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.