Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category


A popular brand of Mexican toilet paper

Here’s one from Crooks and Liars. The reversed-out red subtitle reads “Smoothness without Borders” or “Smoothness without Limits.”


My pal Al Perry has just put up a much improved version — in terms of both audio mix and background visuals — of “Jukebox Jihad” on Youtube.  If you’re up for some high energy rockabilly and guilty laughs, click on that link right now.

(In accord with our strict adherence to the FCC Fairness Doctrine, we’d urge you to also check out Chuck Maultsby’s “Ballad of the USS Liberty.”)

USS Liberty after Israeli attack

Finally, the track that comes on Youtube after “Jukebox Jihad” is Al’s cover of the old folk rock tune, “The Snake,” which is also worth a listen.

Check it out.



It’s been a while since we’ve done one of these posts, so there should be something here for everyone, crap in a wide variety of shades–a veritable rainbow of crap ranging from the merely interesting, to the revealing, to the mocking and amusing, to the grotesque and repugnant, and finally to crap in everyone’s favorite flavor: schadenfreude.

So, hang on to your 10-gallon Stetsons. Yeehaw!

Slim Pickins from Doctor Strangelove

  • Here’s one for those trying to make sense of the ongoing baboon infestation in the White House: “Making the man: To understand Trump look at his relationship with his dad.”
  • Given the attempts by the corporate Democrats and their allies in the media to induce amnesia in the public, Paul Street has provided a timely reminder that Barack Obama was a terrible president (not as bad as Bush the Lesser or as aberrant as Donald Drumpf, but terrible nonetheless): “We were warned about Barack Obama — by Obama himself.”
  • Priceonomics has provided a useful reminder that religion-induced nuttiness and prudishness were even worse in the 1950s than they are now: “The campaign to make ‘indecent’ animals wear clothing.”
  • The newfound popularity / surge in sales of 1984 since Trump took office, driven by the woefully uninformed — the book is a critique of Stalinism — is nicely dissected by Josephine Livingstone in a brief essay subtitled, “Why ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four is not the book we need in the Trump era.”
  • For those who have been living in a cave, and for those of us who live for schadenfreude, Erik Wemple does a fine job of stating the obvious about recently fired bloviator Bill O’Reilly, “An awful, awful man.”
  • Speaking of schadenfreude, if you want to wallow in it, luxuriate in it, consider the sad, sad tale of the suffering at the Fyre Fest, a “luxury” music festival in the Bahamas for entitled douchebags, where tickets started at a plebeian $1,000 and escalated to a $125,000 “package.” Needless to say — in a spectacle more entertaining than watching two scorpions in a locked-cage death match — the entitled douchebags who “suffered” are suing the entitled douchebags who created the event. Pop a cold one, sit back, read, and enjoy!
  • Returning to a slightly more innocent form of humor, Riverby Books, in Washington, DC, has produced an ad written in a variety of pidgin, an ad written entirely in Trumpese.
  • At long last there’s a rival for the title of All-Time Most Grotesque and Disturbing Internet News Item. The reigning champ is the 2004 piece, “480-Pound Woman Dies After Six Years On Couch,” about a morbidly obese woman who was “fused” to a couch after remaining on it for six years, not getting up even to defecate. (Why yes! You have guessed her state of residence.) And in this corner, from Confessions of a Funeral Director, the challenger, “Morbid Obesity + Cremation =?,” about a “grease fire” that destroyed a crematorium after it attempted to cremate a morbidly obese body.

 

Porky Pig

 

And th…, th…, th…, th…, th… that’s all, folks.

Pleasant dreams y’all.


Former Chicago Cubs manager Lee Elia

Today is the 34th anniversary of the day, April 29, 1983, that then-Chicago Cubs manager Lee Elia brought joy to the hearts of millions. On that day, Elia delivered, hands down, the greatest baseball rant ever recorded.

It never grows old. Here ’tis. Enjoy!

Lee Elia Rant

But why, you ask, does Lee Elia deserve his own national holiday?

There are two reasons: 1) He’s still alive, and would likely enjoy his well deserved acclaim; 2)  If Christopher Columbus, who brought death and misery to millions, deserves his own national holiday, isn’t Elia, who brought smiles and laughter to millions, more deserving?

Isn’t it time we started honoring those who made life just a little bit better rather than those who made it immeasurably worse?


by Zeke Teflon

My longtime friend Gary Lee Russell, best known as the guitarist and songwriter for the punk/new wave band Killer Pussy, died yesterday. I knew him for over 45 years. He was a really nice, funny, talented guy.

We first met in Phoenix in the early 1970s via mutual friends, and were soon involved in various types of drug- and alcohol-fueled insanity. One version of that insanity was KDIL (“The Big 16” — “Getting it said for Satan!”), a pirate radio station that took its name from a paperback book one of the DJs found at a book sale, “Dildo Torture.”  After a period of gathering equipment, we were on the air in early 1972. (One polluted late night shift a few days after we went on the air — I don’t remember a thing about this, but my brother swears it’s true — Bob the Gimp and I read the entirety of “Dildo Torture” aloud over the air.)

Tunein.com has a good description of KDIL, using phraseology from the station itself.

KDIL’s studio high atop the Satanic Tabernacle of Wickenburg

“KDIL is a pirate broadcaster from the 1970’s in Phoenix and Tempe, AZ. A religious broadcaster, the legacy broadcast originates from the Satanic Tabernacle in Wickenburg, AZ. KDIL features Rock, Rap, Dance, Swedish Blues and the inspiring German vocals of Heino. The KDIL DJ talent lineup includes Buster Hymen, Roger B. Protection, Ellis Dee, Harley Farley, Hal Murray, Eddie Satan, Dick Nixon, Rollo Sabatello, and The Countess. [Gary, among his other DJ monikers, was “Richard Nixon”: “This is Dick, sticking it to you.”]

“KDIL has run many great contests, including the ‘Acid Swarm Phone Ripoff’ and the ‘Off the Pigs Weekend’ with big prizes. KDIL’s sponsors include Mr. Rory’s Hyena Tripe drive-thru restaurants, Cactus Patch Citizens Band World, and Zorba’s Adult Books in Scottsdale, AZ.”

Of these “sponsors,” Zorba’s is the only one that actually existed. Gary worked there around the time KDIL was on the air, and we would often hang around after the place closed smoking dope surrounded by skin mags, dildos, and autosucks.

One evening, for lack of anything better to do, we decided to pay a visit to John Sage during his evening talk show. Sage was the local equivalent of Rush Limbaugh, and broadcast on, as I recall, KPHX. The studio was a tiny glass booth in the middle of a mall on Central Avenue, and the place was entirely deserted in the evening except for Sage ensconced in his booth.

To prepare for the visit, we looked through the skin mags at Zorba’s searching for the most disgusting, most explicit ones we could find, and finally settled on a gay fist-fucking mag and one titled “Truckin’ Mamas,” featuring 400-pounders.

That evening we drove with our pal Harley Farley in his pink Cadillac from Zorba’s on Scottsdale Road over to the KPHX booth on Central. Once there, we carefully removed the centerfolds from “Truckin’ Mamas” and the fist-fucking mag and taped them up on the glass booth, at eye height, directly in front of Sage. He was the only one there, so he had to either avert his eyes or look at the photos at least until the next commercial break. (This was well before surveillance cameras were the norm, so we didn’t even try to disguise ourselves when we taped up the photos.)

At the time, in addition to DJing on KDIL, working at Zorba’s (and previously, along with yours truly, at The Back Door Theater — “Parking and entrance in the rear, for your privacy”), Gary was playing guitar in funk bands. The one I remember best was 30 Weight, in part because one evening I saw them playing at Fridays & Saturdays, a sleazy rock joint (black popcorn ceiling, red velvet on the walls, shag carpeting, tiny little tables, half-clad waitresses in slit skirts) on the river bottom between Scottsdale and Tempe. That evening, their drummer got loaded on reds and passed out, slumped over his drum kit in the middle of a set.

30 Weight were a popular band, and in 1971 or 1972 Gary told me that they got hired to play the Miss Watts Festival in L.A. He told me that he was the only white guy there out of five or ten thousand people.

In 1974, I escaped from Phoenix, and saw Gary only sporadically over the coming decade, usually when I made my once-a-year obligatory holiday trek to visit my parents over xmas.

Toward the beginning of the 1980s, Gary had his nearest brush with fame, as guitarist and songwriter for the very much tongue-in-cheek Killer Pussy. They were part of the early ’80s Phoenix punk scene, along with The Meat Puppets and The Feederz (biggest hit, “Jesus Enters from the Rear”), and were quite popular. Not enough so that any of them didn’t have to have day jobs, but popular nonetheless. Among other things, they toured California and appeared on “New Wave Theater” on the USA Network.

Around the last time I saw Gary in the ’80s, Killer Pussy had their biggest hit, “Teenage Enema Nurses in Bondage” (1982), which subsequently was packaged by Rhino Records as part of its “worst records ever recorded” CDs. Shortly after the release of “Enema Nurses,” the band disintegrated, largely because of people quitting and because of the death of the band’s drummer and Gary’s good friend, John E. Precious (another nice, talented guy who died far too young).

After the band expired, Gary went into a downward spiral of alcohol and drug abuse (crack, meth, tobacco), and ended up on the street for the better part of a decade. The drug/alcohol abuse and depression were due, in part, to his musical dreams crashing; he had always thought he’d make it as a musician, never developed any job skills, and ended up working awful, low-paying jobs. When he worked, he work as a cabbie and later, when he could no longer do that, as a dispatcher.

To avoid jail, because of DUIs, he eventually left Phoenix and moved to San Diego to be near to his sister.

In the early 2000s he pulled himself out of his nosedive, got on SSD, and quit drinking and doing drugs for several years, while living in a trailer park in Lemon Grove. During those years I talked with him on the phone on a regular basis, mostly joking around, talking about old friends, and shooting the shit about music. He even got it together to record two self-produced CDs, as the Turquoise Orchestra, which never went anywhere.

Then things went to hell. About five years ago he started drinking again, and was soon drinking heavily (cheap whiskey and malt liquor). He continued to smoke heavily, and two years ago got rid of his phone so that he’d have more money for cigarettes and Steel Reserve.

I never spoke with him again. There was no way to reach him, and he never called me (or any of his other old friends).

Last year Gary could no longer care for himself and went into custodial care.

He died yesterday.

What a damn tragedy.

* * *

Zeke Teflon is the author of Free Radicals: A Novel of Utopia and Dystopia. Its protagonist, “Kel Turner,” is based, in part, on Gary Russell.

Free Radicals front cover

 


Of late, every vocabulary-deficient knuckle dragger on Craigslist seems to use the word “vintage” — often several times — when posting an ad for music gear. (I’m waiting with bated breath for them to start using the term “artisanal.”)

So, it seems like an appropriate time to remind readers of what the term actually means.

* * *

VINTAGE, adj. As used on Craigslist, old, overpriced, beat to hell. More simply, “shit,” as in “vintage guitar amp.”

* * *

–from The American Heretic’s Dictionary (revised & expanded)

American Heretic's Dictionary revised and expanded by Chaz Bufe, front cover