NO GUN NO FUN

So hey if your first question this sunny Monday morning is Hey Anso, how was your Saturday night? then the answer is Well, after taking in a few minutes of Showgirls edited for TV, I proceeded to wrestle furniture all over my goddamn place in a vain attempt to get the fucking couch close enough to the fucking TV to actually make out which one's Kobe. OK if you're creeped out by the words make out and Kobe so close together, it gets much better, friend. I then poured a few drinks, overdosed on my girlfriend's answer tone (C-rap omg kill me), and screamed silently for an hour or two. Next, an interlude with oreos. And while details are sketchy at this time, evidence indicates that I then may have enjoyed internet video of a naughty school girl begging for her strict teacher's hot load. Next weekend, maybe I'll find time to blare opera and do bench presses while weeping.

This is what Filter's Richard Patrick must've had in mind when penning the cynical but oddly beer jingle-esque "The Best Things." Stupid life.

SLAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE

Look I'm not trying to come at you with some rah-rah bullshit but seriously, it's a great time to be Metal. Sure, pure sales chew chodes, and yet it seems like future classic records are coming out with mere weeks between. (Or on the same buttfucking day in at least one case.) Records that we'll be talking about fondly in 10, 20, 30 years. You will anyway; I imagine someone will have angrily sewn my ass to my face by then.

That bands and their records are of such a high level of quality and creativity makes it gleefully effortless to assemble kickass tour packages. It's true, I fucking HATE going to shows with more than three bands on the bill; all those set breaks, gear changes, check one check one one hey hey hey check chee-yeck ... I start to miss Sofa. That said, hats off to Summer Slaughter, just the latest in this cavalcade of unmissable Metal tours. Of course, it's not a 2009 Metal tour until Arsis signs on then promptly withdraws. Necrophagist CRAZY Origin SEXY Darkest Hour COOL.

WHAT ABOUT ANSO?

I'm pretty hurt at the lack of trust exhibited by Aerosmith, who is neglecting to mention the studio at which they start recording their forthcoming 800th LP, the first real record since 2001's busy-but-never-precocious Just Push Play. It's not like they won't be too busy tracking to notice me lurking behind that potted plant with a false mustache anyway so spill it. Droopy guitarist Brad Whitford states to somebody, somewhere:

So far it's going great. Everybody is pretty excited about the amount of new music and the quality of it. We're looking forward to getting our basic tracks started in about ten days or so. I'm really quite impressed with some of the new music we're putting together — we'll have a true-to-the-spirit-of Aerosmith record on our hands. Hopefully you won't have to wait to long. We're working hard to get it done and we're anxious to hear people's reaction to it.

So Aerosmith, you excited to return to Little Mountain Sound, where Pump was recorded? But then again, you old guys probably wanna just stretch out in Joe's studio, The Boneyard. Am I right? Hmm? Oh wait no it's Brendan's joint in Atlanta. Uhhh you're not going to keep The Record Plant all to yourselves, are ya? Is this a fake hang-up? 

 

THAT'SA ESPICY MEATABALL

Last week, VH1 reality superfox/unholy terror Megan Hauserman officially filed suit against Sharon Osbourne, aka the source of all misery in life. I hate Osbourne so much that I swear my therapists thought she was a figment of my imagination. She egged Iron Maiden? She turned Ozzy into a synthy balladeer? Her dad ripped off Steve Marriott for like 10 years? They totally talked to me like I was Costanza in that King Henry outfit. When I proved her existance with a photo, they took me off two of my sripts. Great now I have to get my own Dilaudid. 

Seeking damages for battery, negligence and infliction of emotional distress, Hauserman deserves to be carried into court on the shoulders of a bunch of drunken Irishmen; she really jabbed Osbourne right in the denial zone. Y'know, by insinuating that the opportunistic hag is a pathetic nobody who's riding an oblivious ex-rocker to his early death for her own glorification (reportedly -- video of the exchange still hasn't surfaced). 

Osbourne should've settled immediately, even though duh she's smart to force Hauserman to commit to an actual suit. But last I checked, the assault was captured by VH1 cameras, so. Yeah. Osbourne's defense is rumored to include lobbing eggs and a lovely Who's On First sketch.

WELL THIS IS AWKWARD

Anyone who's seen any of the several Hysteria making-of docs knows that Def Leppard singer Joe Elliott is a mega-douchestain. I particularly enjoy his convenient omissions regarding producer Mutt Lange's writing contributions to the kajillion-selling record. So months ago when Elliott tried to drum up lame drama with some cheap potshots at Poison drummer/non-rapist Rikki Rockett, it struck me as a bizarre move. Y'know, seeing as Def Lep and Poison both inhabit that depressing botox/bald spot touring realm.

But that doesn't mean the bonehead won't back-pedal like a mofo now that the two bands were packaged by someone at LiveNation for a sad, flabby summer tour. But you're saying if not Elliot's no-talent ass, who's to blame for the war of words? Foreigners. Obviously. Elliott tells AP: 

The supposed fight that we had with Poison wasn't a fight at all. It was taken out of context by a foreign journalist. I've spoken with [Poison vocalist] Bret Michaels, and he totally gets that it was taken totally out of context, and we don't have a problem with any of these guys, never have been.

Uhh really dude? Also, the above clip is hilarious for Elliott claiming L.A. glam bands were missing the point because they weren't weird and overtly faggy like '70s UK ponces. Yeah there's a real connection there.