The Chuck Biscuits Death Hoaxer: Chuck Biscuits?

Here’s some food for thought: did Chuck Biscuits himself perpetrate the entire Great Chuck Biscuits Death Hoax of 2009, chuckling under his breath as he hosed me for six months and then laughing heartily as the world mourned his passing two weeks ago?

I have no idea, but that very notion was suggested to me by someone close to Chuck the Monday after the whole mess erupted. This particular person, someone who has known Chuck since long before he was in Danzig, told me that biscuitschuck@hotmail.com is in fact the drummer’s personal e-mail address, that the text of the messages I was sent match Chuck’s writing style, and that it was absolutely him in the picture I posted back in May. Their theory as to why Chuck would do something like this? They figured it was just his super crazy way of reinserting himself into the pop culture landscape.

While this was interesting and somewhat relieving to hear, I took it with a grain of salt. This person could be hoaxing me as well, I thought. So I decided to sit on this strange theory for a little while and see what developed.

It’s been over a week, and guess what? Nothing has happened. No hoaxers have come forward, no one has pointed me in the direction of other possible suspects, Chuck himself has not released any kind of statement – heck, Chuck hasn’t even e-mailed me to complain about my “lousy journalism”/ask where I was getting my info from/figure out who was impersonating him and his wife. If I were in his position, I’d really want to figure out who was using my identity and why they were sending pictures of me around and why they were pretending I was dying of throat cancer. If biscuitschuck@hotmail.com is Chuck’s address, if that picture is him and he didn’t do this, well, that’s pretty worrying RE: personal security.

It also strikes me as rather curious that the person who confirmed Chuck’s non-death to the world was, in the end, his estranged brother Bob and not himself or his wife, Lauren. The fact that I knew Lauren’s name, the fact that she was the person I was supposedly receiving updates on Chuck’s health (and the news of his eventual “death”) from, is what spurned Bob to drive several hours from his home in Canada to Seattle to investigate his brother’s alleged passing. Below is a copy of the e-mail Bob sent me regarding these facts:

Lauren, whose name I was protecting when this story broke because I knew it was the one true and legitimate piece of personal Chuck Biscuits info I had, only mailed me once about all this, from a different address than the one I had previously received messages from. All she asked was why I thought Chuck was dead. I explained my side of things to her and never heard back from her. Below, a copy of that correspondence:

Sure, other noted sources eventually piped up concerning Chuck’s undoubted alivedness, like his former band mates Joe Keithley (publicly) and Eerie Von (via e-mail to me), but doesn’t it seem kind of odd that Chuck’s wife would contact me and, rather than confirm that her husband is alive, ask me why I think he’s dead? This is the guy’s wife – surely she knows if he’s alive or dead. Unless, perhaps, she was in on the hoax?

Now, look – I’m not saying there’s a specific way for people to handle their own death hoax. I’m also not saying Chuck Biscuits and/or his wife definitely did this shit; the only source I have on that is off the record, my personal rock n’ roll Deep Throat, if you will. However, I am saying there’s a lot of stuff here that doesn’t quite add up, and I don’t think it’s completely outrageous to suggest Chuck Biscuits may have somehow been involved in this odd publicity stunt.

For the sake of posterity, below I’ve posted screen caps of three of the original e-mails I received from “Chuck”/”Lauren” before “he” faked his death and then reemerged (apologies for the blurriness and poor cropping; I failed Photoshop 101):

The “inquiries” mentioned in the second e-mail refer to a series of interview questions I had sent “Chuck.” Did Chuck Biscuits fake his death to avoid completing this interview? Let’s remember – this man collects cereal and retained the surname “Biscuits” when he joined Danzig.

Stay tuned for any further developments, folks. Thanks to everyone who has supported me during this utterly bizarre incident. To those who still think this is just another example of some uneducated blogger not getting his facts straight or some wanna-be Internet celebrity fabricating a story for blog hits, I really don’t know what to say. Jon Gosselin is way higher than Chuck Biscuits on Google Trends, and if you can figure out the current address/place of employment/cell phone provider/shoe size of another rogue 1980s rock drummer (say Joey Image or Arthur Googy), I will personally buy you dinner at Arby’s.

Oscar The Grouch: Hockey-Lovin’ Maple Syrup Jockey

It is a frightening time in America. Beloved institutions like Aerosmith and Myspace are crumbling. On the TV landscape, FOX has completely handed over its Sunday night line-up to Seth MacFarlane, who used the opportunity last night to make his six thousandth Marlee Matlin joke (which involved the real Marlee Matlin, a clear display of MacFarlane’s growing power and influence). Elsewhere, children are having to grapple with the reality of the iPhone’s less-than-advertised battery life, Bunco continues unabated, and that community college upstate refuses to mail me the fifty dollars I earned taking that construction survey, even though I made it quite clear I live too far away for an in-person visit.

In such a hostile era, it helps to remember and cling to seemingly invincible pieces of childhood nostalgia. I’m talking about unshakable entities such as the Ring Pop, Warwick Davis, and, of course, “Sesame Street.” “Sesame Street” is celebrating its fortieth anniversary this week, which is quite a milestone for any puppet-based form of entertainment. For four decades now, OCD-stricken vampires and clinically depressed woolly mammoths have helped young people with the most basic of learning skills, gently shaping our culture into one that laughs warmly whenever a giant ball of blue fur and googly eyes is spotted destroying a plate of baked goods while grunting in broken English. “Sesame Street” is also important for employing an actor named Northern Calloway, surely the greatest name any actor has ever boasted on screen or off.

What’s most important about “Sesame Street,” I feel, is that it is a uniquely American invention, one whose many characters and personalities could only have sprung from our purple mountain’s majesty, our various fruited plains, our endless array of strip malls and shopping centers. To stare into the eyes of those aliens who go, “Yip, yip, yip, yip!” all the time is to stare into two hundred some-odd years of red, white, and blue; no way could a Romanian or Estonian production company have birthed such endearing entities as Telly the Insecure Purple Monster (he’s just like my grandma!) or caped spazz-out king Super Grover. Indeed, “Sesame Street” and its every facet is uniquely, inarguably, unequivocally American.

Except for Oscar the Grouch, who is apparently Canadian.

Yes, friends, in late October the news broke from the green lips of the Grouch himself. He was appearing on our northern neighbors’ QTV as a part of “Canadian Waste Reduction Week.” Less than two minutes into the chat, Oscar revealed that his father was born in New Brunswick and his mother hailed from Nova Scotia.

“I try to keep [my Canadian roots] a secret,” the Muppet later said, going on to claim that “a lot of people in the world probably like Canadians better than America,” and that he’s wary of having people like him.

“Never admit you’re Canadian,” Oscar warned his fellow toque-wearing hose-heads.

Oscar the Grouch’s true heritage comes as a shocking blow to scores of Americans who held his pessimistic outlook and nasty habits as the ultimate symbol of our country’s pride. New Yorkers must be particularly upset; it was long believed that Oscar hailed from one of the slummier parts of the Bronx. Unfortunately, at press time most Big Apple residents were still too inebriated from celebrating the Yankees’ World Series win to offer any thoughts beyond, “Jeter rules! Fuck those queers in Philly!”

I, for one, am heartbroken at the news our trash can-dwelling friend is nothing more than a log-splittin’, hockey-lovin’ maple syrup jockey from the country that gave us one of (if not the) least profitable Olympic Games of the past thirty-five years. How are we supposed to go on this week celebrating “Sesame Street” when they’ve been keeping secrets like this from us? What’s next – Elmo’s Danish? Big Bird’s a Russkie? Who knows which Muppets are outsourced and which are true Americans anymore? It’s almost enough to make you wish Joe McCarthy was still alive (interrogating Muppets is probably the only thing they’d let him do if he was).

The real question, though, is how do we explain this to the children? It’s a delicate topic. I suggest sitting them down in front of a roaring fire with a big mug of Ovaltine and easing your way in with talk of Gary Carter and Kelly Gruber. After you have revealed the truth about Oscar and if their reaction isn’t too strong, perhaps you can broach the subject of other Canucks on the down low, such as Dan Aykroyd, Jim Carrey, and Loverboy.

Stay strong, America. We can get through this tangled web of Grouch lies.

Stuff White People Like To Complain About

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.

“Can you people believe this fuckin’ shit?”

5. Lines At The Bank – Uh, don’t get me started.

E-Mail The Chuck Biscuits Death Hoaxer

Two independent sources have suggested to me off record who the mastermind of the Great Chuck Biscuits Death Hoax of 2009 just might be; since I’m not in a theorizin’ mood this morning (and most of you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you anyway), I’ll just give you the still entirely valid and working e-mail addresses of the “Chuck” that was contacting me and encourage you to drop him/her a line:

biscuitschuck@hotmail.com and res1odpp@verizon.net

Maybe write something along the lines of, “Hey, what you did was really messed up. You upset a lot of people. What gives, hoaxer?” and see if they reply. Who knows? You might be the person they finally decide to fess up to!

In other news, Glenn Danzig is still crazy short.

Chuck Biscuits Is Alive

And it seems it was all just a cruel, cruel hoax: legendary hard rock drummer Chuck Biscuits, whom this blog eulogized Tuesday after receiving a death notice that allegedly came from his wife, is apparently still among the living.

“I just wanted to let you know that Chuck [Biscuits] is alive and as well as can be expected,” said Bob Montgomery, Chuck’s brother, in an e-mail sent to the author earlier today. “I drove to his home in Seattle [from Canada] to confirm that fact.”

Suspicions rose almost immediately after heavy metal website Blabbermouth.net picked up the news of Chuck’s death from this blog yesterday and made it viral, as Bob and at least one of Chuck’s former band mates had heard nothing of the former Danzig drummer’s passing. After a brief e-mail exchange with JG2Land, Bob Montgomery decided to physically visit his brother to find out the truth once and for all.

“The only reason I put any stock in the Internet rumours was because [James Greene, Jr.] used Chucks wife’s name [in private e-mails],” Bob wrote after his visit to Chuck’s house. “Otherwise, I would have filed it under the African ruler looking for money to enlarge his penis file. I am really curious as to who’s been sending [him] this info.”

In May of 2009, JG2Land received an e-mail that ostensibly came from Chuck Biscuits, who appeared to be using an e-mail address that bore his wife’s real name. The message, which was a response to an article JG2 had authored for Crawdaddy.com entitled “An Open Letter To Chuck Biscuits,” found “Chuck” announcing that he was “awake and rotting twice to the gut in the land of flanneled, tree-huggin’ bunny-fuckers.” The drummer also offered himself up for an interview.

Subsequent communication with this apparently false Chuck Biscuits revealed that he was afflicted with throat cancer and could no longer speak. In July, a message signed with the initials of Chuck’s wife was sent that announced the founding D.O.A. member was in the hospital, his condition deemed “inoperable and terminal according to his care givers” and that “alternative therapies” were being explored. Communication dried up until October 26, when an e-mail was sent announcing that Chuck had passed two days earlier:

“In response to the inquires, thank you for all the support. Chuck did not survive his battle with throat cancer. He passed surrounded by his family on 10/24/09.”

It is currently unknown who exactly is responsible for perpetrating this hoax, nor what their motivations were.

In response to the avalanche of criticism, comments, and questions JG2Land is now currently receiving thanks to this debacle, I wish to state the following: it stings bitterly to know that my communication with Chuck Biscuits, a talent I have long admired, and his wife was all a scam. After all the highs and lows I felt on this six month journey, to have it end like this is just sickening.

I never had any reason to distrust the people in question. No serious flags were raised. Who would pretend to be a dying hard rock drummer for a half a year? There was no monetary gain, and I have no journalistic stature. There seemed to be no angle for this, other than to hurt and embarrass me (mission accomplished). Thus, I took these people at their word.

When I received the e-mail about Chuck’s passing, it hit me in the gut. I was reeling. I decided to write a succinct but heartfelt blog announcing the news Tuesday and that would be the end of it. The news would get around and the world could mourn the loss of the best hard rock drummer of the 1980s. That this could all be some insane prank was the furthest thing from my mind.

I can understand why some people would want to try to ruin my reputation or make me look like a complete asshole lacking journalistic integrity, but I cannot fathom why anyone would want to trick thousands of Chuck’s fans into a false state of grief. That is the real crime here. Reading some of those early comments about fans’ memories of Chuck is especially heart-breaking now. Were these people laughing at those memories? Because I was fighting back tears.

Shame on the party responsible for this. You hurt too many good and innocent people, including Chuck’s close friends/family.

Although I flunked out of the journalism program at the University of Central Florida, I know the rules and I follow them. I fact-check to the best of my ability. I never falsify quotes unless I’m writing an obvious parody or joke. I do thorough research and I try to protect my sources because I don’t entirely believe in this burgeoning “show us everything you got” style of Gen Y reporting. If I had any reason to believe the “Chuck Biscuits” I was talking to was full of shit, I would have put him through the wringer.

That said, I think it’s rather telling that Bob Montgomery couldn’t comment on the state of his own brother without driving several hours to see him in the flesh. The real Chuck Biscuits fell off grid a decade ago, and he’s clearly worked a bit to have things stay that way. I’m not knocking that at all. I’m just saying…I couldn’t verify anything about the real Chuck Biscuits a year ago when I began research for a retrospective piece about his career (which eventually morphed into the much shorter and tongue-in-cheek “Open Letter” piece). One person mailed me back. It took a fake death story to get anyone to confirm that he lived in Seattle.

I’m sorry I unknowingly spread this horrible lie. I apologize to the world, Chuck’s family, Chuck’s friends, and especially Chuck.

P.S. – Concerning Chuck’s contributions to Tougher Than Leather – again, researched to best of my ability, and if you’re familiar with the album and Chuck’s playing style, there’s no reason to seriously question it. Of course it could be a lie, but it could also be 100% true.

Bill Paxton Pinball Wizard Fires Shots At Bruce Campbell

It came to my attention last week that some huge tech wiener is working on a custom Bill Paxton pinball machine. Somewhere, Bill Pullman is shedding a single tear as he stands atop a mountain and stares into the sunset, wondering where it all went wrong.

In explaining his decision to dedicate an entire pinball machine to the asshole car salesman from True Lies, creator Ben Heck said, “I guess I could have gone with a more obvious geek choice, like Bruce Campbell, but to be honest, Paxton’s more interesting and has made movies people have actually seen.” [Emphasis added]

OH SNAP!! Take that, Bruce Campbell! Get off your high horse of cult horror stardom and join us in the REAL WORLD, where Bill Paxton has bested you! How does it feel? How does it feel to be made a chump by a guy building a pinball machine? It’s gotta STING, motherfucker!

On the other hand, Bruce Campbell was in all three Spider-Man movies. As far as early aught franchises go, that’s probably the biggest. An entire generation of kids now has Bruce C. in their memory banks. He’ll live forever thanks the Web Crawler. What’s Paxton’s biggest junk, Apollo 13? Given the opportunity, I’m sure every human under the age of ten right now would rather watch Spider-Man than Forest Gump Goes To Space With Two Other Ineffectual White Guys. Just sayin’.

By the way, Ben Heck unleashed his Bruce Campbell diss back in August. As far as I know, I’m the first journalist to draw attention to it. JG2, always on the cutting edge! Up next: what Tootie really thought about her co-stars on “The Facts Of Life!”

The Cornuzine Interviews: Biff Malibu

Haven’t thrown one of these up in a while. In case you forgot, Cornuzine was a website I used to do. These interviews were the only redeeming part.

His parents gave him the name Fritjof Jacobsen, but in 1994 this jaunty Norwegian chap rechristened himself Biff Malibu (after the porn actor) and formed the flashy hard rock combo Gluecifer with a few of his pals. Biff’s light, saucy vocal delivery pleasantly punctuated the slew of excellent albums Gluecifer released during their eleven year run. In 2003, I got the chance to chat with the bescarfed front man, which was an experience beyond thrilling for this drooling fan boy. Continue reading to discover what the self-described “scheming dildo” has to say about Norwegian history, the Foo Fighters, and that lady from Sleepless In Seattle.

BIFF MALIBU SPEAKS OF ROCK, MEG RYAN

JAMES GREENE, JR: For a Norwegian singer, you have a pretty good handle on the English language. Explain this phenomenon, please.

BIFF MALIBU: Musicality I guess, or maybe more likely the fact that we Scandihoooligans are taught english in school from we are nine ’til we are 18.

JG2: Nine ’til you’re eighteen? What’s the reasoning behind that?

BM: Probably to prime us for an international career in rock and roll, or maybe the fact that Norway is such a small country that we need to know English because no one is willing to learn Norwegian.

JG2: No one wants to learn their native language?

BM: OK, to be serious…Norway has a population of four million people. We speak Norwegian, a language very similar to Swedish and Danish. Norway has for hundreds of years had a strong bond with [the] U.K.; not strange, since we used to be a big shipping nation. Since our country is so small, I guess someone figured out many years ago that it was important to learn foreign language in order to do trade, etc. In the late 1800s, thousands of Norwegians emigrated to [the] U.S.A. I guess the bond with English and American people were strengthened during WWII.

JG2: I see.

BM: Since the war, all kids have been taught English in school. Today, I would say that almost everyone you’ll meet here has English as their second language, but don’t get me wrong; in our daily life we speak and write Norwegian. It’s just that here, and in the other Scandi countries for that matter, the proficiency in English language is very high, especially compared to the bigger euro countries like France or Germany.

JG2: Interesting. We don’t really have a second language here, generally speaking.

BM: For our part in Gluecifer, we have spent so much time abroad…that I guess our English has been maintained very well. I myself am also married to a girl who has an American dad, so I speak English a lot, and also read most books in that language.

JG2: Cool. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t your latest effort Basement Apes debut at #4 on the Billboard charts in Scandanavia? Has this success changed the mighty rock machine that is Gluecifer?

BM: We debuted at #2, actually, and stayed in the top forty for several weeks. It was very cool, as it enabled us to play more cities and to more people here in Norway. It hasn’t really changed the machine though, maybe just given it a little more financial lubrication. That was welcome, of course.

JG2: Didn’t you guys just open for the Foo Fighters? How was that?

BM: Foo Fighters were really nice guys. Thay gave us tons of booze and beer and real red carpet treatment. The show itself was okay – felt a little weird playing a sports arena – but I guess we can get used to that if we have to.

JG2: That’s cool. I touched Dave Grohl’s knee once. So, the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony was last week. Is there any band you think the Hall needs to induct next year? Anyone you think they shouldn’t have inducted this year?

BM: I don’t care too much about this Hall of Fame thing. I’ve been to the museum in Cleveland, and although some of it was pretty cool, I think looking at Kurt Cobain’s sweater or Pete Townshend’s old socks is far away from rock. If you are talking in terms of underrated bands/artists, Roky Erickson is the first name that comes to my mind.

JG2: Good ol’ Roky. You once famously sang that you were sick of watching TV ’cause “they’re always showing Prong.” Do they really show a lot of Prong on TV where you live, or do you just not like Prong? Explain your lyric, please!

BM: When we wrote that song, someone had just dragged me to a Prong show. I disliked it strongly. But, to be honest, I think the main reason for using the word Prong was that I had to rhyme something with “schlong.”

JG2: Got it. When exactly was the year of Manly Living? 1978?

BM: Every year since we started Gluecifer in ‘94 has been a year of manly living.

JG2: How did “Leather Chair” end up in Kate & Leopold?

BM: Beats me. We just got noticed in an e-mail and received a check. Haven’t seen the movie. Is it any good?

JG2: Oh, I have no idea.

BM: Meg Ryan spell a little too much like Xanax for my taste.

JG2: Did you just say Meg Ryan spell a little too much like Xanax? I don’t…

BM: Haven’t you seen that perpetual blissful look on her face?

JG2: Yeah…

BM: It has to be pharmaceuticals!

- Cornuzine.com, 3/19/03

Unsolicited Notes On That New Alice In Chains Album

Alice in Chains
Black Gives Way To Blue
Virgin/EMI
2009

The mainstream rock press is heaping Louie Anderson-sized amounts of praise upon Black Gives Way To Blue (a.k.a. OMG Tha Chains R Back With A Noo Singur LOL!!), calling it another stellar entry in the AiC catalog and in no way a disgrace to late founding singer Layne Staley’s dark legacy. Intrigued, I decided to check this bastard out. Too lazy to whip up a real review, I shall now share with you the notes I took as I sat back in my favorite easy chair a few days ago and let Black Gives Way To Blue wash over me like a bucket of thick paint for the second or third time:

“In case you weren’t aware this [album] is a new beginning, a time to start living, Alice in Chains literally announces that less than a minute into the first song. Guh.”

“Interesting arpeggio on ‘All Secrets Known.’ Kinda hypnotic.”

“The dizzying riff to “Check My Brain” is probably the hottest I’ve heard since Obama took office. But those goddamn lyrics! Oy gevalt. No, Jerry Cantrell, I will not check your brain because you have entered the great state of California.”

“People love to debate whether or not Alice in Chains was grunge or metal. Without Layne’s gutteral vocals, they are most assuredly metal, bordering on the hair variety. ‘Last Of My Kind’ could be a damn Warrant song. It has shades of ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’”

“Layne’s presence is definitely missed. There are lots of tasty textures, though.”

“Most of these tunes are pretty generic.”

There you have it. If you had to chop all that down into one tasty and utterly misleading pull quote, you could do it like this:

JG2 of the JG2Land blog says, “[Black Gives Way To Blue] is a new beginning [that's]…hypnotic…dizzying…most assuredly metal…[with] lots of tasty textures!”

So, yeah, bottom line – there are some hot riffs on this bitch, but overall, thang’s generic.

FINAL SCORE: One and a half guys with goatees arguing about what musical category Alice in Chains falls into (out of four).

Casting The Kanye West MTV Freak-Out Movie I Just Wrote The Script For

This hastily-assembled shit is going to be amazing. Let’s go back in time a month and make it happen.

CONFUSED AMBITION: THE TRUE STORY OF THE 2009 MTV MUSIC VIDEO AWARDS

Starring

CUBA GOODING, JR. as Kanye West

“I’m real happy for you, Rain Man, and I’m-a let you finish, but Radio was one of the best mentally challenged hero movies of all-time!”

Who else could bring Kanye’s potent mix of earnest and crazy alive on the silver screen? Godfrey Cambridge? I’m pretty sure that guy is dead, so we’re going with Cuba.

RENÉE ZELLWEGER as Taylor Swift

“You had me at meaningless award for useless, outmoded media.”

Computer technology will make her thinner, younger, and more pucker-faced.

TARAJI P. HENSON as Beyoncé Knowles

“All the single ladies – please, don’t get high on crack and leave your baby in an oven.”

I was gonna say Beyoncé as herself, but that wouldn’t have been very creative. Taraji’s good, I’m sure she can pull off that astonished-but-still-kind-of-tickled-pink look Beyoncé had on her face after Kanye hijacked the mic.

BRIGITTE NIELSEN as Kanye’s bald girlfriend

This is an old photo. A VERY old photo.

Again, computer technology would have to be employed to bring Brigitte back from the brink of, uh, whatever you call the place where she is now.

SWEETUMS as Joe Jackson

“My son is dead. Buy some of his records already!”

The resemblance is spooky. Just throw a fedora on his head, toss a bottle of Hennessey in his paw, and BOOM – you got the guy who smacked the black off-a Michael AND helped get Kanye schnockered before the show started.

CISCO ADLER as Russell Brand

Some kinda joke about his huge balls.

I just want to give this idiot a job.

NICOLE KIDMAN as Madonna

“I was married to Tom Cruise, so I understand crazy people.”

This is a pivotal role; Madonna’s self-serving Michael Jackson “tribute” speech is probably what subconsciously set Kanye off. No one could believe all that shit she was saying. Madonna has eight brothers? Where the fuck are they? Anyway, only Nicole Kidman could handle the rigors of this film’s second most psychologically complex role.

DELTA BURKE as Katy Perry

“I kissed a girl, and then I ate her for lunch.”

Someone has to be shown Twittering their rage at the after party.

JONAH HILL as the Internet

“What the fuck, Kanye? Watch my response video and subscribe!”

If any one actor could accurately represent the rage, desperation, and utter loneliness of the world wide web’s countless armchair pundits, it’s Jonah Hill. He would be filmed entirely with a low quality webcam, in his underwear, with absolutely no edits, complaining about what “asshole Kanye” did to his “fake girlfriend Tay Tay.”

Naturally, I will direct this fabulous slab of cinema myself and sell it to the highest bidder.

Is it too soon to whisper Emmy Oscar Nobel Peace Prize?

Randy Quaid Is In Deep Shit (And I Don’t Care)

You may have noticed no news has developed on the Chuck Biscuits interview front. There’s an explanation for this, but I don’t really know if it’s cool for me to talk about it here. Suffice to say exterior forces have reared their ugly head and all I can do is wait. Patiently. Hopefully fortunes shall reverse and the interview will take place as planned. If not, I’ll eventually unravel the entire sordid affair (which surprisingly does not involve as many clowns or stolen ice cream trucks as you’d imagine).

Things I learned watching Nerdcore Rising (a.k.a. See, White Guys Rap About D&D & Calculus Like This): MC Frontalot is way more likable than previously imagined; “Weird Al” apparently likes to prop up a bunch of his old CDs when pressed for set decoration; Jello Biafra NEVER has time to SIT DOWN to be interviewed for ANYTHING because he’s SO BUSY SPREADING THE TRUTH and having nasty herpes-looking scars on his lip; MC Frontalot has a full band and not just a guy and a laptop like MC Chris; MC Frontalot is Pat Boone to MC Chris’s Carl Perkins.

Putting Masters Of The Universe and Flash Gordon at the top of my Netflix queue seemed like a good idea Monday night; now that arrival of these discs is pending, I regret not falling down a well Tuesday morning.

While we’re on the subject of talkies, the trailer for the Nightmare On Elm Street remake looks promising:

Sadly, this probably means they aren’t making Freddy vs. Jason vs. Bruce Campbell vs. Predator or whatever the hell the Freddy vs. Jason sequel was supposed to be. Oh well. We’ll always have our dreams, won’t we, fan boys? By the way, this Nightmare remake is being helmed by “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video director Sam Bayer, who totally looks like a cross between Mickey Rourke and that guy from Nickelback:

This is how you remind me.

No wonder Kurt Cobain gave him such a hard time.

Okay, so we’re all in agreement that the best episode of “Saturday Night Live” ever was the one Sinbad hosted, right? I just wanted to make sure. That “Black Lightening” shit is more hilarious than Seth Meyers’s entire career.

Someone please buy me the t-shirt pictured below as soon as possible:

What’s funny is that kid is probably in fuckin’ Cleveland.

So, I have a YouTube account, and I have a video camera, but I can never think of any good video ideas. If you don’t believe me, look for yourself. That’s the best I could come up with in two weeks. I don’t think I was made to vlog.

It’s Fran Drescher’s birthday today. Make up your own “OMG, she sounds like a bleating sheep!” joke.