Mach O Seven

Happy new year, everyone! And for once I'd like to be serious and more than a bit sappy: thanks to all who have visited this blog and read my kooky rantings over the last year; I appreciate the support and am pleased as punch that people stop by this page and hopefully get a giggle or two out of it. Here's to another rockin' year of fun!

Enjoy, angels!
XO,
RockitQueen

Because your opinion matters at S&C

RockitQueen's Stupid Quotes 2006 Quiz!

More end-of-the-year fun! See if you can match the stupid quote to which one of our little friends that said it. Answers will be included in the comments section below the post.

THE STUPID QUOTISTS
Aaron Carter
Britney Spears
Count Grishnackh
Jessica Simpson
Kevin Federline
Paris Hilton
Pete Doherty
Scott Stapp
Ted Nugent
Tom Cruise

THE STUPID QUOTES
1.) "The French royals used perfume to drown their own foul smell in the XVIIth and XVIIIth century, instead of simply washing. They were so filthy and disgusting that modern man shivers in disgust when they hear about them."

2.) "Like I need my balls magnified. Dogs are humping the air as we speak."

3.) "I'll pick out two outfits, one which is disgusting and one nice and I'll ask my friend what they think. If they go for the revolting one, I cut them out of my life."

4.) "What you hear about in all those bullshit-ass magazines is bullshit. Look, my shit stinks just like everyone else. I think the best thing I'll ever have going for me is that I’m me, you know what I mean?"

5.) "I constantly encourage myself to find the genuine need for understanding the search of fulfillment. I have yet to accumilate [sic] the exact way to outline the perfect essay on obtaining truth, but I have many notes."

6.) “Obviously someone wants to hurt me and doesn't want me to be successful in my solo career.”

7.) "I knew at that moment she was pregnant. ’Cuz I notice things in people.”

8.) "Maybe I could go to Atlanta. I've been to Atlanta. I like suburbia-type areas. "

9.) “[I read] Crime And Punishment! Except my cellmate at the time kept pulling his shorts down and getting his knob out, and going, ‘Is this normal?’ And I’m trying to read."

10.) ''Where's your youth, bro?''

2006: The year the music died

OK, I refuse to start out this post the way everyone else will (What a year it's been! In 2006, we saw the rise of blah blah, the demise of blee blee and the pantyless crotches of X, Y and Z...). Instead, I will say that just because 2006 is almost officially over does not mean the quarter four FISCAL year is anywhere near up, so please keep performing at top output productivity level to maintain synergy and maximize results in the workplace.

One such place to look to as a model is insipid music scandal sheet Blender Magazine, a publication that just released the 2006 Noisemaker Awards via their partnership with AOL. As expected, their choices range from the obvious (Lohan is trainwreck of the year) to the mystifying (Da Brat and David Gest are a couple??????) to the laughably ludicrus (the "funnier than Dane Cook" award—um, who ISN'T funnier than Dane Cook?).

What baffles me the most is the incessant jacking off over such banal mediocrity as AFI, Panic at the Disco (sorry, Panic! at the Disco) and My Chemical Romance. What the everlasting fuck? I will let you in on a little secret. These bands are not just virtually indistinguishable. THEY ARE ALL THE EXACT SAME BAND! With the exact same singers! Sad but true: all of the frontmen of these groups (Gerard Way and whoever the other two are) are actually Jared Leto. That's right, THE Jared Leto. And you thought he was just painting his eyes with sad black eyeliner and pretending to be a singer in that 30 Seconds to Mars outfit because he loves music. Wrong! In reality, he's fronting these other three bands under false name and in disguise as some kind of convaluted performance art. What is his message? I have no idea, but I'm sure it has something to do with the degredation of musical integrity and the homogenization of pop bands and tunes by Big Music to turn out the same mush pablum formula over and over again for airplay and sales.

But I could be wrong about that. Anyway...

As usual, I can't just let this go. Shit like this just makes me rabidly angry. So here are just a few of Blender's poll categories, their top results and my personal picks. Not that anyone else would agree that my picks will be any better or anything. But any pollster that asks "where was sexy before Justin?" clearly doesn't have a clue about anything.

Album of the year
They chose My Chemical Romance's "The Black Parade." I just don't get this band. Granted, I don't know anything about them except that every time I see them they're wearing 1950s majorette uniforms for some reason. I also read about this grandiose promotion they did for this album involving 20 black-cloaked assholes marching around London and a sold-out concert where they played under a pseudonym that also happened to be the title of their new album. I guess that must be, like, art or something...

My choice: "Broken Boy Soldiers", The Racanteurs

Song of the year
Blender selected "My Love" by Justin Timberlake, which I have never heard before. Hmmm, do I smell a payola scandal? Not sure about that, but something sure is fishy.

My choice: "Cherry Waves", Deftones

Douchebag of the year
They picked Federline. I say that's too easy. My choice is Pete Wentz, bass player for another band I don't get, Fall Out Boy. God, I hate that guy. He's EVERYWHERE. And why? He's the fucking bass player. He looks like an ape. He allegedly dated Ashlee Simpson. He keeps naked pictures of himself on his Sidekick (which was revealed to the world when said Sidekick was hacked earlier this year). And he has just about the stupidest haircut of all time. I also found out that he's a prep school grad, former all-state soccer player and dropped out of DePaul University one semester short of graduation to "focus on music." And he wrote a book all about the nightmares he had when he was a kid. Wow, he's so punk rock! I guess his eyeliner and emo tats should have given it away, but the requisite suicidal gesture solidifies it. Especially when he said of the incident, "I was isolating myself further and further, and the more I isolated myself, the more isolated I'd feel." Need I say more?

Couple of the year
Blender's choice: Pam and Kid Rock. Hell to the no! The clear choice is Immortal's Abbath and Horgh. Unlike Pammy and Kid, these two crazy kids and their leather and studs and spiked shinguards are going to be together forever! Come to think of it, maybe the spiked shinguards themselves should be couple of the year...

Quote of the year
They picked the Paris Hilton legend: "I'm not, like, that smart". A decent, if not totally obvious, choice. However, I have two submissions that may just upend Paris' moment of clarity. One is from Britney and one is from our favorite cracksmoker Pete Doherty. Can you guess who said what?
• "Since bidding for my jewel-encrusted bra in the eBay charity auction has exceeded our original expectations, I'm concerned that some of you may be confusing this bra for something that it's not."
• “One minute I'm waiting for Kate to arrive to join me in the Jacuzzi for a romantic evening. The next thing I can remember is doing cold turkey in a vomit-filled cell."

Happiest to see '06 over
They picked Britty. I picked the guy with the crotch-cam. I'm convinced that all those starlet genitalia shots were captured by just one enterprising paparrazo. He, like Leto, seems to be behind some kind of bizarre art project that is meant to show the world that underneath it all, celebutantes are merely human beings, just like us. Albeit human beings with Brazilians who never wear undies and make Pig Pen look like the pillar of personal hygene, but that's besides the point. It's the Truman Show for the modern age. And Jared Leto is behind the whole thing.

Last Xmas I gave you my heart, but...

...the very next day, Krampus ate it. And then Caga Tió crapped out some presents.

After learning all about the lovely and talented Krampus (thanks again to guest blogger Nick), I thought I'd heard the weirdest of all Christmas traditions. That was until my esteemed collegue Amanda H&K brought "Caga Tió" to my attention. Yes, Spanish speakers, that does indeed mean "shit log."

I did a little research and this is quite possibly the awesomest thing I've heard since Fist/Damnocracy. In the Catalonia region of Spain, this holiday custom begins on December 8, which is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception day. A little hollowed-out log on stick legs and with a happy face drawn on it is revealed, and is subsequently "fed" a little bit of food each night. He's also covered with a blanket at night for warmth. Isn't that cute? I love it already. But wait until you hear this. On Christmas Day, Log is brought in front of the eager family and then ordered by all to shit. When Log does not comply immediately (because, well, it's a log), the family then beats the log with sticks while singing songs, such as this one:

Caga tió (Shit, log)
caga turró (shit torrons)
avellanes i mató (hazelnuts and cheese)
si no cagues bé (if you don't shit well)
et daré un cop de bastó (I'll give you a blow with a stick)
¡caga tió!" (Shit, log!)

One family member then reaches cermoniously into Log's hollow body and finds draws out a small present, which I am assuming is then held aloft as the rest of the mob cheers and froths at the mouth. The family then resumes beating Log and screaming abusive songs until a gift has been crapped out for everyone.

If you think that is the best ever, you haven't heard about the Caganer. What is the Caganer you ask? Oh, he's just the little figurine you'll find among Catalan nativities taking a dump the manger. No kidding. At this site you can order caganers in the visages of Sherlock Holmes, Salvador Dalí and even the Pope! Ay-yi-yi!

So what's the point of all this madness? Well, according to Wikipedia (which means it could be entirely made up) there are five:
1. Ye olde tradition.
2. Finding the Caganer in the large Catalan nativity scene (which represents the entire town of Bethlehem) is a fun game, especially for children.
3. The Caganer essentially is fertilizing the Earth, which always seems to be meaningful.
4. The Caganer represents the equality of all people by performing an act that we all do.
5. Poop is funny.

Ah, who cares about the point? It's hilarious! In fact, it's the best thing I've heard about this entire holiday season. Who wouldn't have Christmas cheer of volcanic proportions if they had this kickass custom to look forward to? But as we know all too well, something like this would never fly in the States, as such a blatant desecration of religious imagry is sure to enrage our esteemed politicos and their ilk. However, the more humored amoung us may just want to adopt these traditions for themselves. Not only will I be leaving a beer for Santa this year, per usual, but I also plan to get my hands on a Shit Log and a Caganer of my own to remind myself what Christmas is really all about: beating inanimate objects senseless until they poo out some awesome presents.

¡Feliz Navidad, Caca Cabezas!

Special Report: Who exactly sees you when you're sleeping?

Here to tell you about a little-known, but extremely fucked up, Christmas tradition is special guest blogger NICK:

"As a small boy, growing up in the Ukraine, I feared
two things: radioactivity leaks from Chernobyl and
Krampus. Krampus is the devilish counterpart to St.
Nicholas. He is often depicted stealing footstools,
raiding chicken coops and stuffing pierogies with
drain cleaner.

As I grew, I became more afraid of Krampus. While I
was asleep in bed, he would steal the socks off my
feet and crawl away and hide in my bathtub.

Later, I learned that Uncle Boris wasn’t allowed to
live near schools anymore.

While Krampus may seem scary to some, he’s the perfect
addition to the holiday season. So instead of jingle
bells and candy canes at your next Christmas party,
wear cloven feet and goat pelts. You’re sure to be a
hit!"

BREAKING NEWS: The Count's latest hissy fit

Lest we think we've heard the last of Varg "Count Grishnackh" Vikernes (despite his endless promises to the contrary), our Viking hero spills forth a brand new anguish-filled manifesto to the attention of all of us obtuse half-wits on the outside. Feel his pain, people. Life behind bars is not easy for a man of the Count's importance and incisiveness. Prisoners are treated like animals. Have you seen "The Shawshank Redemption" or "Oz"? That's simply the media's interpretation of reality; hardened criminals like the Count know the truth. OK, so it's not exactly breaking news that the Count's feeling a little pissy, but this time he means war. For real.

So what's got Varg's rankles up? From a Burzum website that is apparently not THE Burzum website (that I will still not provide a link for): "Through his controllers, Varg Vikernes has issued a statement against burzum.com."

That's right. The Count is upset about his domain name. His word-for-word pronouncement:

"Burzum.com used to be the official Burzum website, but that's many years ago. I told Rainer (the original host) to close the website down, I think in 2000 (but I'm not sure), but instead he turned it into an archive. Some years later he sold the address to somebody else, without ever asking me for permission to do so, and my problem with an "open forum" for lies, false rumours and other crap was back. I don't know who is behind burzum.com and I guess whey mean well, but I wish everybody boycotted the site 100%. If there are any other websites out there dedicated to Burzum (or me) I wish You were all boycotting them as well. They are all a problem to me. The only website I support (in this context) is burzum.org! If those who run burzum.com (or other websites in the same vein) want to in any way support me they should close down their website, and I encourage You to do so! Whether You mean well or not; just stop it! Remove everything from the Internet, and allow those who have an interest in the truth to find it without first having to plow through all Your bullshit. Support burzum.org only! That's all I have to say about this."

That's right, assholes. The Count endorses only ONE avenue to get his message out to the masses. Hmmm, where have I heard that before?

Following the statement is an (it hurts to say this) actually quite well-written rebuttal from "The Admins" stating their purpose and accusing the webmasters over at the dot com site of needling Varg into making sexy white power statements and harrassing the aforementioned "Rainer" into abandoning the site and going into hiding to protect his own life and his family. OK, I made that last part up. But the point is, Rainer tried to maintain a nice little library site about Burzum and those bloodthirsty hooligans over at burzum.com ruined it! To quote from the rebuttal:

"Our view, on this site, is that we must look at the ideas behind Burzum and not the propaganda. To this end, we've been subjected to no end of badmouthing, slander and information theft from the 'official' website team. At no point have they been anything other than condescending or hostile. On the other hand, we have not changed our mission at all, and continue to show the world a balanced view of Burzum. Our parent organization, Corrupt, believes in the resurrection of cultural, spiritual, philosophical and physical values in the West that are targeted toward an ascendant goal free of hatred and revengeful behavior. To this end, we seek information, not propaganda. We believe in all of the values of classical Indo-European civilization, including Nationalism and caste systems, but have no involvement with 'white power' weenies and their ineffective, defensive, revengful, bigoted and destructive outlook."

In other breaking news, the Count's head just exploded.

Maybe I'm wrong but Varg seems a little on edge lately. Little things just keep building up and mounting until suddenly he just explodes with a word volcano of of blackguard and bile. Might I suggest a healthy shot of feel-good affirmation from self-help sage Iyanla Vanzant: "Know that because you are feeling something does not mean you have to act on it the moment you are feeling it. For the first 30 to 60 seconds of the experience, practice KYBYS. This ancient principle, pronounced 'kib-biss,' will ensure you have the appropriate expression for any emotional imbalance. KYBS means 'Keep Your Big Yap Shut!' Pull yourself together and let your brain refocus!"

Hey, maybe I had old Rhonda pegged wrong..."Shut your pie hole" is some pretty awesome advice. But maybe "choose your battles" is a little more appropriate here; there are much larger problems that the Count could be focusing his energy on, like that whole Eastern European takeover he's always talking about. Don't give up on your dreams, Count, and don't sweat the small stuff. From what I've seen on "Oz" it's probably best to focus your chakras elsewhere.

Quote of the day

From the Darkness on the Edge of Town podcast, 10/11 episode, from an interview with Denise Jones, whose son was the inspiration for the "I see dead people" kid from "The Sixth Sense"

Host: So your son has seen the Archangel Michael?
Denise: Yes, he has. [snip] He told me he was barefoot, he had a white cloth that was a little dirty wrapped around him, shoulder length dirty blonde hair and the hugest nose he said he had ever seen in his entire life.
Host: Are you sure he wasn't seeing Owen Wilson?

I'm OK, You're OK...Fuck it, we all suck

"Now you kids are probably saying to yourselves, "Hey, I'm gonna go out and GET THE WORLD BY THE TAIL and wrap it around and pull it down and put it in my pocket. Well, I'm here to tell you that you're probably going to find, as you go out there, that you're not going to amount to JACK! SQUAT!"
—Matt Foley, motivational speaker

In the strangest-yet-oddly-creepy conincidence of this week, I discovered that my favorite person ever Eric Avery and I have been listening to the same podcast: The Skeptic's Guide to the Universe. How cool is that?? Anyway, I think it's also more evidence that great minds think alike because I was already preparing to blog about something that I heard on Skeptic's Guide and the resulting obsessive road it has sent me down—ragging on self help.

First, a quick word on the podcast: basically, Skeptic's Guide is a weekly roundtable discussion/snarkfest about pseudoscience, "intelligent design," psychics, and other nonsense from a scientist's point of view. Totally geeky and totally fun. I highly recommend it. Anyway, I found the August 8, 2005, ep particularly interesting, not only for the hilarious discussion about a "haunted" doll up for auction on eBay, but for the guest skeptic: Steve Salerno, author of "SHAM: How Self-Help Made America Helpless".

I bet you'll never believe that all that stuff that Tony Robbins spouts out about living up to your true potential and empowerment and how special and unique you are is really just a bunch of meaningless bullshit. Not convinced? If "The 10 Stupid Things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives" worked the first time, then why do we also need about a zillion other versions of the book, CDs, DVDs, seminars, retreats, and other branded crap as follow-up?

Just for laffs, I thought I'd make fun of some of the more popular self-help gurus. Maybe we'll all learn a little something about ourselves and finally be able to tap into our personal inner pep squad, master our emotions and become the passionate, unbreakable go-getters we are all capable of being. And if you can't, well, then you just don't want it bad enough. Slacker.

Anne Warfield
One of my pet peeves is meaningless corporate-speak, and Anne represents "Impression Management Professionals", (see—even the name of the company is just a collection of nonsensical words), an organization that seems to be hell-bent on sucking the life out of the minds, motivation and self-esteem of as many office peons as possible. If you've ever had to sit through one of these stupid corporate seminars to learn how to "shatter resistance", "filter messages", "optimize presentation" and "communicate core ingredients", you know how these excruciating talks just make everyone feel more confused and lethargic about their jobs and life in general. Just looking at some of the seminar titles—Outcome Focus, Impression Management, Success Tools To Polish The Diamond Within You, ProGotiations (I wish I was making these up)—makes me want to stab myself in the throat with a ball-point pen. My advice is to start coughing now and develop a full-blown "cold" by the time the seminar rolls around.

Jack Canfield & Mark Victor Hansen
Chicken Soup For the Golfer's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Shopper's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Fisherman's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Scrapbooker's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Baseball Lover's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Canadian's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Military Wife's Soul. Chicken Soup For the NASCAR Soul. Chicken Soup For the Ocean Lover's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Prisoner's Soul. Chicken Soup For the Beastiality Soul. OK, so I made that last one up. BUT ALL THE REST OF THEM ARE REAL.

Iyanla Vanzant
This woman (real name: Rhonda Harris) totally intrigues me...and not in a good way. It's unclear how exactly she earned the titles of "doctor" and "reverend" (and many of these self-help mofos get their diplomas online); in fact, her main "credentials" seem to be that she had a really crappy childhood that she has apparently made peace with. Her bio says, "In 1990 with seemingly little notice, her path to working with man’s law transformed and suddenly made way to a divine appointment with Spiritual Law. This union gave birth to her work of service to the Universe and manifested in the form of workshops, lectures, television appearance, and best-selling books wherein Iyanla shared Spiritual Law and Principles." Okaayyyyyy. What can be confirmed is that she is the author of "One Day My Soul Just Opened Up", "Yesterday I Cried", "Giving To Yourself First" and several other ridiculously pretentious titles. Seriously, Rhonda, get over yourself. Many people have overcome horrible situations to become inspiring, but trivializing serious situations with pseudo-spiritual McAffirmations is seriously irresponsible. Leave the care and counseling to the people who actually sat in classrooms for four years. And for god sakes, enough with the man's law/spiritual law business. It sounds like something Kirk Cameron would say.

John Gray
The man behind some of the most popular relationship books on the market was at one time a monk. That's right. A monk is giving step-by-step advice on how to please women. And with profound tips like, "All men and women have an equal need for love; when these needs are not fulfilled it is easy to have our feelings hurt," who wouldn't think that was a good idea? They must not have stressed the sin of greed too much at the monestary, because with books, magazines, retreats, radio shows, an online dating service and more, the Mars/Venus empire seems to go on and on with no merciful end in sight. Johnny also sponsors something called the "O Spa", which features some kind of convoluted hot tub with "metabolism-enriching" iodines and sea salts. Is he serious? Someone needs to tell him that Jesus doesn't like liars.

Sark
Sark is the Candace Bushnell of self-help. She writes books with titles like "Eat Mangoes Naked", "Succulent Wild Woman", "Living Juicy" and "Transformation Soup: Healing For the Splendedly Imperfect." She uses words like "bodacious", "luscious" and "radiant" and surrounds them with sherbet-colored drawings of rainbows and fairies and coffee mugs. She talks about having a safe place to dream and explore and create. She assures the readers of her website "You are so completely welcome to be here! This is our creative community built by all of our hearts. It is a place of learning, teaching, loving and sharing what it means to be a succulent human bean [sic]—that's you!" Simply put: I fucking hate Sark.

Dr. Spencer Johnson
Spence is the "innovator" behind that annoying "Who Moved My Cheese" book that every boss ever in the history of the modern world quotes from ad nauseum at quarterly meetings. His revolutionary philosphy to success involves the four "Change Skills™": anticipating change, taking action, moving beyond fear, and imagining success. Seriously. I have no idea how cheese is supposed to fit into this equation, but I'm sure there is some profound analogy that relates to not sweating the small stuff and maximizing results and shit like that. Even with his millions of adoring fans showering him with cash, the good doctor at least remains modest. From his bio: "Dr. Spencer Johnson is one of the world's most influential thinkers and beloved authors. He is renowned for his brief, profound parables that help millions of people manage in changing times and rejuvenate their spirits." Dr. Johnson would take your call, but he's too busy looking at himself in the mirror and jerking off to his own reflection.

Also of note are the wonderfully absurd book titles the "movement" has spawned. Here's a small sampling:
• Live Like You Were Dying (because when you do, you'll live forever, like Michael Jackson)
• Becoming The Me I Want To Be
• Woulda, Shoulda, Coulda: Overcoming Regrets, Mistakes and Missed Opportunities
• Calming The Inner Storm
• Cleaning Out The Closet Of Your Mind

After you've finished purging, let me just say that, conversely, I realize that we all need all the help we can get after getting several pan-zoom views of Britney's crotch and C-section scar in the last week. But the pathway to wellness will not be found in any of the books listed above. The best, most healing advice I can give you is to get rid of that memory by attacking it at the source: kill off the brain cells. That's right, alcohol and lots of it is the answer. It's the cause of—and solution to—all of life's problems.

I mean seriously. Can you imagine a whole world of empowered people walking around living up to their full potential? How fucking annoying would that be? We'd all be drinking anyway.

The most wonderful time of the year

"I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed."
—Charles S. Brown

With those immortal words, we now enter the impiously stressful time of year known as "the holidays." Are you ready? Got enough money and Percoset to get you through? Even I can see that the Pixy can only help us so much.

There are more things to loathe about December than there are to like, to the point where I just needed to stop writing or start a whole new blog just to rag on Christmas. So I tried to narrow it down to this ranty little list; let me know your thoughts. Trust me, it will help to get it out, and may also save a life.

10. Ridiculous decorations
Don't get me wrong, I like Christmas lights just as much as the next person. But what is up with those giant, inflatable snowglobes everyone is tethering to their front yards, thousand-watt spotlights trained on them and giant, energy-sucking fans blowing asbestos-laden "snow" all over the place? Whenever I see these things, I immediately start imagining a Hindenburg-style disaster or picture Dad innocently plugging in a new power tool and sending the whole neighborhood into blackout. Also, they don't seem to work very well because 10 out of every 12 I see are lying flaccid in someone's front lawn with some hapless flunky pulling their hair out trying to find the leak. Because that's what Christmas is all about: bending over on the front lawn with your crack hanging out trying to fix the latest decoration mishap.

9. Unclear plans from family
"OK, we're going to go to Bev's for brunch and then Dick and Martha's for lunch, but we might go shopping at some point, depending on when Doug and Barb show up because they're opening gifts early because the kids are doing dinner with Grant's family on Christmas day, but then Brenda wants us to have dinner over at her house and you know how upset she got last year when we went to Hal and Char's instead after she made all that food, so we'll need to get there by 8 and on the way stop by Meijer so Dad can do his shopping. So just meet us at the mall around 3:30, but keep your phone on just in case things change. Oh, and don't forget to wrap those stocking stuffers before you leave and drop them off at Gwen's so the kids will have something to open later tonight."

8. The "War On Christmas"
Those godless liberals are trying to make us forget about Jesus for two seconds by replacing "Christmas" with "Xmas. Never mind that "X" actually means "Christ"—that's not important right now. "X" makes people think of X-rated movies and s-e-x and we just can't have that during this time of year that's all about love!

7. Horrible Christmas specials
It's the lighting of the Rockefeller Center tree with Regis Philbin, Hilary Duff and Jenna Morasca! Happy Holidays from the Simpsons—featuring Jessica and Ashlee in a classic-in-the-making duet of "Little Drummer Boy"! Up on the housetop...with the Bush family! The plus side of all this madness is unintensional hilarity. Remember the Ewok dance number from the "Star Wars" special years ago? Kathie Lee trotting Frank and her future-meth-addict kids out to sing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" to an uncaring audience? "A Very Brady Christmas"?

6. COMMERCIALS
My current "favorites" are the jewelry ads. If they are to be believed, the mere glimpse of something shiny in a small box will cause a woman to immediately drop to her knees and administer the sexual favor of your choice. Just once I'd like to see some truth in these commercials. How about one that shows some nine-year-olds mining diamonds with guns to their heads and the tagline "Sure, they come from a dark and corrupt place, but who cares? These kids think having toilet paper is a status symbol! And they're shiny!"

Also of note is the M&Ms ad that has been running for years where Santa sees the M-men, gasps "They DO exist!" and faints—good lord, film a new frigging commercial already!—anything that bastardizes a Christmas song with greedy new lyrics and (as usual) anything dealing with Wal-Mart.

5. The Salvation Army
For an organization that aims to make the holidays more enjoyable for everyone, they certainly are losing credibility with that annoying bell-ringing. Everytime that bell rings, a homeless person loses more of a chance of getting a hot meal on Christmas Day.

4. "Secret Santa" gift exchanges at work
This phenomenon is a highly underrated annoyance of the holiday season. It's fun and everything...if you're 10 and you're trading trinkets with people who are happy with a notepad with little kitties wearing Santa hats all over it. But when you're drawing names from a pool of people you barely know and largely don't like much anyway, it really is the dumbest idea in the whole world. What are you going to get for the chick you make small-talk with at the coffee maker a couple times a month or the guy that was behind you in line for the copier last week? The answer is always the same: a mug filled with holiday Hershey kisses. Why not just call it a mug-filled-with-holiday-Hershey-kisses exchange and get it over with? Let's just be realistic here.

3. Bratty children
Here's a little game; while you're out and about this December, count how many times you hear a derivative of the classic empty threat "If you don't straighten up, Santa's not going to come this year!" I'm going to bet that Santa stops at every single one of those houses anyway. Talk about not saying what you mean and meaning what you say. This alone just lets brats know how much power they really have. Santa is also an anagram for "satan", you know, so I guess that would make children satan's minions.

2. Music
No need to expound on this.

1. The Doorbusters
This is what Christmas is all about, folks: who gets there first, who gets the last one and who steps on the most people to do it. So the next time you're at the bottom of a pile of warring shoppers punching each other out for a $14 DVD player, just remind yourself it's all in the spirit of the magical holiday season.

Happy holidays, everyone!

What's wrong with me??

Every year about this time, everyone starts grousing about how the Christmas solicitation starts earlier and earlier. I'm no exception. I don't care who is chosen as the Big Lots "spokeself" or if some drone is so proud of himself that he managed to keep blood-coated, terrorist-funding diamonds successfully hidden from his harpy wife. And who in this world has ever gotten a Lexis with a big, red bow around it on Christmas morning? Give me a break.

Not to sound like Charlie Brown or anything, but all this commercialism and pressure to one-up everyone on gifts doesn't spread cheer—it's spreads misery, stress and angst. What we need is a little more magic and wonderment put back into the holiday season. And I can think of the perfect person to do just that:

The Pixy!

Meet Randy Constain. He's 53 years old (seriously??), but refuses to acknowledge the second digit of his age, which actually makes him five. He lives in Florida and he dresses like this all the time. Except when he's dressing up as the Blue Boy, a dance recital girl, or Little Lord Faulteroy.

So what's the story here? Well, the Pixy's philosophy is the same as Viv Savage's—"Have a good time ALL THE TIME"—and he proclaims himself "on strike" from growing up. Also, the Pixy sings. "So who is Peter Pan? A child within a man combined to remind you that it's okay to come out and play and don't deny your dreeeaaams!"

I won't blame anyone who can't get behind that haircut (did my mom, circa-1981, do that?), but you've just gotta love this guy. I was going to write more, but I read his life story and now I just can't make fun of him! What's wrong with me?? I've failed you, dear readers. Of all the people I've ridiculed on this blog, this is the one that my little black Grinch heart simply doesn't have the snark for. Maybe because he's so darn sincere. Maybe it's because he has his own Pixy ministry that doesn't exclude anyone. Maybe it's because he wears velveteen jumpers with no qualms whatsoever.

I know what it is—he doesn't take himself seriously, like Tom Cruise does. Enough with Tom Cruise and his fake wedding, let's hear the latest with the Pixy. Kooky as he is, he's got the right idea. Maybe if we all merrily pranced around sprinking fairy dust everywhere we wouldn't find ourselves ready to rip the head off of the soccer mom with the aircraft carrier-size stroller clipping your heels and ramming you out of the way to get to Playstation 3.

Could this be the start of a kinder, gentler RockitQueen? Not a chance. I think even the Pixy would find Immortal's outfits completely absurd.

Random weirdness with no point whatsoever

There seems to be a mysterious smell wafting from the kitchen of my home. I think it might be a rotten banana. At least I hope that's what it is. It's like the Mojave in this place, and not in a good way. Let's just say that whatever it is was just seeing a mirage and succombed to natural dehydration and lack of breatheable air. Before the same happens to me, I'd like to get a few newsy tidbits out to you, none of which I will be proud to say may be the last items I report.

• Recognize that deer-in-the-headlights expression above? It's worn by Jennifer Wilbanks, the so-called "runaway bride". Who can forget her wacky little disappearance that turned out to be a racist, costly, and generally annoying hoax and she had actually consciously ran away from her impending 600-guest, 14-attendant wedding? You may also know that she and her sketchy fiancee are no longer together and that she sold her "story" that will most likely result in a NYT bestseller or some Lifetime Moment of Truth movie. Apparantly she's now suing her sketchy ex. What's that? You don't care? Yeah, I really don't either. Honestly, I was just looking for an excuse to post her mug shot. So here it is! Don't look directly into her eyes—just take my word for it.

Now on to the big scoop...

• If you thought my last report of a celeb sex tape was a libido killer, wait until you hear this: Federfucker is allegedly dangling a homemade porno tape before his estranged wife's disbelieving eyes and threatening to priority mail it to the tabs if she doesn't meet his divorce settlement demands. If there was ever a shred of possibility that Brit had any gray matter at all in that little head of hers, this should squelch it. WHAT AN IDIOT! It's simple math: sex tape = lifelong humiliation. There's no potential in that equation. You record sex, it WILL end up in the hands of someone who was not there. And if you're Britney Spears and you're shooting homemade porn with an unemployed "dancer"/deadbeat dad...it's official: she is the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. I'll admit it: on my BritFed divorce survey I answered "a" on number 3. That's right: Kevin Federline is kind of my hero. Seriously, you'd TOTALLY do the same thing—don't lie! If this whole sex tape thing is true (and I'm betting it is based on all the videotaping they did for that stupid show of theirs), I might even have MORE respect for the guy because he was obviously planning for his future. On top of it all, he's given the no-life public, such as myself, the gift that keeps on giving. Don't run out and by stock in GlaxoSmithKline...I'm talking about a super-juicy celeb divorce. Let the games begin!

• Need a moment of zen? Here you go: Jacko got a blowout.

That's it. Too much freakiness for one day. That smell is less disturbing.

When the children cry, let them know we tried...

I know it's wrong to laugh at this, but fuck the bleeding heart thing...this picture is hilarious!

I'm not in love, so don't forget it

It's just a silly phase I'm goiiin' throughhhhhh...and just because we're all so sad at the demise of Camelot, doesn't mean you can't fill out a survey through you tears. Please respond via the comments section, and thank you for your time.

1. The following song title best reflects your thoughts about the breakup of Britney and Federfucker:
a.) "Love Bites"
b.) "You Give Love A Bad Name"
c.) "I Don't Care Anymore"
d.) "Because I Got High"

2. The following famous movie quote best sums up your feelings about today's announcement:
a.) "Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night."
b.) "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
c.) "There's a sucker born every minute."
d.) "It puts the fucking lotion in the basket or else it gets the hose again."

3. You're ashamed to admit that...
a.) you kind of admire Kevin Federline.
b.) "Toxic" is catchy.
c.) hearing about the BritFed break-up was the only thing that made you smile today.
d.) you still wear Uggs.

4. The best thing to come out of the BritFed pairing was...
a.) realizing you can have a stylist and still look like ass.
b.) weed supply could not keep up with demand.
c.) feeling really smart.
d.) "PoPoZoa".

5. You predict the next thing to happen in this never-ending saga is:
a.) Britney will interrupt the next major holiday to announce that she is the new Bachelorette.
b.) K-Fed will "host" a porno, a la Snoop Dogg.
c.) a kidnapping plot against one of the babies/dogs will be revealed.
d.) black metal coverage will go up 213% on this blog.

Holy shit, a black metal dwarf!

"The absolutely most evil band in the world are for one not be too big for words."

With that inspirational quote from a black metal website, I'd like to kick off the first-ever report from the Norwegian Black Metal Research Commission (NBMRC). This is a relatively new organization and right now I am the only member, meaning I am also the president by default, but that's not important right now. "Our" aim is to uncover and report on the most outlandish kooks "we" can find from the grim and frostbitten kingdom, to inform and entertain the esteemed readers of Stupid & Contagious.

First an update on your old pals Immortal and it's a big one—the boys are coming to America! Tickets are on sale now for the July 2007 shows in New York and L.A. Are you ready for this? A mere $100 gets you a VIP ticket which comes with unmatched priveledge: first entry into the room at door time, a commemorative show poster and, best of all, a post-show meet and greet with our stinky, sweaty, spiked and studded heroes! Imagine being in such close proximity to Abbath's pit stench and Horgh's gut-guard; the photo op possibilities are endless! I know it seems too good to be true, but it's just a small price to pay for your ears to bleed in the presence of black metal greatness.

This is all well and good, but if Immortal wants to hold onto their title as the most ridiculous black metal band in the land, they better ramp up the absurdity right quick, because they have some stiff competition in Abruptum. In the course of my important research on black metal weirdness, I have not come across any freaks as worthy to dethrone the wearers of the spiked shinguards...until now.

The very attactive line-up of this Swedish duo consists of Evil on "guitars, sounds, piano, darkness", It on "cries, screams, violin, drums, torture" and "whatever other forces have to do with our recording sessions that cannot be mentioned here." It claims that he is so unbelievably fucking evil that he can't even be considered human anymore, thus the inanimate name and the blood-drool makeup. Allegedly, one of the band's original members was thrown out of the group because he was so disturbed by their first demo that he suddenly got religion. No shit! Luckily, they were hellish enough for Euronymous, who called them "the audial presence of pure black evil" and signed them to Deathlike Silence. Two albums were released before Euro's untimely death, a few more were cranked out on other labels and the group eventually disbanded supposedly due to death threats.

If that's not all, the members of Abruptum sure know how to stir up the controversy with some awesome quotes:

"Whatever happens in the studio while recording is both too painful and too private to discuss. Those fuckoffs out there who do not believe in our torture...go and die! Abruptum are original and we are the superior ones so everybody spreading rumors are just jealous and have to be killed for that."

"Black Metal is the greatest music, but I concentrate my thoughts on Satan instead."

"I would like to say that I hate you all and that we are the superior humans. Everybody else should kill themselves or we will do it for you. Soon the great forth reich will rise. You're probably stupid enough to buy our new album as well. Fuck you!"

Oh, and to top it all off, It is a little person. That's right: a black metal dwarf. And in one interview I found he refers to our favorite jailbird Varg Vikernes as "Cunt Grishfuck" and says if he ever runs into the Count again "he will meet his end."

I'm scared—hold me. These mofos seem to be very hardcore. However, they lose some credibility for breaking up over death threats; with all their satanic posturing you'd think they would welcome such menacing. Perhaps you are not quite as badass as you claim to be, Abruptum? Just playing devil's advocate here. I don't want to get close enough to find out, but I figure you can take the criticism. Yeah, I know...fuck me. But I'm still the only member of NBMRC, so there.

Halloweenies

Because it's Halloween, which is incidentally my favorite holiday, it's the perfect time to spend a few minutes discussing costumes. And while I'm certainly a day late and a dollar short on this one, it never hurts to keep a few do's and don'ts in mind when planning a costume, especially if it's for work.

• DO exercise caution with the sexed-up-everything trend. Sexy kitty, sexy FBI agent, sexy punk rocker, sexy Swiss Miss...it doesn't matter what your age or size, for the love of god don't go overboard. If you're wearing a low-cut top, don't wear a mini. If you're wearing fishnets, choose boots over stripper heels. This applies to you, too, guys. The only thing worse than a guy "humorously" dressed in drag, is a guy who really sexes up the drag look. No one really wants to see your hairy chest poking out of the top of a corset or hot pants with a tea bag situation.

• DON'T mockingly dress up as someone you know. You will run into this person while you are wearing the costume, and they won't get it and you will then feel bad.

• DO be careful on timeliness of your costume. The following are acceptable for THIS HALLOWEEN ONLY and expire promptly on November 6.
-Brangelina and the kids
-TomKat and/or Suri
-The Croc Hunter
-Marie Antoinette
-Senator Foley
-Lohan

• DON'T dress as any of the following unless you want to look hopelessly outdated.
-Austin Powers/Dr. Evil/Fat Bastard
-Paris Hilton
-Any of the Clintons
-Napoleon Dynamite
-Any character from Saturday Night Live

• DO know that you are not the first person to come up with the "clever" idea to be a naughty nurse, a mammogram machine, a "one night stand", a pregnant nun, a porn star (wearing only a robe) or a pimp/prostitute couple.

• DON'T hesitate to dress up as a food product or food-related character. A grown adult costumed as a lime wedge, a beer bottle, a donut (here, in a policeman's hat for some reason) or Count Chocula is always super-hilarious.

• Pay special attention because this is the biggie. Whatever you do, please for the love of god and all that is holy DON'T WEAR A UNITARD!!!

If you have to come up with a new costume after reading these tips, it's probably for the best. You can thank me later. Happy day, you Halloweenies!!

The good, the bad and the fugly

The Stupid & Contagious Halloween coverage continues with possibly the scariest post ever! Today, we're talking about the ugliest men in rock. For the record I left Pete Doherty off the list because I don't think he exactly counts as a rocker these days since his priorities lie in transmitting germs to Kate Moss and passing out in poppy fields. Instead, room was reserved for people who are actively (and in some cases sadly) still working.

10. Keith Richards, The Rolling Stones
Don't get me wrong, Keith is the king of cool...and he should count his lucky stars that he's a guitar god, because he looks like an extra in "Night of the Living Dead." While the rumors of a blood replacement are unfounded, I wouldn't be surprised if Keith lived forever due to the vast amounts of formaldahyde coursing through his veins.

9. Justin Hawkins, The Darkness
The world does not need another Peter Frampton. And the world certainly does not need a Peter Frampton (with a touch of Michael Bolton) look-alike who regularly wears neon green, tiger-striped unitards cut down to the crotch. On top of looking like ass, he's also a moron; Justin recently left the Darkness because of a nasty cocaine habit (Gee, really? I thought he was born with that pale, shriveled physique...), and will no doubt attempt some kind of post-rehab comeback album and blame his record company for lack of marketing when it tops the charts at #52, sliding to #89 in week two, and then appearing on the Super Saver shelf for $5.99. Also of note: Justin is only 31, and based on this pic, it's only going to get worse.

8. Dani Filth, Cradle of Filth
You wouldn't believe the sheer amount of ridiculous pictures that exist of this guy. In nearly every one, he's in full goth regalia, hissing at the camera, licking fake blood off of his fingers, et al allegedly scary posturing. But with his pudgy little face, ratted frizzy hair and yellow teeth he looks more like Augustus Gloop gone whips and chains. Also, he's only 5'5", which may lend a little explaination to his whole preposterous schtick. I'm also kind of fascinated by how his mouth and chin area looks like that of a ventrioquist's dummy. Was that on purpose? I just don't get it.

7. Scott Stapp, Creed
Because being a great big self-involved douche who has done more to ruin rock music than even number one on this list is very unattractive. In fact, I think the word "douche" was invented just for him—it's so fitting. And THAT HAIR! Ug! The onion ring basket at Burger King is less greasy.

6. The Gallagher brothers, Oasis
With their bowling-ball heads, grouchy expressions, and matching monobrows that even Bert from Sesame Street would find offensive, these mumbling, constantly-at-war siblings can give Pete Doherty and Chris Martin a run for their money as the most inexplicable Brit sex symbols.

5. Ace Frehley, KISS
It's quite a feat to be regarded as the ugliest member of KISS, and also to have the worst stage costume in the whole band. It was a tough call between Ace and Vinnie Vincent, but Ace takes it because of his mashed potato-like complexion which you can still see even when he is in full makeup. These guys had the right idea with the whole hidden faces thing; too bad it didn't last.

4. Lemmy Kilmister, Motorhead
Another of the classic ugly metal dudes. Lemmy looks like a hard-drinkin' redneck under house arrest in a rusted trailor with chickens and babies wearing only diapers running around in the front yard. And despite having Manson-esque bug eyes, unkempt "Deadwood"-style muttonchops and those enormous boils on his face, Lemmy allegedly gets more ass than the entire band of Motley Crue combined.

3. Mick Mars, Motley Crue
Poor Mick. I feel kind of bad making fun of him because he's got some kind of degenerating disease, but that is one unfortunate-looking man. The worst was when he grew out some kind of fu manchu-style mustache and then shaved off the portion under his nose. The resulting look is hard to describe—it was like a hybrid of a lobster (or some other crustacean with antennae-like eyes), a lemur and Emperor Ming from "Flash Gordon". On top of it all, the poor guy had to stand next to the other three guys, especially the babealicious Nikki, which only served to make him look like he was really their sleazy manager and not actually part of the band.

2. Shane McGowan, The Pogues
This photo makes me want to vomit. You can practically smell him through the computer screen. What you can't see in this pic is that his fingertips and nails are a putrid yellowish-brown from nicotine stains. I'm sure the floor below him is also coated in vomit, just because it seems like it would be. Good lord, I can't even look!

1. Chad Kroeger, Nickelback
Someone online said this about Chad: "My five-year-old cousin saw him on TV one day and started screaming." Bingo. But at the same time you can't stop staring at him because his head is fucking huge. Have you ever seen a larger, more grotesquely misshapen noggin before in your life? It's like one of the Easter Island heads. And like Scott Stapp, his douchebaggery makes this mess even worse. Like if he wrote the next "Sgt. Pepper's" it might not be so bad. But instead he's he lyrical mastermind behind "Feelin' Way Too Damn Good". Bad music, bad lyrics and a chillingly bad face are inexcuseable in my book, and thus Chad has the distinct honor of being number one.

One bad omen

I'm still delirious over the fantabulous Eric Avery news that has transpired over the last week, and I am completely unforgiving to anyone or anything that tries to rain on my happy little parade.

Offender numero uno: the remake of The Omen. I know I said I was going to avoid this movie like the plague, but with Halloween coming up and all, I broke down and thought, "Eh, it's probably better than 'I'll Always Know What You Did Last Summer'." But as it turns out, I was right all along and should have heeded my own advice. To quote directly from my own post:

"Don't go see it; I saw the preview and it looks really bad. They got some ugly overacting brat with a bowl haircut to play Damien. There's no way this unattractive moppet can deliver as creepy a performance as little Harvey Stephens in the original 30 years ago."

In what should not come as a surprise to anyone, herein lies the backbone of the problem of this movie, however the issue is not overacting. Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick, best known for his scene-stealing turn as "Boy in Restaurant" on the "A Women's Right to Shoes" ep of "Sex and the City" is quite possibly the most lifeless, uncharismatic child actor I've ever seen. His menacing "Damien look" just makes him look like a kid that was just told he's not leaving the table until he finishes those lima beans, mister. His pulseless, droid-like line delivery was excruciating, even though he only had about five lines in the whole movie. And whoever gave him that haircut should be slapped. Raise your hand if your childhood was ruined by a bad bowl cut that mom gave you over the sink.

Even though the movie was done pretty much scene-for-scene like the original, the scare factor was less than zero. Even the dog-in-the-mom's-grave scene (my number nine scariest movie scene ever) was ridiculously unscary. The priest impalement scene was actually laughable. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and opted to watch "Flavor of Love" reruns for hours instead.

One thing I did enjoy was the inspired choice of Mia Farrow as nanny/satan's cheerleader Mrs. Baylock, even though she now looks like the mom from "The Wilderness Family" (does anyone else remember that movie?)—that's her in the picture above creepily feeding strawberries to Bowl Cut. She actually gave off the only creeptastic vibe of the whole movie. But the amended scene where she kills Mrs. Thorn was a horrible addition—not seeing exactly what happened, just her flying out the window, made this scene far more terrifying in the original.

I don't know what I expected. Another "Hostel"? Yeah, right! I'd like to see a more fucked-up movie than that. Or not. BTW, I was pleased to see that Bravo chose the same scene that chilled my bones in "Hostel" as their number one scary movie moment of the year. I was right, I was right! I'm so awesome, it's not even funny. And from what I've read, another "Hostel" movie is in the works, this time with girls, including Bijou Phillips and Heather "Weiner Dog" Matarazzo. Good god, I don't know if I can take it.

BREAKING NEWS: Eric Avery has a blog and a solo album!!!

Stop the presses, forget about Red Warszawa...this news trumps even a Count update: my favorite musician, hero, and fake boyfriend Eric Avery has started a blog, right here on Blogger! And he even used the same layout as me...that's soooo cool.

But wait, there's more! He's also finished his solo album! I can hardly wait! This is the best news I've heard today. All this stuff about Lindsay Lohan getting served and Tara Reid's bad plastic surgery has been getting me down, but now I feel much better!

I've added Eric's blog to my links menu. So how cool is it that when someone looks for blogs that link to Eric Avery's blog, Stupid & Contagious will pop right up?? How can you not love a man who says, "i grew up in a liberal household and have always led a lifestyle surrounded by liberals and therefore grew up with the belief that conservatives eat their children." He's so awesome!

Wait a minute. I just thought of something. What if he decides to take a look to see who is linking to his blog and sees all the creepy, fawning things I've written about him? Oh god, how embarrassing! But at this point, I don't even care because I'm so excited...hurray for Eric!

Red Warszawa ærgre sig gul og grøn!

That means "Red Warszawa kick themselves"—in Danish! Doesn't it look funny? What a stupid-looking alphabet!

I'm totally kidding, of course. I'm quite charmed by the Danish language (alcohol is "alkohol"!) and by the Denmarkians (Danes?) themselves. In fact, my new favorite band is from Denmark: the aforementioned Red Warszawa. Why? Several reasons, all involving alveolo-palatal fricatives, uvular fricatives, As with little circles over them and Os with lines through them. So cute!

1. The band members:
"Lækre" Jens (SANG)—translation: "Hot/Sexy" Jens
Måtten Møbelbanker (SLAGTØJ)
My Tight Ass (BASS GEDDAR)
Heavy-Hennin (GEDDAR)

There have also been 21 other members of the band since their start in 1987. On "geddar" and other instruments. By the way, My Tight Ass is pictured above in his stage outfit. Based on this photo (and that his name is My Tight Ass), you can't tell me this band isn't all kinds of kickass.

2. "Norsk Black Metal"
I actually discovered these guys when I was trying to dig up some hilarious black metal goodies on YouTube and this video popped up. Well, just watch it...


3. Just look at the names of these songs:
• Skyd Sven ("Shoot Sven")
• Hævi mætal og hass ("Heavy Metal and Hash"
• Skal vi lege doktor? ("Want To Play Doctor?")
• Tysk hudindustri ("German Skin Industry")
• Return of the Glidefedt ("Return of the Personal Lubricant")

There is a tantalizing lack of info on Red Warszawa at my disposal, which makes me all the more intrigued.

The 13 scariest movie scenes ever

So as I was getting ready to post this, I discovered this kick-ass list of the 100 scariest movie scenes on RetroCRUSH. It's awesome and all, but it totally looks like I copied!! I swear I didn't! Anyway, here is my list and I hope it doesn't bring back any bad memories. Let me know what movie scenes made you want to pee your pants (and then proceed post-haste to RetroCRUSH for more cool Halloween stuff, including hilarious pics of the worst costumes of all time—come on, you know you want to be Small Wonder)!

Oh, and don't forget to check out my picks at RockitQueen Gold or the flying monkeys will get you! Seriously, you don't want those things pawing at your window while you're trying to sleep.

13. "Rosemary's Baby": "What have you done to his eyes??"
But, Rosemary, your baby has his father's eyes! Because his father is the Prince of Fucking Darkness, not John Cassavetes! And your sweet little neighbor Ruth Gordon is a satanist! And if you can't beat them, you must join them. Shudder...

12. "Hostel": "Be careful—you could spend ALL your money in there!"
OK, I'm going to say it fast: basically, Jay Rodriguez's character escapes from this "killing factory" where people can pay money to torture and kill kidnapped backpackers and a guy that is getting ready to "partake" says this. Good god, I can't even think about it. Of all the shit that went down in this twisted movie, THIS is the moment that bothered me the most.

11. "The Wizard of Oz": Closeup of the Wicked Witch
Dorothy is trapped in the witch's castle and begins wishing for home. Suddenly, sweet little Auntie Em appears in the witch's crystal ball calling out to Dorothy. Next thing you know, the hideous green pointy face of the witch appears and the camera zooms in disturbingly close to her horrible, cackling mug! Everyone in the audience then ceremoniously craps their pants.

10. "The Ring"/"Ringu": Well girl walks through the TV
I've been told I'm a total loser for thinking this was scary. Maybe I am, I don't know. But when the well girl climbed out of the TV and crawled toward that guy I literally backed away from the screen. Well, what if she had climbed through MY TV screen?? And then I watched the original version and, even though I knew what was going to happen, I did the exact same thing.

9. "The Omen": Damien's mom's a dog
Gregory Peck and David Warner need to find the truth about that little freakshow Damien's background, and they track down the grave of his real mother and dig it up. Of course, the cemetery is old and decrepid and there are a whole bunch of rottweilers hanging around foaming at the mouth. What do they find when they finally pry open the crypt? A DOG SKELETON! Imagine the "Psycho" knife-stab music, and you've pretty much got it.

8. Some B-movie that scared me when I was a kid
Yeah, yeah, I'm a total wuss, and this proves it. I once saw this film on one of those Sunday matinee, crappy B-movie shows and I don't remember the name of it, but I will never forget two scenes that scared the shit out of me. The female lead was being harrassed/stalked by some unknown assailant and at one point he locked her in a sauna, which I found highly disturbing, and then he PUSHED A TAILOR'S DUMMY ON HER WHILE SHE WAS SLEEPING, which made me nearly pass out because I hate, hate, hate headless mannequins. Shut up.

7. "Deliverance": Squeal like a piggy
Need I say more?

6. "The Silence of the Lambs": Clarice in Buffalo Bill's basement
It's all fun and games until the rookie FBI agent descends into the underground lair of a ghoulish serial killer to put a stop to his crime spree and save his latest victim. It's a seriously, seriously tense and disturbing movie moment that makes you feel as if you yourself are entering Buffalo Bill's world.

5. "The Changeling": That frigging mini wheelchair!!
If you haven't seen this one, it's actually a very good '70s-era ghost tale, starring George C. Scott with some excellent scares, the worst of which is this terrible wooden child's wheelchair that just happens to show up here and there and sometimes randomly hurtles itself down the stairs at George.

4. "Se7en": Sloth/Lust
After I saw this movie, I couldn't sleep for a week, as I alternately kept thinking of the "knife suit" that served as the completely fucked-up "Lust" killing and the living "Sloth" victim rocketing up into Morgan Freeman's face and coughing. Yeesh.

3. "The Blair Witch Project": The house with the handprints
Yep, I was one of the people that was laying on the floor of the movie theater during this one because I was so scared. The worst part was at the very end when the two remaining filmmakers ran into the abandoned house (why do they always go in??) and as they are dashing up the stairs, you see what appear to be bloody handprints all along the walls. And thank god that was the end because I was about to hightail it out of the theater at that point anyway.

2. "Dumbo": Drunken elephant dream
Jesus Christ, I still can't think about this without getting creeped out. Who put this fucked-up shit in a so-called children's movie? First of all, Dumbo GETS DRUNK, which is messed up to begin with, and then starts hallucinating about these blank-eyed pink elephants. They get big and then small! They turn plaid! Their trunks turn into trumpets! They march and loom! The mere thought of it still makes my skin crawl. By the way, way to go, Disney, on that one. I wonder how many kids turned to a life of drug and alcohol abuse after viewing that scene. Just say no, kids! (Aside: I can't believe RetroCRUSH also picked this for their list, because I seriously thought I was the only person whose childhood was warped by this scene. I'm glad I'm not the only one, but I'm also a little bummed that someone else thought of it first. Hmph.)

1. "The Exorcist": The spider walk
This scene was cut from the original movie because it so bothered the test audiences, but was added back in to the re-released version a few years ago. Ellen Burstyn's character thinks her daughter might possibly be possessed but no one believes her—until her daughter does a backbend and creeps down the stairs on her fingertips! It's so unbelievably chilling, you'll want to curl up in the fetal position and suck your thumb (not that I did that or anything...). Wait until you hear this: according to iMDb it's REAL. Yes, that's right: a contortionist was brought in, dressed as Linda Blair and then literally executed this totally unnatural and fucked-up maneuver. My god, I'm getting scared just writing about it!

Mama, we're all crazy now

First order of business: the new changes at Stupid & Contagious. Against my better judgement, I've started a new blog. RockitQueen GOLD is allegedly going to be a weekly list of music on my radar. Why? Because the world is dying to know! And I'd like to try to spread the word about some bands I like, since I hate pretty much everything on the radio. Let me know what you think, good and bad. If anyone cares at all, it will totally make my day. I've updated my links list to include this fabulous new way for me to waste some more time.

Speaking of the links list, you may notice another change has taken place in that area of the blog. I have removed the link to Pink is the New Blog, and not because I don't like the site. In fact, I love it! But lately the webmaster Trent has been saying too many nice things about Britney, and it's irritating. So this my way of sending a message that I don't like it...take that, Trent!

With that out of the way, let's get down to today's hot button topic: "House of Carters", aka the new best show on TV. If you haven't seen this sparkling gem, here's the gist: Backstreet Boy Nick Carter moves his 18-year-old pop tart brother and three sisters into his house in an attempt to salvage what's left of their dysfunctional family. In this nutshell, it sounds simple enough. But if you've ever wondered what it looks like from the inside when white trash wins the lottery, this mess puts you smack dab in the middle of the double wide.

Let's meet the Carter kiddies, shall we?

• Nick—dated Paris Hilton, yet still seems to be the most rational, pulled-together sibling.

• Bobbie Jean (BJ)—wants to be a chef; lights cig off of gas burner and smokes while cooking; probably drinks the cooking sherry and sundry other marinades; drinks ALOT.

• Leslie—thinks she's going to be a singer; had a single called "Like Wow!" on the Shrek soundtrack; first album scrapped because her label didn't think she could compete with Britney and J-Simp.

• Aaron—"pop star" and the guy that Lohan and Caps Duff supposedly got in a big fight over; legally emancipated from his mom, after alleging that she had bilked more than $100K of his earnings; recently broke off a one-day engagement to Playmate, saying "I got caught up in the moment and proposed. I then realized it was a hasty thing to do, and I am not ready for marriage quite yet".

• Angel—Aaron's twin; thinks she's going to be a model (let's ask Tyra about that); currently in an all female trio called TKO (Total Knock Outs).

You can probably guess what the big issue is here: Nick has a bunch of money, and all the others want it. In the first ep, Crazy Mom Carter calls Nick whining that she's siiiiick and in the hospiiiiital and neeeeeeds moneeeeeeey. Nick wants proof that she is really sick because she's cried wolf before, prompting his loving siblings to immediately jump down his throat and call him selfish and stingy. "I love her more than anyone in this house does!" one screams. "He has millions of dollars and he can't help her out?" another shrills. "My heart is beating out of my chest, that's how big my heart is!" shrieks Aaron (but that might be another problem, as we'll discuss later). Nick gives in to all the bitching and sends CMC money and soon gets the not-at-all-surprising news that she was spotted at a bar sporting brand new extensions and buying rounds. Klassy! Lather, rinse, repeat.

If that's not enough, Nick also has to deal with the hellishly unattractive Aaron, who seems to be a bit of a tweaker. I'm not starting any rumors or anything, but if he's not doping, he is one WEIRD dude. First of all, he weighs about 15 pounds and has scabs on his face the size of pepperchinis. Second, he "likes to work at night." Third, he dances like a crackhead. And finally, he actually said this: "I've got people who need music and I've got money to make. It's grind time for AC." If those are not the words of a dope fiend, well then, we have bigger problems than we think.

The highlight of the first episode features a smackdown between Nick and Aaron where Nick screams at the top of his Backstreet lungs that Aaron took Paris out after he dumped her, took a pic of her with his camera phone and left it in Nick's car. After the fight they all ask for Xanex.

I never in my life thought I would ever say anything remotely resembling something like this, but here goes: I feel sorry for Nick Carter. He's desperately trying to help these yahoos and get them to act like a family, and they are all for it if it gives them a shot at tapping into Nick's fortune. This season, the girls threaten to cut each other, Nick says, "I'm not your dad, I'm your brother—respect me as your brother!" about 863 times, and Aaron goes to the ER. Yee-haw, can't wait!

A "Jackass Number 2" review in haiku

Fade in; foggy street
the boys emerge followed by
really pissed off bulls

Then mayhem ensues
in a variety of
funny/gory forms

Dick brand on Bam's ass
Dunn's balls stuck to an ice block
Naked Wee Man, too

Anacondas in
a kids' ball pit..."they
tried to kill Ice Cube!"

Fishhook through the mouth
Leech on the eyeball and more
What won't Steve-O do?

What happens when you
put a rocket launcher on
a shopping cart...hmmm...

Old people body parts
created out of rubber
then dangled freely

Grandpa gets kid drunk,
lights him a cigarette and
tells stoner: "Piss off!"

Satan flies out of
a sewer; screams "Keep god out
of California!"

A horse is milked and
I very nearly puked but then I
thought, "Fuck Art, Let's Dance"

All in all, truly brill
and worth it just for the big
dance number finale

My biggest fear was
a cameo from J-Simp.
No such "luck", thank god

They will never beat
the toy car up the ass stunt
from the first Jackass

It's still "a joyful
celebration of the depths
of degredation"

BREAKING: Count's parole revoked!

So I was thinking about Halloween the other day and naturally my thoughts quickly turned to the eternal question, "What's Count Grishnackh doing for the big day this year?" Is Halloween a big holiday for white supremecists? It's hard to tell because not all nazis love satan. Anyway, it doesn't matter, because according to the Burzum website, Count is going to have to do his trick or treating in the hole again this year. That's right, it's official: poor Varg's parole has been revoked and he won't get another chance at freedom until April 2008!

Needless to say, I find this hilarious. I'm sure this latest monkey wrench in his plans to slink around in the woods of the north making his own soap and organizing some kind of Scando takeover will drive him to frantically scrawl more hysterical articles about the man keeping him down. In September alone, he's produced an entire series of articles entitled "A Bard's Tale" (which includes the aeonian "Ring of Andvari") and the soon-to-be-legendary narrative "Lords of Lies". Take a wild guess what that one's about.

The Count's latest personal crusade is against the impending film version of "Lords of Chaos". Here's the synopsis, straight from director Hans Fjellestad's website: "Set inside the notorious Norwegian Black Metal music scene of the early 1990s, this narrative feature follows a group of dedicated musicians and their charismatic figureheads—Count Grishnackh and Euronymous—as their art and music transform into real violence in the streets of Northern Europe. Amid escalating murder and mayhem, based on true events, this is the story of the rise and fall of two self-appointed Kings of Rock, with the heart of a Sam Peckinpah western. Shooting begins in late 2006 in Scandinavia."

While that sounds like all kinds of awesome to me, to the Grand Poobah of Persecution it's slander. The Burzum webmaster reports: "Varg Vikernes would like to state that a recently announced by the media film by Hans Fjellestad called 'Lords Of Chaos' is using Varg’s name and the whole Story without any permission. This movie is obviously going to be another piece of lies and utterly silly prejudices. Boycott this film instead of discussing it and spreading news about it all over the net, in case you wish to support Varg. Stop the Hollywood-dregs!"

Oops! Looks like I'm fueling lies and propaganda by discussing this film and spreading news about it all over the net! Just to be fair (and for kicks) I checked out "Lord of Lies" and my curiosity paid off, as it included this stellar assessment from the Count himself: "The newspaper headlines spell 'Film about the Count', 'Varg Vikernes goes to Hollywood' and so forth, but it's just a hoax; they misuse my (nick-)name to promote a film that obviously has nothing to do with me. They don't even base it on reality, but on the laveyish (from the name of Anton LaVey; the founder of the sorry "Church of Satan") lies of Michael Jenkins Moynihan and his idiot companion, Didrik Søderlind, the two satanic clowns responsible for 'Lords Of Chaos.' So, I will encourage everybody to sabotage this film and the production of this film by all legal means, and to simply boycott it."

Hey, everybody, let's have a sit-in! That's always an effective method of protest. And it's pretty much the only one available to Varg at the moment. HA! And what if the sit-in became a LOVE-in? Now that would really whip him into a frenzy.

Seriously, I'm actually starting to feel sorry for the other prisoners that are trapped in there with him. His constant bellyaching gives me a migraine and I'm not even on the same continent as he is. Maybe we should hold a drive to collect earplugs for the inmates of Tromsø Prison so they can carve their shivs and ferment wine in the toilet in peace. They must have the patience of saints there. Otherwise he would have been shanked within the first week.

As always, he signs off his articles with a quote that is supposed to make you think or something, and this edition's is: Amicus certus in re incerta cernitur (In the time of need you will learn who your friends are). Wait a minute, I think they said this on The Sopranos once.

It's time for an intervention (or three)

This post is brought to you by Pete Doherty, bless his heart. Here he is smoking a tray.

Anyway, is it wrong that I'm kinda into that show "Intervention" on A&E? I don't know how I should feel about that. Maybe it makes me a bad person, I don't know. But it's a good show. And sometimes you really hope that the addicts can pull it together. Other times, you kind of hope they are arrested and put away for the sake of the family. That's why I decided to try to organize a few interventions of my own—because for my sake, something needs to be done here. And as always, I like to try to make the world a better place, if and when I can.

The "CSI" Intervention
One look at the picture at right will tell you why this intervention is needed ASAP. Of course this picture is posed because we all know K-Fed would need the "special people" script with pictures, but sadly the rumors are true: Federline is going to guest star on "CSI" this season. Allegedly he's going to be playing some kind of gangster thug, a role that will force him to really dig, and this tells me that the writers of "CSI" are actually taking him seriously as a guest star; if they had any sense of humor at all, they would have made him a social services worker investigating child abuse or a priest or something. Talk about a jump the shark moment—this assjacker woodenly stammering his way through a scene where he must interact with studly investigators Nick Stokes and Warwick Brown. He may possibly be the worst "celebrity" guest star on a television show in history. It's worse than when Mr. Carlson from WKRP tried to molest Arnold and Dudley on "Dif'rent Strokes". Now, if he was guesting on "CSI: Miami" I wouldn't be so upset; he'd fit right in with all the other obvious idiots masquerading as scientists and whatnot.

While we're on the subject of talent-free rubes, you've got to see the ridiculous new intro to Mrs. Federline's website; it's totally hilarious. Make sure you have the sound on really loud, too—you'll think you're really in the skank jungle.

The Whoever-Keeps-Giving-Jessica-Simpson-Acting-Jobs Intervention
I think "Employee of the Month" has the potential to be the worst movie ever made, topping even my least favorite movie of all time ("Twins"). I think it might make "Beerfest" look like "Some Like It Hot" on the comedy scale. Let me guess what happens: Dane Cook plays a screwoff working at Wal-Mart who finds out the busty cashier, played by Simp-Simp, has a thing for the employee of the month, so he does whatever he can to win the title. Along the way, someone gets kicked in the balls, someone gets caught masterbating in the store, Jessica's boobs are mentioned ad nauseum, and Dane finds out that the object of his desire is actually has a heart of gold and he suddenly wants to get to know her and not just fuck her. Jessica finds out about the ploy and tells Dane to get out of her and her boobs' lives, but when he does something really dorky-sweet (most likely singing "I Want To Be Loved By You" into a mop handle while the photo lab guy surprises everyone with some kind of krunk dance routine) and wins her over. The happy ending also includes some kind of double entendre reference to Dane finally getting a handful of the two reasons Jessica Simpson is famous in the first place. Non-hilarity ensues.

The Ville Intervention
It pains me to write this. It pains me even more to see the pictures (and I won't post them because I prefer to remember him as he was), but our beautiful, beloved Ville is slipping away. A bad breakup and general consumption issues has caused him to balloon up Haim-style and deteriorate from dirty/sexy to a code red stankonia. This just tears me up inside. Ville, sit here between Lola and I, we have written letters to you. I'll go first:

Dear Ville,
For the love of all that's holy, get a fucking grip, dude. I'll get that weight off of you in two weeks. Saddle up.
Love,
RockitQueen

Oh, weird...Lola's letter says the exact same thing! Just say the word and you'll be on a plane to our special treatment center. It's so exclusive that you'll be the only patient, and you'll get one-on-one rehabilitation unfounded in most facilities. Be prepared, it's going to be a rough journey. But it'll be the toughest experience you'll ever love. We promise!

For the record, I love Dr. Bunsen Honeydew. He has no eyes, yet he wears glasses. And he would make a better guest star on "CSI" than Federline. He's definitely a more believable scientist than Emily Proctor.

This is what too much rocking can do to you

Do you know who this man is? Here's a hint: it's NOT Truman Capote. Here's another hint: you can take the wildest guess ever and it still won't be right. Are you ready for the answer?

IT'S ADAM FUCKING ANT!

Remember what he used to look like back in the "Goody Two Shoes", dating-Jamie-Lee-Curtis days? He was pretty hot, if I recall correctly. Time, the road and biopolar disorder (which, according to wikipedia, led him to wave a fake gun and threaten people in a pub) has caused this man to go from '80s coverboy to a pasty, doughy freakshow. Kind of interesting (read: chilling) to see how the mighty have fallen. This slideshow features then and now pics of music legends and one-hit wonders so you can see for yourself what happens when you live too much of the high life. For example: Bruce Springsteen? Not so bad. Gary Glitter? Holy fucking shit! I mean, he looked like a lunatic before, but now he's practically advertising "I'M INTO KIDDIE PORN". He should be jailed for life based on what he LOOKS LIKE he's up to in that "now" picture.

Some more vitally important observations:
• I'm not one to start rumors, but I think there is a decent possibility that Eddie Van Halen has been chasing a few dragons around, if you know what I'm saying. Jesus, that man looks bad. No wonder Valerie divorced him; I wouldn't want to wake up and see that thing drooling on the pillow next to me. And he looks like he's got really bad breath, most likely a combo of stale Kools, cough syrup and grocery store sushi.

• It's confirmed: Tom Petty is actually dead and his reanimated corpse is now walking around pretending to be alive Tom Petty and is only moments away from tearing the flesh off of some unsuspecting innocent. Watch out! But despite his return from the crypt, his hair is exactly the same as it used to be. Weird.

• Axl, Axl...my god, Axl. Suddenly he's out in public all the time again and it makes you wonder what was happening all that time he was living as a recluse and consulting psychics about if he should leave the house today. All that plastic surgery, all the godforsaken braided dreds. There's no more sense of mystery to Axl; the only question surrounding him now is how is it that Duff (whose kidney or liver or something fucking EXPLODED because of all his drinking) and Slash (who had to hired a guy to carry him around because he was always so wasted) both look better.

• Who has the more offensive caps—Hillary Duff, Gary Busey or Jon Bon Jovi? OK, OK, Busey wins because I think his are made out of wood, like George Washington, but the point is: why do people get caps that are pure white instead of a realistic tooth color? Teeth are not pure white! But they are also not pure black, Eddie Van Halen.

• I hate English-manor, horsemistress-chic Madonna.

• If Phil Collins ever needs a decoy when he's running away from fans trying to create a diversion, whatever, I have a suggestion:

All in all, good snarky fun, per usual. Check it out, mofos, and feel good about how you look. Oh, and also...FREE DOG!