Marvel’s Daredevil only debuted on Netflix a couple of weeks ago, and it already seems poised to assume Breaking Bad levels of fan chatter and devotion—it’s got sharp writing, excellent acting, and it’s unsparingly grimy in its depictions of the underworld and its brutality, with intense and furious fight scenes that push at They Live duration. If it keeps up to the promise of its first season, I could just watch the shit out of it forever—I haven’t read superhero comics since I was probably 12, but Vincent D’Onofrio as Kingpin? God DAMN, pass the popcorn!
So I got a big laugh out of the frisson of this video that recuts Daredevil scenes to parody the affably goofy intro sequence of the ‘80s ensemble sitcom Night Court. Pretty much exactly like that video from a few years ago that perfectly transformed Kubrick’s horror classic The Shining into a heartwarming family comedy, this totally jettisons the dark feel of its source material to hilarious effect. Opportunities were missed, though—the screamingly obvious visual joke of Richard Moll’s “Bull Shannon” and Kingpin goes bafflingly unmade, but it’s still well worth 40 seconds out of your life.
Noah Wall is a NYC-based musician who contributed to the soundtrack of the documentary Print the Legend and released a really enjoyable LP called Hèloïse, among many other projects, but this week he released something mighty awesome. Wearing a pair of microphones designed to fit on one’s ears, so as to make incognito stereo recordings as close as possible to exactly what one is actually hearing, Wall made multiple visits to a Manhattan Guitar Center store over the course of three days, and released an album of those field recordings he picked up at random in the Walmart of musical instruments.
March 27, 2015. It’s about 3 on Friday. School’s out and people are headed to Guitar Center Manhattan. I’m going there to do some field recording. A block away, I put on a pair of microphones you might find in a spy catalog. They look like earbud headphones but are actually binaural (stereo) mic’s that go in each ear. No one suspects I’m recording them - more like listening to music or something.
Upon entry, I grab and prominently display the Absolute Beginners Guitar Chords book under my arm. This helps others dispel the possibility of musical prowess on my end. Gets me closer to the action.
This is my third and last day recording here. Some cliques gather in the acoustic guitar room and the occasional couple show off for one another but this place is mostly loners. Trying out a guitar or amp or whatever, they probably didn’t come here to jam with others. But the din has an ensemble effect and the unintentional group is abiding some unspoken rules. There’s a general respect in terms of volume, and sometimes strangers play in the same key and seemingly with one other. On two different days, two different people on two different instruments in two different rooms play the same Jackson 5 song.
In the mere days since he posted the album on Soundcloud, Wall has won new admirers, and prompted discussion of whether making an album this way is even legal. And he posted this wonderful graphic on his Facebook page, compiling social media responses to the work.
Original pressings of Monty Python’s Contractual Obligation Album included a 15-second track called “Farewell to John Denver,” in which the late poet laureate of Colorado sings a line of “Annie’s Song” before he is strangled to death. In the Pythons’ defense, Denver begs in the lyrics: “let me drown in your laughter, let me die in your arms” (though he does not, as far as I can tell, come on Annie’s pillow).
The track was removed from the album when Denver sued the Pythons for unauthorized use of his song. Terry Jones replaced it with a stammering apology to the listener titled “Omitted on Legal Advice.”
The item which follows has been omitted on legal advice. Uh, once again we apologize for that pause in the record which was owing to the, uh, original item being omitted on legal advice. However, I’m pleased to say we can now go on with the record, so here we are with “Finland, Finland.”
Prankster Erik Meldik is better known in his Czech homeland as one half of the ViralBrothers—a kind of Eastern European Jackass. Together with Čeněk Stýblocarry, the ViralBrothers carry out stunts that “punk” hapless members of the public with supposedly comic results. Last month, Meldik pranked his girlfriend, Dominika Petrinova into believing he had accidentally put her pet dog into the washing machine. Dominika was understandably distraught, but rather than just smile and gracefully accept being pranked, she decided to have her revenge on Erik.
Dominika decided to glue two hair removal wax strips onto a plastic chair. She then blindfolded a naked and freshly showered Erik, before leading him into the living room, where she had him sit on the specially prepared chair. Instead of the expected birthday bj, Erik literally found himself on the receiving end of a rather painful revenge prank.
Like Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis before them, two members of Lodi, New Jersey’s Misfits changed their tune and got right with Jesus. In the late 80s, exchanging devilocks for golden curls and “Mommy, Can I Go Out And Kill Tonight?” for “In God We Trust,” they renounced sin and turned to praise metal.
Immediately after the Misfits’ breakup, Glenn Danzig fucked off to form Samhain with Lyle Preslar and Brian Baker of Minor Threat. Punk stardom, and the royalties from posthumous Misfits releases, were his; metal stardom would soon follow. But it was “oh Lord, stuck in Lodi again” for Misfits bassist Jerry Only (né Gerard Caiafa) and his brother, guitarist Doyle Wolfgang von Frankenstein (né Paul Caiafa), who found themselves in a less enviable position. Only had financed the Misfits’ seven-year career by working at the Caiafa family machine shop, and this perhaps took on the appearance of a shit deal during the lean years after the breakup.
The cassette cover of Kryst the Conqueror’s Deliver Us from Evil EP
Now wise to Satan’s snares, the brothers vowed nevermore to be the devil’s plaything and evermore to be his scourge. To that end, they formed a Christian metal band c. 1987 called Kryst the Conqueror, recruiting Yngwie Malmsteen’s singer, Jeff Scott Soto, and a drummer credited as “The Murp” on Kryst’s lone release. Soto, who was Journey’s lead singer from 2006 to 2007, once looked like this:
Rechristening himself Mocavius Kryst (“Mo the Great” for short), Jerry Only spearheaded a viking-themed heavy metal act with Doyle called Kryst the Conqueror. Joined by fellow Lodian Jim Murray on drums, Kryst the Conqueror embraced a galloping power metal sound a la Helloween or Manowar. The overt Christian themes were difficult to ignore, however, not only in the band’s name but on their singular release, 1990’s self-pressed Deliver Us from Evil EP, which boasts songs such as “In God We Trust” and “Trial of the Soul.” There were also “Mo the Great’s” various fan club writings at the time. To wit: “In the final days of the second millennium, I, Mocavius Kryst, and my men now swear this pact with God. For it is by His command that I now open the gates, unleashing the fury of His vengeance… behold the power of truth for it burns its light up the sword of my brother.” “We don’t want people to come out and say, ‘They were great, but they’re into that devil shit,’” Only explained to Yeszista. “That’s not it, all of our songs are about going out and chasing the son of a bitch. That’s what it’s all about… if I made Kryst with a ‘C,’ people are gonna say, ‘He’s making fun of God.’ We’ve come in His name to do the job.”
Former cohorts would question the validity of the Caiafas’ sudden conversion to ultrapiousness (“They’re about as born again as Anton LaVey,” Bobby Steele snorted to MRR in 1992). Further doubts surrounded Jerry’s proclamation that Kryst the Conqueror was on par with Led Zeppelin and that the band’s music would sustain for a minimum of three decades. When push came to shove, “unleashing the fury” ultimately proved somewhat tricky for Kryst: The band never managed to employ a full-time singer as Jeff Scott Soto, the vocalist who sang on Deliver Us from Evil, was under contract to Swedish guitar sensation Yngwie Malmsteen at the time and could not commit fully to another project. In fact, Soto couldn’t even legally be credited in Deliver Us from Evil‘s liner notes—the vocalist listed on the sleeve is, in fact, Kryst the Conqueror.
Kryst the Conqueror has not been heard from since Jerry “Mocavius” Only won the right to the Misfits’ name in 1995. The new Misfits promptly hit the road, introducing the world to Republican singer Michale Graves, who is best remembered today as a vocal supporter of President George W. Bush. Hail Satan?
Remember those tiny crochet shorts I blogged about a few months ago? I honestly thought nothing could top those horrible pantaloons. But lo and behold I’ve been proven wrong as there are now tiny crochet thongs for men. I thought the crochet shorts were ball huggers. Nope! The award for “ball huggingness” goes to these crochet thongs. Definitely. They’re being sold on eBay for a super reasonable price of $18.99. The crochet thong is just perfect for the beach, pool or just to lounge around in… looking like an asshole.
Perfect for Coachella!
I was a little worried that the thong only came in yellow (my husband doesn’t look good in yellow). But to my pleasant surprise the seller will make them in any color you want. I strongly urge you to grab a few while they’re hot! Who knows how long this glorious trend will last?
Japanese game show Sing What Happens seriously tests their male contestants’ karaoke skills by giving them hand jobs while they sing. The object of the game is for the contestants to know the song by heart and to not be distracted by the hand job. They need to be able to hit the proper notes—perfectly—in order to win. Sometimes a hand is used and other times feet are used for zee sexual gratification. The contestants must be able to carry a tune until they ejaculate. Stiff competition indeed. The winner wins a whole bunch of shit.
I’m not sure if there are any female contestants on this show, but that could be interesting too.
I’d like to see one of the contestants do a karaoke version of Bad Brains’ “Pay to Cum.” Now THAT’s entertainment!
GG Allin, the deceased shit-flinging “Rock and Roll Terrorist,” known for his transgressive live act, appears in this clip, which is taken from the excellent 1994 Todd Phillips documentary Hated: GG Allin and the Murder Junkies, with a newly-dubbed audio track of Internet-sensationAndy Rehfeldt performing the song in a lounge style.
According to Rehfeldt’s notes on the upload:
This video got me in a lot of trouble. I have strikes on both my other channels because I tried to post there. My good friend, Kim Watkins, blurred out GG’s pecker and poop here, and so far it has not been banned.
We imagine GG wouldn’t mind the Internet pissing all over his legacy like this—he seemed to really be into that sort of thing in his waking life.
So, if you’ve always wanted to see what would have happened if GG had taken his act to Vegas, now’s your chance before this one gets shut down by the You Tube police (or the Disney Corporation, for that matter).
Though the naughty bits have been blurred, we still imagine it’s not “work safe” for most office environments. Perhaps the most entertaining part of the whole thing is watching the censor blur try to follow Allin around the frame!
Here’s the once quite dangerous punk anthem, “Bite It, You Scum,” soiled by the Internet:
Jarrell Charles is my name. Jheri curl is my fame.
What I wouldn’t give right now to have a time machine so I could hop on over to the 1980s and visit Jarrell’s hair salon in St. Louis. Seriously, just watch this commercial and tell me you wouldn’t want Jarrell as your hairstylist. You’d hire his ass in a heartbeat and know you it. His fantastical hair magic would have only cost you $27.50 + tip.
WHERE IS JARRELL NOW you may ask? I had a hard time trying to find him, but thanks to the Internet it appears he has a Facebook page and is currently living in North Las Vegas, Nevada.
Just so it’s clear, there really was a Chipmunk Punk, a 1980 project of Ross Bagdasarian, Jr., the namesake son of the Chipmunks’ creator. It was not particularly “punk”—it contained Alvin and the Chipmunks’ cover versions of songs by opposite-of-punk artists like Billy Joel, Tom Petty, Linda Ronstadt, Queen, and for some reason THREE SONGS by the Knack. The entirety of the LP’s New Wave representation was supplied by Blondie’s “Call Me” and the Cars’ “Let’s Go.” It was stupid as hell, but I liked it. Because I was 10 years old. Bagdasarian followed the successful cash-in with Urban Chipmunk, a collection of squeaky-voiced pop country covers, and Chipmunk Rock, which at least had a version of “Whip It” going for it, but by then, I was like 12, and much too sophisticated for such juvenilia.
And again, so it’s clear, what follows was NOT actually on Chipmunk Punk, so if you go buying that album expecting to hear it, well, something’s possibly wrong with you anyway. California’s smartassy theatrical comedy band Radioactive Chicken Heads recorded an amusing-as-far-as-this-sort-of-thing-goes Chipmunkified version of Suicidal Tendencies’ definitive song, 1983’s “Institutionalized.” I’d hope it should go without saying that the possibility of this actually being a product of anyone officially connected with the evidently deathless Chipmunks franchise is a few leagues beneath unlikely. Whether it’s better or worse than Ice-T’s recent effort at updating the song is a debate I’ll leave to others.