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The drag queen who kept a mummy in her closet, an unsolved mystery
11:47 am



In the May 2, 1994, issue of New York Magazine there appeared an astonishing story by Jeanie Russell Kasindorf about a certain noteworthy discovery in the West Harlem apartment that had previously belonged to Dorian Corey, one of the drag queens who made such an impression in Jennie Livingston’s singular 1990 documentary Paris Is Burning.

In August 1993, three years after the release of Paris Is Burning, Corey died of AIDS-related complications, and her extensive costume collection was passed on to her friend and caregiver, Lois Taylor. As Taylor was sifting through the piles of clothing in Corey’s apartment, she came upon a large trunk containing a mummified body with a gunshot wound to the head. There was little question that the body had been there for some time.

Police identified the body as Robert “Bobby” Worley, who had spent three years in prison for rape and assault in the mid-1960s and had not been seen by his family—or anyone else, for that matter—since 1968. For various reasons (see below) it became apparent that there was a strong likelihood that Worley had been killed between 1968 and 1978. None of Dorian’s associates could recall her ever mentioning Worley, let alone confessing to any crime. There was some speculation that Corey had shot Worley during a failed robbery.

Kasindorf did discover some clues about their relationship: Worley’s brother Fred claimed that Bobby had called him while drunk and had rambled extensively to someone named “Dorian,” having apparently fought with her. Lois Taylor also told Kasindorf that Dorian had written a short story about a transgender woman who killed her lover in revenge after he pressured her to have a sex change. But these loose ends don’t add up to anything like a full account of how Worley died.

Here’s an excerpt from Kasindorf’s article:

“The first thing the body was wrapped with was a Naugahyde-like material,” [Detective Raul Figueroa] said, “with tape around it. It was that cheap brown material that they make fake-leather jackets out of. Then I think there was some other material around it. Then they put it in plastic bags.”

Figueroa said the body was “half-way” between mummified and decomposed. “When you have all this wrapping, no air is getting to it,” he explained. “But it is still losing liquid out of its body. So the body sort of floats in its own soup.” The skin was in very bad shape. “It was like very old fabric,” Figueroa said. “If you touch it, it’s going to fall apart.” Figueroa spent several days treating the skin so he could take ten fingerprints off it.


The most exquisite detail I got from Figueroa was the tale of the flip-tops. When they pulled apart all the layers of wrapping, out fell little rings from old flip-top beer cans—the detachable kind that haven’t been used since the seventies. This convinced Figueroa that Bobby Worley died at least 15—maybe as long as 25—years ago.

“The doctor put that it could have been dead one to fifteen years so as not to commit himself until we had all the proof,” Figueroa said. “But given the fact that the brother hadn’t seen him since the late sixties, plus the fact that Naugahyde was popular in the seventies, plus the rings, it was obvious.”

I asked Figueroa if he thought the person who wrapped the body in imitation leather was trying to emulate the Egyptians. I thought it possible that Dorian Corey was into high camp with dead bodies as well as live ones.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “People just wrap a body in whatever’s available. It’s just spontaneous. You wrap it up. Then you put it in a suitcase. Then you put it in the closet. Then you just look at it periodically and wish it would go away.”

Interestingly, according to a user on reddit, Joseph N. Rubinstein and Jason Kim are working on an opera titled Legendary that is about the New York drag scene of the late 1980s and also deals with the mysterious Dorian Corey revelations.

After the jump, read full story from New York magazine…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
Disco’s Out…Murder’s In!’: The unsparing memoir of a punk rock killer
11:22 am



Punk rock documentia—and there’s been a ton of it lately, revisiting crucial scenes now that their prime movers are approaching old age—has overwhelmingly tended to focus on the reminiscences of musicians whose importance has survived multiple generations of fan consensus. Thus we get Rollins, MacKaye, and later arrival Grohl in every fucking documentary ad infinitum. (The Hard Times nailed this perfectly.) But obviously there was so much more to punk and hardcore than precious drops of received wisdom from the revered Elders of D.C., and it’s becoming increasingly rare to hear those other perspectives, from the ordinary fans and alienated kids who truly comprised the movement.

Of course, the record hasn’t been written entirely without fan perspectives; who could forget the interviews that opened The Decline Of Western Civilization? And punk kids of all backgrounds were routinely trotted out as exotica talk-show fodder throughout the ‘80s, much of which material survives on YouTube. But Disco’s Out…Murder’s In!, a new book by Heath Mattioli and David Spacone, has gone a step beyond. They’ve located and produced a memoir with an L.A. hardcore scene habitué whose story is uniquely compelling—a chieftain in one of the ultra-violent gangs that turned that city’s music scene into a war zone.

Fittingly for an L.A. hardcore memoir, Disco’s Out…Murder’s In! features Raymond Pettibon cover art, but its contents aren’t as easy to take as a Black Flag album. It’s told in a first-person narrative by its subject, “Frank the Shank,” a punk kid who rose through the leadership ranks of the La Mirada Punks (LMP) street gang in early ’80s Los Angeles. When the book reaches the point where Frank’s career approaches its peak, it regales the reader with unsparing descriptions of utterly mortifying and entirely senseless crimes—beatings, stabbings, shootings. This was one of the guys that literally ruined punk, transforming it—in L.A., at least—from a rebel youth culture and musical phenomenon into a serious threat to the lives of its participants. There are passages so viscerally revolting I actually reconsidered my opposition to the death penalty—fuxsakes, LMP stabbed a guy to death because his manner of dress was “too ska”—and yet I could not put the book down. It’s not just that there’s been no other punk document like this before; Frank’s story is riveting as a narrative of a dead-end kid searching for a place in the world, as a true crime story, as a serial killer’s candid confession, and as a dispatch from a largely uncharted shadow of American music.

In a revealing passage, Frank—not unlike a PTA mom or a tacky local news reporter, really—passes the blame for the violence off on the bands, for their violent imagery and harsh music. Later in the book, though, he does ultimately cop to his culpability:

Everybody was pointing fingers at the kids who lived brutally. Bands were upset over losing friends to the crusade, but still kept feeding it with their lyrics and sound, then wanted to cry about it? Every single band wound us up like A Clockwork Orange, yelling something violent and negative on every record. Was there one happy punk record? I don’t think so. Everyone in the scene dealt with some type of bloodshed. Most didn’t have a choice if they wanted to survive the hardcore punk scene in Los Angeles.

“Be an individual, don’t be a follower!”

Easy for you to say when you were protected on stage, or behind a typewriter, but the trenches were another story. And bottom line, we were the majority of the kids who bought tickets. Nearly all of you so-called musicians and punk rock scholars wouldn’t have lasted a minute.

If violence is art, then LMP was the Jackson Pollack of punk. Our victims, more often than not, wound up looking like one of his paintings … abstract expressions of red splatter on black cement. We definitely shared Pollack’s inability to take criticism with any sort of reasonable acceptance. How dare they! The audacity of fools, they had no idea of what we’d accomplished. —pp180-181

Too many people died at the hands of punk rock violence. I got lucky, some didn’t. As an ultra-violent punk rock gangster, I admit my part in ruining the scene. L.A. punk stood to be a magical moment of youth expression like no other and, for a little while, it undoubtedly was. The gangs ruined punk rock. I still have people telling me today that they quit punk because of LMP. Kids with talent in our scene expressed anger through music or art. We, on the other hand, took our rage and confusion out on the streets. I’m far from that person today, but as that famous Black Panther said, “Violence is as American as cherry pie.” —p222

Authors Mattioli and Spacone were gracious enough to spare us some time to discuss the impetus for the book and the process of crafting it:

Heath Mattioli: We had a friend who passed away, he was from a smaller punk rock gang called Lakewood Punks. His house was like a hub for dysfunctional kids, whether a punk rocker or a greaser or just some confused kid. It was a place to hang out, it had a skateboard ramp, and some LMP guys, Frank being one of them, would always go over there and hang out, and it turned out he was recruiting other guys, younger guys from these other gangs. And just hanging out with other punk rockers, talking music and pussy and whatnot, and that was where I initially met Frank. That was probably ’86.

David Spacone: If you went to punk shows you kind of needed to have backup. All of us that hung out at that house went to shows. Whether or not we participated in the whole gang thing, it really didn’t matter. As it says in the book, it was pretty dangerous, so those guys were always around at shows with us as well. That way nobody messed with us and we could just enjoy the music.

HM: I wasn’t really in the shit—a different type of shit, maybe? But I was a periphery guy, I listened to the music, but I wasn’t dedicated because I came from a more loving family, I couldn’t commit myself like these guys did, and if you wanted to be a “punk rocker” you had to put up with all that shit and I just wasn’t willing to do it. Dave was a little more in there.

DS: Yeah, I was more involved. It was OK to not be a punk rock gangster, but you had to have affiliates. But I just went to the shows for music. I was at the edge of the pit, and the gangsters were IN the pit.

Dangerous Minds: The book reads as a first-person narrative, so I take it it was written as an “as-told-to?” How much of the book, if any, represents your authorial voices, or was your function more conducting, transcribing, and editing interviews? Could you talk about your process?

HM: Our challenge was getting Frank to go back to that place mentally, to his youth. We weren’t interested in how he feels now, in hindsight. He’s a totally different guy. We didn’t want that, we wanted to hear how he felt in the moment. We would interview him in the middle of the night or early in the mornings, because he’s a graveyard shift worker. There would be times when he just didn’t want to get into it, and times where he’d talk for an hour. Answering your question of how much of us is in the book, we tried to live in Frank’s shoes and only speak the way he would speak. We had to tie things together and do our due diligence in talking to other people.

DS: What is us is how it’s stylized. We had to come up with a way for you to viscerally experience Frank’s journey through punk rock and being gangster #1.

Dangerous Minds: Frank describes active participation is some mighty repellent crimes. I’m curious how much of the specificity in his claims to criminal conduct might just be an old guy enjoying some attention and maybe exaggerating his “accomplishments?” How much is corroborated in terms of individual incidents described?

HM: The book is as close to how things went down as you could get without having a camera there. We were ferocious when it came to asking the same questions over and over, sometimes years apart, revisiting the same nights and making sure we were getting everything straight! We also asked other guys in the gang who were there, and stories were lining up. We had to dance around a little bit of the actual specifics of weaponry and maybe some street names.

DS: If you were around at the periphery at the time, all of these murders and other incidents that took place were all scuttlebutt. These were events we knew about from back in the day. Some of these stabbings and beatings and gang clashes were infamous

HM: We were bringing questions that we had as youths to the table, and Frank would say “Oh, you heard about that? Here’s how it went down…” I guess there weren’t a lot of rats in the punk world, so people hardly ever got brought in for questioning about these murders, and in Hollywood, and L.A. in general, it wasn’t patrolled like it is today, and there weren’t cameras everywhere, so these guys could do their dirty deeds and jump on the freeway and be home in bed pretty quickly after they killed somebody.

DS: One of the major reasons we wrote this book is that we were so familiar with the stories, and we knew that one day it all had to come to light. We ran into Frank all those years later, and his were the best stories to tell, he could tell the whole thing.

HM: We started out thinking we were gong to write about ALL of the punk gangs in L.A. at that time, but the more we talked to Frank, the more we realized his story was special, and so we decided to dedicate all our time to this one kid’s journey through the dark side of punk rock. So we ended up spending five years interviewing Frank. I couldn’t go to sleep so many nights after talking to Frank and hearing these horrific stories about these confused kids, who hated themselves and wanted everyone to feel what they felt. So now the reader gets to feel a little bit of that…

DS: The whole scene was really Clockwork Orange and we wanted to make the reader feel that.

Continues after the jump…

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Leave a comment
This is what over $350 million worth of cocaine disguised as wooden shipping pallets looks like
10:47 am



I kinda find this ingenious, brilliant and funny all the at the same time: About £240m (or roughly $363,495,600) of compressed cocaine disguised as wooden pallets and bags of coal was seized by the Spanish National Police at the Port of Valencia in Spain on November 30.

The international operation has led to 11 arrests, the seizure of 1.5 tonnes of cocaine and the shutdown of an industrial-sized drug production lab.


The authorities suspect the group used a charcoal company in Spain as a front to import the cocaine and hide a lab where the drug was extracted from pallets and charcoal, processed and repackaged for distribution across Europe.

Apparently the smugglers used glue and moulds to make the cocaine look like pallets and charcoal.

“To make the cocaine look like wooden pallets they have dissolved the white cocaine powder with a solvent or glue,” said forensic scientist Richard Hooker, of Allen Morgan Associates.

“It has then been placed into moulds shaped like pallets to set.

“When the resin dries out it then solidifies. If you mix it with a dye it then gives the wood effect and gives the appearance of dark wood.

“Once the dealers get it they can then re-dissolve it and reverse the process to extract the cocaine.

“The same process can also be used to make it look like pieces of charcoal by using charcoal powder.”

That doesn’t really seem like something you’d want to put up yer nose, does it?



Watch the video, below:

via Telegraph and h/t Nerdcore

Posted by Tara McGinley | Leave a comment
California prison photographs from the 1980s
04:51 pm



In 2013 Paris Photo LA purchased a collection of photographs taken in California prisons between 1977 and 1993 for $45,000, a price that startled a good number of observers. In 2011, a collector named Myles Haselhorst had paid “a low four figure sum for the collection—which includes two photo albums and numerous loose snapshots totaling over 400 images.” In the space of two years the collection changed hand several times. Haselhorst “doubled” the money he’d paid for them; Harper’s Books, the final seller of the collection, paid $20,000 for it.

Here is an excerpt of Harper’s description of the collection:

Taken between 1977 and 1993. By far the largest vernacular archive of its kind we’ve seen, valuable for the insight it provides into Los Angeles gang, prison, and rap cultures. The first photo album contains 96 Polaroid photographs, many of which have been tagged (some in ink, others with the tag etched directly into the emulsion) by a wide swath of Los Angeles gang members. Most of the photos are of prisoners, with the majority of subjects flashing gang signs.

The second album has 44 photos and images from car magazines appropriated to make endpapers; the “frontispiece” image is of a late 30s-early 40s African-American woman, apparently the album-creator’s mother, captioned “Moms No. 1. With a Bullet for All Seasons.”

Pete Brook of the blog Prison Photography asks some pertinent questions:

As a quick aside, and for the purposes of thinking out loud, might it be that polaroids that reference Southern California African American prison culture are – in the eyes of collectors and cultural-speculators – as exotic, distant and mysterious as sepia mugshots of last century? How does thirty years differ to one hundred when it comes to mythologising marginalised peoples? Does the elevation of gang ephemera from the gutter to traded high art mean anything? I argue, the market has found a ripe and right time to romanticise the mid-eighties and in particular real-life figures from the era that resemble the stereotypes of popular culture. It is in some ways a distasteful exploitation of people after-the-fact. Perhaps?


If the price tag seems crazy, it’s because it is. But consider this: one of the main guiding factors for valuations of art is previous sales of similar items. However, in the case of prison polaroids, there is no real discernible market. Harper’s is making the market, so they can name their price.

Whether the art market is fetishizing African-American gang members or not, the likely result of the exorbitant price for these photos will be to incentivize owners of similar collections to make them public, which is good news for purchasers of art books and readers of websites like Dangerous Minds.



Continues after the jump…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
The Boston Strangler does Sinatra: Albert DeSalvo’s creepy single, ‘Strangler in the Night’
11:04 am



Strangler in the Night single by serial killer Albert DeSalvo (The Boston Strangler)
“Strangler in the Night” single by serial killer Albert DeSalvo (aka “The Boston Strangler”)
During the early 60s my old home town of Boston was terrorized by an ultra-violent serial killer dubbed “The Boston Strangler.” Once the alleged killer, Albert DeSalvo, was apprehended, fellow Bostonian Dick Levitan, a news reporter for long-running Boston talk radio station WEEI, was one of a few journalists allowed access to DeSalvo for interview purposes. DeSalvo was never actually convicted of any of the thirteen murders but was sentenced to life in prison for a series of rapes. He was found stabbed to death in the infirmary of what was then known as Walpole State prison in 1973.

In a very creepy and super strange twist in this infamous case, Levitan was paid an undisclosed sum by Astor Records for the rights to record a riff on the song “Strangers in the Night” (which was recorded by Frank Sinatra in 1966), called “Strangler in the Night.” The lyrics for “Strangler in the Night” were culled by Levitan from an interview he conducted with DeSalvo after he was arrested and Levitan himself even lends his voice to the spoken word track that was performed along with musical accompaniment by a band from Marlboro, Massachusetts called “The Bugs.” This wasn’t the only time details of DeSalvo’s horrific exploits were pressed into a record: 1969’s “Midnight Rambler” by The Rolling Stones is also loosely based on the Strangler’s killing spree.
The sleeve for the single
The sleeve for “Strangler in the Night”
Creepier still is the fact that you can actually own a piece of this super bizarre piece of dark history as the single (whose B-side features the song “Albert Albert” by The Bugs about DeSalvo’s crime spree) is currently up for sale for the tidy sum of $127.20 over on Etsy. At the time of this writing there are also a few kicking around on eBay (which includes a reproduction of DeSalvo’s signature on the sleeve) if collecting this kind of messed up memorabilia is your thing. You can listen to the recording after the jump. If you need me, I’ll be under the bed…

Posted by Cherrybomb | Leave a comment
‘The Maxipad Bandit’: Man robs auto-parts store; wears maxi pads as a disguise
11:43 am



This is like something straight out of Gotham! (Okay, no, not really.) Apparently there was a “Maxipad [sic] Bandit” on the loose for several days earlier this week in Apple Valley, California.

A gentleman, by the name of Gary Victor aka “The Maxipad Bandit,” used sanitary napkins to conceal his identity while very publicly robbing an auto-parts store.

Because the video was so clear — and because police say they’ve dealt with the suspect before — he was tracked down and arrested this morning. He’s been identified as Gary Victor, 51. Police believe he was under the influence of something.

“We had a pretty good picture of his face cause he came to the store the first time and looked in the window without his maxipad on,” Wedell said, chuckling somewhat. “But when he came back and he had the maxipad over his eyes I guess he thought it was going to take care of everything.

Today I learned maxi pads do not do a very good job of concealing one’s identity. If only he would have used some tampons instead?


via Arbroath

Posted by Tara McGinley | Leave a comment
Man with a sexual attraction to playground equipment banned from any location with a slide
03:11 pm



Above, the defiled playground equipment at Stoke Green Park

A man with a powerful fetish for children’s playground equipment has been banned from going “anywhere which has a slide,” reported the Huddersfield Daily Examiner.

Christopher Johnson, aged 46, of Stoke, U.K., was arrested after simulating a sex act with a slide at Stoke Green Park in Coventry. As the newspaper drily noted, “It’s his second slide-related offence.”


At Coventry Magistrates Court he pleaded guilty to a charge of outraging public decency by behaving in an indecent manner and received a three-year Criminal Behaviour Order. That order bans him from attending any location, including parks, swimming baths, beaches, or recreation grounds where a slide is present.

Johnson also received a three-year community order, which requires him to undergo sex offender treatment for 18 months as well as a rehabilitation activity. He was fined £55 and had to pay a £60 victim surcharge, £85 costs and a £180 criminal courts charge. All together, the crime cost Johnson £380, which is around $600.

Johnson was arrested at Stoke Green Park on the night of August 18 when four people witnessed him interacting in a lascivious way with the slide at 10:45 p.m. The police were called. As already noted, it was his second offense involving sexual behavior on a slide. On July 1, 2014, Johnson undressed and performed a sexual act on the top of a slide at Coundon Hall Park in Waste Lane, Keresley.

Now, somewhat poetically, Johnson’s fate is to be forever banned from interacting with the one thing in life he loves most. A hard penalty, if a necessary one.
h/t reddit

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
When satanic serial killer Richard Ramirez terrorized Willis from ‘Diff’rent Strokes’
09:24 am



In 1988 a crack-addicted Todd Bridges, the child-actor who played “Willis” on TV’s Diff’rent Strokes, was jailed for attempted murder in the shooting of LA drug dealer Kenneth “Tex” Clay.

In prison, Bridges was housed on murderers’ row. One of his neighbors was the infamous “Night Stalker” killer, Richard Ramirez, the satanic serial-murderer of at least thirteen people.

Bridges writes in his autobiography, Killing Willis: From Diff’rent Strokes to the Mean Streets to the Life I Always Wanted, that Ramirez would often attempt to intimidate him:

Richard Ramirez was a strange cat. The thing that was interesting about being in jail with him was that he had killed somebody in Northridge during the time I was living there, and I remember how scared we were after the murder. We made sure all of our windows were locked at all times, and we walked people to their cars with guns. My life had actually been touched by his crimes.

I never found it hard to believe that he had done all the terrible things they accused him of- raping and torturing little old ladies and carving pentagrams into their skin. First of all, he was a devil worshipper. That’s heavy. And then he never seemed sorry about killing all those people. That was who he really was.

He used to come by my cell and shake my door really hard. He always tried to freak me out by doing things like putting the devil sign against the bars. ‘I’m going to come in and get you,’ he said.

I remember the day he found out he was going to get the gas chamber, he came back to our cellblock, and he had this real somber look on his face. He looked different, but I knew that inside he was the same monster he’d always been… “Get ready,” I said and I puffed my cheeks out real big like I was holding my breath. “How long can you hold your breath? You’re done.”

We’d like to think Ramirez’s response was a steely, soft-spoken, “Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?”

Bridges, represented by famed defense attorney Johnnie Cochran, was eventually released and acquitted of all charges when a witness testified that he was not present at the time of the shooting. Upon release, Bridges went back to selling and using crack until eventually successfully completeing rehab.

Ramirez died of complications from B-cell lymphoma in 2013 before making it to the gas chamber.

Via Moviepilot

Posted by Christopher Bickel | Leave a comment
Ebony and Ivory: Did Jack White and the Black Keys’ Patrick Carney get into a fight last night?
02:14 pm



It’s tough when you’re in the nation’s top blues-based two-person rock combo, and another blues-based two-person rock combo comes along and gets some serious hosannas from the likes of Rolling Stone as well as some decent sales….. The blood between Jack White of the White Stripes and two fellas from Akron calling themselves the Black Keys has been pretty bad at least as far back as the time White urged his former wife, Karen Elson, to pull their two kids from the Nashville-area school that Dan Auerbach’s daughter had recently joined.

White has accused the Black Keys of ripping off the White Stripes sound. Then last year, there was some kind of reconciliation, evidenced by White’s statement of late May 2014 that he wishes “the Black Keys all the success they can get.”

Today has seen a kind of Twitter war (complete with truce) erupt between Jack White and Patrick Carney, the drummer of the Black Keys, however, including some indication that there might have been a scuffle or something like that. According to Pitchfork, Carney started the whole thing off with this series of tweets (which have since been deleted) in which he indicated that White, as a “40 year old bully,” “tried to fight” a “35 year old nerd” at “a bar in Nyc” and also called White “a bully asshole” and “basically billy corgan’s dumb ass zero t-shirt in human form.”

I’ve never met jack white.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

Until last night.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

He came to a bar in Nyc I go to a lot with a few friends and tried to fight me.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

I don’t fight and don’t get fighting but he was mad!!!
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

He is why I play music. The bully assholes who made me feel like nothing. Music was a private non competitive thing.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

Not sure what he’s unhappy with cuz I just liked Zeppelin a lot and wanted to play guitar. Cut my pinky off and ended up being a drummer
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

Not the best drummer but a passionate one. But any way jack white. A 40 year old bully tried to fight the 35 year old nerd.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

It might get loud but it might also get really really sad and pathetic.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

Jack white is basically billy corgan’s dumb ass zero t-shirt in human form.
— Patrick Carney (@patrickcarney) September 14, 2015

White’s first response to the tweets was to issue a statement to Pitchfork directed at Carney. The statement included the following: “Nobody tried to fight you, Patrick. ... Nobody touched you or ‘bullied’ you. You were asked a question you couldn’t answer so you walked away. So quit whining to the Internet and speak face to face like a human being. End of story.”

As is the way these things often turn out, somehow White and Carney immediately contacted each other and have done a complete about-face from the trash talking earlier in the day. At 11:03 a.m. Carney tweeted that he had “Talked to jack for an hour he’s cool. All good.” For his part, about half an hour later, White’s label Third Man Records tweeted, “‘From one musician to another, you have my respect Patrick Carney.’ -Jack White,” as a way of signaling that both sides of the dispute now view the matter as closed.

For observers, however, the incident remains puzzling. Did Jack White shove Patrick Carney? And if not, why did Carney suggest that such a thing happened? At a minimum, despite whatever olive branches are being flung into the fray, it remains obvious that the relationship between Jack White and his Nashville neighbors Patrick Carney and Dan Auerbach might remain fraught. 

After the jump, the White Stripes play live in Germany from 2007…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Leave a comment
A collection of wild Minnesota mugshots from the late ‘60s and early ‘70s
05:15 pm



Before meth and crack hit the streets, people actually looked kind of cool in their mugshots. Almost everyone pictured in this collection is styled-out. They look like some ironic hipster fashion spread from Dazed & Confused magazine. HOWEVER, I did add a few that were head scratchers. Like the guy with a bandage covering his upper lip and another man with a bandage on his ear. I wouldn’t want to mess with those dudes so I placed them towards the end.

Sadly, the website that posted the photos didn’t say what the folks in the mugshots were arrested for. I’m dying to know!



More after the jump…

Posted by Tara McGinley | Leave a comment
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