It's the long-awaited return of Shitty Music Videos!

The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many things. Of shoes and ships and ceiling wax, of cabbages and kings...and super-shit-tastic music vids! Hurray! Today we're going heavy on the '80s, with a side of black metal, and if it's nostalgia you seek, pay a visit to our old friends in Part 1 and Part 2, just for the hell of it. And now, on to the fun!

"Party All The Time", Eddie Murphy
This one is really only hilarious for one reason, and we'll get to it shortly. It starts off with the classic '80s music video scenerio of the actual recording of the song in the studio. Soundboards are shown, dials spin, lights come on...it's like the artist is letting us in to get a sneak peak of the glamourous life. And here comes the talent: Eddie! He struts in and hugs Donna Summer...what's she doing there? I had no idea she worked on this song. Anyway, Eddie swaggers into the sound booth and Donna instructs him to "put your headphones on." Wow, Donna's got a really manly voice. Then suddenly, it hits me: that's not Donna Summer—it's Rick James. With curly blond extensions. And bangs. I am quite simply completely flummoxed by this man's hair. But in his own words, "cocaine is a hell of a drug", and this is the best advertisement for Just Say No I can possibly imagine. So Eddie starts singing and he looks relatively normal—nothing special to mock here. It's his entourage that's completely embarrassing. They all start appropriately getting into the song, high-fiving each other and acting like they've never heard anything so amazing and innovative as "Party All The Time". Rick raises his fists to the sky, fringe flying, imagining the money and the drugs and the chicks that this hit song is going to bring his way. When he can't contain himself any longer, he dashes into the sound booth, picks up a guitar, but forgets to plug it in, and screams a couple of background lines. When the song ends, Rick and Eddie embrace, look straight into the camera and make the "OK!" hand gesture. Now was this video shot before or after Rick kidnapped that girl and burned her with a crack pipe?

"Gloves Of Metal", Man O' War
You may remember Man O' War as the band that made the Guiness Book for being the loudest band ever. They also wear loincloths. Actually, there is just so much to laugh at in this video that I don't even know where to begin, so let's take it one by one:
1. The outfits. My god, the outfits. The last time I saw so much leather and fur and spikes and studs was when Ted Nugent and Sebastian Bach stood next to each other on "Supergroup," and I'm not sure even the Nuge would be caught dead wearing mukluks. Every single thing in the whole video is covered within an inch of its life with fur. Check out the scenes in the beginning when the band is riding horses: how many squirrels lost their lives for these guys?
2. The crowd. The footage of the crazed fans going ape shit seems to have been accidentally switched with scenes from a New Kids on the Block concert; I see a few shaker sweaters and not one leather boob tray in the bunch.
3. The "plot." If you're going to attempt to tell a lame story with your video, then pick a theme and stick with it. First, they are riding horses and pretending to be Mideval cavemen. Then suddenly, a bunch of toga-clad assholes are wrestling around on the beach and you're not sure if this is supposed to be fighting or Roman-themed porn, especially when the band materializes out of fire explosions and joins in the melee. Some guy gets shot with an arrow, a couple of chicks are tackled and the music swells to the screams of "LEATHER! METAL! SPIKES! AND CHAINS!" My god, it's too fucking hilarious!
4. The lyrics. They may be the dumbest lyrics ever written.
5. The drummer. He looks like Spinal Tap's Derrek Smalls and he actually seems to be wearing a preserved moose.

"Losing You", Jan Terri
This video left me speechless. The song sounds vaguely familiar, and perhaps that's because, when coupled with the video, it sounds like it might be the opening credits and theme song to an early-80s sitcom. I know nothing about this woman, so I may be making fun of one of the great musical geniuses of the last 50 years and would have no idea. Who knows? But when a limo pulls up in front of a posh Chicago hotel to pick up the talent, I'm certainly not expecting the mom from "Everybody Loves Raymond" to appear wearing leather pants belted just underneath her armpits. It's sickly fascinating; I've never seen a singer look like they are having less fun. Add in the mulleted, motorcycle-riding love interest, the shoddy camerawork, the nausea-inducing pan zooms, and the disjointed "storyline" (Is she leaving him? Is she losing him? He called her on the phone, and picked her up on his motorcycle, so it seems like he's still into her...) and you're left with far more questions than answers.

"Oh Sherry", Steve Perry
This one appears to have been shot at a Renaissance Faire for some reason, and who knew Steve was into that kind of thing? Anyway, a bride walks in wearing a dunce cap (I guess this is supposed to be Sherry) and kneels before Steve who is dressed as a gay king. Steve then throws a diva fit, rips off his king outfit to reveal an open shirt and acid washed nut huggers, and informs the director "This is a love song." The power bitches around Steve are trying to make the video something it's not, and Steve goes off to a stairwell to sulk and scream the immortal opening line "YOU SHOULDA BEEN GAW-ON!" Suddenly, here comes the real Sherry, wearing a white tank dress and red tights and she looks like one of the New Wave twins from that old TV show "Double Trouble" (does anyone else remember that one??). Steve tries to impress her by pushing around some extras and playing bad air guitar on a broom. Sherry laughs and probably says, "Oh, Steeeve!" as he continues to ham it up. The crotch seam of his pants is being strained to the limit and I can't believe wardrobe didn't intervene. The video ends with Steve saying "I kinda like you baby" and all the dumbass extras clap, then Steve and Sherry walk out the door and the director kisses his future in the music video industry goodbye.

"Call Of The Wintermoon", Immortal
I can't stop giggling. Eighty percent of this one is comprised of shots of the band peeking out from behind trees and castle ruins and looking pissed. The rest of the action revolves around scampering through the forest like Robin Hood and his merry band of misfits, striking ridiculous poses, eating fire and arson. Watch closely at the very beginning and you'll see Abbath awesomely blow fire on an inverted cross made of sticks, setting it alight. One of the band members is wearing a pointy witch hat that his grandma probably made for his little sister to wear in the Halloween children's parade. Another fashion project for the band involved making scary arm cuffs and wristlets out of leather scraps and four-inch carpentry nails. Actually, I can't really do the video justice with words...you just have to see it. And I think I may have just ruined this post, but Ohio is the new grim and frostbitten kingdom and I think my brain is hibernating a little bit. Anyway, just watch it. You'll see what I mean.

Smell the Filth

Cradle of Filth is, right at this moment, in my fine city. You may remember their super-hunkalicious lead singer Dani Filth as #8 on my list of the ugliest rock stars, and you may also recall that I said this about him:

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.

Honestly it doesn't matter if you remember any of this, because I'm sure that the hot, sexxxy pic at left will be enough to refresh your memory. I can't believe he is in Columbus right now! While I could be out hanging around the stage door waiting for the man himself to emerge, post-show, mime face paint still crusting in the sweat rivulets drying on his chubby little cheeks, sending all the gothy maidens and their black lipstick into vampiric convulsions, I decided to instead pay tribute to this little, tiny man with a retrospective I like to call "The Many Faces Of Dani".

But first a few fun Dani facts:
• Dani's former bands include Carnival Fruitcake, the Lemon Grove Kids and Feast of Excrement!
• Dani owns three cats!
• Dani has a skeleton embedded in his kitchen and two sarcophogi in his home!
• Dani likes to collect spiders!
• Dani played "The Man," "a deranged psychopath hellbent on taking revenge on his father's persecutors" in the 2000 movie Cradle of Fear!
• Dani's favorite color is black!

As you can see, Dani Filth is a complicated man who likes dark and scary things. But he also sometimes wears his heart on his sleeve. While Dani's public image depicts a gleefully malevolent rock star extrodinaire, privately he's just a regular guy next door. With a ridiculous amount of fake blood poured over his head. Just take a look:

Playful Dani!
Whee! Don't worry, Dani's not all doom and gloom; this is a guy that likes to have fun! In this silly pic, Dani plays the part of the mischevious puck as he laps corn syrup off of his fingers. Normally, he dabs the stuff at the inside corners of his eyes so he appears to be crying blood on-stage, but this time one of his fun-loving bandmates unscrewed the top a bit—when Dani went to pour out a small amount, whoops! The always-impish Dani took the gag in stride and posed for this picture, showing what a good sport he can be. What a little rascal!

Enraged Dani!
Eek, when Dani gets pissed, hide the knives! He likes to put in his Lestat teeth and roar at the sky,unleashing all of his aggressions toward an uncaring, unjust world in a big, ferocious primal scream. What's he so angry about, I wonder? Maybe the dry cleaners were unable to remove the bloodstains from his favorite cloak. Maybe he found out alchemy isn't real. Or maybe he's just depressed.

Pensive Dani!
Just because Dani likes to wear mesh tops and lay around in a casket all day doesn't mean this guy doesn't think, as this picture can attest. Even though Dani is licking this cross in his usual unrestrained way, something else is obviously on his mind. His pose is saying, "I'm a demon fucker with a lust for virgin blood" but his expression is saying, "Do deeper principles underlie quantum uncertainty and nonlocality?" Granted, it could also be saying, "I wonder if my Hot Topic catalog came in the mail today?"...we can't be sure. But the point is this: Dani's creative mind is constantly spinning in the ether, and we simply don't know what will spring from its depths next.

Unrestrained Dani!
When the music starts up, get ready for Dani! He simply can't be stopped! The mere chainsaw strum of an Ibanez, chest-thumping rumble of a bass and the one-two punch in the throat from a double-kick drum sets Dani off into an unbridled frenzy that makes him want to stab himself in the gut with his mike, much like we see here. Blood drops on his head Flashdance-style, and Dani goes ape shit, ripping around the stage in a delirious state of hysteria, and inciting the crowd to wreck mayhem on everything in its path. Mayhem...did somebody say "mayhem"?? That's no coincidence!

Lovable Dani!
Who says the undead can't be huggable? Not me! Just look at that face; underneath all that pleather, pewter and runewear, Dani's just a straight-up sweetheart. Here, he's just come from a visit to the dentist and all he wants is a popsicle. Can't he have one, please? It would sure make his bleeding gums feel better...

Sexy Dani!
Ah, here is the Dani we know best: gamey and sensual with a heavy dose of naught! Could it get any better? He's donned a PVC belly shirt with mesh sleeves, unbuckled his black leather slacks to reveal chain-mail underpants and struck a sprawled, catlike pose that accentuates his paunchy, white fish belly. So hot! How can I resist? At this very moment I could dash down to the music hall, which would take all of 15 minutes, and get a glipse of Dani in the flesh, and scream for him to throw his metallic undies into the undulating crowd so that I can possibly catch them and have the greatest Cradle of Filth souvenir that ever was. Or I could just hang out here and watch "I Love New York" reruns...

Hm, I wonder which I will choose?

A deep, analytical look at child star bands

My tendancy to obsess over menial subjects continues. This week's target topic is Former Child Star Bands, which you have to admit is completely fascinating. Unable to cope with being out of the spotlight once puberty hits, a disproportionate number of ex-kiddie moppets from our favorite shows and movies wind up assaulting our ears with their side-project "art." I knew all that alleged two-hour-a-day, on-set-tutoring was bullshit; in reality, they are all getting high in their trailors dreaming of being the next Brandon Cruz. So how are they doing anyway? I tried to be non-objective in my approach here (meaning whatever annoying character they played in the past has no bearing on my assessment), but who am I kidding? Corey Feldman singing theatrical metal? This entry practically wrote itself.

Bad 4 Good (Danny Cooksey)
It doesn't get any better than this. Annoying Sam from "Dif'rent Strokes" singing "I'm bad and I ain't even dead!" Aside from the Cooksey association, two friends brought to my attention that this band also features a young longhair by the name of Thomas McRocklin, who was a little protege of Steve Vai. I mean, who can even compete with a name like that? I don't care if it's a stage name—Thomas McRocklin + Danny Cooksey = gold, Jerry, gold!
Cheesy awesomeness factor: 10
Actual talent: 6
Overall assessment: Goes past bad to good and all the way back to bad again

Elephone (Ryan Lambert)
Before the Mickey Mouse Club became the hotbed for young pop talent, a little show called "Kids, Incorporated" showcased the next generation of precocious brats that would go on to make shitty music. Martika, Stacy "Fergie" Ferguson and Ryan Lambert all sprung forth from the demon loins of this godforsaken pre-teen variety show. While Martika now dabbles in goth-pop, and Fergs overcame her meth-addicted girl-group days to pee her pants on stage with the Black Eyed Peas, cute little Ryan went on to front the "indie/rock/Hawaiian" outfit Elephone. It shouldn't come as any surprise that they're all emo-ed out with smart-boy glasses, brush haircuts and Kitson boutiquewear. The sound is Radiohead-ish, via The Smiths with a side order of My Bloody Valentine.
Cheesy awesomeness factor: -5 (just like the old days, when he was pretending to be a riverboat captain, Ry-Ry still takes himself far too seriously)
Actual talent: 6
Overall assessment: OK, I'll admit I didn't hate it and Ryan is kind of cute. But the pretentiousness level is hilariously high, and thus, it sucks. Let's be realistic...the only reason anyone would go see them is to see the kid from "The Monster Squad". Don't hide from your past, Ryan, embrace it. It's all over YouTube now, so there's no getting away. Just do a cover of the "Kids, Inc." theme and get it over with.

New Radicals (Danielle Brisebois)
Danielle, who played the charming little foil to Archie's grumpy curmudgeon on "All in the Family", may arguably be the most successful of the child star banders, thanks to the New Radicals' "You Get What You Give". Do you remember them? The lead singer always wore a frat dink bucket hat and that song had the living hell played out of it in the late '90s. I fucking hated it. So even though Danielle was involved in something that might be recognizable to the general public does not mean it doesn't suck.
Cheesy awesomeness factor: does not compute
Actual talent: 1 (well, they play their own instruments...)
Overall assessment: Sucks

The Papercranes (Rain Phoenix)
Though not as well-known as her actor bros Joaquin and the late River, Rain Joan of Arc Phoenix has a couple of respectable roles under her belt, as well as appearances on "Family Ties" and "Amazing Stories". She also looks DISTURBINGLY like her brother Joaquin. Hey, didn't the Phoenix family belong to the Children of God/Hookers for Christ cult? If so, that puts a whole new twist on this Fiona Apple-lite, twingy-twangy, keyboard-plinky, sad-girl-looking-out-a-rainstreaked-window alt. pop. Maybe this music that nearly lulled me to sleep was MEANT to do that, so it could fill my head with quasi-religious messages that will lead me to shave off all my hair and wear ankle-length skirts all the time.
Cheesy awesomeness factor: 1
Actual talent: 3 (she's not completely tone deaf and she's a Phoenix)
Overall assessment: The Papercranes are fucking awesome. They are the best band of all time. They are better than The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and Elvis Presley combined. Oh, wait, I mean the subliminal messages didn't work on me! What I meant to say is: it sucks.

Tiffany Brissette
Hm, that name doesn't sound familiar, you say, to which I reply, "Does VICKY THE ROBOT ring a bell?" How could you forget the thought-provoking genius that is "Small Wonder"? And while Jerry Suprian hasn't really won any Nobel Prizes for Physics, it turns out the greatest robot character actor in the history of television and film has really moved on to the music industry. More specifically, the contemporary Christian music industry. While that is really not all that surprising, what is is that she's allegedly slated to be on the next installment of the Surreal Life. It would be better if she was exposed as a meth-guzzling beastiality porn star, but it might still be fun, especially if she's one of those "Jesus is Cool" people and she ends up on the show with someone like Ron Jeremy.
Cheesy awesomeness factor: 9
Actual talent: ? (but if her skills at impersonating a robot are any indication, I'm guessing it's going to be pretty high)
Overall assessment: OK, I didn't actually hear any of her songs, but did I really need to? Have you ever heard any cotemporary Christian song that didn't sound exactly the same? So my guess is going to be: sucks.

Truth Movement (Corey Feldman)
Log onto Corey's website and you are immediately assaulted with an elevator version of "I Will Survive." Pretty optomistic message from ol' Feld-dog. I barely survived checking out the clips of his music on Amazon; I'm not even sure if what I heard was the actual music or a "Welcome to Windows MediaPlayer" intro. The only clue I had was the singing, because his singing voice sounds exactly like his speaking voice. Then I started picturing him doing Michael Jackson dance moves and crotch grabs and that pretty much put an end to this whole experiment.
Cheesy awesomeness factor: off the fucking charts
Actual talent: -2.5
Overall assessment: Imagine a lite-rock version of a Cradle of Filth song playing in the dentist's office. Then imagine how you felt after waking up in the dentist's office after having your wisdom teeth yanked out. Which is strangely exactly how I feel right now...

Where have you gone, Jackie Earle Haley?

If there's one thing I like to do for my readers, it's to shamelessly resort to internet stalking to get answers to the hard-hitting questions that are on everyone's minds. Such as, "Whatever happened to the guy who played Kelly in The Bad News Bears"?

You know who I'm talking about. He was the little shit hotshot player who rode around on a motorbike and kept taunting Tatum O'Neal because she was a GIRL. I think he drove a van with an airbrushed desert scene on the side in the sequel. All I really remember about it is the Bears made it all the way to some championship at the Astrodome and there was a "let them play" chant at some point. Didn't Corey Feldman play him in the TV version? Anyway, his real name is Jackie Earle Haley and you may also remember him as Moocher in "Breaking Away," and as the male nymphomaniac that upstaged Tom Cruise in "Losin' It."

So just as I was preparing to post on this all-important topic, I check out the newly announced Oscar noms and guess who is up for Best Supporting Actor: JACKIE EARLE HALEY! Isn't that too weird? I'd say it's a one in a million chance that something like this happens again. It's like saying, "Hey, remember that annoying kid that played the brother on 'Small Wonder'?" then the next day reading that Jerry Supiran has just won the Nobel Prize for Physics for his groundbreaking development of laser-based precision spectroscopy, including (but not limited to) the optical frequency comb technique. (And for the record, I looked up his name...my no-lifed-ness does have a limit!) So if Jackie wins, he should totally thank me in his acceptance speech because of this convaluted psychic ability I seem to have.

Turns out Jackie had been doing pretty well even before his award nomination. I looked him up online and found this website for his production company. He's a very successful commercial director and seems to be a very respected personality in the entertainment industry. And good for him. After working with Tatum O'Neal, Tom Cruise and Danny Bonnaduche it would seem that this is one child star that beat the odds.

So now that my heart has been warmed, I have another burning question for you: whatever happened to Danny Cooksey? Remember him as the precocious redheaded moppet on "Dif'rent Strokes" who was quite possibly the number one most annoying person on television ever (with the exception of Scrappy Doo)? Oh, god, I shouldn't have asked because I got curious and looked him up...he's still acting! And his latest star turn is as "Minnesota Drunk Slob" in the fabled blockbuster "Bottoms Up". You may also recognize his legendary voice work as "Pizza Man/Agent Disembodied Head" on "Invader ZIM". I had no idea that was him and I Tivo "Invader ZIM" every day (ha, ha).

Oh yeah, and he's also in a band. How shocking. And they're called Bad 4 Good. I don't think they are anything like Color Me Badd; by the looks of that picture my guess is that they are going for a Blind Melon-meets-Silverchair vibe. And I wouldn't want to see any of those guys shirtless either.

You know what would be really awesome? If Bad 4 Good went on tour with Thruster (fronted by former "Family Ties" brat Brian Bonsall), Elephone (featuring Ryan Lambert of "Kids, Incorporated") and Corey Feldman's band. It could be the Back in the Biz Tour or something like that...my god, that's such a great idea. I think this needs to be a whole separate post.

If you can think of any other former contestents on "Battle of the Network Stars" I can do a "Where are they now?" on, let me know via the comments section. Suddenly my interest has been piqued. What about hunky Tyler Benchfield from "Life Goes On"? Or the kids from "Alf"? Or the guy who played Beans Baxter? And how many more examples of bad television can I admit to watching? So many questions, so few answers.

He's here, he's queer...and he's a robot

I'm going to be honest—I'm going through another rut. For the last couple of weeks, I've been experiencing an almost abnormal lack of motivation when it comes to blogging. It's not that I don't care; I just think I've fallen victim to seasonal affective disorder. For those of you who don't know, us Ohioans don't see that warm, glorius ball o' flames in the sky known as the sun pretty much from November to March straight. It's highly depressing. People get really bitchy and turn into hermits. The good thing is that we haven't had any snow to speak of yet, and my fingers are crossed that Cowtown could possibly get the first drift-free winter ever. I don't care what Al Gore says; I think global warming is a good thing, if it will get rid of the dreaded "wintery mix" once and for all.

However, a little ray of sunshine did come into my life in the last week: Gay Robot. Here's the plot outline of the first ep: "At the Alpha Tau Kappa fraternity on the Central Illinois University campus, lives Professor Edwards' creation... Gay Robot. Like the men of ATK, Gay Robot is just looking for love. When his fraternity brothers Tito, Rick and Marty attempt to set him up with a compatible suitor and fail miserably, Gay Robot is left to his own devices to find a date for the formal dance."

Yeah, it's only the best thing ever. As a tantalizing treat, the pilot episode of this upcoming Comedy Central series been released onto Myspace; I've managed to embed it right here so you don't have to do any more time-consuming clicking. It's got the talent of "Reno 911", the smarts of "Chapelle's Show" and the all-kinds-of-wrongness of "Strangers With Candy". Get ready to laugh your ass off. (NSFW)

Gay Robot

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Remember yesterday, walking hand in hand

Help me, I can't stop with the end-of-the-year stuff! And I thought it would be rather interesting at this juncture to revisit some of the misfit toys I've written about over the past year and see where they are now. Don't you think that would be fun? I do! So here we go:

Corey Haim, elephantine former child star/pill popper
When we last left the Haimster, he had suffered a drug-induced stroke and was an aimlessly drifting vagabond; recently rumors swirled that he was filming a reality series with '80s pal Corey Feldman that I predicted would be the greatest show to ever appear on anything ever in the history of the whole world. Well, get ready for this: according to IMDb, this alleged reality show is 100 percent real, is currrently in production and is set to air on A&E later this year! Those geniuses over at A&E...they really know what people want. Let's hope they mimic the style of Intervention and refuse to step in and put a stop to the action when stuff starts getting good—the Coreys smoking up and then getting in a naked fight would beat the Zapruder film in historical importance, if you ask me.

David Blaine, guy who does stuff for long periods of time
Remember when I blogged Blaine's live breath-holding stunt as it happened? Two hours of my life wasted, that I will never get back. I'm not sure who is more brain damaged: me or him. Well, OK, he may be edging me out—in November, he embarked on his latest absurd stunt, which was to spin around in a "gyroscope" for 16 hours and then free himself from the aparatus as it was moving. I'm not making this up. Part of me wishes I had more information on this ridiculousness, but another part of me would rather forget I ever mentioned the name "David Blaine" in this blog, so I'm just going to stick with that one and move on.

The Duggars, brood o' zealots
Don't remember the Duggars? I have two words for you: Wholesome Swimwear. Yes, the Duggars were the esteemed winners of the coveted Most Morbidly Fascinating Stupie for 2006 (shared, of course, with the Count). At last count, happy homeschooling parents Jim Bob and Michelle boasted a grand total of 16 rugrats, ranging in age from 17 to five months, and all of whom were featured in three sickly intriguing Discovery Health Channel specials. In one of the specials, they all loaded into the family shuttle bus (that's not sarcasm; their vehicle is a fucking shuttle bus) and set off for a psycho-Christian homeschooling conference, singing songs the whole way. Anyway, since winning the Stupie, the family has finished building their 7,000-square-foot compound BY HAND and moved in, presumably to get started on Duggartown. And, oh yeah, Michelle's pregnant...AGAIN. No joke.

Glen Benton, devil-loving, metalhead lusus naturae
From the godly Duggars we move on to the guy who burned an inverted cross into his forehead. You may recall that Glen was the recipient of the best threat letter ever, which was sent to him by a group of animal activists pissed off about his live-sacrifice posturing. Well, these days it's more of same. As you'll recall, Deicide released an album on 6-6-06 cagily titled "The Stench of Redemption", and they are currently touring off of that album in Europe. I have been unable to find any info on if the Animal Militia has been following Glen around on tour, making his life a living hell (which you would think he would enjoy), but I can only hope they haven't let up on their relentless smear campaign. There's nothing like driving a point home with abject, unrelenting violence; true boyfriends of Satan wouldn't have it any other way.

Jeanne Bice, nutjob "fashion" "designer"
I'm almost ashamed of myself for the amount of vitrol I poured out about this woman and her horrific Quacker Factory QVC clothing line. It doesn't feel good to hate that much, let me tell you. But just take one look at the frumpy tunics and novelty-print stretch pants and I'm sure you'll feel the same intense detestment as I. Unfortunately, Jeanne continues to foist her shitty clothing on the world, and recently hosted a Thanksgiving special from her fabulous Sunshine State home that I'm totally jealous of. And before you ask, yes, she's sadly still wearing stuffed, bejeweled headbands with matching velour muumuus and sturrup pants, which I'm sure are all very comfortable in the Florida heat. There's got to be a good Jeanne-ism in there: "When life gives you an intensely hot, sauna-like day, wear all the bedazzled velvet you want—'cause that's what us wild and crazy Quackers do!"

Lynx & Lamb Gaede, teen folk-singing neo-nazi twins
This write-up was actually one of my most popular posts (I got five emails!) and how could it not be? It's about teen folk-singing neo-nazi twins. Anyhoo, it's pretty much business as usual with these two—they continue to release their tone-deaf, rah-rah Hilter songs under the moniker Prussian Blue, and are even starring in some kind of documentary, which is being filmed now. I'm betting it will be a gritty "American History X" meets "A Mighty Wind" meets "Capturing the Friedmans" sleeper hit in the art theaters that will spur an avalanche of press coverage, incite activists and will lead the twins' creepy stage mom April to brag about how much publicity they are getting, even if it's negative. Interestingly enough, the Gaedes were chased out of California when word got out about Prussian Blue and concerned neighbors decided they didn't want the likes of these kooks in their neck of the woods; they have since relocated to Montana. Are the Freemen still operating up there? Seems like they would all be pretty good pals.

Matt Smith, pious ex-Real Worlder behind NoMoHo.com
Matt can usually be found smugly preaching about purity, pimping his shitty chastity belt buckles and/or trotting out suspicious data on connections between porn and crime. These days he is—wait for it—planning his wedding. Go ahead and barf. I hope the missus-to-be doesn't mind wearing a NoMoHo belt buckle until the big day to remind her to keep her knees pressed firmly together until Matt's pastor says it's OK. Wouldn't it be funny if Matt invited all of his Real World friends and they used the reception as an opportunity to get wasted and have a camera-whore hot tub orgy? Matt would be so shocked by all the action that he'll spend his wedding night facing the corner and trying to find a happy place.

All right, enough with the riff-raff and now for the two who miraculously didn't take out restraining orders on me in the last year. Eric Avery, musician extrordinare, has completed his solo album (YAY!) and has been keeping up with his blog and even responding to fan questions in his comments section! In case you're wondering, I haven't left a comment or question for him. If I do, it better be something good, you know what I'm saying? We'll see...maybe one of these days when I'm feeling like everything I say is cool...

And as for Ville Valo, the loveliest boy in Narnia, I'm pleased to report that his physique is no longer Haim-like in proportion. He's still looking a little scraggly and more than a little lost. Don't worry, Ville, you'll find your way. Fat or thin, you're still hotter than a mofo and I have high hopes you'll get it all together in '07.

I just realized that nearly all of these entries involve religion in one way or another. Is that a character flaw? And which circle of hell will all this relegate me to? I'm guessing I'm lined up for either five for all the wrath I've unleashed or two for making lewd comments. It will be interesting to see how things turn out, and that might be a good post for another time.

Anyway, happy new year and next post I promise won't have anything to do with the past.

The stars make my eyes burn

On Saturday, I will have officially been blogging for a whole year. Woo hoo! There's an excuse for Miller Time, if you need one. Honestly, I can't believe I've managed to stick with one project for this long, so I guess that means I'm officially awesome. I may just have Miller Time myself.

As for my first post of 2007, I thought I'd talk about heroes. Well, 180 that and make it non-heroes. I got the idea from this informative little article that counts down the worst role models of 2006, as elected in AOL and AP polls. Bet you can't guess who is in the top nine:

9. Angelina Jolie
8. Lohan
7. Federline
6. Nicole Ritchie
5. Michael Richards
4. Tom Cruise
3. Mel Gibson
2. Paris
1. Britney

I can't argue with most of the choices, as they are mostly pretty fucking obvious, and honestly hearing the names of these people over and over again is making me want to cut off the oxygen to my brain. But I'm a little surprised at seeing Angelina on the list after all of the do-goodership she's exercised this year, such as having a baby in a fourth-world country and standing with and smiling at world leaders. Certainly she doesn't belong on a list next to these other baby pea-brained dips who worry mainly about appearing poolside wearing the same bikini twice. I can't imagine Angelina leaving Maddox strapped in a car seat in the Bentley with a sippy cup full of Pepsi while she goes prancing around at Hyde with Kimberly Stewart. Or marrying Brad Pitt even though she's obviously into chicks. Or appearing on Monday Night Raw.

I think those that participated in this survey were given a list of celebrities to choose from. Had I done the survey, the list would have been quite different. Leaving out the serious candidates like the Bushes, Kim Jong-Il, O.J., anyone on the 10 most wanted list, etc., how about:

• Brad Renfro—Have you ever seen a super-talented, insanely attractive child actor fall so hard so fast? Watch "The Client" for a little refresher...he's magnetizing. Then he tried to steal a boat, but got caught because he couldn't get it untied from the dock. Then there were a few requisite drug arrests. But when he was busted buying heroin in the middle of the day in downtown Los Angeles, and got his picture on the front of the LA Times in handcuffs and what appears to be a Cub Scout uniform, looking like a 47-year-old Venice Beach burnout, I knew he was on the Eddie Furlong bus straight to the Leif Garrett Pier. He's even using the Corey Haim Toll Road because that way is faster.

• Bratz—Because it's such an awesome idea to miniaturize adult film stars, cut off their feet, create a skanky, sold-separately wardrobe for them and market them to children. And now there is an even better idea: Baby Bratz! Now the skanks are even smaller with bigger eyes and frostier hair. Maybe the FBI should keep an eye on the Bratz design team, as it seems it may be staffed entirely by on-the-lam paedos.

• Katie Holmes—I feel uncomfortable just looking at her. She just looks so intensely silent, as if her lips have been sewen together like a corpse being prepared for viewing. All I know is that I wouldn't want any kid of mine thinking it would be a great idea to marry a gay midget mental patient, primly walk two steps behind him at all times, robotically blather about how deleriously happy she is and chuckle demurely when he jokes about eating the placenta of her soon-to-be-born child.

• Brandon Davis—Picture fat Elvis sweating profusely on the toilet seconds before he has a massive heart attack and slides off the bowl onto the vomit-covered floor. Only this time he doesn't die. He simply lies there wheezing, with his bloated, sluglike body covered in persperation, hair gel and peanut-butter-and-pickle-sandwich crumbs. That's Brandon Davis.

• Tara Reid—The Jesus was only slightly gnarlier than this green-toed logjammer, who even now wouldn't qualify for the Little Lebowski Urban Achievers, as she may even do less than Paris Hilton. If the bad plastic surgery, chronic nip slips and perpetual beligerant drunkenness aren't enough, just watch this funtastic clip of her "counting" down to the new year. Warning: viewing this video may cause irreversible destruction to your own perfectly healthy and functioning brain cells.

• Pete Doherty—Because the classics never die.

To be fair, this survey also included questions on the most positive role models. This good guys list includes Oprah, Michael J. Fox, Clooney, Brad and Angelina (again), Bono, Sylvester Stallone (what?) and Bill O'Reilly (WHAT??). Again, pollsters just don't know what they are talking about. What about Dog the Bounty Hunter? Or Britney's sister for having to live with her? And where in the world is the Pixy?? These people need to get their priorities straight. A new year, new directions, folks. Get on it.

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.