Peep my most recent Crawdaddy! piece – a reflection on the first Vandals EP, Peace Thru Vandalism, which features the incredible “Anarchy Burger (Hold The Government).” Snippet:
“‘Anarchy Burger’ did not disappoint when it finally assaulted my ears. The raucous two-minute explosion is Peace Thru Vandalism’s true diamond, a wild tribal punk pounding that boasts deliciously inept riffing and comically offensive lyrics delivered in a balls-to-the-wall caterwaul by stocky singer Steve Jensen (the original Stevo). Was SoCal punk ever more cringe-inducing than the opening lines of this song?
‘Anarchy, kill a cat! / Shoot James Brady in the back! / Raise an army of rabid rats! / Beat your neighbor with a bat!’
That still stings, and I was only two years old when Reagan was shot.”
Step Brothers: It’s great to see the dad from Bill & Ted working again (the bald one). Come to think of it, this movie is kind of like Bill & Ted 3: Bill & Ted Gain Sixty Pounds, Get Perms, Suffer An Incredible Amount Of Brain Damage, Forget They Can Time Travel, And Annoy Everyone They Meet Every Single Day Of Their Lives. A little uneven, but there are plenty of yuks. Plus, Rob Riggle. That guy elevates the hilarity of every project he signs on for.
Hail! Hail! Rock n’ Roll: Chuck Berry turned sixty in 1986, so the guy who made An Officer And A Gentleman decided to stage a huge concert celebrating the rock n’ roll pioneer and film a documentary around it. What the director didn’t count on was Berry being a complete diva, one who nearly sank the production before it began. Truth be told, this DVD’s behind-the-scenes featurette chronicling Berry’s impossible nature is far more entertaining than the film itself. Yet Hail! Hail! does boast plenty of fun moments, particularly during the actual concert. The whole package is a loving tribute to a sizable asshole who helped invent a really incredible form of music.
Infamy: Graffiti doc that peers into lives of three or four different artists. Interesting stuff – particularly “Earsnot,” the angry NYC tagger whose frustration and art stems from his father forbidding him to play flute as a child.
The Hangover: Finally, the frat pack movie to dethrone Old School as the tops of the genre. The plot weakened near the end and the Tyson bits struck me as forced, but you can’t argue with the sheer volume of funny. I got on my LOL-copter and ROFL’d every waffle in sight during this one (or whatever the hell the kids are saying).
Moon: Sam Rockwell has a contract job on our nearest celestial entity (someone check the facts on that)…or does he? This psychological sci-fi exploration was so good I watched it two and a half times in a row (life interrupted). Expertly acted, directed, produced, and probably catered. Moon should get every Oscar available come awards season.
I, like the rest of the world America’s unemployed writers, cannot believe you are turning the “Shit My Dad Says” Twitter feed into a TV show. Actually, that’s a lie. I can absolutely and completely believe you are turning the “Shit My Dad Says” Twitter feed into a TV show. It’s probably the most popular Twitter feed in America right now, even more so than “Shit My Gardener Does” or “Shit My Dog Daydreams About.” Why, it’s even racking up more hits than “Shit I’d Like To See Ashton Kutcher Wear To Topher Grace’s Funeral,” which I believe is run by the father from “That 70s Show.”
Of course you’re latching on to this hot trend and attempting to transform it into another tepid prime time entry for network television. This is not surprising at all. That’s what you do. And you know what? “Shit My Dad Says” is actually pretty funny (and some of those things may have actually been said by the old man pictured, not just conjured up by the Maxim editor who started the whole thing!). What gets me, Hollywood, is that you have used none of the ideas I have presented on my own Twitter feed, which is exclusively dedicated to blockbuster movie ideas.
Hollywood, how could you pass up ideas like Zat You, Santa Claus?, my James Earl Jones Christmas vehicle? How could you turn a blind eye towards Godzilla vs. King Kong 2: Donnybrook In Red Hook, Undershirt Johnson Conquers K-Mart, or the hilarious fish-out-of-water comedy Manscapin’? That last one, in which Eddie Murphy plays a foul-mouthed chest hair on Jeff Goldblum, is sure to revive the former actor to his Beverly Hills Cop-era glory. I’ve been giving you gold, Hollywood, but you’ve ignored it all. You could at the very least give me a meeting to discuss Winona Ryder’s Naked Pudding Fight. That idea tested very well in single parent Midwestern households.
Look, you’re obviously going to do what you want to do, Hollywood. I’m just saying the obvious route isn’t always the best way to go. I’m sure the synergy between Justin Long and whoever you get to play the old man (Burt Reynolds?) will be hilarious at first, but every sitcom falls prey to bloat sometime after the first season. What will differentiate this from “Everybody Loves Raymond” or “Three Guys, Two Girls, Some Pizza, & A Few Mildly Amusing One-Liners” once Maxim guy jumps ship and Marlon Wayans joins the cast? Nothing, I say. However, a movie in which a stark naked Winona Ryder angrily wrestles young starlets in a giant pile of sticky foodstuffs shall always stand alone as a classic.
Good luck with “Shit My Dad Says,” Hollywood. If you ever want to spin it into a treatment for the silver screen, you know who to call.
1. Weezer – White people immediately latched on to the rock band Weezer when they first appeared on the scene in the mid-nineties with a winning combination of fuzzy grunge pop, kitschy 1970s references, and an endearing “aw shucks” underdog persona. As with most rock groups, though, it has proven difficult for Weezer to maintain a consistent level of quality over the years; for reasons that remain unclear, white people have taken this as a personal affront from the band. Every time Weezer has released a new album in the past ten years, it has been almost instantly rejected by Caucasians who claim the band “gave up” after their initial success and resent their “laziness” and “lack of creativity.”
Weezer circa 1994. Their introverted, goofy image struck a chord with millions of white people who wished the cast from Revenge of the Nerds would form a band.
One possible theory for this strange cycle suggests that white people hastily pegged Weezer’s lead singer Rivers Cuomo as the logical successor to Kurt Cobain’s songwriting legacy (the first Weezer album was released just a month after the latter’s suicide), applying Cobain’s beliefs and ideals to Cuomo. Thus, white people feel betrayed that Cuomo and Weezer have not “stayed true to their roots,” engaging in various “soulless corporate rock” shenanigans like filming videos with Muppets and collaborating with Kenny G. While other races might view most of Weezer’s antics as merely silly or a good-natured display of humor, white people have been known to insist the band is purposely not being serious in order to irritate their own fan base (which is the entirety of white people).
For more thoughts on the current state of Weezer and their relation to white people, click here.
2. “30 Rock” – Debuting in 2006, “30 Rock” is a half hour sitcom that is quickly becoming the television equivalent of Weezer in white society. The comedy follows the exploits of a head writer for a weekly variety show; created by and starring Tina Fey, the program is based on Fey’s own experiences working on “Saturday Night Live.” Such meta humor is immensely popular with white people, who time and again have embraced programs with the quirky general feel of “30 Rock” (see “The Simpsons,” “Sports Night,” anything involving Gary Shandling). The cast of the show is also stacked with actors white people have been proven to adore: Alec Baldwin (who remains beloved despite his reputation for berating children), Tracy Morgan, the fat weirdo from that Dave Matthews Band video, and Fey herself.
While “30 Rock” has remained consistently popular amongst television critics over its four seasons and has won several major awards, white people have been complaining about its decrease in quality since season two. Specifically, they seem incredulous that such a “smart” and “witty” show would “lower itself” to participate in network television stunts. Examples include the cross promotion of former NBC employee Jerry Seinfeld’s Bee Movie in season two or the alleged “stunt casting” of major movie stars like Salma Hayek and Steve Martin in season three.
The cast of “30 Rock.” Unlike “The Office,” another NBC sitcom white people like to complain about, “30 Rock” is not adapted from anything British.
Recently, “30 Rock” complaining has revved up considerably, as a number of white people who are actually also television critics have openly expressed their beliefs that the show is in “dangerous decline.” Apparently “30 Rock” is no longer “one of the funniest” shows in history but merely a “B minus” program in a current state of “malaise.” While a B minus is still an acceptable and desired grade in many parts of the world, in the realm of white television it is akin to a D plus.
Despite all the complaining, it is clear white people hold a reverence for “30 Rock,” as evidenced by the following dramatic quote (courtesy of Nathan Rabin, noted white person and TV critic):
“I’d almost rather not write about ‘30 Rock’ than write negative reviews.”
3. Late Night Comedy – Late night comedy – that is, televised comedy that generally occurs after 11 P.M. on weeknights – has long been a topic white people relish complaining about. This is interesting because approximately 95% of the programs that have made up late night comedy in the past four decades have been practically interchangeable. Generally, the format is as follows: a white comedian (or “host”) spends an hour chatting with an ugly musician while simultaneously entertaining visits from celebrity guests and engaging in absurd bits of visual humor.
Yet there appear to be many subtle and unseen layers to the bevy of late night comedy programs white people have argued about over the years. For instance, most white people will tell you that “Tonight Show” host Johnny Carson was the best late night comedian because he was “classy” and “sharp” while “The Chevy Chase Show’s” Chevy Chase was the worst because he was “awkward” and “depressing,” despite the fact both of these men wore similar suits, sat behind the same basic kind of desk, and more or less sported the same haircut.
Arsenio Hall, one of the few late night comedians in history who was not white. His show, “The Arsenio Hall Show,” was popular for a few years in the early nineties thanks to the host’s extremely long fingers and his ability to make ordinary people bark on command.
Similarly, white people love to converse about the “broad humor” of “Tonight Show” host Jay Leno versus the “sarcastic quips” of “Late Night” host David Letterman; to the outside observer, however, the only difference between these two men are how they light their studios. One should of course never suggest this to a white person in the heat of a Leno/Letterman discussion, as they take late night comedy preferences very seriously and have been known to attack when provoked. It is widely believed that former President Bill Clinton murdered his friend Vince Foster after Foster called Letterman an “East Coast elitist with no connection to the American people.”
4. The Weather – Actually, everybody likes to complain about the weather, regardless of race.
Their latest transgression – inviting soft jazz king Kenny G to “rock out” with them during an appearance on “AOL Sessions”:
I have to give the Weezers credit for not breaking character the minute Ken tore into that first flurry of waiting room pablum. A lesser man (me) surely would have doubled over in hysterics/pain/hysterical pain.
By the way, what the hell does Rivers say right after Kenny G’s first sax break? “I won’t ache the goomba?” Sheesh. Everything’s gotta be a thing with this guy.
Oh, and guys, Alien Ant Farm called – they want their track suits back. YA BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRN-DAH!
“[Obama] should say to the country, ‘The Republicans will not allow these things to come to a vote without a filibuster. We can’t get anything through. So, good luck. Take two aspirin – and you’ll all die of the next epidemic.’”
“It’s nothing.” (commenting on Ted Kennedy’s legacy)
“When [Bill Clinton] claimed, ‘I didn’t have sexual relations with that woman, Ms. Lewinsky,’ he was totally accurate. He was talking Southern. In the South, sex is when you put it in and pump away and there’s a danger of a baby. That’s ’sexual relations.’ Anything else is what we called in school ‘messing around.’ And all Southern boys messed around.”
“[John F. Kennedy] was a good friend—witty, sharp, and very smart. I would rather be with him than practically anybody now alive. But what did he do for us in a thousand days? He invades Cuba, fucks up, and brings the world close to a nuclear collision over the so-called missiles down there in Cuba. Deplorable.”
“Well, [Errol Flynn] was clean-limbed. You couldn’t find a single hair on those legs of his.”
“You don’t think I wanted to write “Ben-Hur,” do you? I was stuck.” (on needing money)
“I don’t believe in the Great Man theory of history. Great men come along very seldom – and when they do, it’s pretty bloody. But, as Chancellor Bismarck once observed, God looks after alcoholics, little children, and the United States of America.”
Of course, this interview will probably go down in history for Gore’s comments regarding the Roman Polanksi case – specifically, literally claiming he doesn’t give a fuck and calling the victim a “young hooker.” Yeesh. You can get away with saying that kind of shit when you’re ninety-gajillion years old.
[UPDATE #3: CHUCK BISCUITS ALIVE?An e-mail I just received at 6:34 PM EST:
"Dear James Greene,
This note is on behalf of Bob Montgomery, who ask me (his wife) to let you know that CHUCK IS ALIVE. Bob is on his way to see him now and will send you a follow up email in the near future. Thank you for taking the time to reply to Bob’s email this morning.
Sincerely,
Tabitha Montgomery"
Case closed? Not until I figure out who the hell was e-mailing me for six months pretending to be Chuck and his wife. A "full disclosure" post regarding my side of this whole mess is coming shortly.]
[UPDATE #2:Further e-mails have been exchanged with Chuck's brother Bob Montgomery; after I confirmed the name of Chuck's wife via two independent sources, Bob wrote:
"Chuck and I have been somewhat estranged for a time, but this seems fishy. I am going to his home to get to the bottom of this, I will let you know one way or the other. If this is a hoax, I will pop Chuck in his beak. I am allowed. He is my little brother."
The investigation continues. At this point, I don't know whom to believe.]
[UPDATE:Rumors are beginning to swirl that this is some kind of elaborate hoax. If so, I can assure you I am NOT in on it. I have previously chronicled my contact with Chuck/person(s) claiming to be Chuck(?) and never had any reason to disbelieve their claims.
Since this post went viral, however, several people (including former Danzig bassist Eerie Von and Chuck's brother Bob Montgomery) have openly questioned his death. All I can tell you is I've been communicating with two people since May I was always 99.999% sure were THE Chuck Biscuits and his wife from e-mail addresses bearing their names. They never asked me to wire money to a Nigerian prince or adopt their child, so I took it all at face value.
Chuck's wife is allegedly the one who has been sending out mass e-mails about Chuck's condition to family and friends; I didn't use her name below because I didn't know if she'd be comfortable with that and it didn't seem like a good time to bring it up, considering her husband was dying. I'm still not going to use her name on the same grounds.
Although I can't imagine why a former member of Danzig would want to fake his own death via the Internet, I know plenty of people who severely dislike me and would take any chance they could to play on my gullibility to make me look as stupid as possible (i.e. e-mail me for six months pretending to be a dying drummer I admire). If this is all a big fat lie, I'm sorry, but I promise I was duped just as hard as you.]
Legendary hard rock drummer Chuck Biscuits, whose lengthy résumé included stints in such flagship underground acts as Black Flag and Social Distortion, died Saturday after a prolonged battle with throat cancer. He was 44.
“In response to the inquires, thank you for all the support,” an anonymous family member wrote in an e-mail sent this morning. “Chuck did not survive his battle with throat cancer. He passed surrounded by his family on 10/24/09.”
Chuck Biscuits was probably best known to the general populous for his work with Danzig. Beginning in 1988, Chuck played on that group’s first four albums, which are often hailed as Danzig’s best (thanks in no small part to Chuck’s powerful drumming style). The percussionist also appeared on 1993’s Thrall: Demonsweatlive EP; that release yielded an unexpected chart-burning hit for Danzig in “Mother,” a song the band originally included on their self-titled debut.
Yet Chuck Biscuits was not completely bound by the shackles of heavy metal/hard rock – the drummer kindly lent his talents to various tracks on Run-D.M.C.’s fourth album, 1988’s Tougher Than Leather. Leather boasted a handful of hits for the famed Hollis Crew, including “Mary, Mary” and “Beats To The Rhyme.”
Born Charles Montgomery on April 17, 1965, in British Columbia, Chuck Biscuits cut his teeth with Canadian hardcore outfit D.O.A. before relocating to California in 1982 and joining Black Flag. Biscuits left that group after five months of touring and began bouncing around from band to band, clocking time with classic punk acts such as the Circle Jerks, Fear, and the Weirdos. It wasn’t long before Chuck made a name for himself in the rock underground with his utterly ferocious yet completely accurate attack; he was rumored to be at the top of Nirvana’s drummer “wish list” in the days prior to Dave Grohl.
The last major group Chuck played with was Social Distortion, beginning in 1996. He appeared on only one of their releases, 1998’s Live At The Roxy, before promptly leaving the band a year later. It is unknown whether the drummer’s throat cancer played a part in that departure.
Outside of music, Chuck Biscuits was a known lover of art who spent some time in the late 1980s sculpting and attending college art classes. Biscuits also enjoyed vintage breakfast cereal collecting; one Danzig home video release tagged Chuck as a “Professor of Cerealogy, PhD.” in a segment wherein the drummer expounded upon his love of sugary morning delights (“It’s a very expensive habit…once you’ve had Boo Berry, there’s no turning back.”)
“Chuck was one of the best of the original wave of punk drummers,” Descendents drummer Bill Stevenson said in brief e-mail exchange with the author last year. “His style was easily recognizable, and he seemed to have just a ton of extra energy when playing drums. He is one of those people who did not have to practice a lot to play really well.”
“It came very natural to him,” Stevenson continued. “He was hugely influential without really being as ‘famous’ as drummers who were actually much less influential musically.”
It is unknown exactly who Chuck is survived by, but they will surely miss him, as will an entire generation of rock n’ roll fans.
There’s a Checkers in Brooklyn now. That’s like putting a Hardee’s on the moon! Well, sort of. Anyway, I command you to read the story I wrote about the Checkers Gotham invasion for New York Press. I assure you I take no shots at Klosterman in it.
So there I was, mere moments away from setting my homemade submarine adrift in the Colorado River. I had my iPhone in hand, with a 9 and a 1 already punched in. The cat was safely stashed away at the home of a fellow Taco Johns employee – I had literally nothing to worry about as I prepared to shove the tiny vessel that had cost me $17,000 (welding lessons included) away from the shore line. My plan to send the media on the wildest of proverbial goose chases while simultanously smearing my delicious yolk all over America’s gullible, swine-like face was almost complete.
Then, for some reason, before I kicked my creation off and dialed in that last 1 to frantically explain that my little Woogums was potentially trapped in an air-tight vessel headed straight for the most dangerous stretch of rapids in Kremmling County, I decided to eat a bran muffin from the glove box of my 1971 Dodge Dart. As I sat in the driver’s seat and scarfed down my less-than-appetizing snack, I scanned CNN.com to see what was going on in the world. What headline should greet me in a matter of seconds?
“SIX YEAR OLD TRAPPED IN RUNAWAY HOT AIR BALLOON.”
I almost choked to death on my incredibly dry muffin. The audacity! For the next twelve hours, I sat in my beloved Dart and watched the whole thing unfold. I couldn’t believe my eyes. When had you been in my house? When had you seen my elaborate blueprints? They boasted a littany of ideas, including some sort of helium-based dirigible, very much like the one Wolf Blitzer was currently drooling over.
I was flabbergasted. Clearly my Brinks home security system had failed me for the last time. And to use a child, Mr. Heene, a real human child, rather than a cat! Well sir, that was unprecedented.
I applaud your ingenuity, sir, but I scorn your face just the same. I am now remarkably in debt with absolutely nothing to show for it. There is no way my wife is coming back to me now. You are a foul trickster and I shall determine how you breached my inner sanctum if it’s the last thing I do. May you rot in the self-imposed prison of reality television you seek to dominate.
Posted by jamesgreenejr 
Posted by jamesgreenejr 
Posted by jamesgreenejr 
