mags_issue19
Interviews
Features
Exclusives

Chunklet 19

The Overrated Issue Part Two

Joe Bussard

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Tim Kerr

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Eugene Mirman

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Band Bio Dictionary

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Foxy Loxy & Hefty Hippo

Heckling & Its Consequences

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An Open Letter to Kenny G

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An Assload of Hoohah That Will Be Sure To Get You Removed From Any Record Label Mailing List

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The Most Overrated Indie/Underground/Art Filmmakers of All Time!

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Mike Patton, Mr. Bungle & The Church of Over Compensation

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The Torture Tape Experiment

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1,000 Unrelated Overrated Things

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Thanks

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Assholes Across America pt. 2

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Rock’n’Roll Action Figures

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1000 Unrelated Overrated Things Part 2

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The Torture Tape Experiment

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Brian & Henry co-host WRAS's Quintessential College Show and torment the host along the way

Henry & Brian explain Chunklet on the radio

Yes! Finally! The yang to the yin of issue 18! Another lovely specimen including interviews with Stella, Eugene Mirman and The Naked Trucker and features that span the gamut. Whirlyball against Mogwai? We’ve got it! The Seven Degrees of Winona Ryder? Check! A lovely article about Tim Kerr and his even lovelier house? Bingo.

The King of All Record Collectors

Joe Bussard was born in July of 1936 in Frederick, Maryland. At the age of six, he was given a small Victrola on which he would play records brought to him by family and friends. At age eleven, he heard Jimmie Rodgers for the first time, and his passion for records was born. When Joe was old enough to drive, he began his search for records — going door-to-door throughout Maryland, Pennsylvania, Virginia and West Virginia. In 1955, Joe took his 25,000 78s to the airwaves with a radio show called Country Classics on WELD in Fisher, West Virginia. Today, Country Classics can be heard all over the world at www.wrek.org.

What records mean to Joe
Vintage music is the most pure form and the best. I remember years ago you’d hear an old man 80 years old and he’d give [the instrument] to a guy 20 years old and it didn’t sound the same. I don’t know what it is they had, but whatever they had is on those records. Ain’t nothing changed, not one little vibration, everything exactly the same as it was put there 70 or 80 years ago. But that’s where the music is, they were just ordinary people and they had a God-given gift to play music and they had a sound like nobody else ever had. Music today is a word that describes something that no longer exists.

Joe’s search for records
I started in the ‘50’s. I wish the devil I’d known a little more. I didn’t even realize or think about dealer stocks. At that time there would have been a lot of them. Any town of any size, if you had two or three thousand people in a little town, I doncare where it was, somebody sold records in that town. There was either a Columbia or Victor dealer. Of course when you get into big cities then you got big stocks of records. I’ve hit a couple stocks, there’s one in Virginia near Bluefield. That was fantastic, there were about 10,000 records there. All ‘20’s, the latest thing there was Tommy Jordan ‘Santa Claus Blues’ Victor 23332 or something like that. That would have been 1931, there wouldn’t have been much further than that ’cause I figure that’s about the time he went out of business. Then, of course, Roosevelt got on the radio during the war, “Turn your records in at the local courthouse for the war effort.” That’s where they melted them down for the shellac. They also had pamphlets that came around, “Melt your phonographs records to paint your windows.” Perfect blackout material, millions and millions of records were destroyed by the coal carloads. The only records they couldn’t use were Columbia’s, because they were laminated. I talked to a guy who was hired to pick up as many records as he could and smash them over an anvil and throw them in a wheelbarrow. Millions were destroyed. Of course, there were a lot of people who didn’t turn them in like a lot of people didn’t turn in their gold.

The death of jazz and blues
Jazz was over and gone by 1933. It went out with Prohibition. Prohibition and the Depression’s what killed jazz. When Prohibition came in, of course, you could get booze anywhere. When it was Prohibition, you had to use Speakeasies with a club and little place there, you know, where all these hot bands played and you really had to have talent, have something extra or they’d laugh you out of town. The Depression did a lot because record companies weren’t recording, they couldn’t sell any records, nobody had any money. There, in about 1933, most of the black clubs and hump joints all closed up ‘cause nobody had any money. Jazz bands, seven, eight or nine piece bands couldn’t play and afford to play for five dollars a night. So they split up. That’s when they lost jazz, I’m talking about the beautiful tones and arrangements that they had up until 1933. The average person had never heard anything like that because what you get on the radio, Tommy Dorsey or Glenn Miller or Duke Ellington, of course Duke Ellington wasn’t any good after 1933, I wouldn’t have a record in the house. But that’s what they call jazz, that’s swing, and it ain’t jazz. In fact, it’s even worse now what they call jazz, chamber music bluh, bluh, bluh. “Oh, that’s jazz!” Jazz didn’t make it through the Depression.
Blues made it, but it wasn’t nothing like it was three years earlier. The only really sensational thing — after ’33 and the Depression — was Robert Johnson. There were other good blues singers, don’t get me wrong. It just made a change, everything changed, even the country music. Jimmie Rodgers had died, he was a great influence on music and artists. You had hundreds of people doing Jimmie Rodgers’ style and Jimmie Rodgers’ songs for years. Guys like Cliff Carlyle and those fellas, they all did Jimmie Rodgers, Gene Autry. There were a few exceptions of some really nice stuff, but it wasn’t much, the old time music was just about gone. Ernest V. Stoneman made a few records for Vocalion. I think four were released. There was one decent band, the Dixie Ramblers from Birmingham. It just changed — most of the old people, the old bands — were gone. You did have some nice stuff there about ’35, Prairie Ramblers, Dad Massey, y’know, Durang’s Hornpipe. He cut four sides with his son and that one real rare one for Vocalion, “Brown Skin Gal.” I’m lucky, I got a real nice copy of that. There were exceptions.

The death of country music
Country music was over in 1955 – that was the last country records. The last ones actually were those Jimmy Murphy Columbias made in Nashville. I haven’t heard anything that come close to any performance on those records past that date. ‘Bout that time was when the drums and the “bong bong bong bong,” and that kind of stuff, the teeny pop stuff was coming in. Of course, that was Nashville – Chet Atkins had a lot to do with that. So they wanted to go uptown. They didn’t want any more barns with hay, they wanted bar rooms with chandeliers and a marble floor. They didn’t want to be associated with hillbillies. When they killed that, they killed the music. It was commercialized and it was never meant to be commercialized. They all sounded alike. But of course today it’s all pop and all rock. I call it ‘Nash Trash’. That’s the best two words I can come up with.

Just like when Hank Williams, Sr. died, that set country music back. When I’d play his records on the radio I would say, “That’s the last of country music, folks,” ‘cause he was. Hank Williams, Sr., he died in ’53 and I say by ’55 it was the end of country music. I went to the Grand Ole Opry in ’57 and I went up to the front and said, “Hey, I want my money back.” When we got there we went in the auditorium they had this weird looking guy down there, looked something like Elvis Presley, beating the living hell out of a snare drum. Everybody that came out, bam, bam, bam. Boy, I mean my blood pressure rose. I went up front and said, “I want my money back. I didn’t come down here to hear some idiot beat the hell out of some drum.”

The world today and society
The world today and society everyone wants to hear trash and that’s what they’re getting. That’s all you got. It’s not my society. There’s not much in this society I care for. There’s really nothing that I can see or hear. You can’t go any place and eat in peace. They got some screaming woman coming out of a speaker up on top of you. I don’t even go to restaurants anymore. There’s one near me that don’t have anything, you just go in, sit down, and there’s peace and quiet. You can’t get away, you go to the grocery store it’s a screaming woman, bangin’ and hollerin’. You go in some of these gas stations, they got it coming out of the gas pump. In the crapper, you can’t get away from it. To me it’s just as unconstitutional as smoking. You go in a restaurant and you want smoking or non-smoking, you should have quiet or noise. Let people have a choice whether they want to sit and eat and listen to that crap. Oh, I’ll raise hell about it. I went in a couple places and we order about $25, $35 worth of stuff and I say, “Look now, if you don’t turn that noise down we’re leaving. You can just take this food and shove it. Do whatever you want with it.” They’ll turn it down. Nobody misses it, I’m the only one who hears it. You go in a place the first thing you notice is [Joe makes loud noises] coming out of the ceiling. Nobody else pays any attention to it. That’s the last thing in the world anyone thinks about these days, is music. Bum, bum, thump, thump, thump, that’s all it is.

Rap music is pure garbage
Now don’t classify that stuff as music, good Lord. You run into a teenager, 16 or 17, ask them what noise is. “I don’t know.” How could they know ‘cause that’s all they hear. All you gotta do is listen. It’s a shame that all that’s great in this country is gone.

Rock music is garbage – Straight from hell
Look at the people who do it. Idiots, they’re like animals. 99% of ‘em’s drug heads. No morals in anything. Hollywood’s the same way, everything’s trash, dirty vulgarisms.

There’s no good comedy anymore
In fact, there is no comedy anymore. There’s nothing funny on TV, there’s nothing funny anywhere. Laurel and Hardy, W.C. Fields, Marx Brothers, guys like that [were funny]. Laurel and Hardy didn’t have to do anything, all you had to do was look at them. And you can laugh, it’s real talent. That stuff you see on TV I don’t see anything funny. It’s all canned, dubbed over. Some kid drops an ashtray and they all laugh. What’s so funny about that? All you gotta do is watch, it’s stupid. Like those stupid, what’s that cartoon that’s on, aww I can’t think of it. When I first seen it I’d never think it would last this long, The Simpsons, idiots. Stupid, I don’t see anything funny about it.
It’s all like anything else, they’ve taken all the good off. It used to be you could turn the TV on and see Laurel and Hardy or W.C. Fields. They don’t have nothin’ on ‘em, even the Three Stooges, they’re gone. I like them, I like the early ones with Curly. After Curly died they were all right, but they weren’t near as good. What do you have today? Can you name me something that’s funny today? I haven’t seen anything or heard anything. It’s all gotta be vulgar. There’s no clean fun anymore, nothing you can take your family to anymore.

Elvis Presley – Couldn’t stand him
Stupid looking thing. First record I ever heard [was from] some DJ in Washington, D.C. “Well, that ain’t country.” Crack! Cracked the record in half right on the air! That was when he first came out. That’s one Sun nobody will get. I just never cared for the guy. I didn’t like his style. I mean if you want to hear somebody like him, get an Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup record, that’s where he got all his stuff from anyway. I got a record of a guy doing “Hound Dog” way before Presley ever did it. That’s nothing new, and I just never cared for him. None of those teenage kids ever heard what it sounded like ‘cause [of] all their screaming.

The Beatles are crap
You ought to step on them. That’s what you do with beetles. It’s just a sign of the times, a bunch of weirdos banging crap. It’s too bad their plane made it over here. If one had to crash that should have been the one. That would have helped our music situation for years.

I’m just tellin’ it like it is
All you gotta have is a pair of ears and something in between that resembles a brain. I said to this kid one time, “How in the hell can you listen to that stuff?” “Oh man, you gotta get high.” I really believe that anybody who listens to that hard rock stuff has to be on drugs, ‘cause a person with a normal brain couldn’t listen to it. All you hear is these guys O.D.’in’. “Oh, this great rock drummer, oh, he O.D.’ed, he overdosed.” That’s all it is, that’s what really brought the drugs out to the kids. I mean, they had drugs a thousand years ago. Most the listeners back in the ‘20s were on marijuana or something else, but you didn’t have every five year old kid selling it on the street corner. It wasn’t everywhere. Rock and rap and all that stuff, that’s what spread it. “You got a big ass. Yeah, I’m bad man. Yeah, yeah, yeah.” All it promotes is violence, and that’s it. That’s all I can say about it, ‘cause I’m telling you the truth. Like old Harry Truman said, “You can’t take the heat, get the hell out of the kitchen.” I remember one time a guy came in here with a young kid, one of them rockers, oh this was years ago and we got talkin’ about all them O.D.’in’ and oh, man, he got mad. He went up the steps and slammed the door and I said, “If you cantake the heat get the hell out of the kitchen!” So if he’s still around, I bet he’s seen 150 or 200 of those guys go by the drugs, you know, if he ain’t gone himself.

Oh, it’s a hell of a situation, this whole society is completely gone. I just can’t believe that this society is still here. I’ll tell anybody at all how I feel about it, don’t care who they are. If they like to argue, I love to argue. If you gonna argue with me about music you just may as well forget about it. I’ve made a bunch of people mad at me. I got into it one time with the waitress over at the restaurant. She said, “I like country music,” and I said, “Well it’s too bad you never heard any.” “Oh, I hear country music.” “Come on, that stuff you listen to ain’t country music. See that proves you don’t even know what you talkin’ about.”

I love to get in an argument with these people who are these big musicologists, never heard one thing from the ‘20s or anyplace. I say, “What are you arguing with me for, you never heard anything.” I love it. I live for it. It gets me going. I’m opinionated, you bet your ass. I’m telling you the way it is. People today don’t know anything.

transcribed by April R. Gambill

The Man, His House & His Stuff

Not to insult anyone who thinks they have a Ph.D. in punk history, but I’d like to review a particular chapter of interest before proceeding. One of the more buried scenes in American hardcore of the very late ’70s/early ’80s has origins in Austin, Texas, a liberal little college town where clock towers can turn into sniper’s nests within the twitch of an itchy trigger finger. The Big Boys have been one of the most influential bands to come out of the capital city. Quickly evolving past well-intentioned attempts at somewhat naive Gang of Four-isms, the Big Boys dove into a homegrown punk/funk sound, bonding with individual chemistry. This could have only derived from a colloquial strain of hardcore centered around a down-home, good ol’ boy skateboarding community and set in a liberal Texas college town that was always too big for its britches.

Anyone who saw the Big Boys live will testify as to what an earth-shattering experience it was. Preachers of the Big Boys gospel include: Steve Albini, The Butthole Surfers, Spot, Henry Rollins, Ian MacKaye and Thurston Moore. The band tied together punk rock and skateboarding in a movement with true soul; a movement that would level heroes and rock stars with the idea of a community existing to simply have a whole lot of fucking fun.

No punk figure of the time preached of an ethos of pure equality between audience and band more than Tim Kerr. Often the Big Boys would resist applause, imploring the crowd to ‘Go start your own band!’ At the encouragement of the band, audiences would take over the stage and mic, shouting out lyrics to their favorite songs. What little video and film footage that exists reveals an audience and band connected in a revelatory riot of unbridled fun. If you pay close attention while watching or have had a chance to meet him, you’re probably quite aware that no one has a more genuine smile than Tim Kerr.

Tim’s influence on the purity and insanity of music is unfathomable. I will spare you descriptions like, “Man, no one will appreciate this guy’s work unless they happen to trip over his grave.” Kerr may seem to be under appreciated simply because he has spent his time enjoying music rather than promoting it. After the Big Boys imploded, leaving a small, but unforgettable history, Kerr ventured forwards by way of backwards. With his new band Poison 13, Tim became one of the first of his era to trace the connection from punk rock back to blues. Almost everything referenced by the White Stripes and other neo-punk blues acts is predated some 15 years by Poison 13.

Formed by Kerr with vocalist Mike Caroll and bass player Chris Gates, the band was arguably ‘the shot heard around the world of grunge,’ influencing the Seattle/Tacoma scene of the late ’80s and early ’90s. This would eventually be exploited into breaking (the back of) punk into the mainstream. Regardless of imitators and appreciators, the howl of the band still screeches like a wild animal caught in a barbed-wire fence. Without doubt, the band lit the way for most all of the raw, nasty, blues-based punk that would follow. This is most evident in the formation with Tim of the Monkeywrench with Poison 13 aficionados Steve Turner and Mark Arm of Mudhoney, Tom Price of the U-Men and Martin Bland from Lubricated Goat. The band still exists in theory, and since its formation in ’92 has put out brilliant long-players on both Sub Pop and Estrus.

Poison 13 parted ways in 1986, Tim joined Bad Mutha Goose and the Brothers Grimm, churning out super-funk jams. Both outfits kept the pre-major label Red Hot Chili Peppers busy scribbling notes. While Kerr’s career careened toward the mainstream, Bad Mutha still retained a vision of brotherhood. It is hard to remember a time when funk-based rock was actually authentic, fun and not some stupid-ass white boy co-opted bullshit–but indeed it existed with Tim’s influences in the band.

Throughout the 1990s, Kerr played on, recorded and produced an immeasurable amount of inspiring music. The Holy Trinity of Kerr’s ’90s output includes: Jack O’Fire (an all covers band chalking up the board with the lessons of the ‘original teachers’), The Lord High Fixers (whose insane free-form live shows came off like Bad Brains covering Glenn Branca’sSymphony No. 5) and the currently existing Total Sound Group Action Committee (the point to which all other lines of Kerr’s influence have lead). Other projects of equal inspiration have included The King Sound Quartet and The Now Time Delegation.

Tim’s kinetic, spleen-busting studio production, often done at Sweatbox, Austin’s favorite recording hole, has pushed bands like the Quadrajets, The Makers, Fireballs of Freedom and the Mooney Suzuki to make what are the best records of their careers. Tim has a savant genius’ approach to engineering based  mainly on soul, energy and feel. Separating him from most other ’90s to present recording modes revolving more around the role of the engineer being a flawless documentarian, Tim’s work seems more in line with the role of a producer. At least in the classic idea of the occupation, this is in the sense that he is someone within the process, but not an actual band member, who creates and pushes a pure vision of the sound.

Outside of Tim’s tangible musical output lies the heart of what makes everything he does so goddamn special: he’s a really fucking cool, friendly guy in a realm overwrought with hollow posturing and hipster schmoozing. Tim loves life, music and any shit that is fun. He’s a seasoned raconteur sitting at the exact intersection of popular culture and punk rock. With his wife Beth, Tim has built a fun-factory of a home. It spills over with thrift store guitars, folk art, furniture with a 1950s Scandinavian modern flair, Halloween artifacts galore, Beatles memorabilia, super-hero promotional glasses, Ace sci-fi paperbacks, well-handled ’60s Marvel comics, Pez dispensers, Aurora monster kits, vaults of jazz LPs, Black Panther posters, plastic-molded Weird-Oh’s and more action figures than a Toys ‘R’ Us. They’ve taken superficial mass-marketed commerce brought on by booming American population growth, affluence and manufacturing, and molded it into a fantasyland, placing Tim in the role of Peter Pan and any band staying at the house as Lost Boys.

Tim has a beautiful affinity for people, and he is obviously happiest while hosting or entertaining. All-night conversations with him can whiz past like cars on a busy interstate. Over the years I have been lucky enough to receive the graces of Tim and Beth’s unmatchable hospitality. Their home is such an extension of their personalities that I thought it a right proper metaphor to do a piece on the abode itself. The photos for this were taken just hours before Tim broke his leg playing with the Total Sound Group Action Committee at an anti-South by Southwest performance. No one has a better disposition being carried to a van with a broken leg than Tim.

When did you move to your current residence?
Beth and I moved here in 1983.

What year was your house built, and how would you describe its style?
I think it was 1949. It’s mid-1940s classic Austin-Americana. It’s not bungalow or ranch or any of those schools of design.

What was the place like when you first moved into it?
The one thing I remember was that in the back room where they had added on from the kitchen – it was painted white with lime-green trim – one wall had that sort of lattice wood stuff people use in gardens also in lime green. It didn’t look hippy; it looked like really bad, old lady Texas.

Have you always collected things? I mean, as a kid, were you always surrounded by action figures, lunch boxes, board games, baseballs cards, etc.?
I was always obsessed with monster stuff, and also I collected tons of cards. Actually, I remember my older brother throwing my shoebox full of Beatles and monster cards out the window of a moving car to prove his argument that Elvis was better. I guess to him, Elvis was even better than monsters, as well as The Beatles, but everybody knows that’s crazy.

How did you get into collecting Halloween stuff, and why do you have such a fervent, personal affinity for the image of the Jack-o-Lantern? Part of your front room is almost a shrine dedicated to All Hallow’s Eve.
Halloween has always been my favorite holiday, hands down! I’m not sure what it’s like for kids now, but back in the early ’60s, getting to dress up and running wild in the neighborhood at night was the coolest! Of course, me being insanely into monsters didn’t hurt the holiday at all. My best friend and I would start in late August getting the haunted house together for the party that my parents would let us have on Halloween. The subdivision we lived in was actually called Sleepy Hollow, and when I was little, I was convinced that the story really happened right where I lived! I have since found out that my parents met at a Halloween ball. All the imagery – the old stuff is really great visually–owls, witches, and especially Jack ‘O Lanterns. I have an intense connection to all that stuff.

What’s the favorite piece of musical equipment that you have?
Probably my guitar that lived through the Lord High Fixers and was signed by Bobby Seale and Eldridge Cleaver.

What’s the favorite record in your collection?
That’s impossible to answer. I’m not even going to attempt that one. I have enough trouble telling people what I have been listening to that day – much less that hour.

Most of your finds seem to come from those God-head holy grail quests of flea-markets, garage sales and thrift stores; you seem to have little tolerance for people who gouge the market. What are your criteria for getting good shit without giving out too much green?
Always look – no matter where you are. Some of the greatest stuff you find in the most unlikely places. I tend to have the philosophy that if I am supposed to have it, I will see it. Don’t get too upset if you see nothing on some days scouting for finds. The journey is always just as cool because it’s like a crazy treasure hunt and you never know what you might find. I also strongly believe that if you do find something you want, don’t over-think it. Get it in the moment, and don’t waitC9because chances are you will not see it again.

How much has eBay affected your ability to gather the gold of the second-hand mines?
It’s really amazing how much stuff you can find on eBay. I like it because you get to see a lot of things that you had only maybe heard about or didn’t even know existed (which is dangerous), but it doesn’t match the feeling of going into some old junk store and being completely surprised.

What was the inspiration behind inscribing quotes on the wall? Are they there as reminders of powerful notions that you don’t want to lose?
The image of words, especially if they are saying something that makes you think, is something I like. Homemade signs, outsider art with philosophy, equations and graffiti. When we added on to the existing house – before the sheetrock was put up – Beth and I put all sorts of writings and images and objects into the walls – a sort of our-life-’til-then time capsule. The words on the wall that I think you are talking about is a poem that Daniel Higgs wrote while staying at our house after he and I had been up all night talking. To me, it says it all!

How did you end up with the Minor Threat artwork?
Cynthia did the prints and we were friends.

You and your wife Beth’s home seems to serve as a punk rock bed and breakfast. What are some of the bands who have stayed with you over the years?
More of a youth hostel. In the early ’80s there was this movement here in America called hardcore, maybe some people have heard of it. Well hardcore and its assorted families and offspring from then on have stayed at our house. We have a very large extended family.

Would you ever consider moving out of Austin?
Not now. There was a period where Dave Crider (head of Estrus Records) convinced us into moving up to the Northwest, but in hindsight I’m am glad we didn’t. Austin is our home.

A comedian. 15 questions. 15 answers. discuss.
A very, very funny guy.

In comedy hell, what does the devil do all day?
It depends if he’s subtle or not. Is he going to do horrible things (like regular always-on-fire hell) or torture you slowly (like give you a blowjob, but then stop all of a sudden and tell you you’re significantly overweight)? Assuming much of the same horrifying punishments happen in comedy hell, I think the extra touch would be the devil doing terrible devil standup. And by “terrible” I mean he would be competent. He would have an impeccably-crafted, pointless, boring act that was based on his family or didn’t even make sense and punctuated by some kind of aggravating affectation (like putting his hand over his mouth and mumbling his punch line). But he would kill. People would love him. And as you were being burned and beaten, you would have to watch people really get into his act. Or comedy hell could also be a nice place, where people never did stupid things — and there was nothing to be noticed.

What is something you’d like to know that you haven’t figured out yet?
How a light bulb works. I get that it has to do with a filament and resistance, but what, exactly? I couldn’t build one at all. Also, I’d like to really figure out comedy. Comedy is the way I see things. Telling a joke is explaining yourself. I often laugh at weird times — either at something sad, odd or discordant in a situation, and I’d like to figure out how to take those moments and explain them to people better. I was recently on tour, and driving around and we’d pass random stuff that I thought was ridiculous: ads or signs or random things, gas stations that had impulse items that were books of poems on friendship. I saw a billboard for a phone company with people from every ethnicity, except Asian. For any of these things to happen, countless people had to get together, working for weeks or months, and go “This will make us rich!”And I’d like to figure out how to talk about those moments clearer. When I figure out how to explain what makes the Tony Danza Show so amazing and awful, I may have solved some of the problem.

What is your first conscious mental reaction to speaking into a microphone?
It was at Catch A Rising Star in Cambridge. I was incredibly nervous. I shook. I stood shaking and talking quickly. It was very exciting and horrifying. People laughed, but not because I did anything well, but it gave me an idea of how fun it would be to do comedy.

How close is what we fear to what we laugh at?
For me, very. For some, I don’t know. I laugh at weird times — at good and bad things alike. I laugh simply when things are incongruous. It’s not necessarily a judgment — as it is noticing the oddity of something. For others, I don’t know. They seem to laugh at According To Jim. That may be something I fear, but don’t laugh at.

What sort of vaudevillian performer would you have been, given that you had grown up in that era with fairly the same personality traits you have now?
What are the options? I would have been the guy with the cone-shaped megaphone. A comedian of some kind. Vaudeville had comics. I don’t think I would have worn a swimsuit and pretended to be demonstrating some sort of athletic prowess — just so that people could see the outline of my breasts. (That’s right vaudeville, you didn’t fool anybody, just like the freak show was not about science.)

Why do you suppose people are so ready to be cruel to comedians when grouped in a room together?
I’m not sure that people are ready to be cruel. Some people yell at comics, but those people don’t understand what’s going on. Most hecklers think they’re helping — or they think they are supposed to yell at you. I guess if someone is bombing, people will start yelling sometimes, but more often, they feel bad. There’s a pressure to laugh. It’s the only art form that puts pressure on the audience to have a certain reaction. It’s why people are hesitant about comedy.

At the moment, what would you like written on your tombstone?
He was very, very funny.

Have you ever found it to be true that women prefer a funny man to a wealthy one?
No. Women love cash and nothing else. Just kidding, ladies. Want to hang out?

Out of all your work, what are you the most pleased with?
A handful of jokes or moments in videos. There’s one joke that either makes people really uncomfortable or kills. It’s on the album. It’s in a letter I wrote to Fleet Bank (who deceived me about some debt). I make up awful things they would do and in one of them I claim they would release Saddam Hussein and give him Weapons of Mass Destruction, and then I say, “And you claim to hate Muslims?” I think it’s funny to give someone a point of view that’s offensive and claim that they aren’t living up to it. And there are various other moments in some of my videos. In the Art film, when I say, “I don’t own a television, it makes me better than you.” And “smoking pot off a hookers tits” is funny. I guess these are sort of weird, specific answers. But that’s how I think of stuff. There are various moments and ideas that I think are examples of what I’m going for and what I want to become, so those are the things I enjoy the most.

What sort of elderly man do you plan on being?
Joyful, dirty. I think I already say a lot of the things that make old people fun. I’ll do a lot of “when I was a kid” stuff, teach a new generation how to make fun of dating and the government.

Let’s say you’re performing for a room full of the most notorious villains throughout history and literature (Hitler, Moriarty, Liberace, etc.) How would you make them laugh?
First of all, everybody can relate to a hectic day. Even evil people lose the keys to their evil cars. Then I would do the old “who thinks he’s more evil” gag. But it would be a trick. They don’t think of themselves as evil. Many evil people feel they are following a just, moral ideology. Just look at our country (Oh shit! Snap!). I would do some “I know much of the world doesn’t understand your brilliance” crowd work and then talk about girls. Very evil girls. Then I’d close with a story about a monkey who had waaaaay too much weed and tried to fuck a lighthouse (How did it even get there?!).

What’s in your pockets right now? (including secret pockets)
A bunch of receipts and some cash and a note from a girl. Secret pockets? The new Hidden Cameras CD and beef vindiloo.

How close have you gotten to what you thought you’d be doing now?
I don’t know. I’m pretty excited about what I’ve done and what I’m doing. But also the more I do it, the more I understand how much more there is to do. (That sounds like how a superhero would respond to a newswoman asking him about saving a train full of refugees, sorry). The people who I think are really good, the people who get on stage and have a power and a presence that is unbelievable, have done this for 15, 20 years. I think after 10 years you figure a lot of stuff out, but after another 5 or 10 — that’s when you begin to really have the confidence and understanding of standup to be incredible. There are obviously lots of exceptions, but most of the people who are truly great stand-ups have done it for a while.

Besides Eugene Mirman, what’s the best thing to come out of Russia?
I’ll tell you what it’s not: communism. That’s a bullshit system of government. I don’t know. Probably caviar, smoked fish. Depressing literature? Pushkin? Daniel Kharms. He’s an absurdist author from the ‘20s and ‘30s. Mostly it’s a kind of attitude. I find that there are three kinds of Russian people. Some who will be like, “The world is cold, wet misery.” And others who are more like, “The world is cold, wet misery–who wants to go see a movie?” And there are those who are simply somewhat upbeat, “Let’s have some chicken and wine!” I’m somewhere between the last two. The best exported thing was an optimistic outlook on dreary things. I’m slowly recovering from this election, while my American counterparts are still throwing up in the streets.

What is one thing you are absolutely sure of?
I’m sure of almost nothing. Maybe this reality isn’t real! (Sorry if I blew your mind.) I think there are discrepancies in the logic of various things, but only in relation to their own postulates. I’m by no means some sort of moral relativist, but I think that I wouldn’t categorically say anything is absolute. I think that many things are very close. I hate much of religion — especially the way it’s being used now in politics–but I wouldn’t say there is categorically no God. The only thing I may be sure of is that some things are funny. Regardless of what is real, there is always going to be a conflict between various ways of looking at things, various flaws in certain ideas and the humor that points those things out is real. Wow! Good luck writing a term paper based on my crappy half-philosophy.

The Absurd Nightclub Comedy Of Eugene Mirman is out now on Suicide Squeeze.
Jason Mallory has a fantastic interview website at http://scenemissing.blogspot.com/

What do publicists really mean in those irritatingly patronizing scraps of toilet paper known as “the one sheet?” Well, not much of anything really, their job isn’t to translate any authentic information about a specific band; their job is to get you “pumped” about a record so you will either write a favorable review about it, play it on radio or TV (or as pathetic as it may be, possibly even on the internet), stock it in your store, or maybe just actually buy it — or at least that was the case when people actually bought music.

They’re basically poorly paid bullshit artists having to hype bands that they never choose to work with. I do concede you can’t blame someone for having to write about a shitty band when it’s simply their job. I do, however, blame someone for taking an utterly despicable job in the first place. If being a publicist is a record label’s version of a prostitute, then writing a hype sheet is certainly the equivalent of a facial.

What I’ve done here is run their dim-witted, amateurish prose through the bullshit decoder and gotten to the really distasteful orangey, stale butterfingery-like center in their den of lies. Publicist, you can’t help bands; you can only hurt them. You gotten way to use to your own stanky shit-piles and have forgotten that some people can actually smell it. I guess what I’m saying is “Fuck You, You Pathetic Ass Puppets.”

If a one sheet’s bio describes their latest album to be a “mature work,” it really means…
.
..it’s a slapped-together, shit-dribbled menagerie of slow songs for people over thirty who don’t go to rock shows any more.

If a band’s one sheet relates all the awesome bands that they have toured with, it really means…
…that they still can’t headline their own shows and have all but failed in developing their own fan base.

If a band’s one sheet reveals the fact that their record was home-recorded, it really means…
.
..that their last record didn’t sell dick and didn’t get enough of a budget from their label to record at a real studio.

If a band’s one sheet describes their music as being “whiskey-soaked,” it really means…
.
..the band can’t play together for shit and most likely plays some fake country crap.

If band’s one sheet claims that their chops are “dexterous,” it really means…
…that the dudes in said band were pimple-faced, D& D playing nerds who grew up on Rush and practiced for several hours a day. Thankfully, they still mostly only hang out with other guys.

If a band’s one sheet claims that they “deliver” something, it really means…
…that they did as little as they could to keep their skinny necks above the sewage that contains all other bands that they are compared to, or often steal from.

If a band’s one sheet labels their record as “experimental,” it really means…
…the band is lazy and can’t really compose authentic music, but has enough money to buy expensive samplers and computers.

If a band’s one sheet describes their demeanor as being “enigmatic,” it really means…
…the band sucks at doing interviews and are sad, sour bastards.

If a band’s one sheet overloads you with parentheses relating what everyone involved with the record has done, it really means…
…that although this record by no means can stand on its own merits… oh shit, did you see who the guest vocalist plays with?

If a one sheet describes a songwriter’s music as being “introspective,” it really means…
…he uses the fine backdoor art of subtlety to get pussy from girls who work at vintage clothing shops.

If a band’s one sheet terms their career as “long-time,” it probably means…
…they probably have just been together for far too long and rock like two old Jewish men playing chess in Washington Square Park.

If a band’s one sheet says their sound is “idiosyncratic” (or worse, “quirky”), it really means…

…they’re sucking with such a special kind of suck that no one is anywhere near the same league of suckiness as they are.

If a band’s one sheet calls their music “cathartic,” it really means…
…you’ll probably have to take a big dump after listening to the first few songs.

If a band’s one sheet says that they’re “challenging,” it really means…
…their record has absolutely no fucking hooks on it.

If a band one sheet says their singer is a “chanteuse,” it really means…
…she’s a frumpy alt-country singer who has drooping breasts and a flair for the ironic.

If a band’s one sheet describes their music as “ambitious,” it really means…
…that the band spent way too much money in the studio ordering take-out and recording out-of-key harmony vocals that they’ll never use, because of the great expense of making the record (not finished).

If a band’s one sheet alleges that a record is a “return to form,” it really means…
…the band has sold out and compromised enough to recreate a watered-down version of what they were when everyone really liked them, otherwise known as the SOMPTfP* game.

If a rock band’s one sheet describes their sound to be sometimes “jazzy,” it really means…
…their guitar player and/or drummer wasted a lot of money majoring in music and will punish their audience with whacky chords and jerky rhythms whenever possible.

If a band’s one sheet credits someone as having played a “Mellotron,” it really means…
…there was a non-functioning Mellotron at the studio where they did their basic tracking, but they used a Midi sample of a Mellotron on one or two songs and most likely mixed it so low you couldn’t even hear it.

Illustrated by Cup

Chunklet 19

Keep Sucking!
Artwork by Joe Peery

On many different occassions, we at Chunklet have published tutorials on heckling. How-tos, When-tos, and Why-tos; all of them very informative. Yet, some of you still don’t quite understand the pleasure of yelling “Fuck your boat, Blackbeard!” at June of 44, “Cap’n JAZZ!!” at Promise Ring, or “My balls, your mouth!” at Cat Power. These stolen moments will enrich your life and the lives of others. So, as one final attempt to get our readership to take their heroes down a notch, here are 10 heckles and their consequences.

issue_19_heckle

Repeatedly screamed “See No Evil” at Matthew Sweet show. Bitched out by guitarist Richard Lloyd. Girlfriend chimed in “You’re an asshole who just bitched out one of the three people who bought your solo record.” She would later buy a Television poster and put it up over my amplifier to keep me from playing guitar because she thought I was horrible.

Shouted “Play ‘Cuts Like A Knife!'” at Cracker, standing next to guys in Antenna (Jake Smith, John Strohm, on tour with Cracker) who moved immediately. Yelled “Summer of ‘69” and had to jump out of the way before getting snatched bald.

“Aren’t you gonna play some Big Star?” to Alex Chilton, countered by “I thought I might.” No Big Star songs ever actually played. “The Letter” sufficed as show was basically free anyway due to door guy connection.

Once I saw The Delta 72 play in a record store. This was after their Man…or Astro-Man? tour and several other tours that had them playing clubs here in town. So the setting is small as I push my way to the front of the stage wearing sunglasses and playing a harmonica through their entire set. I don’t know if a harmonica really counts as a heckler’s tool, but it was used in the spirit. No one in the band said anything; they all just sort of looked on in a sheepish kind of way, not sure what to do.

“I Wanna Destroy You” at the Jazz Butcher. Reply: “You’ve undoubtedly mixed us up with another group of middle-aged twats.” This is followed by “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.”

After Jeff Mangum of Neutral Milk Hotel at packed-to-hilt show said “We are Neutral Milk Hotel,” I shouted “We know.” Instantly followed by Mangum’s head-drooping embarrassment, one “2-Headed Boy,” several “Rock my shit”’s and “I love you, motherfuckin’ bitch”’s, and later a big drunk bearhug.

I picked up a Garfield-in-a-rabbit-suit stuffed animal at a gas station on the way to San Diego to see Teengenerate. His name became Garbunny and looked completely absurd. I held it up to Mary Lou Lord as she was playing the opening spot. She took one look at it, stopped in the middle of a song, started crying and walked off the stage.

“You rock my fuckin’ balls off” at Modest Mouse, countered with gibberish shouting that sounded vaguely like original heckle. Later invited by Isaac Brock to throw up in bathroom with him. Invitation refused. After Brock’s trip to the men’s room, I had to look at, walk through, stand in, piss in, and not add, to said vomit.

“Play that song that I heard on MTV that one time” at Jack Rubies. Song I heard on MTV wasplayed, followed by “Play it again.” Song not repeated.

Shouted “Turn the fuck up! I can’t fucking hear you!” at Belle and Sebastian. 2000 very quietly angry fans snarl at me, including some guys in Spoon. Then went to sound guys who at first refused to turn it up until asked “How much did you pay to be here? How far did you fucking drive? There are no less than 50 speakers up there and I can’t hear a fucking thing!” After turning up the mains he said “if anyone complains, I’ll have to turn it back down,” just adding to irony of an overpaid balding mullethead soundman wearing a Sex Pistols T-shirt.

Once again standing with guys in Antenna, shouted “Fat Bottom Girls” and “I Want To Ride My Bicycle” at Jellyfish. This time Freda Boner (love) was also in tow. “We have to tour with these guys,” she says to us. One of them says, “We already gave up on trying to make him stop.”

A friend of mine actually got on stage with this local band, and while facing them yelled the song title “Suicide is Painless” over and over for the entire set; during songs and after. He completely fucked them up as they tried to keep it together and ignore him.

Dear Mr. Gorelick,
First off, congratulations on making white-bread, lightweight, instrumental soprano sax mallcore so goddamned popular! In many ways, you are the gold standard for having bad taste in music. I both salute and cast shame upon your existence as light jazz’s “King of the Saxophone.” It has recently come to my attention that, under your “Kenny G.” alias, you are the Guinness World Record holder for the longest sustained music note, with forty-five minutes and forty-seven seconds. What this prompts me to say is, “BitchC9 is you for real? Is that all you got?”

I find it not at all ironic that you chose to play an F flat for the world record, because, you are a flat-out fag. Your hair is so completely glazed over with afro-sheen that you make Gabe Kaplan (Mr. Kotter) from ABC’s Welcome Back Kotter look like Frank Sutton in his role as Sgt. Vince Carter on CBS’s Gomer Pyle USMC, especially in the black and white season one episodes, before they switched over to color in 1965 for season two. It by far exceeds the bounds of speculative fiction that someone of your ilk could be in the top twenty-five artists in all time record sales, with over 70 million served. This statistic can only mean one thing: there are at least 70 million brain-deficient, chromosomally challenged ape-fuckers on the planet.

Now, pertaining to your “world record,” I’m sure you’re aware that the true possessor of the record for the longest held single note was Rahsaan Roland Kirk, who, in the early ‘70s, played a solid note for over two hours and forty-five minutes in a London jazz club. Of course, I’m sure he wasn’t recognized by Guinness because he couldn’t shoot press releases out of his ass which, not surprisingly, you seem to have an uncanny ability to do.

Truth be known, you are nothing more than a fey, new-agey, afroed, whitey-white, chess piece minion in the never-ending Jewish conspiracy to keep the black man down. I write you in order to seek much deserved justice for the late Roland Kirk. If you still feel so pompous and arrogant as to carry on this charade, we challenge you to get your soprano sax out of your starfish-shaped anus and put it where that sweet, thin-lipped mouth hole of yours puckers. We would like you to defend your title against a chosen Chunklet Magazine champion. Our chosen representative can meet you anytime, anywhere, and take your ass all the way back to remedial music class. Alas, your Aquanet-filled lungs probably can’t handle it, but, like it or not, your credibility depends upon your being able to safeguard your precious status.

Acceptance of our challenge is vital in your perpetual endeavor to impress Berklee College of Music retards, and, since you could only keep that shit afloat for forty-five minutes, it will take less than an hour of your time. If you happen to win, then you have safely protected your monolithic ego; however, if you lose, as we predict you will, we would like to arrange Michael Bolton to shave off your nappy-ass, grease-dripping locks. Please let us know your thoughts on our challenge ASAP. And, oh yeah: Don’t be a pussy.

The person who will soon be calling you “My Bitch,”
Brian Teasley

Q: Why does Ryan Adams cry during sex?
A: Because he usually gets sprayed with mace.

Q: What happens in the made-for-TV movie about Alice In Chains?
A: The hero gets the heroin.

Q: What’s the difference between going to see Scissor Sisters and having your testicles crushed in a vice?
A: Eventually, you will learn to endure the pain of having your testicles crushed.

Q: What’s the difference between your guarantee and bullshit?
A: You don’t have to beg a promoter for bullshit.

Q: Who loves peanut butter, has abs of steel and hasn’t made a record worth shitting on in a quarter century?
A: Iggy Pop.

Q: Why don’t Mexicans play rock music?
A: They’re too busy cleaning the club’s floors to write songs.

Q: What should you do if you see a member of My Chemical Romance staggering off stage?
A: Reload.

Q: What do Frank Black and Kim Deal have in common?
A: They both have great tits.

Q: Why do female musicians have periods?
A: God is punishing them for not really learning how to play their instruments.

Q: How do you tell who’s who in Le Tigre?
A: The length of their moustache.

Q: What’s worse than dying from AIDS?
A: Enduring the new crop of barefoot hippie-folk music.

Q: What did Karen Carpenter call two fingers?
A: Dessert.

Q: What do you call a black guy at a Lightning Bolt show?
A: Accidental.

Q: What’s the difference between Helen Keller and Howe Gelb fromGiant Sand?
A: At least Helen Keller couldn’t hear her own bullshit.

Q: What does Sloan have in common with Tim Horton’s Doughnuts?
A: No one gives a shit about them in America.

Q: What does Robert Pollard have in common with Charley, the main character in Flowers For Algernon?
A: They both go from being genius to retarded in a matter of days.

Q: What’s the difference between bottled water and the Tilly And The Wall record?
A: People actually buy bottled water.

Q: What does Devendra Banhart have in common with every other hippie in existence?
A: He too smells like a skunk who has just smoked a raw cock.

Anyone who is 29 (or so) and wants to be seen as ahead of the pack, informed, with-it, and of course, cool, has seen “Stranger Than Paradise,” “8 1/2,” “Weekend,” “El Topo,” and “Geek Maggot Bingo” (okay, maybe not that one). They’ve seen Hal Hartley movies, and they’ve maybe even seen a bootleg tape of Warhol’s “Sleep.” But did you know that many of these filmmakers who define hip in the realm of hipster film are grossly and hilariously overrated? Yes, it’s true, much like musicians, college sports players and anal sex with a prostitute, indie filmmakers can be shockingly overrated! Also, the more arty and self-absorbed the filmmaker, the more profoundly overrated they become, so you can bet mother fucking Jean-Luc’s ass is on here somewhere!

So let’s get to the list. You may disagree, and you may even get mad at me. But please try to remember as you read this, I am right, and deep down, whether you know it or not, you did see Peter Greenaway’s “The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover,” and you know fucking well I am right.

Jim Jarmusch
He is more concerned with indie cool points then having a point. Makes visual carbon copies of Eastern European art films, but replaces the heavy, weighted symbolism and meaning about oppression and resistance with deadpan Honeymooners humor (and lately he has been injecting a kind of Seinfield quality to his work). Has one truly great film, “Dead Man,” and that’s the only one he didn’t have final cut on! “Night On Earth” was like a really bad collection of Italian soap opera episodes with ugly actors. “Stranger Than Paradise” is about as poignant as “Cinderfella” done by Wim Wenders, and the only cool thing about it is the original Sonic Youth drummer guy being in it. I do like “Down By Law” and “Mystery Train” to some degree, but neither film puts him above creative independent filmmakers like Alex Cox or William Klein, who get zero credit in the states.

Nick Zedd
Imagine Richard Kern after a horrific motorcycle accident. Now imagine him high on heroin and wearing leather pants. At this moment, you are envisioning Nick Zedd. Throw in a skanky Pabst drinking bar whore cutting herself with a razor blade in front of a blue screen flashing Six Flags-like video effects, and you are imagining almost any Nick Zedd movie you can think of. Yet this guy is looked at as some kind of mysterious, confrontational and angry filmmaker who carries the weight of the New York underground film scene on his shoulders. People need to understand that filmmakers like Nick Zedd stomped on the shoulders of the New York underground film scene and turned it into one big fucking joke, a parade of death metal shock tactics (they do it better in Tampa, and not on film, in their goddamned apartments!), neutered anti-porno eroticism, and uninformed meathead politics that add up to directionless, moronic masturbation. But he does dye his hair all kinda crazy colors, dude! Keepin’ it real!

Jean-Luc Godard
Yeah, yeah, “Breathless” was so influential that some say it’s the most influential movie of all time. But just because something is an influence, that does not mean it is a good influence in any way. Think William S. Burroughs as a father figure, think the dude in the hoody standing by that chain link fence over there, think Michael Jackson as a sex therapist, think “Breathless” as an influence to future filmmakers everywhere. Godard was really the first filmmaker to use the movies to show how much he knew about the movies. He spent more time making reference to other films than he did making a movie. He turned most of his film narratives into self-referential brags and created an iconography out of surface disguised as invention (Tarantino is like Godard with his guard down). He was the first filmmaker to fit that mold of never living a life that wasn’t spent watching movies. His films were fueled by other films, not his experiences, and with the coming of Godard, went the days of real life moviemakers like John Ford, Samuel Fuller, Orson Welles, Howard Hawks, and Robert Aldrich. He made one great film, “Weekend,” a truly brilliant melding of all of his mishmash of ideas, societal upheaval, a hatred of classism, materialism, and Americanism, yet there is a strong love, albeit satirical at times, for American film, fashion, and music. So call him a genius, but don’t forget to call him a hypocritical derivative when you’re done. Every other movie he made, including “Breathless,” can be dissected on a napkin and will make you feel like you are locked in a room with a 19-year-old stoner who just watched “Shock Corridor” for the first time. Watch Robert Bresson instead, please!

Hal Hartley
I really don’t have too much to say about Hal Hartley except he has neither made a good movie, nor can he write real dialogue. He is one of those people who almost makes good movies, but once you get about an hour in, you notice that it pretty much sucks. He makes me feel let down and deflated. All he can do is frame people pleasingly, hire a good cinematographer to save his own blundering ass, and furthermore, he writes an ending about as well as Stephen King. I used to co-own a video store and we had a “respected American directors” section. Hal Hartley was not in it. People wearing untucked dress shirts would always ask me why he was not in that section, and I would reply “Because we don’t respect him, his movies are over here with the Mike Leigh and Atom Egoyan stuff”.

Guy Maddin
Since when does making silent film parody that looks like it was produced by “Saturday Night Live” make you an underground film hero? Why do respectable film critics give this guy the fucking time of day? “Heart of the World” was like being hit over the head with this guy’s film school ego, all jelly-filled, polished film symbolism. What a pompous, self-important jerk-off. “Careful” made me want to beat his “influenced” ass. And let’s not even go down that “Twilight of the Ice Nymphs” road. He seems to think he is making these authentic tributes to cinema’s early days, but all he is doing is making ADD renditions of Carl Th. Dreyer films via Godard’s near plotless influence (thanks again, Frog). Go fuck your couch, you Canadian!

Kenneth Anger
Everyone, put the magazine down for a second and ask yourself, “Do I really like Kenneth Anger movies?” Hey, welcome back. Now that we are all on the same page here, let’s try and figure out why this queeny, wannabe transgressive phony ever got to be the Grandfather of the Underground. “Scorpio Rising” is more gay than “Crusin’,” and it’s about as skillfully put together as a late-’60s Ed Wood movie (without any of the charm). “Lucifer Rising” feels about as insightful as Otto Preminger’s “Skidoo,” and Anger’s association with people like Mick Jagger and Manson Family members only makes him a name-dropping fake, not dangerous or brilliant. You just know guys like Dennis Hopper and Anton LaVey used to snap him in the ass with a towel or something. He gets credit for helping create many of the styles we might see on MTV today. Gee, thanks a lot, cocksucker!

Peter Greenaway
My absolute most hated filmmaker of all time. Name any movie he’s made, and I will start to wretch. I want to run this fucking stuffy prick over with my car…fourteen times. Never, and I mean never, has there been a more insulting, vapid, boring, laughable filmmaker (or artist, author, musician, mime, anyfuckingthing!). His films represent the absolute worst elements in art film. Take Cocteau, give him a big hard-on for overanalyzing Shakespeare along with the visual flair of the “Flashdance” set designer and you’ve got Peter Greenaway’s sorry ass. Every movie he has ever made is a steaming pile of exploitative bullshit. I have met film snobs who deem this guy one of the few true artists in cinema, and I’ve told each and every one of them “You’re lucky I don’t throw a pot of boiling coffee in your fucking face!” It’s because of this guy I feel sick whenever I see an orange or blue color jell shining over a man’s penis. And to think I used to get so much out of that!

Man Ray
The guy is considered a pillar of the experimental film community, but he only made seven movies while Stan Brakhage made over 300. Fuck Man Ray, and his American Dada ass. Go throw a whipped cream pie, or roll around in your shit or something.

Andy Warhol
Warhol couldn’t direct his way out of a paper bag. Have you ever watched “Chelsea Girls?” No, I don’t mean have you heard of it, have you ever actually watched it, all the way through, from beginning to end? If you said yes, maybe you should know that Drano tastes great in beer. I once went to a screening of “Flesh For Frankenstein” and they ran a Warhol “short” before the movie that was longer than the feature. It was the Warhol film “Beauty #2.”It was the most painful movie experience of my entire life, and I saw “Arthur 2: On The Rocks” in the fucking theatre! I defy you to speak positively about a Warhol-directed film without spewing diarrhea from your mouth.

A Point and Half-Assed Counterpoint

Genius. Clever. Intense. Fucked-up. Ground-breaking. Good.
There are artists who seemingly exist for the sole purpose of convincing stupid people that they are, or understand art that is, one or all of the above attributes. Mike Patton is their leader.

For all we knew in 1989, the future would prove harmless and laughable. Wrong. A histrionic proto-wigger in sweat shorts gesticulating opposite a flopping, asphyxiating fish shouldn’t have been taken seriously. Somehow he was. Even as strains of the (then) freshly-christened Funk Metal genre churned behind him, it all seemed innocent and silly to those possessing the cognitive power to make a sandwich or execute dry sex. To their miniscule bank of credit, Mike Patton and Faith No More would move away from Funk Metal, but Patton would continue on with another, exponentially horrifying battle cry of the ham-fisted hipsters: Mr. Bungle.

Mr. Bungle is the illogical (because there shouldn’t be any) progression from Frank Zappa’s legacy—a soul-eroding blight across the last three and a half decades of music if there ever was one. Just add every single fucking special interest genre to the stew. Why? Because that’s “eclectic.”

POINT:
Anyway, all Mr. Bungle and Mike Patton apologists cite the same five credentials during the inevitable pro-Bungle tirade inextricably associated with hardcore fans of this overbearing, non-stop, parade of faux-intensity. Here’s a point-by-point rebuttal:

1. The John Zorn connection.
Nothing elicits a ricochet of negative energy from that guy at your local scenester bar who won’t shut up quite like the statement, “John Zorn is fake jazz.” You should try it. It’s a hoot. Granted, it’s a hoot to me because I have a sense of humor, so results may vary. John Zorn attaches an unfortunate degree of “respect” to whatever he touches, whether it be the run of the mill slummer routine with a Japanese blastcore band, or some NYC crusty spazzcakes, or something as loathsome as Mr. Bungle. I also hear that he has been donning camo trousers for the past two decades, something that precipitated the omnipresent lack of style amongst his disciples. Fake jazz? Nooooooo… he is a jazz musician… calm down. At least he was the last time I cared, which was sometime in the mid-’90s. Oh, and we can thank John Zorn for the popularity/credibility/visibility of people like Buckethead and Vernon Reid.

2. “You gotta respect what they are doing. You gotta respect the musicianship.”
No, I don’t. Watch. I don’t. See? It’s that easy. Just because somebody didn’t garner enough attention from their “parents” or “friends” or “anything but masturbating in their basement to Rush” at some point in life’s long journey doesn’t mean that I have sit still while they beat me over the head with “ability.” Why are people still hoodwinked into believing that instrumental prowess = good? Am I supposed to be impressed by some “wacky” bullshit that jumps around from bossa nova to grindcore to soft rock to polka within one song? Hey, I think I need to be reminded of your “impressive musical palette” every four seconds…yeah that’s it…dart those little bug eyes out over the crowd while you do it! Let everyone know how “crazy” and “off-kilter” you are!!

3. “But I also like…”
Every single note pooped out by The Butthole Surfers, Primus, The Dillinger Escape Plan, The Secret Chiefs (‘natch), Candiria, all of that forgotten bass-poppin’ “jazzcore” flushed down the black hole of forgotten irrelevance by Alternative Tentacles and SST, Alice Fucking Donut, assholes that bark about licking the inside of a vacuum cleaner bag against the backdrop of thudding bass or white noise, Bootsauce, Mind Funk, anything with the ultimate red flag of two bass players, maybe some throwaway AmRep testosterone mills, and probably something a little “illbient.”

4. Pop and rock music is too conventional and boring.
Sure, a gaping amount is. You’re “above” pop and rock music. Wait a minute. No. You are not. The blind discrediting of pop and rock music — a practice that many noiseniks seem to swear by, is laughable and indicative of a very serious case of social ineptitude. To address the boys (gender joke? don’t have time) here: only listening to music that pummels you with its fucked-uppitude, its negativity, its volume, its lack of structure, its hate; it’s evidence of something lurking in the closet. Why else would you have to be constantly reassured of your masculinity? I’m just sayin’, dude.

5. “I can’t argue with you right now, my cat is chewing on my dreads.”
Then pull some Tender Vittles out of your cargo shorts. And as a bonus, in lieu of a cyanide capsule, a summary of Mr. Bungle’s proper Warners’ releases goes like this:

Mr. Bungle (1991) – Unfunny doo doo humor.
Disco Volante (1995) – The mature outing. The “really experimental one.” A great example of Cleverness 101.
California (1999) – The irony pop album that is…you guessed correct… “all fucked up.”

HALF-ASSED COUNTERPOINT:
And if it’s still going so bad that you have to play devil’s advocate just to shut one of these fuckers up, you can make the following admissions:

1. If forced by sharp stick to witness a Mike Patton production, I would choose Fantomas. There is a scope to Fant99mas that is lacking with Patton’s other projects. Plus, Dave Lombardo is the drummer, and Slayer always knew how stupid they were.

2. Mike Patton has a sense of humor. Sometimes it’s not a great one, but it’s one nonetheless. A good example would be his reissuing of Gregg Turkington’s Great Phone Calls — the juggernaut of all prank phone call releases.

Inspiration:
You know those incredulous fucking urban myths where some worm-burping high school kid runs off the road, breaks through the guardrail and flips his car over, only to be trapped by the smashed hood and inflated air bag with the cassingle for George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex” looping round and fucking round again? Same goddamn thing here, minus the Jaws of Life coming to save your ass. You’re on your own. Prepare to know what it feels like to have a dirty unicorn fuck you in one ear with his horn and your other ear with his nubby unicorn cock.

The Mission:
Create for combat purposes a tape so wretched and foul that anyone who listens to it for 24 hours will never be able to think straight again. Some minor guidelines being that the material must be predominantly from your own record collection and should fit a standard 90-minute cassette tape. Some of you would consider that old school, but to us it just makes it more annoying.

Objective:
Survive a full waking day (roughly 18 hours) of an opponent’s battle mix. Pure hate drives the competition. There are no true breaks from the sonic storm. The music must remain at least 70 decibels at all times. Cheaters only cheat themselves of surviving pure audio torture. This is not for the weak at ear. Hearing loss and bad taste are pluses in this endeavor. Prepare to have your earhole raped into a tethered pile of cartilage. — by Brian &Henry

OWINGS
I’m going to start this thing off honestly. I’m not proud of this, nor do I encourage other people to do this, but I cheated. Not once, but twice. Why? Oh, that’s easy to explain.
When Brian suggested this idea, I was enthusiastic, but a bit stumped by the rule that we could only collect material from our own record collection. Now, I know that a lot of my friends avidly purchase esoteric, outsider and/or irony-laden recordings from thrift stores, but I’ve just never had the tolerance for it. My point being, why would you have a record in your collection that intentionally sucks? If you only whip it out to shock or amuse once every two years, that’s called “dead wood” at my place. Even when I told Brian this, he insisted that I come up with a torture tape. After closely analyzing what I had at my disposal, I knew I was screwed. So I ended up doing what any fella would do in my position. I cheated.

With the torture tape’s h-hour but three days away, I went to Wuxtry Records and explained my quandary. Using some of their recommendations to guide me, I gathered and was allowed to borrow a box of 30 records and about 10 singles that I sifted through for the ultimate in sonic torture. For two hours I hovered over the turntable, and thought I made a respectable entry. However, once my girlfriend woke up and heard what I had in store for Brian, she smirked at how weak my entry was.
For fear of further embarrassment, here’s a sampling of the first six tracks on Torture Tape Mk. I: Mister Mister “Kyrie;” Dan Fogelberg “Longer Than; “Starship “We Built This City;” Captain and Tenille “Muskrat Love;” Richard Marx “Should’ve Known Better;” Billy Crystal “You Look Mahvelous.”

I am guessing that I can only blame myself for the mediocrity. I just thought of songs that would drive me crazy while I was sifting thru crates of records. As was relayed to me by my girlfriend, Brian’s tape would morph me into either a stark raving mad lunatic or Prozac’s poster child. So, I went back to the drawing board, and cheated yet again.

Now, whereas I don’t claim to have any insight whatsoever to the more seedy realms of eccentric music, my good friend Garth does. So for Torture Tape Mk. II I decided to go whole hog and let Garth concoct what would become a more suitable entry. I knew even upon Brian’s inception of this idea that I was going to suck, but fortunately enough on twelve hours notice, I had a selection of errata presented to me that would make a grown man (or at least a partially-grown drummer) weep. And how long did it take Garth to come up with his masterstroke? About 20 minutes. God bless him.

So with that out of the way, on to Brian’s torture tape. In all candor, if I’d turned in Torture Tape Mk. I, I would’ve been destroyed. Side A starts off innocently enough with Devo’s weak-ass-weak “Theme to Doctor Detroit,” but it ends with Brian’s own Metal Machine Music composition from that grunge band he played bongos for in the ‘90s. Their name escapes me. I want to say The Aquabats, but I know that’s wrong. Side B is no less punishing, as it begins with the incalculably maddening “New Number Order” by Shellac and is finished off by a horrid one-two punch; first, with the “Gingerbread Man,” and then, the never-ending Robert Ashley “piece” that I learned to dread more than a root canal from a blind man. How many times did I endure this tape? No fewer than 14 times around. Did I lose my mind? Yes, probably around the fourth time. Did I ever regain my composure? Oh, most definitely. Probably around the ninth listen. Am I proud of the fact that I cheated? No. Am I proud that Garth’s sonic concoction drove Brian to the brink of insanity? Duh. That’s not exactly something you get to do every day, now is it?

TEASLEY
After a complete 17 insufferable listens of this barbaric, ass-melting retardo music, I’m beyond fucked up. Music is stupid. I can finally understand people who say they don’t listen to it. I have learned this: Outsider art is what it is—moronic horseshit made by people who couldn’t piss in their own pants properly. I’m ready to throw my own fucking ashes into the wind. My ghost will haunt The Kids of Widney High like the devil’s own embittered, gorged bladder of hatred. Please save your sorry, na95ve mole-brain and never try this. Don’t be next in line, you sad sack of poo. This pure waste of time nearly caused my suicide, or at least “death by misadventure” (like it read on Bon Scott’s death certificate). Imagine drinking Special Olympics port-a-john toilet water for 18 hours and you can approximate the memory I must now use all my remaining strength to block out for the rest of my pathetic life. Fuck you, Henry. Fuck you all.

Brian’s tape for Henry (in order):
“Theme From Doctor Detroit” Devo; “Hyperventilation” Helios Creed; “Macho Duck”Donald Duck; “Don’t Worry Baby”Keith Moon; “(Tear Their) Syphilitic Vaginas to Pieces”G.I.S.M.; “Take You Back (Tough Gym)” Frank Stallone (Rocky III Soundtrack); “Can’t Get You Out Of My Mind” Flaming Lips; “PeppermintMan”Dick Dale; “Whisper A Prayer/The Story Of Daniel” Big Sounds For Little Ears; “Pecos Bill” Disney Soundtrack; “Multi-variational Stimuli of Sub-Turgid Foci Covering Crossevaluative Techniques For Cognitive Analysis of Hypersignificant Graph Peaks Following Those Intersubjective Modules Having Biodegradable Seepage”Man or Astro-Man?; “New Number Order”Shellac; “Hogtied”Cowslingers; “In TheFace of Coldness”Superstar Dan Theman; “School Days” Gentle Giant; “Rock Easy, No Bounce, Floor Stretch”Mary Lou Retton; “Love Balm” Cold Water Army; “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep”Lullaby and Goodnight; “Punk Side Story” Schlong; “Sonic Attack”Hawkwind; “Gingerbread Man”Candyland album; “Nova Musicha n.3” Robert Ashley

 

Henry’s tape for Brian (in order):

“Also Sprach Kazoostra” Temple City Kazoostra; “I Feel Fine” The Beatle Barkers; “Eating is Fun, Eating is Serious” Chris “Corky” Burke; “Neutron Dance” Del Rubio Triplets; “Shouts of Ol8E”Carmen; “Dur Dur D’Etre, Bebe” Jordy; “Beach Patrol” Hulk Hogan; “Volare” Jack Mudurian; “Insects” Kids of Widney High; “There’s No Business Like Show Business (Disco Version)” Ethel Merman; “Any Friend of Jesus is a Friend of Mine” Rappin’ Rabbit; “What is this Generation Coming To?” Robert Mitchum; “No Dope No Drugs” Mr. T; “Jesus Wants to Live in Your Heart” Lil’ Markie; “Telstar” Joe Meek; “Anal Sadistic” Mike Kelley; “Blue Suede Shoes” Eilert Pilarm; “Downright” Price Waterhouse Cooper; “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts” Jack Mudurian; “These Boots are Made for Walking” Crispin Hellion Glover; “Don’t Judge Me” Girls With Attitude; “He’s Such A Man” Princess Diana (The Musical); “You’re Drivin’ Me Mad” Alvin Dahn; “How Great Thou Art” Shooby Taylor; “Give Peace a Chance” Mitch Miller; “Yodelling Overture” Mary Schneider; “The Most Unwanted Song” Komar and Melamid

Daring rescue mission: Jessica Lynch
Paranormal experience: Past-life regression
New Age alternative medicine: Intestinal massage
Fashion trend: Low-cut waist gypsy belts
Institute of higher learning: Harvard
Wax museum: Madam Tussaud’s
Space campaign: Apollo
Religious cult: Scientology
Diet food: Celery sticks
Party: Costume
Cowboy: Kevin Costner
Game show host: Pat Sajak
Teen year: 16
Murderer: Charles Manson
Patriotic disaster: Challenger explosion
Porn title: Saving Ryan’s Privates
End to civilization: (tie) Fire and ice
Air conditioner setting: 72BC F
Tom Hanks movie: Forrest Gump
Statue: Statue of Liberty
Breakfast table item: Aunt Jemima maple syrup
Plastic surgery: Collagen lip injections
Firework: Sparkler
The Price Is Right game: The one with the mountain climber
Vegetable: Sweet corn niblets
Form of canine discipline: Hitting nose with newspaper
Symbol of the ‘60s: Peace sign
Punctuation symbol: Comma
Gag item: Alfred E. Neuman $3 bill
Jane Fonda reference: (tie) Fuckin’ Vietnam and Barbarella
‘90s sitcom: Seinfeld
Medieval form of protection: Moat
Cast member on Gilligan’s Island: Gilligan
Decadent purchase: Jukebox in the bathroom
Football commentator: John Madden
Form of aerial transportation: Blimp
Prison gag: Dropping the soap in the shower
Monty Python gag: The Holy Hand Grenade
Brady: Marsha
Bogus law: “Do not remove this tag”
Cartoon-like spokesperson: Kool Aid’s “Oh yeah!” pitcher
Talk-show sidekick: Ed McMahon
Lazy Saturday afternoon activity: Cuddling in a hammock
All-female porn concept: Women in prison
Wordplay on “History”: Kisstory
Import: All the tea in China
Yogurt: Go-Gurt
Condiment: Ketchup
European sport: Soccer
War: World War II
Mud flap: Keep on Truckin’
Yearbook title: The Carousel
Simpsons character: Bart
No-wave band: Television
Pillsbury character: The Doughboy
Chappy’s Deli slogan: “Just one bite will set you free”
Smoothie: Mr. Mongo at Planet Smoothie
Thing for a parent to be proud of: Honor student
Bum sign: “I’m not gonna lie to you, I just want a beer”
Planet of the Apes movie: Escape From The…
Form of humiliation: Peeing in your pants
Edgy prank: Videotaping strangers in the toilet
Watering hole pastime: Sexual harassment
Chronicle Books release: Worst-Case Scenario Survival Guide
Revolutions per minute: 33 1/3
Pickup truck: Dodge Ram
Giant moth: Mothra
March: Million Man
Zipper: YKK
Drug magazine: High Times
Internal organ: Cloaca
Dead clown: Emmett Kelly
Mime: Marcel Marceau
20th century decor: ‘60s Tiki/lounge
Grooming activity: Filing your fingernails
Late-night drinking activity: Vomiting in a friend’s car
Chevy Chase movie: National Lampoon’s Vacation
Children’s television host: Mister Rogers
Article in this issue of Chunklet: Overrated record survey
Fashion designer: Christian Dior
Frozen Mexican treat: Choco Taco
Trip: Moses leading his people out of Egypt
Dead porn star: John Holmes
Death in their own vomit: Jimi Hendrix
Secret queer person: David Hyde Pierce
Action hero: Jean-Claude Van Damme
Comic book character: Harvey Pekar
Ancient structure: Pyramids of Giza
Song on Bob Seger’s Like A Rock album: “Like A Rock”
Visible element in your stool: (tie) Corn and peanuts
Legendary baseball teasm: The 1969 Mets
Character on Kids in the Hall: The “I’m Crushing Your Head” guy
Sonic Youth associate: Lydia Lunch
Sexual preference: Hetero
Christmas gift-giving technique: The Secret Santa game
John Hughes movie: The Breakfast Club
Cult movie: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Protection from a stalker tactic: Restraining order
Member of Fugazi: Ian MacKaye
Piece of chicken: Breast
Living porn star: Ron Jeremy
Contemporary artist: Jeff Koons
Hipster store: Urban Outfitters
Goth fetish: Drinking blood
Cannibal: Jeffrey Dahmer
Rock club: CBGB
Place to ejaculate: Tits
Political scandal: Watergate
Caliber: .38
Trench: Marianas
Page number: 3
Breakfast cereal: Frosted Mini-Wheats
Silent film star: Rudolph Valentino
Hideously deformed person: John Merrick
Source of band names: Any movie reference
Contemporary slang word: Blog
High-end alcoholic beverage: Cristal
1960s racial protest: March on Selma, Alabama
Ronco product: Ginsu knife
Movie villain: Hannibal Lechter
Sex symbol: Pamela Anderson
Gay reality television show: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
Lame-ass rockabilly haircut: The pomp
Froofy chick drink: Sex on The Beach
Indie director: Vincent Gallo
Key-chain do-dad: Rabbit’s foot
Freeze-dried pet: Sea monkey
Jihad: Salman Rushdie
Breed of dog: Jack Russell terrier
Druid structure: Stonehenge
Irish icon: Leprechaun
Continent: Europe
Halo of Flies single: Rubber Room
Hot Hollywood actor: Orlando Bloom
Contemporary artist: Matthew Barney
Use of sesame seeds: Hamburger buns
Time: Quittin’ time
Solstice: Summer
Early ‘90s poster artist: Coop
Fantagraphics cartoonist: Chris Ware
Spice: Paprika
Spice Girl: Posh
Picnic food: Deviled eggs
Club drug: GHB
Mixer: Orange juice
Film festival: Cannes
Dead poet: Jack Kerouac
BBC Channel: 1
Homonym: Whole/Hole
Animal actor: Spuds McKenzie
Emotion: Melancholy
Guitar String: E
Reptile: Amphetamine
Igneous rock: Granite
American landmark: Mount Rushmore
Music format: Compact disc
Speaker manufacturer: Bose
Flip Wilson character: Geraldine
Rose: Yellow Rose of Texas
Jewish symbol: Star of David
Letterpress shop: Hatch Show Print
Regional video format: NTSC
Macromedia program: Dreamweaver
Big Mac ingredient: Special Sauce
Vanilla flavor: French
Mohawk: Mr. T
Novelty pet: Chia
Circus: Ringling Brothers
Sugar substitute: Equal
F-stop: 5
Talk show host: Oprah
Serial killer: Ed Gein
Children’s book: Goodnight Moon
Ethnic food: Chinese Sweet-n-Sour
Time zone: Eastern
Herb for animals: Catnip
Animal narcotic: Ketamine
Diet craze: Atkins
Flavor of Jell-o: Orange
Chapter in the Bible: Genesis
World religion: Christianity
Third World ethnic food: Taramosalata
Marilyn Monroe movie: Some Like It Hot
Art movement: Abstract Post-War Expressionism
Urban Outfitters purchase: The butterfly chair
Part of Rocket From The Crypt: The horn section
New Zealander: Peter Jackson
Homophobic gay basher: Fred Durst
Reason not to finish a Dutch Baby at the Original Pancake House: Getting sick
Plastic surgery chin implant: Reese Witherspoon
Kid Michael Jackson fucked in the butt: Macaulay Culkin
Euphemism for a bong: Water pipe
‘90s-era SNL cast member: Rob Schneider
European currency: Swedish kronor
Vanity endeavor for hip-hop artists: Designing their own sneakers
Term for feminists: Wymyn
Twins: Barbie
Power broker: Donald Trump
Vitamin: K
Gypsy shtick: Palm reading
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” rip-off: The ‘jam’ in the beginning scene of ‘90s comedy flick PCU
Dorm room poster: “Enter At Your Own Risk”
Body piercing: Belly button
Term for a female dog: Bitch
Magician: David Blaine
McKenzie: McKenzie Phillips
Bicentennial: America’s Spirit of ‘76
Vegetarian “excuse”: Meat Is Murder
Toupee: David Spade’s
Abbreviation: abbr.
Marriage compromise: (tie) Hyphenation of bride’s surname and divorce
Reason not to hug your grandmother: She smells like old, used diapers
Year in James Brown’s career: 1969
Hostage: Patty Hearst
Season of Buffy: Second
Beatle: Paul McCartney
Atari 2600 video cartridge: Asteroids
Thomas Pynchon book: The Crying of Lot 49
Sports announcer: Studs Terkel
Breakdance move: The Windmill
Elvis Costello song: “Pump It Up”
Ceiling fan speed: High
Sense: Taste
Finger: Index
Season: Summer
Hipster perfume: Toga
Razor: Mach Three
Male sexual fantasy: Threesome
Element of spaghetti westerns: Tumbleweed
Breakfast cereal cartoon character: Cap’n Crunch
Annoying backyard pool dive: The Cannonball
Latino gang fashion: Having the top button buttoned on a short-sleeve button-down shirt
Circus sideshow attraction: Siamese twins
Member of Thin Lizzy: Phil Lynott
Postponement: “I haven’t found myself yet.”
Rumor-that’s-really-not-a-rumor about George Clinton: He smokes crack
Foreign exchange student: That one dude from Kenya
Courtney Love conspiracy theory: That she actually has talent
Slang term for being fired: Shitcanned
Form of electrocution: Sticking your finger in the socket
Gene Hackman movie: The French Connection
Comparison analogy: Apples to oranges
‘60s graphic icon: Peace symbol
“Director’s Cut” ending: Blade Runner
Remake of a foreign film: Vanilla Sky
Use of cardboard: Spending hours constructing a table out of three iMac boxes
Pancakes at IHOP: Polynesian
Recording studio tool: Computer
Soft drink ploy: Clear anything
Hour in primetime: 8 to 9 p.m.
Street name: Main
Horror author: Dean Koontz
Cigarette: Camel Lights
Afro styling: High fade
Thing to reenact: The U.S. Civil War
Bait-and-switch: The “mystery” box
Ex-Spiegel model: Matthew Barney
Rock band manager: Peter Grant
Stain on Andrew WK’s T-shirt: Shit brown smudge in left pectoral zone
Pro Tools plug-in: Aphex Big Bottom Pro
Term for marijuana: Kind bud (a.k.a. “KB”)
Mideastern conflict: Israel vs. Palestine
Member of Tenacious D: Jack Black
Long-standing songwriter: Randy Newman
George Carlin skit: “The Seven Dirty Words You Can’t Say on Television”
Flashback: The one right before you die
Method of suicide: Autoerotic asphyxiation
Word that starts with the letter “N”: The “N-word”
Mid-life hairstyle: The comb-over
Cell phone service: Virgin mobile
Issue of Chunklet: #15, The Asshole Issue
Gerry Anderson marionette show: Thunderbirds
Women exploitation restaurant: Hooters
Sexually transmitted disease: HIV
Perversion: Peeping Tom
Type of brassiere: Wonder Bra
Form of ice: Crushed
Opiate: Heroin
Chocolate: Truffle
Hippie pet: The ferret
Plague: Bubonic
Party favor: Kazoo
Diaper: Plastic
Single malt whiskey: Jack Daniels
1960s cult television show: The Prisoner
Late ‘90s garage rock band: Electric Frankenstein
Member of Public Enemy: Chuck D
Ad campaign: The ineffectual truth.com anti-smoking ads
Hollywood movie practice: Making sequels
Slang for a motorcycle: Crotch Rocket
Name for a gay couple’s pet: Jazz
Pet name for a frat boy: (3-way tie) Guinness, Bud and Hoss
Tropical fruit: Mango
Fictional item that dogs chase: Chuck wagon
Howard Stern sidekick: Stuttering John
Herb: Ginseng
Cast member of 21 Jump Street: Richard Grieco
“Friendly” nickname from a shop teacher who can’t remember your name: Boss
Yard chore: Raking the leaves
Blooper overdub: “Boing!”
Angus Young stage get-up that’s not the schoolboy one: Zorro outfit
Pre-Butthole Surfers Butthole Surfers band name: Dick Gas Five
Space on Hollywood Squares: The center square to block
State beneath the Mason-Dixon line: Florida
Surprise: Flamingo-a-Friend in your front lawn
Beneficial insect: Ladybug
“How to”: Our Bodies, Our Selves
Dessert: Cr8Fme br9El8Ee
Table manner: Saying “please”
Unused space in a U-Haul truck: Grandma’s Attic
Item in Grandma’s Attic: Her love letters
Explorer: Columbus
Brand of pancake mix: Bisquick
Constellation visible in nighttime sky: Orion
Indicator of future success: Test scores
Trendy parking lot etiquette: Reserved spaces for expectant mothers
Abuse of personal freedom: Acting like a jerk
Fast food moniker: “Biggie”
Waffle House hashbrown tier in the Scattered, Smothered, etc. line-up: “Chunked”
Suffix: -est
Additive: MSG
Mythical hybrid: Griffin
Succulent cactus: Yucca
Arcane ritual: Marriage
Secret society: Freemasons
Ground cover: Shore juniper
Adhesive: Crazy Glue
Dead lesbian poet: Sappho
Planned resort community: Seaside
Way of death: In your sleep
Brand of ice cream: Ben & Jerry’s
Missing person: Amelia Earhart
Nazi believed to have fled to South America: Goebbels
Nobel Prize winner: Pearl S. Buck
Expression when saying goodbye: “Take it easy”
Dead lesbian hostess: Gertrude Stein
Delivery service: United States Postal Service
Local news feature: Kid stuck down a well
Drunk-at-a-bar pastime: Watching women fight
Fictitious mixed drink: Roofie colada
Required high school reading assignment: The Great Gatsby
Marlon Brando movie: The Godfather
‘70s AOR artist: Steely Dan
In-city ethnic locale: Chinatown
Saturday morning cartoon: 6 a.m. farm report
Washed up 4-letter 1980s rock band: Styx
Hollywood “yukster”: Andy Dick
Hope/Crosby “Road” movie: The Road to Hong Kong
Dairy Queen menu item: Blizzard
First lady: Jackie Kennedy
Smell in a pillow: Fart
Contest: Project Greenlight
Autopsy: Orson Welles’
Hors d’oeuvre: Crudit8Es
Sex toy: Ben Wa balls
Man: Dr. Phil
Rapper: 50 Cent
NASCAR number: 3
Sitarist: Ravi Shankar
Shoe collection: Imelda Marcos
African country: Kenya
Campbell’s soup: Chicken Noodle
New York crime family: Gambino
British form of transit: Double-decker bus
Childhood prank: Taking a dump in somebody’s shoes
Happy Days cast member: Scott Baio
Method of departing New York City: Holland Tunnel
Lame-o Atlanta scene created as an excuse to do coke, get shitty tattoos, play cowbilly and spin David Allan Coe records:
The Redneck Underground
Energy drink: (tie) Rush! and Pimp Juice
Symptom of urinary tract infection: Visible amount of blood in urine
Member of the Taliban: John Walker Lindh
Tiresome filler part of weekly shit rags: “News of the Weird”-type bullshit
Children’s character who is a dog: Clifford
Boohoo tale of harsh working conditions: The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Reason for not having sex: “Not tonight, I’m bleeding”
Gateway conspiracy book: Future by Alvin Toffle
Novel based on the premise that God will help you through female puberty: ”Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret”
Christmas record: Boogie Woogie Christmas by Brian Setzer
Excuse for death: (tie) Natural causes and old age
Non-fictional racehorse name: Seabiscuit
Butt of blue-collar jokes: A Hooters waitress
Hanna-Barbera sidekick: Morocco Mole (Secret Squirrel)
Reason to exercise: (tie) Staying thin and preventing cancer
Reason to get a divorce: Abusive husband
Time to get an abortion: First trimester
Portion of the procedure of getting a gun: The background check
Member of Simon and Garfunkel: Paul Simon
Tennessee Williams play: Cat On a Hot Tin Roof
Russian violinist: Jascha Heifetz
Hotel perk: The continental breakfast
Religious hat: The Pope’s miter
Part of being a Muslim: The pilgrimages
Book on Taoism: Tao Te Ching
Feature of quantity: Quality
Feature of quality: Quantity
Jugs: Carmen Electra
Toupee: Bono
Penis: Tommy Lee
Nazi war criminal: Hermann G9Aring
Lens to use in a rap video: Fish eye
Food group not to eat: Meat
Foot fashion: Not wearing socks
Beat-era boy molester: Allen Ginsberg
Donna to feel up: Donna C
Way for a celebrity to have a child: Adopt them from a poor Asian country
Word used to describe what someone does with cancer: Battle
Accidental break-dancer: Michael J. Fox
Term used to describe increasing security: “Beef up”
Thing to recycle: Aluminum cans
Baseball-loving nation: Cuba
Book on the shelf of a 30-plus losing-touch Americana-listening-sap: Woody Guthrie’s Bound for Glory
Female star of a Russ Meyer film: Tura Satana
Vietnam War-era physical tragedy agent or ailment with a name containing a color and which is used to name punk
bands: (tie) Agent Orange and Gangrene
Show that you once videotaped religiously: The X-Files
Word that comes up in describing early Bowie: Androgynous
Atomic disaster: Chernobyl
Part of Southern Confederate flag-waving culture: (tie) Ignorance and Stupidity
Art form: Performance art
Easy-ass target for a terrorist to attack: An embassy in their country of origin
Dead reggae artist: Peter Tosh
Street in New Orleans: Bourbon
Way to convey someone going on and on about something: Da, da, da, dum
Rockstar behavior: (tie) Shooting heroin and killing yourself
Profession after you failed at what you really wanted to do: Teach college
Place to dump a dead body in Atlanta: Chattahoochee River
Body adornment for a 40-plus-year-old guy in the music business to have: Single earring in the left ear
Death mourned by gay men: Princess Di
Film to make old people feel that the fact that they can’t fuck any more and will soon die ain’t really that bad: (tie) Cocoon
and On Golden Pond
Piano movie: Shine
Fashion magazine: Flaunt
Food group: Dairy and eggs
Cleaning tool: The Swiffer
Foucaultian acolyte: Naomi Wolf
Nefertiti revisionist: Camille Paglia
Gap between teeth: Lauren Hutton
National music scene: New Zealand
Way to die in Bangladesh: Cyclone
Tired L.A. music couple dynasty: Aimee Mann/Michael Penn
Genre term used to describe records that Irwin Chusid likes: Esoterica
Part of Barbara Streisand’s body to have your crotch rubbed by: Nose
Logo using a guitar neck as part of the image: Africa with a guitar neck design used for Live Aid
Way for British pussies to take out their frustration for the lack of ever having a decent meal: Football riots
Term used to rationalize genocide: Manifest Destiny
Failed attempt at morality control: Prohibition
Pre-1960 way for a white woman to divert attention from some stupid fucked-up thing she did: Lie and claim a young black
man raped her
Way to get 99X to play your record: Have (more) drugs and hookers sent to Jay Harren’s office
Description for your ass-ugly, nerdy, retro-looking girlfriend: “Classic beauty”
Thing to try to teach your retarded child: Bible verses
Type of music to play as a sports radio show bumper: Surf
Member of Love and Rockets: Daniel Ash
Drum playing grip: Matched
Thing pre-pubescent Jewish boys regularly beat off to: Norman Rockwell Saturday Evening Post prints
Anorexic: (tie) Karen Carpenter and Gandhi
Trailer park family activity: (three-way tie) Sex abuse, physical abuse and saying grace before dinner
Facial movement made by Lynyrd Skynyrd members before crashing in Mississippi: Opening their eyes really wide
Sax player: Clarence Clemons
Way for a girl band to divert attention from their obvious lack of talent: Being pretty
Week in New York: Fashion week
Extracurricular hobby for famous poets: Alcoholism
Blue Blockers glasses wearer: Jeff Lynne
Space dog: Laika
Contradiction imposed by consumerism and revolution: Having an S22 t-shirt with Ernesto “Che” Guevara on it
Free speech student leader: Mario Savio
Ritual that Satanists are too pussy to really do: Sacrificing babies
San Francisco promoter: Bill Graham
Kennedy assassination: JFK
Hippie activity: (tie) Not bathing and face painting
Robyn Hitchcock song: “Balloon Man”
Metaphorical war/survival hobby for sexually repressed men with IQs under 100: Deer hunting
Metaphorical war/survival hobby for sexually repressed men with IQs between 100 and 105: Paintball
Television programming for married men to secretly fag out to: Professional wrestling
Unfathomably profitable capitalization on fatal student shootings: (tie) Michael Moore’s Bowling For Columbine and
Buffalo Springfield’s ‘Ohio’
Produce boycotted on large scale by the influence of C8Esar Chavez: Lettuce
Temple used as a backdrop in action movies: Angkor Wat
American cult: The Mormons
Singer of all time: Frank Sinatra
Gospel singer: Mahalia Jackson
Chess champion: Bobby Fischer
Subtext that is merely a bi-product of war: The Olympics
Underground militant flag logo: Symbionese Liberation Army cobra
Defection: Mikhail Baryshnikov
Celebratory maneuver for neckless college thugs and braindead assistant coaches to do after a big victory: Pour
Gatorade on the head coach
AIDS victim: Liberace
Technique Americans use to get a tight grip on the title of being the fattest nation in the world: Eating fast food
Way to waste the money your parents spent on your college education: Start a rock band
Area of New York to show the haphazard, played-out, uninspired shit stains you call art: Soho
Classical guitar virtuoso: Andres Segovia
Place to write your memoirs: Prison
Beatles’ album artwork: Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band
Manfred Mann song: “The Mighty Quinn”
Music documentary: (tie) D. A. Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back and David Maysles’ Gimme Shelter
‘70s cult film: Harold and Maude
All-girl punk band that’s really not an all-girl punk band: X-Ray Spex
School to get a design degree: Parsons
Clown: (tie) Bozo and Shakes
College football coach: “Bear” Bryant
Post-adolescent diarist: Anne Frank
Performance artist: Karen Finley
Figurative artist feminist: Kiki Smith
Zephyr: Hindenburg
19th Century confectioner: Little Debbie
Midwestern murderess: Lizzie Borden
Metaphysical Oscar quack: Shirley MacLaine
Flash-in-the-pan TV clairvoyant: Miss Cleo
Sentence used in a movie pitch session to a major Hollywood executive: “It practically writes itself”
Memorial in Washington, DC: Vietnam Veterans Memorial
Silent Western film star: Tom Mix
Chunklet column that is no longer part of the magazine (thank God): Noser Knows
Dario Argento film: Suspiria
Italian prog soundtrack band: Goblin
City that John Waters champions: Baltimore
Poet: (four-way tie) William Blake, Rainer Maria Rilke, Sylvia Plath and John Keats
Song of all-time: “Cheeseburger In Paradise” by Jimmy Buffett
Fat-assed black TV talk show host: Star Jones
Writing invention in the last 25 years: The EraserMate
Microphone sound: Rush Limbaugh “Golden” E.I.B.
Record liner note author: David Fricke
Synth of the last ten years: The Nord Lean
Zaireeka listening party sub-theme: Botox injection
Sax solo: President Bill Clinton on Arsenio Hall
Kangaroo performance: (tie) The cgi’ed one in Kangaroo Jack and Ice-T in Tank Girl
Group of the psychedelic era: The Moody Blues
Item at Andy Baker’s home studio: Manley Vox Box pre-amp
Edible yougurt add-on: Sprinkles
Race of the last 5,000 years: Caucasian
Race of the last 20 years: Black
Performance art piece: Sleeping
Cereal: Frosted Mini Wheats
Thing to eat on a video shoot: an everything bagel
Show on NPR: This American Life
Thing about Thurston Moore: (tie) Being in Sonic Youth and collecting records
Television prank show: Punk’d
Celebrity soon to be Alice Cooper’s golfing partner: Marilyn Manson
Film that tricks you into believing that Anton Newcombe has a shred of credibility: Dig
Dead black man: Tupac Shakur
Way to present yourself in a Spin contributor photo: Flattering
Future activity for terrorists: Killing/torturing celebrities of the Tiger Woods caliber

Chunklet would like to thank…
Mexicans of Lorna Road and the new American slavery, Ann Coulter’s small, yet obviously visible, penis, my special little dream of giving every child Herpes and a Slush Puppy, the Museum of Burnt Fur, the Branford Marsalis Quartet for letting me jam with them at the Alys Stephens Center, the janitorial staff at Dean and Co., all my dawgs up in the A to the R to the Bee’s who got them mad grill skillz, my manservant, Tico Torres (not the Bon Jovi guy), Suicide Bomb Pop popsicles, the way vintage Sun britches make my cock look huge, the Bobby T. show and everyone at Se96or Frog, Virginia Woolf and The Cooter of the Gods: A Murder Mystery, the Red Lobster on Hwy 31, the Strutting Duck crew circa ‘92, 202 E. Sanford (mothafucka!), O, Holy Shit! (Community Fecal Fetish Christmas Theater), aristocratic British butterfly hunters, the Karl Rove/Korla Pandit Blues Duo, what you call “pink lemonade”, Graceland Too, my ability to have an orgasm while puking, 99 cent family order of hushpuppies at Taco Bell/Long John Silver’s on Crestwood Boulevard, the Toilet SwifferTM, recent dialogues on anti-Semitism in heated Wiffle Ball games between Protestant and Jewish teams, Japanese rappers who use the “N” word in a country where the word strikes no chord of offense, Janet Jackson’s wardrobe “malfunction”, everyone who has sung along with Billy Joel’s “Piano Man”, did I mention South Worcestershire haggis? Let’s see, colors synonymous with flavors, the Little Ambassador, banana puddin’-flavored IV packets, Mee-Maw for poppin’ all the bumps on my back, the brunch detectives, my personal trainer Habu who screams, “Do one more for baby Jesus!”, Utah — the town, not the state, the female staff at Wax N Facts (you make me feel like my ugly, bitchy, perennially PMS’d girlfriend ain’t all that bad), bugs who are trapped in amber, my fleeting virginity, Burt & Kurt from 101.1FM The Source, Mexi-Cali vs. Tex-Mex Stratego Championship ‘01, Kobe Bryant’s sperm (specifically sperm #2, #438 and #389), Plexiglass (y’all’s shit is almost bulletproof, ya’ll), my milkman Andr8E (how do you keep it so cold, dawg?), Mooney Suzuki brand Spray-On Bald Spot Camouflager, the 1979 Iranian hostage crisis (damn, the USA Olympic Hockey team beat Russia that year. In your face, commie bastards!), the idiosyncratic world of Klondike bars, staged debates, Par Par’s Party of Four, Kikkoman naturally-brewed soy sauce, that Christian fish logo thing people put on their SUV’s, sexy children who know they’re sexy, homeless street people who know web design, your worst sexual performance, Long’s Electronics’ return policy, Midgie, the super chocolate brownie dwarf boy, Georgia Championship Wrestling, Blue Demon Y Las Invasadoras de Ass-Venom, Spike from G.N.P., W.A. Berry High School’s 1988 undefeated Junior Varsity Baseball Team, rollerblade line dancing, all-you-can-shovel horse manure, the Econochrist ‘91 tour, the off-Broadway sex battles: The Vagina Monologues vs. Puppetry of the Penis, Optimus Prime, those bros who let me crash in their van outside of Rotterdam, custom amputation, the Sherman Oaks Chamber of Commerce, family of D. Boon’s Minutemen laundry service, shitty, underpowered PA’s at VFW halls, glory hole #6 at Famous Al’s in Tuscumbia, Alabama, plants that you can hang, every double-digit prime number (except 17; you let me down at the roulette table, so you’re dead to me!), old black bluesmen who don’t have nicknames like Shoutin’ Jeremiah, Asians, Mello T, the real life Chico and the Man, Peter W. Van Hoy, MD of Giving Love A Bad Name, hand robots, S&H Green Stamps, turnstile clickers, Shoney’s All-You-Can-Eat breakfast bar refill servers, Jim Burke Used Cars, the Cliffs Notes version of any book by a Bronte sister, Scrub-claw penis pump cleaning brush, Dick Cheney’s daughter (the gay one who brought on Lesbogate), Fermented Freddy and Da Drunk Playtime crew, Spicy Mike’s Gopher Candies, Southminster Saints, Buzz, my lucky scarf, red dye #6, the new Chinatown, Bob’s cat Skeletor, the starting outfield line-up of the 1979 Houston Astros (still “doin’ it in the dome,” C8Esar Cede96o?), the Durian fruit of Southeast Asia, virtualinsults.com, the new (and even zestier) taco-flavored Doritos, underwater polo, Coach Wayne Short, battered, breaded, and flame-broiled crustacean dippin’ sticks, every bad, fake new wave British 80’s band except Heaven 17 (remember, 17? You’re dead to me!), Expressway South, Russian Bogies, all the cake-eatin’ mothafuckas at the Clairmont Road Piggly Wiggly, moviefone.org (that’s right!), the American Sanitary Plumbing Museum, chuckdcookies.com, Nicolas Cage’s bald spot, The Pasta Pot, Today-Tomorrow-Always perfume by Avon, Dave Johnson and Dale Dave Johnson, everybody else on George W. Bush’s college cheerleading team, classic Raid commercials with the cartoon spray can, Hardee’s 100% Angus Beef Western Bacon Thickburger, uninsured Americans (you pathetic pussies), The Better Sex series, the much-improved Fox News graphics department (how can you make my dick hard and fuel my hatred of towelheads?), the monobrow, The Ultimate Beginner Series: Rock Keyboards Step Two with David Garfield, Gospelman, Sinclair Broadcasting and other crazy-ass right-wing Nazi media, Everlast boxing gloves (you’re still #1, baby!), David Ortiz Snack Ems, the word “stoop”, the Loose Douche Lesbian Bar in Rayville, Louisiana, the harmony vocals on Bruce Hornsby’s “That’s Just The Way It Is”, Mach 3 replacement blades, “The Great Michelob Taste”, Estrin-D, God’s medicine (otherwise known as “Angels”), the Real March of Dimes, the 2004 presidential candidate for the Concerns of People (Prohibition) Party, Gene Amondson, Rocktoberfests everywhere, the 1984 Libertarian presidential candidate, Dave Bergland, the moustache of Koose Muniswamy Veerappan, Star Wars-themed gangsta rap, The Evil Eye, Mister Ed’s Elephant Museum, my long-standing high school crush Jennifer Fuller, anyone whose last name is Culpepper, Chocolate-cherry-vanilla Dr. Pepper, the New Urine Nation, the unlikeliness of having a plane crash, the Rom Space Knight Marvel comic book series, Swedish Dutch meatballs, peeps from the ‘hood, Bondage Boys Discount Gear, mystic visions of wolves that appear before you in three-dimensions, Da Vinci Code Scrabble, that Butthole Surfers side-project the Jack Officers, Moxie: The Musical, John Edwards and other phony psychics, Simon Bar Sinister, a future cure for ovarian cancer, Blue Parrot’s Bike Day, Naked Rodeo – the band, Shrek II: The Hot Dog, bridges made of rainbows, life coaches, Gary Tatterson Pets Specialty Personal Check design, all the temps that work the night shift at the Emory Kinko’s, vaginal lipstick, Milton Bradley’s Simon, the Flat Earth Liberation Front, the Aluminum Foil Deflector Beanie, Underwear Boy, 24-Hour Church of Elvis, the Museum of Menstruation, sympathetic Martha Stewart banners, bloody juice from raw chickens, Bryan Ferry’s smugness, Tijuana bibles, Cadillac wheels, Greg Ginn’s solo work (on my yard), Navy grog, inglorious bastards, Starfleet Command, the Dracula myth, Dr. Haggard’s Disease, my personal friend Rick Moody, victims of molestation by Mr. Wizard, Sgt. Fury and his howling commandos, Don Winslow from Old Navy, any sport the playing of which can kill you, Dr. Fate, Red Sonja, Parker Brothers French Card Game Craze, Mille Bornes, Golferino, burp guns, Kame Bazooka, the Mini Cake Museum, Kure Kure Takora, The Mack, Garter Belts for Men, Beck’s ex-girlfriend Leigh Limon, the Ford Ranchero, the Lift & Load Depot, Celtic Frost’s To Mega Therion, people with sweaty feet, Mutt Lang for finally bringing the “Shania” sound to indie labels, the South of the Border stop in South Carolina (when can I move in? Hope y’all still got room!), Sad, pathetic minor hipsters who think the Robert Tilton fart tape is funny, Guy Laroche (no, really, you keep it; it’s your disease), the guitar player in VHS or Beta who got beat up by the door guy from that band King Horse at the U.S. Maple show August 8, 1998 at the Mercury Paw in Louisville (hope that shit healed, bro), Nutmeg Kemur-Jim, the polio scare of the 1920’s, two-newspaper towns, the Leonard Nimoy Should Eat More Salsa Foundation, Giant Gold Buddhas, Herbal Essence, normal penises, my baby Beth, King Vitamin, the original two-member version of The Who, enclosed phone booths, yellow cornmeal, the spare eyeball of Sammy Davis Jr. that I won on eBay, the golfing skills of Alice Cooper, my souvenir toilet paper from Jandek’s house, Attack Beaver, Roberto Wilson, my fast-twitch muscle trainer, Milan Kundera (you still got it; keep writing if you’re alive), whoever came up with the clich8E “Separate the sheep from the goats”, Sex on the Beach, both the drink and party band, Blue Cheer’s Vincebus Eruptum, jock itch remedies, Necrosadist and Necrophagist of East Atlanta, crosswinds.net, puppies in the tub (ain’t whachoo thank, girl!), that dude from Dramarama who works on a backhoe, women who want waist-length hair, Otto Van Bismarck, porn magazines that overuse footnotes, Mr. Entertainment and a few other Caucasians from Hollywood, Florida, snowmen who aren’t frosty, the infamous Audrey Tautou internet porn film (yeeowch!), the Puka, Levi’s for feet, Crumb Munchkin – the band (not the soup), the pre-Raphaelite brotherhood, Pet Heaven, the Mannerists, Yves Klein (for giving us Yves Klein Bleu), Kara Walker (for keeping it real), whoever designs those godawful Smog Veil ads, the menopause taboo, the smell of burning brisket, Joseph M. Farley Nuclear Plant units 1 & 2, Dothan, Alabama, Cardamom, Keebler waffle cones that make tasty snack ideas, people who can fake playing the Theremin, Andrew Quinn’s giant 4-foot inflatable giraffe toss set, Ice-T for producing David Hasselhoff, baby coffins, Cannibal Holocaust, my peeps in Kurdistan, hairiness in women, Lester Holt and everyone at MSNBC (actually, daytime only — Chris Matthews can go suck some Hardballs), Michael O’Bannon (still owe you money for the Gastr’ Del Sol The Serpentine Similar artwork), the recently reunited Shampoopoo, Tab (the cola and the hamster), anything that isn’t a “Jesus is my homeboy” shirt, Joan of Arc-shaped S’mores, all you Sagittariuses (‘cause I know I can fuck you), the Servant Girl Annihilator Tour in Austin, Texas, my retarded atheist friends who don’t believe in God but still believe in ghosts, the Allah bobblehead doll, subconscious racism, “party” as an adverb, people who actually think “Weird News” columns are funny, belly button discharge, Gay Divorce Court, the bass player from Mercy Me who I did that drunk sorority girl with, Yoshitomo Nara (but get your own style, faggot), men who refuse to ever hit a woman (unless she’s a rockabilly chick, of course!), any kind of flame that isn’t real, people who have the Gun Club on their iPod (now, that’s cool!), some people that use heroin, all my bitches that work the food court at Lenox Mall, the stroke of Ram Dass, the Grill Skills instruction video, N.P.R.: The Beer, The Total Nerd: A Comprehensive Handbook, inspired by Revenge of the Nerds authors: Joan Wilen and Lydia Wilen, my wife, my family, my friends, and most importantly, God… and while I’m thanking God, I’d like to give a shout-out to the Holy Spirit, Jacob, Gideon, Abel, Seven Angels with seven plagues, promise names in Colosse, pain with a purpose Zophar, the rest of the Levites, the Widow’s Oil, Abner, Joab’s murder of Abner, Hebron, 2nd Thessalonians (you go, girl!), the stoning of Stephen, Philip and the Ethiopian, tax collectors everywhere, Ezekiel, Hosea and his adulterous wife — naughty ‘ho!, Paul and Silas in prison (bad boys, bad boys, what you gonna do…), Gideon and the Fleece, Peter’s denial of Christ, all them plagues of Egypt, dudes with leprosy, paralyzed fucks, fig trees, sermonizing on the motherfuckin’ mount, Herod (keep up the… bad work!), Sarah’s infertility and worry-free sex, that crazy-ass Tower of Babel, Amorites in the ‘hood, them spelling Rebecca “Rebekah,” all that early fuckin’ and begettin’ (yo my boys!), sons of Leah: Reuben, Jacob, Simeon, Levi, Issacher and Zebulon (kick it, homies!), the revolt of Moab, 2nd Chronicles 4:18, Titus the troubleshooter, the Sabbath – rest, you overachieving assholes!, the taming of the tongue, the great multitude in white robes, the Lamb and the 144,000 (fuck the rest of y’all), Shamgar, the song of Deborah, Rehoboam’s family, the condemnation of Idolaters, leprosy (if I haven’t thanked it enough already!), the son of Helig, the son of Matthat, the son of Levi, the son of Melki, the son of Jannai, the son of Joseph, the son of Matthias, the son of Amos, the son of Nahum, the son of Esli, the son of Naggai, the son of Maath, the son of Semein, the son of Josech, the son of Joda, the son of Joanan, the son of Rhesu, the son of Zerubbabel, the son of Sheaitiel, the son of Neri, the son of Melki, the son of Addi, the son of Cosam, the son of Addi, the son of Elmadam, the son of Er, the son of Joshua, the son of Eliezer, the son of Jorim, the son of Matthat, the son of Levi, the son of Simeon, the son of Judah, the other son of Judah, the son of Joseph, the son of Jonam, the son of Eliakim, the son of Melea, the son of Mattaha, the son of Nathan, the son of David, the son of Jesse, the son of Obea, the son of Boaz, the son of Solomon, the son of Nashon, the son of Amminadab, the son of Ram, the son of Hezron, the son of Perez, the son of Judah, the son of Jacob, the son of Isaac, the son of Nahor, the son of Serus, the son of Rev, the son of Peley, the son of Ebor, the son of Shelah, the son of Cainan, the son of Arphaxad, the son of Shen, the son of Noah, the son of Lamech, the son of Methuselah, the son of Enoch, the son of Jured, the son of Mahalalel, the son of Kenan, the son of Enosh, the son of Seth, the son of Adam, the son of God… oh, yeah, Caleb, the blood of Christ, Zachariah, Balaam, Hoshea (the last king of Israel), Hebrew servants (clean it up, bitch!), the defeat of the Amalekites, the Valley of Dry Bones, Jesus washing his disciples’ feet (yo, Peter, get ya’ some tough-actin’ Tinactin, bro), the riot in Ephesus (y’all know how to fuck shit up), all of them archangels that be guarding over Israel, Habakkuk, the Battle of Jericho, Daniel getting his ass out of the Lion’s Den, the stoning of Stephen (smoke up, Bible dude), deaf mutes, ten virgins, the mustard seed parable and whatever the hell it’s about, the jeering of Elisha, the Golden Calves at Bethel and Dan (bling bling Old Testament style), predestination, Eli’s wicked sons, the death of Lazarus, Jeremiah 5:2, the Oracle against Damascus, the beheading of John the Baptist (Nick Berg, eat my dust… I mean since your head’s already on the ground and everything), Paul’s farewell to the Ephesian Elders, kicking the piss out of the Oxgods, that Festus asswipe, all nuggets of theology, all them broken-ass seals and scrolls, Old Testament God being wise, yet ruthless, Absalom’s dirty little conspiracy, the Israelites throwin’ down with the Benjamites, Achan’s sin, the Covenant renewed at Mount Ebal, God’s rejection of Zedekiah’s request, the silly faith of the Centurion, Stephen’s meaningful, but longwinded, speech to the Sanhedrin, new wine in old wineskins (bring on the wake-up juice), sheep and goats (especially the sexy ones), feeding of the 4,000 good-for-nothing fucks, man at the pool of Bethesda, Creationism, Jesus going ape-shit in the temple and all them unemployed demons everywhere, and of course my main man Zacchaeus.

Shawn Lambeth
Soundman/owner of The Ritz, Missoula, Montana
The White Stripes spent Jack White’s birthday in Missoula. I was setting up merch and a light to illuminate it. The soundman/owner walks up, slurring “Man, we gotta put a gel on that light…it’s totally gonna bum out all my stoners.” Fumbling around for a half-hour, coked out of his mind, he can’t find a single gel for me to use. Onstage, Jack is repeatedly shocked by his mic. The soundman has a buddy remove his shoes. He takes the socks off his stinky Missoulian feet and covers the windscreen. Jack decides to deal with it, singing into a bare mic. An unsightly jerk of the neck follows each jolt. Jack walks off-stage, saying he won’t return until the situation’s fixed. Even an incompetent soundman could solve this problem — but this guy tried socks. Eventually, Jack comes back out, tearing through Arthur Lee’s “Five String Serenade” and Screamin’ Lord Sutch’s “Jack the Ripper”…all while still being shocked. Between songs, the soundman sarcastically says over the PA: “HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY, JACK!” Jack goes off: “What the hell is your problem? You try to get me to sing into some dirty socks!” His mic is cut. Jack’s guitar power is cut. The lights are cut. What ensues is as close to a riot as I’ve ever seen. The bouncers charge the stage, fearing trouble. Some guy jumps behind the bar, turns on all the taps and yells “FREE TEQUILA FOR EVERYONE!!” As the bouncers descend on him, I tear down the merch. At some point, the promoter (non-asshole John from the Everyday Sinners) has the door money taken from him. After fan apologies and nervous loading out, the bands get paid. The Stripes’ lawyer got a call days later from Shawn complaining about a missing microphone. Hmmm…wonder where that went? I was later told that at least one employee of the Ritz quit after that night. To top it all off, someone graffiti’d the front of the club with three huge white stripes later that week. Revenge is sweet.

Bob
Vista Del Mar promoter/owner, Eureka, California
The owner of the stinky seaside Del Mar was initially quite friendly, providing a nice sit-down meal before clearing the club for the show — which was the best of the tour. The Von Bondies did the first-ever live version of “Cass and Henry,” with Jason Stollsteimer dipping into the crowd, mic clenched in fist, spitting out vocals like a rambling drunk. The White Stripes covered the MC5’s “Looking at You.” It was magical. But when payment time came, the once-nice Bob became the ultimate dick. He wouldn’t give the Von Bondies their guarantee (a mere $150) because they didn’t have their contracts. Everyone knows that contracts in such situations are the equivalent of toilet paper, but this guy was not wiping. Instead, he made a late-night phone call, waking Dave Kaplan (decidedly not an asshole) to have him fax the contracts over. Only then would he pay the Von Bondies. The same man saved face by buying The Dirtbombs pizza, and getting us a hotel room the next month.

an excerpt…

issue_19_action_figures-1

Daring rescue mission: Jessica Lynch
Paranormal experience: Past-life regression
New Age alternative medicine: Intestinal massage
Fashion trend: Low-cut waist gypsy belts
Institute of higher learning: Harvard
Wax museum: Madam Tussaud’s
Space campaign: Apollo
Religious cult: Scientology
Diet food: Celery sticks
Party: Costume
Cowboy: Kevin Costner
Game show host: Pat Sajak
Teen year: 16
Murderer: Charles Manson
Patriotic disaster: Challenger explosion
Porn title: Saving Ryan’s Privates
End to civilization: (tie) Fire and ice
Air conditioner setting: 72BC F
Tom Hanks movie: Forrest Gump
Statue: Statue of Liberty
Breakfast table item: Aunt Jemima maple syrup
Plastic surgery: Collagen lip injections
Firework: Sparkler
The Price Is Right game: The one with the mountain climber
Vegetable: Sweet corn niblets
Form of canine discipline: Hitting nose with newspaper
Symbol of the ‘60s: Peace sign
Punctuation symbol: Comma
Gag item: Alfred E. Neuman $3 bill
Jane Fonda reference: (tie) Fuckin’ Vietnam and Barbarella
‘90s sitcom: Seinfeld
Medieval form of protection: Moat
Cast member on Gilligan’s Island: Gilligan
Decadent purchase: Jukebox in the bathroom
Football commentator: John Madden
Form of aerial transportation: Blimp
Prison gag: Dropping the soap in the shower
Monty Python gag: The Holy Hand Grenade
Brady: Marsha
Bogus law: “Do not remove this tag”
Cartoon-like spokesperson: Kool Aid’s “Oh yeah!” pitcher
Talk-show sidekick: Ed McMahon
Lazy Saturday afternoon activity: Cuddling in a hammock
All-female porn concept: Women in prison
Wordplay on “History”: Kisstory
Import: All the tea in China
Yogurt: Go-Gurt
Condiment: Ketchup
European sport: Soccer
War: World War II
Mud flap: Keep on Truckin’
Yearbook title: The Carousel
Simpsons character: Bart
No-wave band: Television
Pillsbury character: The Doughboy
Chappy’s Deli slogan: “Just one bite will set you free”
Smoothie: Mr. Mongo at Planet Smoothie
Thing for a parent to be proud of: Honor student
Bum sign: “I’m not gonna lie to you, I just want a beer”
Planet of the Apes movie: Escape From The…
Form of humiliation: Peeing in your pants
Edgy prank: Videotaping strangers in the toilet
Watering hole pastime: Sexual harassment
Chronicle Books release: Worst-Case Scenario Survival Guide
Revolutions per minute: 33 1/3
Pickup truck: Dodge Ram
Giant moth: Mothra
March: Million Man
Zipper: YKK
Drug magazine: High Times
Internal organ: Cloaca
Dead clown: Emmett Kelly
Mime: Marcel Marceau
20th century decor: ‘60s Tiki/lounge
Grooming activity: Filing your fingernails
Late-night drinking activity: Vomiting in a friend’s car
Chevy Chase movie: National Lampoon’s Vacation
Children’s television host: Mister Rogers
Article in this issue of Chunklet: Overrated record survey
Fashion designer: Christian Dior
Frozen Mexican treat: Choco Taco
Trip: Moses leading his people out of Egypt
Dead porn star: John Holmes
Death in their own vomit: Jimi Hendrix
Secret queer person: David Hyde Pierce
Action hero: Jean-Claude Van Damme
Comic book character: Harvey Pekar
Ancient structure: Pyramids of Giza
Song on Bob Seger’s Like A Rock album: “Like A Rock”
Visible element in your stool: (tie) Corn and peanuts
Legendary baseball teasm: The 1969 Mets
Character on Kids in the Hall: The “I’m Crushing Your Head” guy
Sonic Youth associate: Lydia Lunch
Sexual preference: Hetero
Christmas gift-giving technique: The Secret Santa game
John Hughes movie: The Breakfast Club
Cult movie: Rocky Horror Picture Show
Protection from a stalker tactic: Restraining order
Member of Fugazi: Ian MacKaye
Piece of chicken: Breast
Living porn star: Ron Jeremy
Contemporary artist: Jeff Koons
Hipster store: Urban Outfitters
Goth fetish: Drinking blood
Cannibal: Jeffrey Dahmer
Rock club: CBGB
Place to ejaculate: Tits
Political scandal: Watergate
Caliber: .38
Trench: Marianas
Page number: 3
Breakfast cereal: Frosted Mini-Wheats
Silent film star: Rudolph Valentino
Hideously deformed person: John Merrick
Source of band names: Any movie reference
Contemporary slang word: Blog
High-end alcoholic beverage: Cristal
1960s racial protest: March on Selma, Alabama
Ronco product: Ginsu knife
Movie villain: Hannibal Lechter
Sex symbol: Pamela Anderson
Gay reality television show: Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
Lame-ass rockabilly haircut: The pomp
Froofy chick drink: Sex on The Beach
Indie director: Vincent Gallo
Key-chain do-dad: Rabbit’s foot
Freeze-dried pet: Sea monkey
Jihad: Salman Rushdie
Breed of dog: Jack Russell terrier
Druid structure: Stonehenge
Irish icon: Leprechaun
Continent: Europe
Halo of Flies single: Rubber Room
Hot Hollywood actor: Orlando Bloom
Contemporary artist: Matthew Barney
Use of sesame seeds: Hamburger buns
Time: Quittin’ time
Solstice: Summer
Early ‘90s poster artist: Coop
Fantagraphics cartoonist: Chris Ware
Spice: Paprika
Spice Girl: Posh
Picnic food: Deviled eggs
Club drug: GHB
Mixer: Orange juice
Film festival: Cannes
Dead poet: Jack Kerouac
BBC Channel: 1
Homonym: Whole/Hole
Animal actor: Spuds McKenzie
Emotion: Melancholy
Guitar String: E
Reptile: Amphetamine
Igneous rock: Granite
American landmark: Mount Rushmore
Music format: Compact disc
Speaker manufacturer: Bose
Flip Wilson character: Geraldine
Rose: Yellow Rose of Texas
Jewish symbol: Star of David
Letterpress shop: Hatch Show Print
Regional video format: NTSC
Macromedia program: Dreamweaver
Big Mac ingredient: Special Sauce
Vanilla flavor: French
Mohawk: Mr. T
Novelty pet: Chia
Circus: Ringling Brothers
Sugar substitute: Equal
F-stop: 5
Talk show host: Oprah
Serial killer: Ed Gein
Children’s book: Goodnight Moon
Ethnic food: Chinese Sweet-n-Sour
Time zone: Eastern
Herb for animals: Catnip
Animal narcotic: Ketamine
Diet craze: Atkins
Flavor of Jell-o: Orange
Chapter in the Bible: Genesis
World religion: Christianity
Third World ethnic food: Taramosalata
Marilyn Monroe movie: Some Like It Hot
Art movement: Abstract Post-War Expressionism
Urban Outfitters purchase: The butterfly chair
Part of Rocket From The Crypt: The horn section
New Zealander: Peter Jackson
Homophobic gay basher: Fred Durst
Reason not to finish a Dutch Baby at the Original Pancake House: Getting sick
Plastic surgery chin implant: Reese Witherspoon
Kid Michael Jackson fucked in the butt: Macaulay Culkin
Euphemism for a bong: Water pipe
‘90s-era SNL cast member: Rob Schneider
European currency: Swedish kronor
Vanity endeavor for hip-hop artists: Designing their own sneakers
Term for feminists: Wymyn
Twins: Barbie
Power broker: Donald Trump
Vitamin: K
Gypsy shtick: Palm reading
“Smells Like Teen Spirit” rip-off: The ‘jam’ in the beginning scene of ‘90s comedy flick PCU
Dorm room poster: “Enter At Your Own Risk”
Body piercing: Belly button
Term for a female dog: Bitch
Magician: David Blaine
McKenzie: McKenzie Phillips
Bicentennial: America’s Spirit of ‘76
Vegetarian “excuse”: Meat Is Murder
Toupee: David Spade’s
Abbreviation: abbr.
Marriage compromise: (tie) Hyphenation of bride’s surname and divorce
Reason not to hug your grandmother: She smells like old, used diapers
Year in James Brown’s career: 1969
Hostage: Patty Hearst
Season of Buffy: Second
Beatle: Paul McCartney
Atari 2600 video cartridge: Asteroids
Thomas Pynchon book: The Crying of Lot 49
Sports announcer: Studs Terkel
Breakdance move: The Windmill
Elvis Costello song: “Pump It Up”
Ceiling fan speed: High
Sense: Taste
Finger: Index
Season: Summer
Hipster perfume: Toga
Razor: Mach Three
Male sexual fantasy: Threesome
Element of spaghetti westerns: Tumbleweed
Breakfast cereal cartoon character: Cap’n Crunch
Annoying backyard pool dive: The Cannonball
Latino gang fashion: Having the top button buttoned on a short-sleeve button-down shirt
Circus sideshow attraction: Siamese twins
Member of Thin Lizzy: Phil Lynott
Postponement: “I haven’t found myself yet.”
Rumor-that’s-really-not-a-rumor about George Clinton: He smokes crack
Foreign exchange student: That one dude from Kenya
Courtney Love conspiracy theory: That she actually has talent
Slang term for being fired: Shitcanned
Form of electrocution: Sticking your finger in the socket
Gene Hackman movie: The French Connection
Comparison analogy: Apples to oranges
‘60s graphic icon: Peace symbol
“Director’s Cut” ending: Blade Runner
Remake of a foreign film: Vanilla Sky
Use of cardboard: Spending hours constructing a table out of three iMac boxes
Pancakes at IHOP: Polynesian
Recording studio tool: Computer
Soft drink ploy: Clear anything
Hour in primetime: 8 to 9 p.m.
Street name: Main
Horror author: Dean Koontz
Cigarette: Camel Lights
Afro styling: High fade
Thing to reenact: The U.S. Civil War
Bait-and-switch: The “mystery” box
Ex-Spiegel model: Matthew Barney
Rock band manager: Peter Grant
Stain on Andrew WK’s T-shirt: Shit brown smudge in left pectoral zone
Pro Tools plug-in: Aphex Big Bottom Pro
Term for marijuana: Kind bud (a.k.a. “KB”)
Mideastern conflict: Israel vs. Palestine
Member of Tenacious D: Jack Black
Long-standing songwriter: Randy Newman
George Carlin skit: “The Seven Dirty Words You Can’t Say on Television”
Flashback: The one right before you die
Method of suicide: Autoerotic asphyxiation
Word that starts with the letter “N”: The “N-word”
Mid-life hairstyle: The comb-over
Cell phone service: Virgin mobile
Issue of Chunklet: #15, The Asshole Issue
Gerry Anderson marionette show: Thunderbirds
Women exploitation restaurant: Hooters
Sexually transmitted disease: HIV
Perversion: Peeping Tom
Type of brassiere: Wonder Bra
Form of ice: Crushed
Opiate: Heroin
Chocolate: Truffle
Hippie pet: The ferret
Plague: Bubonic
Party favor: Kazoo
Diaper: Plastic
Single malt whiskey: Jack Daniels
1960s cult television show: The Prisoner
Late ‘90s garage rock band: Electric Frankenstein
Member of Public Enemy: Chuck D
Ad campaign: The ineffectual truth.com anti-smoking ads
Hollywood movie practice: Making sequels
Slang for a motorcycle: Crotch Rocket
Name for a gay couple’s pet: Jazz
Pet name for a frat boy: (3-way tie) Guinness, Bud and Hoss
Tropical fruit: Mango
Fictional item that dogs chase: Chuck wagon
Howard Stern sidekick: Stuttering John
Herb: Ginseng
Cast member of 21 Jump Street: Richard Grieco
“Friendly” nickname from a shop teacher who can’t remember your name: Boss
Yard chore: Raking the leaves
Blooper overdub: “Boing!”
Angus Young stage get-up that’s not the schoolboy one: Zorro outfit
Pre-Butthole Surfers Butthole Surfers band name: Dick Gas Five
Space on Hollywood Squares: The center square to block
State beneath the Mason-Dixon line: Florida
Surprise: Flamingo-a-Friend in your front lawn
Beneficial insect: Ladybug
“How to”: Our Bodies, Our Selves
Dessert: Cr8Fme br9El8Ee
Table manner: Saying “please”
Unused space in a U-Haul truck: Grandma’s Attic
Item in Grandma’s Attic: Her love letters
Explorer: Columbus
Brand of pancake mix: Bisquick
Constellation visible in nighttime sky: Orion
Indicator of future success: Test scores
Trendy parking lot etiquette: Reserved spaces for expectant mothers
Abuse of personal freedom: Acting like a jerk
Fast food moniker: “Biggie”
Waffle House hashbrown tier in the Scattered, Smothered, etc. line-up: “Chunked”
Suffix: -est
Additive: MSG
Mythical hybrid: Griffin
Succulent cactus: Yucca
Arcane ritual: Marriage
Secret society: Freemasons
Ground cover: Shore juniper
Adhesive: Crazy Glue
Dead lesbian poet: Sappho
Planned resort community: Seaside
Way of death: In your sleep
Brand of ice cream: Ben & Jerry’s
Missing person: Amelia Earhart
Nazi believed to have fled to South America: Goebbels
Nobel Prize winner: Pearl S. Buck
Expression when saying goodbye: “Take it easy”
Dead lesbian hostess: Gertrude Stein
Delivery service: United States Postal Service
Local news feature: Kid stuck down a well
Drunk-at-a-bar pastime: Watching women fight
Fictitious mixed drink: Roofie colada
Required high school reading assignment: The Great Gatsby
Marlon Brando movie: The Godfather
‘70s AOR artist: Steely Dan
In-city ethnic locale: Chinatown
Saturday morning cartoon: 6 a.m. farm report
Washed up 4-letter 1980s rock band: Styx
Hollywood “yukster”: Andy Dick
Hope/Crosby “Road” movie: The Road to Hong Kong
Dairy Queen menu item: Blizzard
First lady: Jackie Kennedy
Smell in a pillow: Fart
Contest: Project Greenlight
Autopsy: Orson Welles’
Hors d’oeuvre: Crudit8Es
Sex toy: Ben Wa balls
Man: Dr. Phil
Rapper: 50 Cent
NASCAR number: 3
Sitarist: Ravi Shankar
Shoe collection: Imelda Marcos
African country: Kenya
Campbell’s soup: Chicken Noodle
New York crime family: Gambino
British form of transit: Double-decker bus
Childhood prank: Taking a dump in somebody’s shoes
Happy Days cast member: Scott Baio
Method of departing New York City: Holland Tunnel
Lame-o Atlanta scene created as an excuse to do coke, get shitty tattoos, play cowbilly and spin David Allan Coe records:
The Redneck Underground
Energy drink: (tie) Rush! and Pimp Juice
Symptom of urinary tract infection: Visible amount of blood in urine
Member of the Taliban: John Walker Lindh
Tiresome filler part of weekly shit rags: “News of the Weird”-type bullshit
Children’s character who is a dog: Clifford
Boohoo tale of harsh working conditions: The Jungle by Upton Sinclair
Reason for not having sex: “Not tonight, I’m bleeding”
Gateway conspiracy book: Future by Alvin Toffle
Novel based on the premise that God will help you through female puberty: ”Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret”
Christmas record: Boogie Woogie Christmas by Brian Setzer
Excuse for death: (tie) Natural causes and old age
Non-fictional racehorse name: Seabiscuit
Butt of blue-collar jokes: A Hooters waitress
Hanna-Barbera sidekick: Morocco Mole (Secret Squirrel)
Reason to exercise: (tie) Staying thin and preventing cancer
Reason to get a divorce: Abusive husband
Time to get an abortion: First trimester
Portion of the procedure of getting a gun: The background check
Member of Simon and Garfunkel: Paul Simon
Tennessee Williams play: Cat On a Hot Tin Roof
Russian violinist: Jascha Heifetz
Hotel perk: The continental breakfast
Religious hat: The Pope’s miter
Part of being a Muslim: The pilgrimages
Book on Taoism: Tao Te Ching
Feature of quantity: Quality
Feature of quality: Quantity
Jugs: Carmen Electra
Toupee: Bono
Penis: Tommy Lee
Nazi war criminal: Hermann G9Aring
Lens to use in a rap video: Fish eye
Food group not to eat: Meat
Foot fashion: Not wearing socks
Beat-era boy molester: Allen Ginsberg
Donna to feel up: Donna C
Way for a celebrity to have a child: Adopt them from a poor Asian country
Word used to describe what someone does with cancer: Battle
Accidental break-dancer: Michael J. Fox
Term used to describe increasing security: “Beef up”
Thing to recycle: Aluminum cans
Baseball-loving nation: Cuba
Book on the shelf of a 30-plus losing-touch Americana-listening-sap: Woody Guthrie’s Bound for Glory
Female star of a Russ Meyer film: Tura Satana
Vietnam War-era physical tragedy agent or ailment with a name containing a color and which is used to name punk
bands: (tie) Agent Orange and Gangrene
Show that you once videotaped religiously: The X-Files
Word that comes up in describing early Bowie: Androgynous
Atomic disaster: Chernobyl
Part of Southern Confederate flag-waving culture: (tie) Ignorance and Stupidity
Art form: Performance art
Easy-ass target for a terrorist to attack: An embassy in their country of origin
Dead reggae artist: Peter Tosh
Street in New Orleans: Bourbon
Way to convey someone going on and on about something: Da, da, da, dum
Rockstar behavior: (tie) Shooting heroin and killing yourself
Profession after you failed at what you really wanted to do: Teach college
Place to dump a dead body in Atlanta: Chattahoochee River
Body adornment for a 40-plus-year-old guy in the music business to have: Single earring in the left ear
Death mourned by gay men: Princess Di
Film to make old people feel that the fact that they can’t fuck any more and will soon die ain’t really that bad: (tie) Cocoon
and On Golden Pond
Piano movie: Shine
Fashion magazine: Flaunt
Food group: Dairy and eggs
Cleaning tool: The Swiffer
Foucaultian acolyte: Naomi Wolf
Nefertiti revisionist: Camille Paglia
Gap between teeth: Lauren Hutton
National music scene: New Zealand
Way to die in Bangladesh: Cyclone
Tired L.A. music couple dynasty: Aimee Mann/Michael Penn
Genre term used to describe records that Irwin Chusid likes: Esoterica
Part of Barbara Streisand’s body to have your crotch rubbed by: Nose
Logo using a guitar neck as part of the image: Africa with a guitar neck design used for Live Aid
Way for British pussies to take out their frustration for the lack of ever having a decent meal: Football riots
Term used to rationalize genocide: Manifest Destiny
Failed attempt at morality control: Prohibition
Pre-1960 way for a white woman to divert attention from some stupid fucked-up thing she did: Lie and claim a young black
man raped her
Way to get 99X to play your record: Have (more) drugs and hookers sent to Jay Harren’s office
Description for your ass-ugly, nerdy, retro-looking girlfriend: “Classic beauty”
Thing to try to teach your retarded child: Bible verses
Type of music to play as a sports radio show bumper: Surf
Member of Love and Rockets: Daniel Ash
Drum playing grip: Matched
Thing pre-pubescent Jewish boys regularly beat off to: Norman Rockwell Saturday Evening Post prints
Anorexic: (tie) Karen Carpenter and Gandhi
Trailer park family activity: (three-way tie) Sex abuse, physical abuse and saying grace before dinner
Facial movement made by Lynyrd Skynyrd members before crashing in Mississippi: Opening their eyes really wide
Sax player: Clarence Clemons
Way for a girl band to divert attention from their obvious lack of talent: Being pretty
Week in New York: Fashion week
Extracurricular hobby for famous poets: Alcoholism
Blue Blockers glasses wearer: Jeff Lynne
Space dog: Laika
Contradiction imposed by consumerism and revolution: Having an S22 t-shirt with Ernesto “Che” Guevara on it
Free speech student leader: Mario Savio
Ritual that Satanists are too pussy to really do: Sacrificing babies
San Francisco promoter: Bill Graham
Kennedy assassination: JFK
Hippie activity: (tie) Not bathing and face painting
Robyn Hitchcock song: “Balloon Man”
Metaphorical war/survival hobby for sexually repressed men with IQs under 100: Deer hunting
Metaphorical war/survival hobby for sexually repressed men with IQs between 100 and 105: Paintball
Television programming for married men to secretly fag out to: Professional wrestling
Unfathomably profitable capitalization on fatal student shootings: (tie) Michael Moore’s Bowling For Columbine and
Buffalo Springfield’s ‘Ohio’
Produce boycotted on large scale by the influence of C8Esar Chavez: Lettuce
Temple used as a backdrop in action movies: Angkor Wat
American cult: The Mormons
Singer of all time: Frank Sinatra
Gospel singer: Mahalia Jackson
Chess champion: Bobby Fischer
Subtext that is merely a bi-product of war: The Olympics
Underground militant flag logo: Symbionese Liberation Army cobra
Defection: Mikhail Baryshnikov
Celebratory maneuver for neckless college thugs and braindead assistant coaches to do after a big victory: Pour
Gatorade on the head coach
AIDS victim: Liberace
Technique Americans use to get a tight grip on the title of being the fattest nation in the world: Eating fast food
Way to waste the money your parents spent on your college education: Start a rock band
Area of New York to show the haphazard, played-out, uninspired shit stains you call art: Soho
Classical guitar virtuoso: Andres Segovia
Place to write your memoirs: Prison
Beatles’ album artwork: Sgt. Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band
Manfred Mann song: “The Mighty Quinn”
Music documentary: (tie) D. A. Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back and David Maysles’ Gimme Shelter
‘70s cult film: Harold and Maude
All-girl punk band that’s really not an all-girl punk band: X-Ray Spex
School to get a design degree: Parsons
Clown: (tie) Bozo and Shakes
College football coach: “Bear” Bryant
Post-adolescent diarist: Anne Frank
Performance artist: Karen Finley
Figurative artist feminist: Kiki Smith
Zephyr: Hindenburg
19th Century confectioner: Little Debbie
Midwestern murderess: Lizzie Borden
Metaphysical Oscar quack: Shirley MacLaine
Flash-in-the-pan TV clairvoyant: Miss Cleo
Sentence used in a movie pitch session to a major Hollywood executive: “It practically writes itself”
Memorial in Washington, DC: Vietnam Veterans Memorial
Silent Western film star: Tom Mix
Chunklet column that is no longer part of the magazine (thank God): Noser Knows
Dario Argento film: Suspiria
Italian prog soundtrack band: Goblin
City that John Waters champions: Baltimore
Poet: (four-way tie) William Blake, Rainer Maria Rilke, Sylvia Plath and John Keats
Song of all-time: “Cheeseburger In Paradise” by Jimmy Buffett
Fat-assed black TV talk show host: Star Jones
Writing invention in the last 25 years: The EraserMate
Microphone sound: Rush Limbaugh “Golden” E.I.B.
Record liner note author: David Fricke
Synth of the last ten years: The Nord Lean
Zaireeka listening party sub-theme: Botox injection
Sax solo: President Bill Clinton on Arsenio Hall
Kangaroo performance: (tie) The cgi’ed one in Kangaroo Jack and Ice-T in Tank Girl
Group of the psychedelic era: The Moody Blues
Item at Andy Baker’s home studio: Manley Vox Box pre-amp
Edible yougurt add-on: Sprinkles
Race of the last 5,000 years: Caucasian
Race of the last 20 years: Black
Performance art piece: Sleeping
Cereal: Frosted Mini Wheats
Thing to eat on a video shoot: an everything bagel
Show on NPR: This American Life
Thing about Thurston Moore: (tie) Being in Sonic Youth and collecting records
Television prank show: Punk’d
Celebrity soon to be Alice Cooper’s golfing partner: Marilyn Manson
Film that tricks you into believing that Anton Newcombe has a shred of credibility: Dig
Dead black man: Tupac Shakur
Way to present yourself in a Spin contributor photo: Flattering
Future activity for terrorists: Killing/torturing celebrities of the Tiger Woods caliber

By Henry H. Owings & Brian Teasley

Inspiration
You know those incredulous fucking urban myths where some worm-burping high school kid runs off the road, breaks through the guardrail and flips his car over, only to be trapped by the smashed hood and inflated air bag with the cassingle for George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex” looping round and fucking round again? Same goddamn thing here, minus the Jaws of Life coming to save your ass. You’re on your own. Prepare to know what it feels like to have a dirty unicorn fuck you in one ear with his horn and your other ear with his nubby unicorn cock.

The Mission
Create for combat purposes a tape so wretched and foul that anyone who listens to it for 24 hours will never be able to think straight again. Some minor guidelines being that the material must be predominantly from your own record collection and should fit a standard 90-minute cassette tape. Some of you would consider that old school, but to us it just makes it more annoying.

Objective
Survive a full waking day (roughly 18 hours) of an opponent’s battle mix. Pure hate drives the competition. There are no true breaks from the sonic storm. The music must remain at least 70 decibels at all times. Cheaters only cheat themselves of surviving pure audio torture. This is not for the weak at ear. Hearing loss and bad taste are pluses in this endeavor. Prepare to have your earhole raped into a tethered pile of cartilage. — by Brian &Henry

OWINGS
I’m going to start this thing off honestly. I’m not proud of this, nor do I encourage other people to do this, but I cheated. Not once, but twice. Why? Oh, that’s easy to explain.
When Brian suggested this idea, I was enthusiastic, but a bit stumped by the rule that we could only collect material from our own record collection. Now, I know that a lot of my friends avidly purchase esoteric, outsider and/or irony-laden recordings from thrift stores, but I’ve just never had the tolerance for it. My point being, why would you have a record in your collection that intentionally sucks? If you only whip it out to shock or amuse once every two years, that’s called “dead wood” at my place. Even when I told Brian this, he insisted that I come up with a torture tape. After closely analyzing what I had at my disposal, I knew I was screwed. So I ended up doing what any fella would do in my position. I cheated.

With the torture tape’s h-hour but three days away, I went to Wuxtry Records and explained my quandary. Using some of their recommendations to guide me, I gathered and was allowed to borrow a box of 30 records and about 10 singles that I sifted through for the ultimate in sonic torture. For two hours I hovered over the turntable, and thought I made a respectable entry. However, once my girlfriend woke up and heard what I had in store for Brian, she smirked at how weak my entry was.
For fear of further embarrassment, here’s a sampling of the first six tracks on Torture Tape Mk. I: Mister Mister “Kyrie;” Dan Fogelberg “Longer Than; “Starship “We Built This City;” Captain and Tenille “Muskrat Love;” Richard Marx “Should’ve Known Better;” Billy Crystal “You Look Mahvelous.”

I am guessing that I can only blame myself for the mediocrity. I just thought of songs that would drive me crazy while I was sifting thru crates of records. As was relayed to me by my girlfriend, Brian’s tape would morph me into either a stark raving mad lunatic or Prozac’s poster child. So, I went back to the drawing board, and cheated yet again.

Now, whereas I don’t claim to have any insight whatsoever to the more seedy realms of eccentric music, my good friend Garth does. So for Torture Tape Mk. II I decided to go whole hog and let Garth concoct what would become a more suitable entry. I knew even upon Brian’s inception of this idea that I was going to suck, but fortunately enough on twelve hours notice, I had a selection of errata presented to me that would make a grown man (or at least a partially-grown drummer) weep. And how long did it take Garth to come up with his masterstroke? About 20 minutes. God bless him.

So with that out of the way, on to Brian’s torture tape. In all candor, if I’d turned in Torture Tape Mk. I, I would’ve been destroyed. Side A starts off innocently enough with Devo’s weak-ass-weak “Theme to Doctor Detroit,” but it ends with Brian’s own Metal Machine Music composition from that grunge band he played bongos for in the ‘90s. Their name escapes me. I want to say The Aquabats, but I know that’s wrong. Side B is no less punishing, as it begins with the incalculably maddening “New Number Order” by Shellac and is finished off by a horrid one-two punch; first, with the “Gingerbread Man,” and then, the never-ending Robert Ashley “piece” that I learned to dread more than a root canal from a blind man. How many times did I endure this tape? No fewer than 14 times around. Did I lose my mind? Yes, probably around the fourth time. Did I ever regain my composure? Oh, most definitely. Probably around the ninth listen. Am I proud of the fact that I cheated? No. Am I proud that Garth’s sonic concoction drove Brian to the brink of insanity? Duh. That’s not exactly something you get to do every day, now is it?

TEASLEY
After a complete 17 insufferable listens of this barbaric, ass-melting retardo music, I’m beyond fucked up. Music is stupid. I can finally understand people who say they don’t listen to it. I have learned this: Outsider art is what it is—moronic horseshit made by people who couldn’t piss in their own pants properly. I’m ready to throw my own fucking ashes into the wind. My ghost will haunt The Kids of Widney High like the devil’s own embittered, gorged bladder of hatred. Please save your sorry, na95ve mole-brain and never try this. Don’t be next in line, you sad sack of poo. This pure waste of time nearly caused my suicide, or at least “death by misadventure” (like it read on Bon Scott’s death certificate). Imagine drinking Special Olympics port-a-john toilet water for 18 hours and you can approximate the memory I must now use all my remaining strength to block out for the rest of my pathetic life. Fuck you, Henry. Fuck you all.

Brian’s tape for Henry (in order):
“Theme From Doctor Detroit” Devo; “Hyperventilation” Helios Creed; “Macho Duck”Donald Duck; “Don’t Worry Baby”Keith Moon; “(Tear Their) Syphilitic Vaginas to Pieces”G.I.S.M.; “Take You Back (Tough Gym)” Frank Stallone (Rocky III Soundtrack); “Can’t Get You Out Of My Mind” Flaming Lips; “PeppermintMan”Dick Dale; “Whisper A Prayer/The Story Of Daniel” Big Sounds For Little Ears; “Pecos Bill” Disney Soundtrack; “Multi-variational Stimuli of Sub-Turgid Foci Covering Crossevaluative Techniques For Cognitive Analysis of Hypersignificant Graph Peaks Following Those Intersubjective Modules Having Biodegradable Seepage”Man or Astro-Man?; “New Number Order”Shellac; “Hogtied”Cowslingers; “In TheFace of Coldness”Superstar Dan Theman; “School Days” Gentle Giant; “Rock Easy, No Bounce, Floor Stretch”Mary Lou Retton; “Love Balm” Cold Water Army; “Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep”Lullaby and Goodnight; “Punk Side Story” Schlong; “Sonic Attack”Hawkwind; “Gingerbread Man”Candyland album; “Nova Musicha n.3” Robert Ashley

Henry’s tape for Brian (in order):
“Also Sprach Kazoostra” Temple City Kazoostra; “I Feel Fine” The Beatle Barkers; “Eating is Fun, Eating is Serious” Chris “Corky” Burke; “Neutron Dance” Del Rubio Triplets; “Shouts of Ol8E”Carmen; “Dur Dur D’Etre, Bebe” Jordy; “Beach Patrol” Hulk Hogan; “Volare” Jack Mudurian; “Insects” Kids of Widney High; “There’s No Business Like Show Business (Disco Version)” Ethel Merman; “Any Friend of Jesus is a Friend of Mine” Rappin’ Rabbit; “What is this Generation Coming To?” Robert Mitchum; “No Dope No Drugs” Mr. T; “Jesus Wants to Live in Your Heart” Lil’ Markie; “Telstar” Joe Meek; “Anal Sadistic” Mike Kelley; “Blue Suede Shoes” Eilert Pilarm; “Downright” Price Waterhouse Cooper; “I’ve Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts” Jack Mudurian; “These Boots are Made for Walking” Crispin Hellion Glover; “Don’t Judge Me” Girls With Attitude; “He’s Such A Man” Princess Diana (The Musical); “You’re Drivin’ Me Mad” Alvin Dahn; “How Great Thou Art” Shooby Taylor; “Give Peace a Chance” Mitch Miller; “Yodelling Overture” Mary Schneider; “The Most Unwanted Song” Komar and Melamid
 

Note: songs mostly edited out for time considerations. (25MB)