Mission Accomplished: Half Of Shitty Band Talks Briefly With US Soldier

It looks like Disturbed is pulling ahead of Godsmack in the hotly contested race for the coveted Shittiest Excuse For A Band Ever Award. Don't count out Staind, either. From Blabbermouth.net:

Footage of Disturbed members Dan Donegan (guitar) and Mike Wengren (drums) hanging out with a soldier from Cincinnati backstage before the show at Bogart's has been posted online at the group's YouTube channel. The guy had just returned from Iraq during the prior month and presented the band with an American flag, while Disturbed returned the favor with a pair of drumsticks, several guitar picks, and a bass pick.

'The guy?' Guess they didn't have time for his life story: "Yeah, we got it. You're a soldier. You're from Cincinatti. Get over yourself already." Luckily for us, the horribly-worded press release pointed out that Mike Wengren is the band's drummer. 

The press release has Disturbed vocalist David Draiman going on to explain that once you ignore that the soldiers are, y'know, about to go kill people, it's really quite flattering that the cannon fodder brave men and women listen to Dicksturd in preparation for battle. Yeah, Dave, and if you can get over the itching, psoriasis is quite stylish. 

To recap: Shitty band travels exactly seven feet to donate a 11 cents worth of crap (which they get free) to a nameless soldier, nets 40 billable hours for their publicity reps to tell the world. Just think -- they could've budgeted that money to get 'the guy' some body armor for his imminent return to active duty! But instead, they're using him to sell records to idiots! And if 'the guy' lives long enough to show off his souvenirs, it's more exposure for their endorsing pick/drumstick companies. The world is saved! That's 'One Lucky Soldier'!

New album out Tuesday! Free cockpunch with every purchase!

Ted Nugent Is A Fuckstick

It's a heavy annoying news day, but congrats to Ted Nugent! He's more annoying than the rumored birth of Angelina Jolie's twins in France (le barf), Thom Yorke's claiming ownership of footage of any human singing a Radiohead song (bonerface), and Aerosmith frontman Steven Tyler's foot checking into drug rehab (my feet are blazed 24/7). Wow!

Alas, The Most Annoying News Award goes to Terrible Ted. Oh, what's that? His nickname is no longer 'Terrible' Ted? Because of the denotations of the word 'terror'? He's 'Uncle Ted' now? I guess that's a fitting moniker for a racist who occasionally purchases teenaged girls. Nuuuge! A new press release states:

Whether he's unleashing a firestorm of guitar licks* or speaking his mind politically and socially like no one else**, Ted Nugent has never held anything back -- and those two sides of Ted come together potently on his new song, the unflinchingly*** titled "I Am The NRA."

Adds Ted: "...If not for the formation and growth of this fundamental grassroots organization, individual American citizens would no longer have that U.S. constitutionally guaranteed God-given right to keep and bear arms. Thank God for the NRA."

So... If Ted is the NRA, and Thank God for the NRA, then Thank God for Ted? Man, God's a dickhole. 

   *not to mix metaphors

 **few could be as sub-moronic

***titles can't flinch

The Human Race To Metallica: 'Stay Out Of Riverdale!'

What's louder these days?

(a) Metallica's raging noise machine for their untitled, unfinished forthcoming album

(b) the backlash to Metallica drummer/RIAA slut Lars Ulrich's anti-Napster shenanigans

(c) Ulrich's frenzied backpeddling/shameless aping of Radiohead and Nine Inch Nails' listener-direct sales thing

(d) Metallica guitarist Kirk Hammett's gayness

(e) The agonized screams of Metallica frontman James Hetfield's soul

Answer: (b) by a wang hair

Some area dicklesses recently insisted that I'm "too hyard un Beshmallica." [That's how Metalli-nutsack-garglers talk after a couple mojitos.] Oh, am I? From Wired Magazine's Listening Post blog:

In May of 2000, when Lars Ulrich personally delivered a 60,000-page printout of the Napster users who were sharing Metallica, he probably never suspected that the online backlash against his band would still be running at full steam eight years later.

"Wow, [with new interactive promo site, MissionMetallica.com,] you're looking into using the Internet," wrote [Wired reader] Lewis Salem. "Good for you, Lars. When you got up and demonized Shawn Fanning, you made a complete ass of yourself. How pompous." 

[Wired reader] Danijel followed ... with "Stay off the internet, Napster-killing pieces of shit hypocrites."

And to loosely paraphrase the other bajillion comments: "I am going to illegally download the new album, burn nine copies, and throw them down a well. Eat shit, Lars, you dingleberry."

You may be saying to yourself, "Hey, those Wired nerds wouldn't buy Metallica shit anyway." Way to go, Captain Sherlock. That's the point: Though Metallica's diehard fanbase has been whittled down to seven, it's toxic that they'll be gaining no new customers listeners. Haw haw!  

RasheedWatch: Pistons lose game 5 in Boston

Rasheed Wallace, the metalest NBA player of all time, reacts to the lopsided officiating in Game 5 of the Eastern Conference finals against Boston Celtics May 28. 

"All that bullshit-ass calls they had out there... with [referees] Mike [Callahan] and Kenny [Mauer] -- you've seen all that shit ... all them phantom calls. [Celtics] cats are flopping and falling all over the floor and [referees] are calling that shit. That shit ain't basketball out there. It's all fucking entertainment. You should know that shit. That shit's all fucking entertainment."

Rasheed's like James Hetfield and Wilt Chamberlain combined! He's an agitator. A truth-teller. A rocker. He's a shot-blocker, three-drainer, low post-dominator, heartbreaker, love-taker, bushwhacker, hornswoggler, ass-kicker, shit-kicker, and weed-smoker. 

But real NBA heads worship 'Sheed because he's the sole member of the league -- that's counting active players, coaches, covering media, administration, and alumni -- who remains unafraid of NBA Commissioner/dickless sell-out David Stern and the moneyed honky class of NBA ticket buyers. The last NBA hero. The Mayor of HooMville. Pure METAL. 

UPDATE: On May 30, Rasheed was fined $25000 by NBA Goon Stu Jackson for the above comments. Goddammit.

Finally! A Victory For Drugs

People Magazine reports that CSI star Gary Dourdan, who was charged with three counts of felony drug possession after he was found passed out in his car early April 28, will skate on all counts. Oh wait, he'll be 'required' to complete a 16-class treatment program. 

Everybody knows CSI and its spin-offs are retarded, but this guy is totally metal! I mean, at the time of arrest, he was holding cocaine and ecstasy and heroin. The trifecta! And though he may've been facing three years in jail, he won't even serve three minutes! Yes! Now, it's true: He's a famous actor and is above the law. But I'm counting it, folks. Yay drugs! 

Here's a picture of the goofball enthusiast:

I think I sold this guy two dimebags in Loring Park last month. See? When celebrities evade the draconian laws which mangle the lives of mortals, we all win!

What Doesn't Die: Anthrax III's Live Debut

Anthrax crapped on their own credibility when they scrapped metal for a simpler, blander heavy rock sound. It didn't seem incongruous at the time, since they'd just added a new singer, but by 2003's We've Come For You All, 'metal' suddenly wasn't a dirty word anymore, and Anthrax got all pentagram-y and semi-sincerely pledged their souls anew to metal. We called bullshit. 

Granted, WC4UA is one of Anthrax's two post-Joey Belladonna albums with more good songs than bad, but the same can be said for the first two Van Hagar outings: good stuff if you're into lame, watered-down pop rock. Which you are. We are, too.

And now we cross into pure desperation: It was gross enough when the classic Anthrax line-up reunited for a big cash grab tour. (Not gross enough to keep the HooM team from the Chicago gig, which ruled, despite the stench of superficiality and intra-band dislike. Fuck that, "Caught In A Mosh" killed!) 

Yuckier still: Last night, Anthrax debuted in Chicago its latest, grossest line-up featuring that off-brand producer they've been using lately on guitars (good hair! nobody misses the mohawk!) and some guy from Shinedown on vocals. Or, at least, some guy from a Shinedown concert. Plus Meatloaf's untalented daughter's husband, the greasy pudge from *NSync, and the guy who was in Helmet for two hours. 

Image by Chad Lee

Metallica: On The Cutting Edge

Metallica used to be metal. Now they're full-fledged retards. It started back in the 90s, when the quartet had an abrupt reversal of course, which included make-up, tuneless warbling, and horrible songwriting and also happened to coincide with metal's hiatus as a commercially viable genre. And their lovability levels skyrocketed when their drummer was allowed to speak publicly. Dude thought he was so powerful and revered that he could single-handedly make it uncool to refuse to pay for Metallica's shitty post-...And Justice For All output. Then there's the rehab, the documentary, and the conspicuous return to metal. And now, from missionmetallica.com:

Misson: Metallica is your inside look at the past two years of riffing, writing, and recording ... proof that we've actually been doing shit most of the time! We're gonna open the floodgates and share with you photos, videos, riffs, and a whole lot more.

But you say the forthcoming album -- which doesn't have a street date yet -- is your only interest. Well, you will not believe what LarsCorp has in store for you! Your financial participation of $25 gets you a download of the album; $33 gets you a download and a hard CD; $125 gets you a vinyl box set, a lithograph, a download, and a hard CD. Oh, all options include Mission: Metallica Platinum Experience membership. Those details might be inaccurate, but reading that shit was boring and fuck you if you care. Apparently, the 'mission' is to empty your wallet into Lars' gaping maw. A Dennis Miller bit springs to mind:

"It's like these cheap clothing stores who're always having 2-for-1 sales. Let me tell you something, folks: Two of shit ... is SHIT! If they really wanna fuck you, they'll give you three of these things."

And why would I want to 'experience' the new 'Metallica' before it's 'done'? I tried that with an omelet once and three months later I settled litigation with the fine people at JCPenny's of Brookfield.

RIP Earl Root, God of Metal

St. Paul Pioneer Press reports: 'Local heavy metal musician, DJ, radio host, label head, and store owner Earl J. Root died Friday of complications from non-Hodgkin's regenerative lymphoma. He was 46.'

This explains the thunderstorm on Friday night: There was a explosion-packed welcoming party for Earl in Metal Heaven. 

For those of you who don't know/love Earl: Unfuck yourself. I'll never forget one of my first weekends living in Minneapolis; we'd been driving somewhere, listening to KFAI's Saturday night jungle/drum n bass show. After buying some drugs getting back in the car, the radio blasted to life at brain-searing volume with what I immediately identified as ... wait -- Kataklysm? On the radio? Guh?

From that moment on, I was a regular Saturday night listener to Earl's four-hour bonanza Root Of All Evil. I'll never forget the night he premiered tracks from Testament's The Gathering. Or when I finally admitted to myself that Hammerfall's "Keep The Flame Burning" is awesome. Or Earl's patronage of the real Disturbed. Or the times I'd be a late nominee for designated driver: 'Sure, I'll drive us all home, but we're listening to Root, fuckers! What's that, drunk-ass girlfriend, you love Emperor? But it won't go any louder!'

Whenever I was in St. Paul, Earl's heavenly record store Root Cellar was the mandatory first stop. He was one of those cats who was cool as fuck but didn't seem to realize it. The only person unimpressed by him was him. Truly metal. 

Earl J. Root

March 29 1962 - May 23 2008

Disney, Playskool Launch World's Biggest Traveling Commercial

According to Billboard.com, They Might Be Giants are among acts tapped to headline the Disney Music Block Party Tour. Billbored goes on to report that the tour, hosted by an orphan Disney purchased named Raven-Symone, will give kids a 'festival-like atmosphere,' and Playskool will have a special area for kids to, ahem, 'test' new toys.

Yeah, I'll never forget all those block parties back in the day where I paid to be a focus group for soul-sucking childhood ruiners. Luckily the Hasbro people listened to me when I insisted My Buddy shouldn't have a functioning ballsack. You can thank me for AstroGlide Peach.

Irony: Hipster Friend or Hipster Foe?

A good place to view hipsters in their native environment is any eatery with decent music. I occasionally indulge in effort-free breakfasts on drowsy Sundays, and therefore am required to stray into either geriatric or hipster territory. One particular Sunday, we're seated at the bar -- traditionally a hipster-free area at the brunch hour, since hipsters require a table to take breakfast over the course of seven hours, 300 cigarettes, and endless blathering -- when my friend was overheard by a bartender (a hipster, natch) dismissing some lame band as "pure hipster bullshit." The sleeve-tattoo/complicated hat/vintage shirt/gross jeans guy enters our conversation with this nugget: "I'm so over hipsters."

I almost fell off the damn stool laughing. But wasn't I embarrassed when it turned out that the bartender wasn't purveying a choice Zing! at all. His use of topical lingo touchstone "I'm so over" was a sure sign of latent hipsterism, and used to decry hipsters no less, giving his statement near-toxic levels of hilarious irony coming from this uncloseted doofus. It was extra-funny that he'd go the extra mile by using dated hipster lingo, as well. But I'll be goddamned: He was sincerely complaining. Like that coke dealer in my neighborhood who called the cops on my roof party. What the shit?

Given the hipster's love of wearing t-shirts featuring bands they don't actually like -- what? you don't really like BulletBoys? oh, the trenchant commentary! -- the hipster has alarmingly little grasp of real, live irony. Perhaps the species is so evolved that only third- and fourth-tier irony registers; it's not enough to wear the BulletBoys shirt, one must actually become a member of BulletBoys to achieve full ir-rection.