Or “The Year Of Blogging Leisurely.” What can I say? The collection agency refused to accept think-pieces on Femme Fatale or The King of Limbs. They wanted money! So I had to go earn it the old fashioned way (trying to flip “Welcome Back, Kotter” merchandise at swap meets across the country). At least the E.T. landfill thing is nice and long.
Robot Monkeys & Mr. Toad, We Hardly Knew Ye
The Encyclopedia Britannica Kid’s New Agenda
We Didn’t Start The Fire: 1990-1999
A Conversation Between Two College Graduates
Giant Photo Of Dorks At White Castle Raises Questions
The Bounty On Gumby’s Head Is $1,000
The E.T. Landfill Story: Fact, Fiction, Argle Bargle, Or Fooferaw?
Unsolicited Lou Read/Metallica Lulu Review
Dr Pepper: We Are Not Affiliated With “South Park”
Unsolicited Justin Bieber Under The Mistletoe Review
America Meets White Coke Can, Summarily Rejects It
Jaws The Ride: 1990-2012
Top Ten Album Covers Of 2011
Definitive Proof Of The Giorgio Tsoukalos Hair Combing
Selections From My Parents’ Collection Of Depressing Art
Speaking Of Depressing Art…
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