Showing posts with label Bret Michaels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bret Michaels. Show all posts

6.11.2009

PIECE OF SCENERY SEVERS BRET MICHAELS' SENSE OF HUMOR



Yesterday, providence smiled on those needing to cloak a conspicuous boner when What Would Tyler Durden Do? followed a side-by-side of hot-ass Kristin from Laguna Beach 2 and Heather Graham (above, a little more than half-naked). I once spent an afternoon watching Graham's soft porn vehicle Killing Me Softly directed by snoresville Chen Kaige and it was HOT but what I learned today would've served me well that day at Tower Records in Shibuya and all the way back to the station: One way to counteract Graham's powers of erection is to replace images of her, probably the hottest unexotic All-American honky chick ever whose clothes even suggest nudity, with naked David Carradine crime scene pics. That's what went down on WWTDD and frankly I don't need sex and the most depressing image ever commingling. What am I Gacy over here? 

To cheer up, I went to the funniest thing ever no offense. No fuck it lotsa offense. If I were ever beheaded at the Tonys while some she-male belts out "People Who Need People" -- and I'm gunning for it -- I demand that everyone laugh cuz that shit is hilarious. And Bret's kinda good-natured about his wack hair, but is crying like a girl just cuz one lousy piece of scenery tried to decapitate him. Sounds like a wind-up to a lawsuit. Weirder, Dee Snider of Twisted Sister somehow was impelled to make a statement declaring his non-involvement with the incident. Wha? It's my custom to stick a quote here but I'm in a hurry to move on to Faith No More business so let's just leave it at Get a dick, Bret. And it don't get better than this! 


6.08.2009

SHIT EATER EATS SHIT



With a Lakers win and a big week of shows around the corner, my Sunday night was smashing even before a piece of scenery mercilessly attacked Poison lip sync'er Bret Michaels at the Tony Awards (??). Good times. And now to destroy this box of Cap'n Crunch. 


6.01.2008

Available In Exchange For Money: June 3 Edition

One day I was trying to buy Megadeth's Rust In Peace in peace when this asshole starting talking directly into my eye socket. Professor Awesome had an epiphany:

Asshole: See, you get why the record companies put out new releases on Tuesdays right? 
Me: ...
Asshole: Tuesday is not a day when anyone goes record shopping. 
Me: ...
Asshole: But here we are. We came to the record store to get ... whatcha got there? Megadeth? 
Me: ...
Asshole: Is Tuesday a convenient day for you to shop for records? I imagine not. But you came anyway.
Me: ...
Asshole: So they win. They're getting you into the store sooner. And more often.
Me: Did you actually drink urine? Or just bathe in it?



Metal CDs Available In Exchange For Money: June 3 Edition

Opeth
Windfall
Roadrunner Records
One way to spot an egghead is to shout "OPETH!" in a crowd then sit back and grimace at all the bad skin suddenly turned in your direction. But, hey -- These are our people. Never mind the fact that getting into Opeth is a Herculian task which I am too lazy/not baked enough to undertake. It took a lot of concentration to become a Tool fan, leaving little of the required brain power to digest the ouvres of Meshuggah and Opeth, both of whom trade in uncooperative, monochromatic foreheadcore. Both acts could learn from whiny upstarts Protest The Hero (winners of the Wrathchild America Award for awful bandname/awesome band) and the insufferable-turned-brilliant Between The Buttcheeks Buried And Me. More likely, the real problem is that Whitesnake, Badlands, and BulletBoys ruined my attention span, which is ironic since Opeth
frontman Mickael Akerfeldt seems to have suffered the same bittersweet fate


Bret Michaels 
Rock My World
VH1 Classics
The release of this hunk of shit -- thanks to VH1.com for streaming this beast -- seems a bit belated considering its hideously obvious post-finale nods to Ol' Headband's slut-tastic reality vehicle, Rock Of Love (Call me, Megan!). The wondrous thing about Rock My World is that though Michaels is buttfucking tone-deaf, he stubbornly resists that fancy studio auto-tuning that cleans up the barfy vocals of delusional assbags from Kid Rock to Cher! Not even a guest turn from Peyton or that retard Lacey. Just pure, unfiltered Bret. He's too rock n' roll to have a machine sing his songs for him. Oh, sometimes he's all country. 


John 5
Requiem
Adrenaline Records
Guitar instrumental albums are annoying as hell. But if anybody can succeed Chris Poland by making a non-idiotic guitar album, it's Rob Zombie tour guitarist John 5. Judging from Requiem's cover art, he's getting some quality Zombie run-off trim now, but sweaty dudes everywhere know John 5 (ne John Lowery) as the guy behind David Lee Roth's last great songs while the fine people at Hot Topic of Mayfair could tell you he did time in Marilyn Manson. The point is that dude can blaze aaand write songs, and thusly is required by the Laws of Metal to make the first non-pointless guitar album since Return To Metalopolis. Him or that dreamboat from Coldplay. We'll never know. 

Rock Of Love 2 girl Megan Hauserman wants to party all over my junk [not pictured]