Completely Out-of-Context 70's Humor

Sex Sells - Anything

Is this really how they make coffins? Maybe these are for all those dead rock stars:
http://www.av1611.org/rockdead.html

Christians are so smug. Now I wanna buy a coffin for some reason.

George Bush is Still Alive - Why?

Here's Georgie-Porgie nearly accepting a booby-trapped turkey. Luckily, good 'ol Deputy Dawg recognized the phony fowl for what it was: a dirty, terrorist trick! Those towl-heads don't even respect Thanksgiving.

So don't tell me a bunch of vicious Colombian druglords pussied out on killing Georgie boy!
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/6594646
He's too smart for 'em.

Brian-Loompa-Loompa

Hold your breath. Make a wish. Count to three. Come with me and you'll be in a world of pure imagination Take a look and you'll see into your imagination. We'll begin with a spin traveling in the world of my creation. What we'll see will defy explanation. If you want to view paradise Simply look around and view it. Anything you want to do it. Want to change the world? There's nothing to it. There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there you'll be free if you truly wish to be. If you want to view paradise Simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world? There's nothing to it. There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there you'll be free if you truly wish to be.

Thanksgiving Message

I was cleaning out some old papers today, and I came across this copy of the original, first issue of the Uncle Torture fanzine. Actually, the very first incarnation of this concept was an audio cassette version which lampooned movie trailers and radio ads which bracketed my fantasy kiddie clown show hosted by possible child-molester and birthday party clown Uncle Torture and included guests like Charles Manson and Frank Booth!

This evolved into a Xeroxed, cut-and-paste fanzine. It was a fun project that lasted a mere three issues each one more provocative than the last. It was your typically smartass, scatalogically informed 'zine which ragged out Chattanooga institutions, newscasters, watering holes, punk rock bands, other magazines, really anything and everything my active imagination could attack at 3:00 in the morning. Uncle Torture had a profoundly polarizing affect on people: they either found it funny or they didn't. For me, seeing a copy floating in the toilet at The London Connection after a Twiggy show was a high compliment. It was supposed to elicit that kind of response.



As you can see, not a lot has changed. Obviously, I am not quite as acerbic as I once was, but, hopefully, the spirit remains, right? We all want to remember our, dare I say it, principles? Growing older is one thing, but giving up and becoming complacent is quite another. Henry Rollins said "If you're my age, no one's trying to sell you anything except life insurance, hardcore pharmaceutical drugs, the hole in the ground, and The Best of Sting, and when someone comes up to you and hands you The Best of Sting, you realize that basically, somehow you are dead."

Maybe, then, that's the trick. Avoid anyone who suggests that you should grow-up, and, perhaps more importantly, don't hand yourself The Best of Sting. Happy Holidays!

Yikes!

Good Lord! Jesus kicks ass! It's great being American and right all the time because even our Lord can be a psychopathic killer. Go get 'em, Jeez! I sure wouldn't want to be here: http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/

Chris Hobgood, R.I.P.

I got a call Thursday night from Jeff Peterson with this bit of news: Old friend, drinking buddy, Mentors fan, plate-shitter, gym-farter, general malcontent and probable genius Chris Hobgood was dead. Shot dead at the age of 36 in Knoxville. How'd it happen? Don't know. Why'd it happen? Who can say?

It's just another sign of the weird road that we run. My ex-wife said that my circle of friends have a curse on them. Yeah, a lot of people have died: the Sarge cashed in his chips about 5 years ago, Gary bit it on his motorbike about four years ago, Rodney let go this year, and now Hobgood takes a couple of rounds at 2am while cruising in his car.

I haven't processed this one yet; however, I'm listening to Sorry Ma (one that reminds me of the old days at the Marion building when we thought we were invincible), and in a little while I'll hoist one for the departed.

I have an old Super 8 movie that I made back then, and in one scene I have a tracking shot that takes in various party-goers as they go about their weirdness. Chris played the guy with a disbelieving, skeptical look on his face while reading the Bible. His scene ends with Chris becoming obviously agitated and giving the Bible the finger.

Here's to ya, Chris.

She Talked to God

Who the fuck is this freak? I had no idea. She may be your prophet.
Jesus gonna make up my dying bed. http://www.bible.ca/7-plagiarism.htm

And Now...Here's the News.

I Love Madonna

ZoSo...Just SoSo and this ain't Jimmy Page!

I just rolled in from the show at R&B's, after a stop at the Stone Lion for a nitecap (I heard tell of a reprieve in the air for Hoppy's treasured locale, stay tuned!?) and I must say ZoSo has left me a bit underwhelmed. And, no shit, the "Jimmy Page" looked more like the above photo of an early nineties Ace Frehley. Yikes!
Okay, so there's no way to win if you try to emulate one of the all-time great fucking bands in the history of rockdom or whatever you want to call it, but you can expect the guitar to be in tune. Apparently, the band's appearance in Chattanooga was an off-night. The band was sporting a new "John Bonham," who was a little off-beat at times, and the band in general seemed to have been experiencing more than a few technical difficulties, which prompted a couple of catcalls from your humble narrator and his compatriot for the evening, a certain gentlemen, Mr. Michael Jaynes, Esq. And Senor Jaynes and I didn't realize the band even went as far as utilizing fake-British accents which I thought was priceless. "Does anyone remember laughter?" Well...I blurted that phrase out during a break (much to the amusement of the cute, sexy, little girls who stood in front of us and shook their moneymakers all night), but ZoSo should have been all over that kind of detail.
Which brings me to my point. All that I have read and researched about ZoSo has indicated that they are, or were, a first-class Led Zeppelin tribute act, if not the best. During tonight's performance I got the impression I was witnessing the last act of a dying man. Overall, my rating would be: mediocre to competent. However, the drunken Chattanooga crowd in attendance probably thought they were at Earl's Court in 1975. As deluded as that may seem, good for them I say! They had a great time. The club even had to throw out a couple of hooligans who were having a bit too good of a time. Well, what's rock-in-roll without a bit of anarchy?
Anyway, I was a bit let down by some of the performances tonight. The bass was overpowering everything (Page NEVER would have allowed that), and sometimes I felt like I was watching a Whitesnake tribute group (I don't recall anyone in Led Zep wearing Capezios). Nevertheless, a good time was had by all. But don't expect me to go to the Bon Jovi tribute show. There's a limit you know!

I Like It When You Call Me Big Poppa

Put your hands in the air if you think you're a... PLAYER!

Tonight I'm going to Rhythm and Brews to see Led Zepp tribute group ZoSo. Yeah, I know it's cheesy, and I really hate that fucking club, but how else to get a live dose of Zeppelin riffs? Besides, it will be an opportunity to mingle with the masses of Chattanooga, drink overpriced beers, and observe firsthand their mating rituals and their selection of baseball caps.

The Manifesto Continues to be Explained

One of my all-time favorite movies is this rather violent, non-PC, hammily-acted, relic from the '70's. What is the enduring charm of watching a bunch of drunken British actors stumbling around Africa? Well, go back to one of my very first blogs to understand my fascination with escapist action films. But you have to also understand how important for me (and several of my friends and colleagues) it is to have this kind of entertainment in my life. There's just something special about, in this case, watching actors like Richard Burton, Roger Moore, and Richard Harris running around pretending to be mercenaries. It says something about the need to keep the child inside alive.
I am steadfastly refusing to grow-up. I refuse the mantle that society insists on placing on me just because I am supposed to "act my age." Screw that shit! Let somebody else "grow-up." I don't feel like suffocating myself and killing my dreams. You have to come to an understanding of what defines you as a human being and then be true to that expression. We get distracted by everyday stresses and forget to be ourselves. And eventually, you wake up one day and don't recognize the face looking back at you in the mirror. No thanks! Call it mid-life crisis, call it irresponsibility, call it whatever you like. I call it being true to myself, fuck-you-very-much.
So there two ways of responding to this blog: You are either with me on the Red Team, or you are a hopeless, lost cause who probably voted for Bush because you're a "grown-up." You're good Ash, and I'm bad Ash (look that reference up).

Oh, and on a personal note, thanks to you Pitchfork (I like Sir Charles Dividends and Joe Dogs, not to mention Sean Finn) for reminding me about The Wild Geese (you started this rant). Look up how many people listed The Wild Geese as a favorite movie. There are only seven of us out there, and Rob and I have been flies in the ointment together from way back.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I Give You the Next President of the United States

Jello Biafra
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

It's not as far-fetched as you may think. Do it now... I COMMAND YOU!!! You are under my control...mindless denizens of America listen to ME!!! I am your MASTER!! Okay, who am I kidding? I'll just pack my shit and go. I could be headed for a complete mental breakdown. I need to...I need to... play the hoochie coo... What's the matter with you, mama?

Uncle Torture's Plan for a New American Century

If those neocon, right-wing, reactionary assholes can have their own world regime then so can I, right? As a matter of fact so can we all. Quite frankly, I am sick to death of the bullshit going on around this country. And don't give me that "love it or leave it" crap either. My new motto is "Fuck off!" I tried to be impartial, intelligent, thoughtful, and considerate and look where it got me. Even shitheads who voted for Kerry have attacked and insulted me for my liberal views. Democratic neophytes are jumping on the bandwagon faster than you can say "Howard Dean looks angry." That's right. The idiots allowed the best chance for the left to have won to sink faster than the goddamned Bismarck because he wasn't part of the "team." And by "team" I mean rich, spoiled, silver-spoon brats who went to exclusive boarding schools and Ivy League colleges. Yeah, what's the difference between Bush and Kerry? Ultimately, nothing really. Kerry's slogan should have been "ME TOO!" Pathetic. Maybe that's why the youth vote was so dismal. They couldn't get behind Kerry because they couldn't figure out where he stood. "ME TOO! ME TOO!" What the hell?
So what's my new plan? Don't rush me, goddamn it, I'm working on it.

Julian's New Hero and My Old One

jimi_hendrix
Originally uploaded by nadia :o).

Julian is quickly learning about the guitar heroes who matter. Down came the Harry Potter posters, and up went the Nirvana and Led Zep. Jimmy Page, Jimi Hendrix, Ace Frehely, now we're talkin'! As usual, I have a hidden agenda. I am distracting him from the bullshit Bush is pulling and the legions of idiots who voted for him. The Dems got CREAMED! Americans were too confused to make the right choice. The most important aspect of the race was MORAL VALUES? Neither candidate was qualified to even discuss morals as they don't possess them. I am officially finished as a political commentator except to make the occasional infantile, crude joke. Fuck it! I don't think anyone in this country even cares about their future. As long as they can buy a beer and a hamburger, who cares? I won't quit thinking about these issues, nor do I propose anyone else shouldn't be politically active in their community. But I am switching tactics. Stay tuned.

STOP BUSH

PICT1810
Originally uploaded by EmilV.