The yelling is one thing, but what is with that crazy dance?
So long, Hardcore. It’s been nice knowin’ ya!
The yelling is one thing, but what is with that crazy dance?
So long, Hardcore. It’s been nice knowin’ ya!
I really love this commercial for a döner kebab joint somewhere in Germany—it would be nice if I knew which one! Perhaps the clientele they’re looking for knows where it is. Maybe it’s a chain?
The commercial follows the template of the recent Snickers campaign, which plays on the potentiality of low blood sugar to turn you into something like an cranky, ogre-ish version of your normal self—thus a nougat-and-nut candy bar between meals is the only thing that can restore you to your proper self. So a football coach needs a Snickers bar to stop being Robin Williams (RIP) and so forth.
Here some local purveyors of Turkish cuisine appropriate the ultimate symbol of evil, Adolf Hitler, to make the same point. You don’t need to know too much German to understand what’s happening, but I’ll supply some translations anyway—my German isn’t entirely up to the more slangy variants they use, but I’ll do my best. Adolf is riding behind the shotgun seat and being impatient, he says something about going to Stalingrad, in a possible reference to Bruno Ganz’s portrayal of Hitler from Oliver Hirschbiegel’s 2004 movie Downfall that has since become the well-known “Hitler Reacts” viral sensation for the meltdown scene in which Hitler finally realizes that the war is lost.
So anyway, Hitler barks something about Stalingrad, and his buddies have had enough. The guy in the shotgun seat says, “Digga,* we agreed to your request, don’t you notice that?” Hitler slaps him lightly on the cheek with his glove, saying “Don’t you notice that?” Then his buddy in the back seat says, “Olli, what’s with you? Dig in to this döner sandwich, digga.” Adolf says, skeptically, “Why?” Back seat buddy says, “Every time you get hungry, you turn into a real Führer.” Adolf says, “into a Führer?” and they all chime in, “Yeah, into a Führer,” with the driver adding, “It’s true.” Once the döner sandwich has been consumed, Adolf reverts back into his mustachioed self and (I think) lightly protests that it’s not better this way. The text on the bottom says simply, “You’re not you when you are hungry.”
One might be tempted to call this commercial offensive, and certainly it’s a little on the flippant side. But the Turks occupy a marginalized role in Germany, they’re the out-group. So it’s fun to see them (not that I know they’re Turkish, the food is certainly Turkish in origin) appropriating the ultimate symbol of German oppression for their own ends. Don’t be such a Hitler about it! Jeez.
via Schlecky Silberstein
* Note: Commenters have pointed out that my first rendering was not right. I had initially misheard this as the German word Neger (which is not the N-word, so don’t even, it means “Negro”), which I loosely translated as “nigga.” It’s actually the slang term digga, which loosely translates as “buddy.” My appreciation goes out to the commenters.
Shannon Johnson, a researcher at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute, has named a newly discovered species of deep sea snail, Alviconcha strummeri, after Clash leader Joe Strummer, telling the Santa Cruz Sentinel
“Because they look like punk rockers in the 70s and 80s and they have purple blood and live in such an extreme environment, we decided to name one new species after a punk rock icon.”
The name A. strummeri honors Joe Strummer, the lead singer and a guitarist of the British punk rock band The Clash.
The golf ball-sized snails rock out near hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the ocean, as deep as 11,500 feet.
We wouldn’t quibble with the decision to honor Strummer. After all, who but a hater would deny the Clash their due? But given that A. strummeri is yellow and spiky and the late Strummer was neither, there’s more of an actual resemblance between the snail and plenty of other potential honorees, though admittedly, they may merit the distinction in, um, varying degrees.
Joe Strummer, the Clash
Lars Frederiksen, Rancid
Billy Idol, Generation X, solo
Paul Cook, Sex Pistols
Guy Fieri, gigantic doucherocket
Via the A/V Club
Previously on Dangerous Minds
Acne bacterium is named after Frank Zappa, immediately releases four albums in gratitude
The 1991 discovery of the well-preserved body of a 3,000-year-old corpse revealed (amongst many other things) that ancient humans tattooed their bodies. The mummified body was called “Ötzi the Iceman” after the Ötztal Alps where his remains were found. Ötzi had 50-odd tattoos across his body, which some scientists have suggested may be evidence of an early form of acupuncture—which if true, would put this form of treatment 2,000 years before its first documented appearance in China.
Tattoos have a long and culturally significant history—being used as a sign of initiation, association, clan, tribe, ownership, or sexual and personal liberty.
In Victorian times, upper class women had their bodies tattooed as a symbol of their independence. In her book Bodies of Subversion: A Secret History of Women and Tattoos, Margot Mifflin believes this was a “feminist gesture” with these women “taking control of their bodies when they had little power elsewhere.” Winston Churchill’s mother Jennie had a serpent tattoo around her wrist as a symbol of her feisty independence. However, not all Victorian women who sported tattoos did so willingly. Mifflin reports how some poor women were forcibly tattooed and exhibited in freak shows and carnivals.
The first recorded woman tattooist was Maud Wagner, who was said to have traded a date with her future husband to learn the craft of tattooing. In the 1920s, full body tattoos were popular, but their charm was lost during the 1930’s Depression, only to re-emerge during the late 1940s to 1960s, when they were seen as a symbol of outsider status.
These vintage photographs show tattooed women from early in the 1900s to 1960s.
More tattooed ladies, after the jump…
Francis Barrett’s pictures of fallen angels and demons remind me of a few recalcitrant boozers fleeing the bar on a Saturday night. The sketches were included in his book The Magus—a compendium of several esoteric books, most notably works by Cornelius Agrippa and Peter d’Abano—which was once considered a primary source for occult and ceremonial magic when it was first published in 1801. The book led to a revival of interest in spiritualism, magic and the occult and was a highly influential religious text on minds as diverse as Joseph Smith and his Church of Latter Day Saints, the Freemasons and occultist Eliphas Levi.
Published over two volumes, The Magus begins with an introduction to “Natural Magic” which Barrett described as “a comprehensive knowledge of all Nature”:
...by which we search out her secret and occult operations throughout her vast and spacious elaboratory; whereby we come to a knowledge of the component parts, qualities, virtues, and secrets of metals, stones, plants, and animals;
He goes on to discuss charms, amulets, “occult virtues,” and magic before giving a history and instruction on “alchymy” and the Philosopher’s Stone, and a long section on “The Celestial Intelligencer,” which primarily deals with talismanic magic. The second volume examines magnetism, the “Cabala” and ceremonial magic, the practice and composition of the “Magic Circle,” various rites and a word of warning to would-be adepts, before concluding with a brief history of key occultists—from Zoroaster to John Dee.
For those with an interest in such arcane writing, you can read the whole book here.
More occult angels and demons, after the jump…
Last year Richard brought us some awesome footage of Bette Midler performing in the Continental Baths in 1971—but unfortunately, the material was only available in individual YouTube files, and some of those weren’t even embeddable. I’m happy to report that some kind soul has uploaded the entire (it seems) filmed footage in a single file. Fifty-four glorious minutes, with tons of banter, and including the two songs Richard liked most but couldn’t embed, “Fat Stuff” and “Marahuana” (that’s how it’s spelled on Bette’s Songs for the New Depression, anyway). I think my favorites might be the one-two combo of “Superstar” and Bessie Smith’s “Empty Bed Blues” right in the middle of the file. When she essays the Dixie Cups’ “Chapel of Love” towards the end of the set, the place goes BANANAS.
The Baths, famously located at the Ansonia Hotel on New York City’s Upper West Side, were opened in 1968 by Steve Ostrow, who at some point mentioned to Bette Midler’s acting teacher that he wanted to start “a nightclub in my basement.” Midler had recently gotten a solid 20 minutes of material together, and she got the job. She told David Steinberg on Showtime’s Inside Comedy earlier this year that she wasn’t put off by the homosexuality at all, the only thing she didn’t realize before taking the gig was that many of the people there “were in towels.”
Do we know the date of this performance? She jokes that this is her “800th farewell appearance” and plugs an upcoming performance on Sept. 20, 1971. At the very end she does say it “really is” the last time she’ll be there for a while, which remark is met with disbelieving laughter. The Carpenters’ version of “Friends” had been released in May 1971. By the way, in case you are wondering, that is Barry Manilow on the piano in the back, she introduces him at the end. He co-produced her 1972 debut The Divine Miss M (and on occasion would perform at the Baths in a towel himself.)
If nothing else, the video’s worth watching just to hear some top-notch, vintage double-entendre gay humor in what must be close to its purest form. There’s a joke about Zsa Zsa Gabor in Cleveland, a joke about Joan Crawford’s sexuality, some patter about Martha Raye, etc.
“Friends” (The Carpenters)
“Chattanooga Choo-Choo” (Andrews Sisters)
“Empty Bed Blues” (Bessie Smith)
“For Free” (Joni Mitchell)
“Easier Said Than Done” (The Essex)
“Chapel Of Love” (The Dixie Cups)
“I Shall Be Released” (The Band)
I had the soundtrack album to Son of Dracula when I was a kid—you could buy it for 99 cents in virtually any cut out bin in America in the 70s. It featured impressive album cover art that opened out from under Harry Nilsson’s cape (see below). It stayed in my record collection, mostly unlistened to, but still pretty cool, for many years. It’s not like Son of Dracula ever achieved “legendary lost film” status in my eyes—I was never that curious about it and it had the reputation that it stank—but when I saw a VHS bootleg for sale one day at the Pasadena Flea Market (there was a huge section of the market devoted solely to rock memorabilia and bootlegs of every stripe back in 90s) I scooped it up.
Hmmmm… It’s not like I can stand here before you and tell you that it’s great—because it’s definitely not great—but do take Ringo Starr’s comments on Son of Dracula as the gospel truth:
“It is not the best film ever made, but I’ve seen worse.”
He ought to know, he produced this turkey. Ringo’s also being a bit cagey with that statement because he’s mum on exactly how many worse films he’s seen? One other? Dozens? I’d venture that it’s probably a number Ringo can count on just one hand…. (All you really need to know about how bad Son of Dracula truly is, is that after the film was shot in 1972, Ringo hired Monty Python’s Graham Chapman, Douglas Adams and Bernard McKenna to rewrite the dialogue which they would then dub over what they’d already shot! Although this notion was abandoned—apparently it was recorded—in retrospect it doesn’t seem like that bad of an idea… Surely it couldn’t have been any worse or more shambolic than it already was!)
Son of Dracula stars Nilsson as “Count Downe” a vampire rock musician who is about to be crowned Overlord of the Netherworld when he falls in love with a mortal and has a change of heart. Ringo plays—who else—Merlin the Magician. Son of Dracula contains celebrity cameos from Nilsson’s hard-partying rocker mates Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham and Keith Moon and his backing band included Peter Frampton, Klaus Voorman and Leon Russell.
More after the jump…
The ironic phenomenon of ugly Christmas sweaters hit shark-jump levels of cultural saturation so rapidly that I actually can’t even remember any early window of time when it wasn’t irritating (though in all fairness, I get irritated pretty easily). Entirely apart from its annoying ubiquity, the whole thing feels kind of shitty, like it’s not really mocking Christmas to wear them, it’s more like mocking people who just happen to like gaudy sweaters. And is that not punching down?
The upside of this dopey annual crap-pageant has been the profusion of cheeky takedowns. The Descendents have been making awesome gag Christmas sweaters for years, and now, the twisted bastards at Middle of Beyond have given the world outright Satanic Christmas sweaters. MoB, regular DM readers may remember, are the preposterous visionaries who gave the world devil tarot card throw rugs and winter gear patterned after the carpeting in the Overlook Hotel from Stanley Kubrik’s film version of The Shining. I actually plunked for one of those Shining scarves, and to my horror, I found, when it arrived, that it was 100% acrylic (my own fault for neglecting the fine print). But for Christmas sweaters, that material isn’t just a requisite, it’s positively a boon. Designs include a straight up old-fashioned Satanic goat head snugly nestled in a red pentagram, Cthulu, Krampus, and a zombiefied Santa Claus festooned with braaaaaaiiiiiiins. So why settle for giving Christmas the finger when you can flash it the goat horns?
Previously on Dangerous Minds
Merry Krampus: ‘horribly distasteful Christmas sweater’
Righteous Motörhead Christmas sweater
If you haven’t already, do yourself a favor and check out the hashtag #pornprotest on Twitter, it’s the best thing on the Internet right now. It seems that Parliament has recently been messing with what you can and can’t do in adult videos, and right-thinking individuals on the scepter’d isle came out in numbers today to protest the legislation.
Photo by Ms Slide @sliderulesyou
More pics from today’s protest after the jump…...
I laughed out loud when I saw these amusing photos from a supposed “winter wonderland” attraction held in the town of Harrogate in North Yorkshire, England.
The attraction was called “Magical Winterland” and folks were charged £20 a ticket (which equals around $30.00). Paying customers were promised “fantastic features” and an opportunity to “lose yourself” in this “magical” setting, but were greeted with, er, uh, well the photos pretty much speak for themselves. “Magic” was not in the house…
The attraction has been described as “appalling” and one woman said of it:
“The event itself was nothing more than a fairground. The rides were overpriced and the so-called Christmas market was a total of four stalls.”
The “Magical Winterland” was forced to shut down in less than 24 hours due to the barrage complaints by livid families.
If the Trailer Park Boys were to ever do a winter wonderland event, this totally how I see it going down, but they’d also have weed, strippers and booze.
via Metro UK