NOT THE FACE

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OK you know what I don't get about Rock of Love and Charm Sluts Bus and now Daisy Of Love is holy shit those ahem rockers and groupies or whatever are pretty sentimental. All anyone talks about is feelings and honesty. Two nights ago Riki Rachtman (groan) chastised a roomful of grown men drenched in cosmetics and accessories about hurting Daisy's feelings. I believe his exact words were I do not like seeing Daisy's feelings hurt! Yeah? Or what?? Oh and this act of hurting Daisy's feelings is defined with an oddly fascist catch-all: not being here for her. Offenses to date on DoL include drunk-dialing your ex and drunkenly hugging a ton of shiny dudes. 

Maybe my opinion is lame but I thought the rules were that if you had lotsa tattoos and you're in a band that you were supposed to be cool. Not all worshipfully earnest and tragically fawning, respectively, you know who I'm talking about. Even 12 Pack is kinda freaking me out, all vaguely threatening that Brooklyn guy. Kind of a chickenshit move, dude. Incidentally I'm never in Hollywood really but if I ever have to talk my way out of a neck punch by a few of these guys I've branded pussgay here, I'll explain that y'know, there's no such thing as bad press. And that the fondest form of tribute is the roast. Yeah that's it. 

WALKING WITH A SPANTHER

I admit I'm not exactly in touch with the listening public or anything yet I still find it suspicious that Steel Panther fails to be a hot topic of discussion. That shit is hilarious. Sure, there are pretty regular items about some chode or another joining the band for a good-humored version of either "Don't Stop Believin'" or "Paradise City," depending if you're talking Kenny Loggins-drunk or fat ass Kelly Clarkson-drunk. From one of those on Blabbermouth comes Stephen Pearcy of Ratt joining the band for "Round And Round" and sweet fancy moses the place is kinda going nuts. Haus suck it up we're going. Feel The Steel out in a month.

***UPDATE: Feel The Steel not out in a month in U.S.

***UPDATE UPDATE: Feel The Steel out October 6. Sorry it says here Rocktober 6.

IF LOVING CLOONEY IS WRONG I DON'T WANNA BE RIGHT

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Well Thursday sucked ballbags so like a fat sorority girl I treated myself to a light comedy starring the hunky George Clooney while pouring cocoa puffs straight from the box into my face. No but seriously, Intolerable Cruelty and the following year's Ocean's 12 have a couple great things in common: 1. awesomeness; 2. Clooney (hammy and slick, respectively); 3. female lead Catherine Zeta-Jones photographed in a staggeringly luminescent manner. Holy fuck in those two flicks CZ-J is so profanely attractive that the usual pulses of sweaty lust are nearly replaced in me with undisguised and worshipful longing. It gets hard to concentrate on bringing to fruition a totally hypothetical plan to oh say spirit her to a pirate ship, where she'd demand her release at first but reluctantly relent to my rugged charm. According to countless reveries in which I smilingly indulge the sexual electricity on deck would sap my patience for her inevitable pouting, and as a result I'd suddenly bite down on the shoulder of her dress and, with a kick to the small of her back, send her ripping out of it and into nakedness. We'd pause for vaginal reconstructive surgery to counteract effects from six dozen Douglases she's shat out of that thing and then, hypothetically, we'd travel to the fourth dimension all off up in there. I have another one where we bump into each other in a Sony studios elevator and it starts out kinda like that scene in Intolerable Cruelty but then she puts my well that one's kinda private. It involves dancing bikini mannequins (above). 

I DON'T FEEL TARDY

So Obituary started making records again a few years ago and that should've been a good thing. Except that apparently the creative forces in the band put next to zero effort into being Obituary, resulting in a pair of shitty outings. Then, against all common sense, Obituary's Donald and John Tardy named their new project The Tardy Brothers, which sounds like a fucking alternate title for Dumb And Dumber. Hilariouser still, the Tards are a dickshake away from sharing their name with Nancy Drew's goon squad, with which she terrorized defenseless smugglers and kidnappers. Fucking man-hating slag. Ok that's not acceptable conduct here on HooM! so while I put myself in time out, take a gander at Deciblog's shart-inducing preview (above) for this year's most anticipated death metal adventure novel for young adults. 

FAITH NO MORE'S BILLY GOULD WHIPS FANS DOWN OUT OF A FRENZY

Ugh it's pretty tough to call into question the integrity of Faith No More. They did everything right, from songcraft to recording/production to artwork/videos and attitude in general. However, I will beef with great god another fucking greatest-hits collection (above). And yes, I realize this bastard is a UK release and that it makes sense to promo it on Blabbermouth which is popular outside of America, a fact coincidentally that disproves the mythical US monopoly on stupidity trust me. Anyway, The Very Best Definitive Ultimate Greatest Hits Collection comes close to getting the shit right, thanks to bonus disc of a pretty inclusive catalog of B-sides. Sure, it omits the pleasurable but inessential "I Wanna Fuck Myself" (GG Allin) and "Spanish Eyes" (standard) from the "Ricochet" single I think. But they make up for it with "Sweet Emotion", which, according to ancient legend, is an early draft of "The Perfect Crime" (which appeared on second FNM comp This Is It The Best Of Faith No More [Rhino]). Fuck I consider myself a full FNM homo since jump street (thanks dad) and I've never even been on the same continent as shouty B-side "The Big Kahuna" (below).  So bring on another best-of.  

The real news of course is the inevitable and painstakingly gradual lathering up of stateside fans. FNM bassist Billy Gould on Twitter:

U.S. shows are not out of the question.

Someone tell professor chatty pants here to shut up already. Oh wait what I mean is the band's been back together for like ten minutes and already Gould's treating worshipful parasite fans like me like a nagging wife. Cmon Billy Gould if that is your real name my FNM ticket/fees/merch/'concessions' money isn't just going to dance into your pocket. When's the last time we cuddled or you told me I was beautiful?