. The 69-year-old singer performed for 3 hours and received a smattering of boos over the course of the concert. He says, "La Scala is always La Scala. There were one or two people... They are entitled to their opinion. I think for most people it was a really lovely evening."
And Joe Perry is blaming the shitty relationship he has now with Steven Tyler on his kids. Most specifically on the fact that they’ve grown up and that now he a Steven don’t have a reason to get together and hang out anymore, besides, say, BEING IN THE SAME BAND. Joe says they drifted apart after their children grew up because their two families don’t get together for BBQs anymore. He says, "When our kids were younger and our kids were growing up together we were a lot closer together. As the kids got older and they started going off their own ways and Steven ended up getting divorced... you know, the family get together we don't really do that much any more... But it doesn't interfere with the band."
Only children have trouble with the distinction between Superman and Clark Kent. My three year old watched Superman Returns and when she’s not pondering how Bryan Singer could take an iconic character like Superman, known for righteousness and integrity and the ability to punch holes in the moon and turn him into lifto the super letch, obsessed with picking shit up and x-ray stalking Lois Lane, she’s trying to figure out the difference between Clark and Superman. We’ll be watching one of the many scenes where mopey, creepy emo Clark is slouching around doing nothing and she’ll be saying, “I want Superman, where is he?” And I‘ll say, “He’s right there, sweetie.” And she’ll say, “No, that that fucking loser Clark Kent. I was SUPERMAN. You know the guy in the tights and cape with his hand in his super undies while crying and floating outside Lois Lane’s house.” And I’ll say, Sweetie, I don’t think Superman cries and masturbates while,” and then she backhands me and says, “I don’t pay you to think! Now go get me some more ants on a log and skip to a fucking Superman scene.” Many parents have similar conversations with their children because kids are dumb and don’t realize that a simple name change doesn’t alter the person inside. Well, apparently Courtney Love and my three year old are very similar in that respect because she thinks that changing her name will make people forget that she’s Courtney Love.
Courtney Love has decided to stop using her stage name, claiming "Courtney Love is dead". She says, "We've all decided we don't like her any more. We love her when she goes onstage, but I don't need her in the rest of my life." When asked what her name is now, Courtney said, "Courtney Michelle. The name Courtney Love is a way to oppress me." No Courtney, your actions are what oppresses you. The name makes no fucking difference. Do you think that Blackwater quit indiscriminately mowing down Iraqis with machine guns simply because they changed their name to Xe? And are Marlboros now perfectly healthy now that Phillip Morris is called Altria? You’re still Courtney Love, even If you change your name to Slutty McNutButter the 8th. Courtney chose Courtney Michelle because her real name is Courtney Michelle Harrison.
And from the What the Bloody Blue Fuck category,
David Beckham is getting rap lessons from Snoop Dog.
Snoop says, "Beckham and I go way back. He's like a brother. I'm gonna show him to rap, for shizzle. He's my boy. He was terrific with my kids and they had a great time as he taught them how to shoot and score the perfect goal."
Snoop has also promised the pair will star in more Adidas adverts together.
He told the Daily Mirror newspaper: "The Adidas ad was unbelievable. You had four classic brands - Snoop Dogg, David Beckham, 'Star Wars', Adidas. With a formula like that it's gonna be off the chain. Be on the lookout for more of that in 2010 - we got more for yo a*s. We've spoken, yeah, it's gonna be huge. Huge. I love soccer just as he loves hip-hop."
Gaydar is something many gay people claim to have and I’m skeptical. There’s too much room for bullshitting. Some people use it sparingly and only on people that couldn’t be more obviously gay if they were caught getting finger-cuffed on top of a pile of Olivia Newton John records. “You mark my words. That Harvey Firestein is gay.” Well no shit. Aliens could come down from planet Zaflax B where they have no concept of homosexuality and their gaydar would be in the red when they met Harvey Firestein. Of course, about three seconds later Will Smith would welcome them to Earth and they’d forget all about the chubby gay Jew with the wood chipper vocal chords. Then there are the others whose gaydar is set to “everyone.” These people are known to us in the business as Byron Beck. Byron says everyone is gay and if they don’t ever reveal their queer tendencies on top of a stack of “Let’s Get Physical” singles, then they’re just closeted. Such closeted people in Byron’s estimation include me, Fatty, you listening, all the people not listening, the inhabitants of the sunken continent of Atlantis, the aliens of Zarflax B and Will Smith. So the concept of gaydar is sketchy at best since I have yet to find someone who has accurately predicted whether someone is gay without having to fall back on the whole “well you just don’t know it yet,” defense. But Rufus Wainwright claims that his gaydar pings whenever he sees 50 Cent. Now, I’ve heard the claim before (probably from Byron) that 50 Cent is gay. I don’t see it myself, but then I’m not gay (or at least I don’t know it yet.) But Rufus says, "I love, love 50 Cent. I think he's just the sexiest (guy), and a brilliant writer. And I know he's gay. It's okay, 50 Cent. Feel free to call me anytime. My boyfriend and I are experts. You can come over for dinner. And maybe dessert." Rufus, if your little ménage could use an extra bottom, you know in case someone needs to tap out or whatever, I can hook you up with Byron’s number.
Good news! It appears that the report Robert Pattinson would play Kurt Cobain is false. And it’s not just because producers came to the realization that the real life Kurt Cobain didn’t have a forehead that looked like the opening shot of Mission Impossible 2. It’s because Courtney thinks it would be stupid. Courtney is involved with the movie and has some say over casting and has recently shot down the idea of Cedric Diggory playing Kurt. She says, "Isn't that so stupid, who would cast him? That's just wrong, no offence to Pattinson. I watched the Twilight stuff very, very recently and I get it, it resonates with the teenage girl in me, I understand epic love of that nature; I write about it all the time. But it’s silly for him to play Kurt." Instead, Courtney has suggested Ryan Gosling or James McAvoy for the role. Of course the overly sensitive 16-year-olds and their sex-starved mothers hit the internet to bash Courtney for “talking shit” about Blandistein’s monster forcing her to take to Twitter with the caps lock mashed down saying, “HEY I LIKE R PATZ HES JUST NOT RIGHT FOR KC!”
Many people, myself included, wondered why Andrew WK devotes so much of his lyrical square footage to the word, “party.” Scientists recently analyzed Andrew WK’s first record and discovered that 75% of all the lyrics were the word “party” while the words “let’s” and “go” comprised the other 23%, leaving the remaining 2% for the guttural noises that would occur when Andrew would boot himself in the forehead or get the mic cord tangled around his neck while fist pumping. But when you hear the guy talk it’s clear he’s not the keg standing, shot-gunning, bong-huffing buffoon his songs would indicate he is. So what’s up with the obsession with partying? Well, one theory is that Mr. WK chose to substitute the word “party” every time he felt like writing something creepy and stalkerish, which apparently is a lot. Now I came down in the pro-stalker camp a long time ago, but my stalking exploits were contained to lurking in bushes and passing out drunk on her front doorstep so that she could see how devoted I was as she was stepping over my barely breathing body to log the incident in her restraining order violation journal. But I always avoided setting my creepy ways to paper, or worse, to magnetic tape because that’s physical evidence that could link you to some future crime. That’s just bad form. And that’s a lesson Andrew WK learned after one of his early attempts at song-writing. When he was still high school he wrote a song for a girl but had not yet learned that girls typically don’t react favorably to being threatened with bodily harm in crappy pubescent rhymes, and especially when that not so veiled threat is given in the form of a senior project. Andrew WK recently posted audio of a song he wrote for a girl called Mr. Destiny.
Here are some of the lyrics:
You Are My Destiny
I'll Make You Fall In Love With Me
I'll Make Myself Your Fantasy
Weeping Like The Willow Tree
Drove Past Your Doorway Fifteen Times
I Don't Want To Cause You Harm
Harm – That's What You're In For
If You Don't Open Your Door
So I'll Keep Knocking A Million Times
I Will Knock Until My Knuckles Bleed
Bleed – That Blood Will Leave A Stain On You Forever
You Are My Destiny
And I'll Make You Fall In Love With Me, Me, Me
Andrew WK says, “She heard the song and was completely freaked out. Within three days, every kid in school had a copy. She told her friends, teachers and parents: "This guy at school is stalking me and threatening my life." She played them the song and they called the police. In the end, I had a juvenile restraining order put on me, which lasted until I was 21.” He released the songs online at the behest of his life coach as a way to get over the anxiety and embarrassment.
You may recall a couple of weeks ago when I told you where all the world’s woes come from. Not from the Jews or the blacks or teh-gays as so many elbow-chewing mongoloids on the internet would tell you. No, the real source for all the stupid in the world springs like a geyser from Britain, hosing down the rest of us with a thick batter of body odor, shoddy dentistry and monolithic mindlessness. The story that caused me to pronounce this was when Liam Gallagher was declared the greatest frontman of all time by a poll in Q magazine. Well, to prove that poll wasn’t a fluke due to mass glue huffing, Britain held another music-related poll and it’s confirmed. Brits are fucking stupid. When asked who the greatest guitar player of the last 30 years was the British people declared… (guesses?) No. Because whoever you chose would have been better than John Frusciante, which is who they chose. BBC 6 conducted the poll. Coming in second was Slash, third was Matt Bellamy of Muse, fourth was Johnny Marr and Tom Morello came in 5th. Now, I’m sure John Frusciante is a nice guy and if the poll was “Top seemingly nice stoner guys of the last 30 years” I wouldn’t contest his taking number one, but best guitarist?
You know those delusional chicks at the bar that have somehow convinced themselves that all their annoying quirks and unreasonable demands that irritate man and drive them away are actually because the delusional chick is just too “picky.” It’s not that she’s an unlovable human being whose personal ticks are so unpalatable that no one wants to be around her. It’s that her discerning taste in men has vetted the list of qualified and deserving applicants down to less than zero. And so this desperate and lonely person at the bar talking too loud to be just addressing the one person she’s cornered in front of her, announces that she’s only single because she’s too picky, as if that’s somehow an endearing quality. “All your boyfriends are so beneath my quality standards. They may be ok for you, but I’m a little more picky than that.” Of course if some panty sniffing mongoloid ambled into the bar with a tack hammer sticking out of his forehead and a fist full of fireworks in his hand and said, “Hey loud talky lady. Me want hump hump in my pick up truck,” her legs would be wrapped around his neck before he even had the chance to light a celebratory Whistling Pete. Well apparently Jessica Simpson is that desperate delusional woman. She says she’s still single because she’s too picky. The woman who was most recently romantically linked to Billy “Oh my God, kill it, kill it with fire. Oh shit that’s not working, get me a cross and some holy water. Jesus Christ it’s like staring into Cthulu’s scrotum” Corgan is supposedly “too picky.” But regardless, she wants to be married with kids by age 40. She says, "By 10 years I would love to be a mom, I would love just to be in love and be a mom. It sounds simple but it's a lot harder (than you think). I'm pretty picky."
And if you happened to have lost your vision due to a terrible crow-pecking accident vomiting eye-socket syndrome where your eyes are expelled from their perches with fits of violent cranial puking AND you’re a punk fan, I have good news. The Buzzcocks are reforming for a North American tour and will be playing Berbati’s on June 1st. Of course the downside is that you’ll actually have to look at them, which is a little like watching a band made up of four Knights Templar standing around in a cave full of chalices instructing you to choose wisely. They may still have the chainmail but when it comes to swinging the sword I’m pretty sure they’re just going to tip over.
And finally, old people. You really should go online every once in a while, if for no other reason than to find out why kids always snicker when you talk. Like Michael Anthony of Van Halen. If he spent a little time on the internet, he probably would have been savvy enough to avoid using a particular turn of phrase while being interviewed. See if you can spot it. The interviewer asks, “After all of these years, what do you think your fans would be surprised to learn about you?” Mike says, “I love my facials. My wife turned me on [to this]. I always said to my wife, "That's for sissies. Girls get facials." The first time I tried it I said, "Oh man, what the hell have I been missing all these years." Now for anyone who has spent any time on the internet, specifically on porn sites (which in another term for “the internet”) you likely know that a facial is when a guy pulls out and sprays hot semen all over his partner’s face like a tagger with a pink, fleshy spray can. And when Michael Anthony says stuff like “I love getting facial,” people who spend time on the internet (aka YouPorn) are left with the image of Michael Anthony getting hosed down with mast te-skeet-cha.
