The other day there were two headlines next to each other on the Yahoo home page, “Global Impact of Japan Crisis” and a crucial piece called “Actresses Sport Same Dress.” I know it’s one of those silly little things to be bothered by, but it just seems connected to where we are today. All kinds of crap going on in the world today (as on any other day) and unfortunately I have to share this planet with shit loads of idiots. It’s not just that the whole concept of the media sucks, but it is a reflection of who “we” are. I include myself in the mix too because I know that I’m just as guilty of being a sucker too. What the hell are we doing and where’s this all headed? Oh yeah, and the royal wedding is less than a month away.
I may have mentioned this before, but for all things Rudimentary Peni you MUST go to Piss in a Pod. At the risk of mentioning that site again, I had been looking a while for a cheap copy of Nick Blinko’s book the Primal Screamer and realized that I couldn’t afford a real copy, the used ones on Amazon are starting at $150, the ones on ebay don’t go for much less than that. It turns out Piss in a Pod is the place to get your free digital copy of the Primal Screamer . Printed it out at work, yeah I know I’m a scumbag for stealing paper and ink from a non-profit organization, but I did do two sided copies so I feel better about myself. After finishing it the other night, first impression, a damn good read. Kind of a Bukowski narrative that takes the form of psychologist’s notes. It’s called semi-autobiographical because it has a good deal of factual information with the names changed, but some things are obviously fiction, while others you’re left to decide for yourself. Hopefully it doesn’t ruin it but the dream at the end is the most intense description of a dream I’ve ever read (you know how hard it is to paint a picture of the other worldliness of a dream or more specifically a nightmare. Do yourself and read that.
My buddy Mike over at Strange Reaction did a review a book called My So Called Punk and realized I really know nothing about what they call punk today, other than bands like Bad Religion, NOFX and Rancid that have been doing it for a while. Apparently this guy from Rancid was dating (married to?) a woman who fronts a band that has a big following. Their kind of part of that whole festival punk/rock/metal phenomena, which I’m not too into (at least the Warped Tour thing I went to was not my thing). Anyway like I said these guys are remind me more of grunge than anything else but I thought I’d put it out there.
This one came by way of another buddy who does a music site. Never in the time it took for the universe to be formed did I think I’d be into this stuff, but it’s got that cabaret, Billie Holiday thing going on. Plus this lady has been bashed in the tabloids and has been known to have that loser thing going on with the dope and liquor…how can you resist that. I don’t care what you say, bad ass tune.
We’ve visited these guys before in a super post here and I also mentioned their killer website, appropriately called Butthole Surfers. Probably don’t need to get all fired up again over these guys, this bootleg speaks for itself. A Beatles cover in a way only the Buttholes could do and an old classic. Nobody makes anything close to this good these days and even back then. Let’s do it legally with some of salvia and enjoy.
Cherub the angel
Roll back the hands of time
Cherub Enter the angel
You walk alone now You’re never mind
The walks you’ve taken Have left behind
All people sideways They look at you
May god forsake me Cause I do to
I see bodies
Maybe, just maybe someone is alive
Naked we smile
You’re right beside me You gaze a view
Your body’s vacant They crawl right through
Those bodies falling It’s in the air
We’re mixed so close now But I don’t care
Ha ha ha
Walk upon me Your body lead
You try to escape you It’s in your head
I’d better go back I’m not over there
You walk beside me You gaze at me
You’re homeless now Or that times three
Amazon You gaze along
I’ll make you talk you There is no bong
Your mind has cut you You’re bleeding now
Your plans escaped Just like a bow
They walk right past you They stop and stare
Your body’s lying All over there