Below you will find the cream of my bloggin’ crop from Twenty-twelve, a.k.a. the year everyone had a Mayan calendar joke.
Unsolicited X: The Unheard Music Review
Dinner With Fake Dog Owner/Real Drummer Danny Young
Geriatric Chicken Man Claims To Have Elvis On Elbow
Jimmy Castor: 1947-2012
Shit A Seventeenth Century English Fop Says
A Big Fat Stupid Love Letter To “Late Night With David Letterman”
Twenty-Five Other Essential Punk Albums
Another Letter Of Note
I Didn’t Want To Know Slash’s Shoe Size Anyway
Basic Cable Reality Show Ideas
A.J. Confessore: 1969-2012
Potential Plot Lines For The New “ALF” Movie
The Giant Sentient Leeches Have Silenced Canibus
Holy Federico Fellini! It’s A Burt Ward Film Primer!
Did Osama bin Laden Have The Bodyguard On VHS Or DVD?
Choose Your Own Adventure (Waterskiing Squirrel Edition)
Don’t Read This While Eating
Corporate Hippie Ghost Logos Still Suck
Disney Pays $4 Billion For More Ewok Guitar Solos
Unsolicited Thoughts On Serious Puppet Scandal 2012
Slayer’s Reign In Blood Totally Synchs Up With Star Wars
Astronomers at Caltech suggest our Milky Way Galaxy is comprised of one planet per star, i.e. 100-400 billion exoplanets. Meanwhile, I’m vigorously testing the “man can survive on fried chicken and Mountain Dew alone” theory. Results are inconclusive, but local deep fryers applaud my efforts nonetheless.
My first book, This Music Leaves Stains: The Complete Story of The Misfits, is released in hardcover. More importantly, the news announcing this fact gets over ninety-two “likes” on Facebook, instantly validating the book’s very existence.
Paul Bearer dies.
Record Store Day is celebrated at Goodwill, where I swoop up unwanted copies of X’s Wild Gift, Sonic Youth’s Experimental Jet Set, and the White Stripes album with “Seven Nation Army” on it. White Stripes end up getting more spins than Sonic Youth, which surprises me. I submit my taxes at the last possible second; the endorphin rush lasts for days.
I decide to visit King Oliver’s grave in the Bronx on an unusually rainy day. The ground in the cemetery proves to be so moist I almost lose a shoe. It is during this trip that I spot the graffiti of the year: upon one of the many ads that hang in the subway tunnels promoting “Seinfeld” reruns someone has scrawled “racist pig fuck” over the otherwise unassuming face of Michael Richards. #neverforget
I try all three flavors of Shaq soda and they all taste like carbonated dessert plates. Man of Steel barnstorms its way into our lives and our pop culture think-pieces. The theater where I see it holds a Superman trivia contest before the screening and a minor uproar occurs when the winner (who must stride forward to claim his Henry Cavill poster) is discovered to be wearing a Batman shirt. Amy Adams makes me fall in love with Lois Lane all over again, but more importantly she briefly makes me fall in love with Amy Adams. I come dangerously close to watching Enchanted.
The Great Ear Clog of 2013 besieges me in a waxy hell. Somehow I find a way to blame this malady on Grown Ups 2.
Labor Day Weekend is spent in the Twin Cities. I do not see Prince, I do not see any Replacements (living or dead), but I do see someone in a Bigfoot costume at the state fair.
It’s a tacky roadside bonanza as I visit both Flea World and Gatorland in beautiful sunny Florida. Both experiences are underwhelming on many levels but at least I can say I was there in 2013. Speaking of junk culture, bottles of Moxie are spotted at an Orlando-area grocer. Having never seen this medicine-flavored treat south of Connecticut, I immediately break out into the Boogaloo, the Roger Rabbit, and yes, even the Patty Duke.
The softcover of This Music Leaves Stains is released, which means it is finally cheap enough for my friends to buy and read. While in San Francisco on business I somehow avoid any and all Rice-a-Roni jokes. I also make zero references to the Zodiac Killer. I take pause as I realize this and consider seeking medical attention.
My book tour takes me from one end of the country (NYC) to the other (Oregon). I regret not spending more time in Ohio.
If you’ll allow me to be nakedly sincere for a moment, 2013 was a fantastic year for me (even with the ear thing). Thanks to all who supported/saw me through it. I really do love you all.
- Peter Criss and Ace Frehley join the Foo Fighters for eighteen minute “Strutter”/”Beth”/”RNR All Nite” medley
- acoustic run through of “About a Girl” featuring Paul Stanley on lead vocals, Krist Novoselic on squeeze box
- current KISS lineup plays “Come As You Are” in full costume w/ Dave Grohl (wearing Vinnie Vincent’s makeup) on vocals
- Criss/Frehley lead “ex member” jam of “Endless Nameless” featuring Chad Channing, Vinnie Vincent, Dan Peters, Dale Crover, and Bruce Kulick
- Foo Fighters play Animalize in its entirety w/ Sir Paul McCartney doing backup vocals
- surviving KISSes/Nirvanas hire Girl Talk to play thirty minute mashup of every song both band ever wrote
A: Getting hit by a car, not so much because it might kill me but more because it might wound me, inflicting barely detectable head trauma that will leave my friends to say, “You know, he just hasn’t been the same since ‘the accident.’” Falling off a cliff, because of similar noggin concerns but also because of gravel and gravity and perturbed scorpions/cliff snakes. Accidentally committing a major faux pas in a foreign country and never being forgiven for it. Seeing Bigfoot or a UFO and never knowing if my friends actually believe my accounts or if they’re merely humoring me in person and writing me off as a lunatic behind closed doors. Accidentally inhaling mustard gas.
Click this link to read an interview Retroist did with me where I blather on endlessly about the Misfits…
…click this link to literally hear me blather on endlessly about the Misfits on the “New Books In Pop Music” podcast.
Either way you’ll get a good dose of me rhapsodizing about Static Age and debating how “real” Danzig “keeps it.” Who knows, maybe one of these interviews will convince you to finally buy my book (fourteen bucks, cheap!).
This is a fun game you get to play with your friends from high school when you hit your thirties. The way you play is you sit around a table, someone throws out a name from your collective teenage years, and you all take turns talking about the last time you saw said person (it doesn’t have to be a guy, just so we’re clear). Some of the better answers I’ve heard playing this game lately:
…he was working at Barnie’s at the mall and we had a brief discussion about the nationality of Zwan’s bass player
…he was sitting a row ahead of me at Scary Movie 2 and he had an enormous Riddle Box tattoo on his leg
…I didn’t actually see him; he called me soliciting a Russian ponzi scheme
…she was working as a Gwen Stefani impersonator at one of the major theme parks
…he had mutton chops that were black as night and he was standing outside the Checkers on Woodland Boulevard
…she was working as the receptionist at Jive Records
…her kid was having a meltdown in Blockbuster over a Gameboy Advance game; she looked at me like she had seven different types of cancer
…she was a financial correspondent on a cable news network, which is an impressive jump for a ballerina of her stature
…he was dumpster diving across the street from the Polluted Youth show; he saw me and ran away
- had some killer nachos at the Rusty Taco
- had some killer Chicago-style hot dogs at the Wienery
- had a killer duck patty breakfast sandwich at the Bachelor Farmer
- recoiled in horror when the cashier at Moods of Norway (a clothes shop where Andre 3000 prob buys all his threads) told me she was born in 1995
- once again failed to visit all seven hat stores in one go at Mall of America
- utilized my skills as an exorcist when the haunted cash register at Extreme Noise tried to charge me $97 for a few used CDs and an Adolescents t-shirt
- took a day trip to Stockholm, WI and had the best pie of my life at the Stockholm Pie Company; many a “Stockholm Syndrome” joke was made
- cursed the cartographer at Lakewood Cemetery after getting hella lost trying to follow their “map” (this is a common problem w/ cemeteries, which is why all graves should be alphabetized)
- walked by “Riverside Towers,” the apartment building Mary Tyler Moore retreated to when she wasn’t being forced to rub elbows with Ted Baxter (pictured above)
- savored my allergies not bothering me once
- savored the hospitality of my friends John, Karen, and Jennifer (thanks for not dragging me fishing, John!)
I’d like to end these posts about JG2′s Succulent Midwestern Adventure 2013 Edish by saying while I previously ribbed the Minnesota State Fair for thumping its “largest thing in the U.S.” title so hard the fact remains that fair really is flippin’ enormous and you should rest up good if you ever plan to hit it. Use your theme park settings. Agoraphobes need not apply.
A: Six months into every relationship I hand my girlfriend the following list of gender neutral proposed baby monikers. She is encouraged to circle (with a pencil) the ones she finds least offensive. Potential additions to the list may be submitted ten days later via affidavit.
So far I’ve never been anywhere near the realm of having to whittle my selections down to a single name (this exercise in general is a fantastic pregnancy deterrent) but I imagine a game of dice would resolve any disputes that arise in the hours before birth.