Archive for category General Weirdness
Manowar Secedes From United States Over Obama’s “False Metal Agenda”
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on November 23, 2011
Into Guam Ride
In a stunning, utterly asinine move, legendary metal band Manowar, frustrated with the false metal policies of the Obama administration, seceded from the United States this morning. President Obama has recently made several decisions that have angered the Anti-False Metal Community including vetoing a bill that would have mandated life prison sentences for anyone caught with a Staind or Nickleback album and brought back the guillotine for anyone convicted of knowing the name of more than one Stryper song.
Obama, who had promised a poser free America by 2020, also recently scrapped plans to create a Department of True Metal. According to Manowar frontman Eric Adams, “This False Metal President came to Washington promising change. If your idea of change is watching the Olsen Twins running around in Master of Puppets shirts or hearing that stupid Pumped Up Kicks song on the radio 42 times a day, then you are not my friend.”
Adams and the current lineup of the band have claimed the island of Guam “in the name of real, serious, true, genuine, honest, authentic, unquestionable, forthright, unfeigned, irrefutable, unambiguous, steadfast, bona fide, resolute, unaffected, substantive, uncontrived, headbanging metal”. Guam will be a refuge for frustrated metalheads, tired of living in a world where even a new Morbid Angel album can bring shame and despair.
Residents of Guam, mostly unaware of the change in leadership, had mixed reaction to the news. Some Guamites saw the news as a hopeful sign. “Hopefully Manowar can rid us of our recent infestation of Coconut Rhinoceros Beetles. If they can do that, I’m all for this” said Arturo Gratame, a farmer in the city of Yona. Others, like resturaunt owner Moru Calvo were deeply upset by the change. “They’ve written about one good song since Triumph of Steel. Now we are going to trust our lives and property to them. I don’t think so!”
Most Congressmen either didn’t know who Manowar was or were annoyed to be asked ridiculous questions while busy not passing any piece of important legislation to alleviate suffering caused by the stagnant American economy. Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid seemed particularly hostile to the secession of Manowar. “Like I don’t have enough to deal with already. What the hell are they talking about? Manowar isn’t a country. They are a band. They can’t secede from the United States. And they certainly can’t have Guam. We have military bases there. They can’t just take it over cause they are pissed off that Metallica did that stupid record with Lou Reed or because there are too many mallgoths. It’s unacceptable.”
Adams, who arrived in Guam this morning on a flying golden chariot, dismissed Senator Reid’s comments as “the typical posturing of someone who secretly listens to Maroon 5 albums in his basement while reading Cosmopolitan Magazine and wearing a pink taffeta gown. Reid wouldn’t make it through one song at a Manowar concert before his entrails would be consumed by The Army of Immortals.”
Republican Presidential candidate Rick Perry, who once also threatened to have Texas secede from the Union, compared Manowar’s plight to the South during The Civil War. “I can understand the frustration those boys feel. They are sick and tired of being pushed around by federal government, just like the South felt when they rose up and rebelled against President John F. Kennedy and the North in the Civil War. I hope they are successful. After all, Guam is currently being run by socialists.”
The band is currently meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the village of Santa Rita awaiting instructions from Odin on how to proceed. Joey DeMaio, the band’s bassist and spiritual leader, believes they will successfully conquer Guam in a few days in spite of the fact that they will probably have to subdue the mighty U.S. Navy in order to do it. “I will crack the whip with a bold, mighty hail,” pronounced DeMaio as bolts of lightning shot from his sword. “The earth will probably drink much blood today, but it shall not be ours. We shall ride into glory….because…..WE………..ARE THE METAL KINGS!!!!!!!”
Keys To Regress
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on November 3, 2011
What does the world matter if I can’t even control this one thing? Here I am standing in front of my car. It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. Birds are chirping, a light breeze is softly cascading colored leaves everywhere I look….all is calm. Except me. The world takes no note of the maelstrom of tension swirling ravenously through my gut. It simply is. I, however, am not. Not in this moment.
Here I am on a Sunday morning with all the love and light a person can want around them. My two beautiful children are smiling and playing, my wife is looking on brimming with joy, and then there’s me. The Angel of Death photo shopped into a Norman Rockwell painting. Pacing like a wild animal, cursing under my breath, spewing lava, fist fighting the air. And why do I sacrifice my sanity on the altar of rage on this lovely day? Am I reacting to some dreadful piece of life shattering news? Is this childish paroxysm my way of protesting some grave, callous injustice the world has decided to pay towards a friend or loved one? Of course not. I have decided to transform into a human blowtorch because I have lost my keys.
Me: Where are they? Where are they! Where are they????? WHERE are they?
Shannon: Where did you have them last?
Me: If I knew that, I’d know where they are.
Shannon: (calmly responding with compassion and understanding to my state of determined stupidity) Well, have you checked you pants from yesterday?
Me: Yes. And the dresser. And the coffee table. And inside my pants from two days ago. And in the closet! And on the book shelf!!! And in the oven!!!! And in my shoes!!!!! And in an elephant’s pajamas!!!!!!!! And on the moon!!!! And in the entire state of Wyoming!!!!!
Shannon: (channeling a level of patience that would have made Job look neurotic) Keith, breathe. It’s not a big deal. We always find them.
Me: But why do I have to lose them! It’s ridiculous! I must spend half of my life losing my keys!!!! I don’t even need to go anywhere! I just have to get inside the car!!!! My work is in there. I need to get to my work so I can finish my work so I don’t have to worry about my work! That way I can stay calm!!!!!! Don’t you see!?!!?!
Shannon: It’s fine. We’ll get in there today. Don’t worry about it.
Me: You don’t understand! If I don’t finish my work, I’ll fall behind. If I fall behind, I won’t be able to get the things I need done for next week done! Then, I’ll fall further behind. It’ll create a nearly endless chain of events that cannot be stopped. Like a runaway train!!!! Eventually, I will collapse under the weight of all these things that I haven’t done! I’ll lose my ability to function. I’ll start walking around parking lots at 2 o’clock in the morning humming the theme from Bonanza. I’ll lose the ability to enjoy meals!!! I’ll become one of those George Romero looking zombie like creatures that only shaves one half of his face and quotes Finnegan’s Wake all the time!!! I won’t be able to hold down a steady job!!! I’ll be an outcast! A social parasite! (In a tone of self-mockery) “Hey look, there’s Keith Spillett. Nice fellow, then one day he couldn’t get into his car. Now he’s a penniless loser who spends most of his time collecting rocks that are shaped like former Presidents. Too bad, huh!”
Shannon: Whoa. Slow down. It doesn’t mean all that honey. We’ll get in your car.
Me: Sure it does! If I cannot complete a simple task like finding my keys, what does that say about me as a person? What sort of idiot can’t even find a set of keys! I can’t even….Maybe I should smash the window? Like in one of those movies. I’ll wrap a towel around my hand. That’s it!
Shannon: That’s really not a good idea. Just breathe for a minute.
Me: I don’t want to breathe! Not without my keys! I am sick of not being able to control things! I hate the feeling of constant confusion, constant disorganization, and constant waiting for something else to go missing! ARGGGGGGGH!!!!
Shannon: Well, have you tried the door?
Me: Tried the door! Tried the door? You mean just tried to open it! I have locked my door every time I have left my car since I was 15 years old. The chances of the car door being open are somewhere in the order of 12 billion to 1. I’d be better off taking all of our savings and betting it on the Cubs to win the World Series next year! Or buying a Dippin’ Dots franchise! Or buying Greek government bonds! There is not even an infinitesimal chance in the universe that the door is unlocked. SEE!!(I quickly snatch at the door handle. The car door opens with as much sarcasm as an inanimate object is capable of)
Shannon: (smiling without a trace of “I told you so” on her face) Well…good.
Me: Yeah. (relief floods my body) Yeah. Okay. Yeah.
Shannon: See, it’s never as bad as you think.
Me: You’re right. You’re totally right. Thank you so much for your patience. (I stop and hug Shannon filled with gratefulness) Now, have you seen my wallet?
Barely Awake Finnegan
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on October 11, 2011
You wandered aimlessly or aimed wondrously
Or maybe both
Or maybe neither
About thyme to waist or maybe just Rosemary’s two thighs
An English major who was not general enough to become an English Major
You wonder if you are nothing but sheep just as ewes wonder if they are nothing but sheep
As they graze off into the distance
But sheep sleep
And dream of themselves jumping over fences
Or maybe neither
(!!!!You probably think that runny eggs are out of shape because they never come out of their shells!!!!!!)
Just as a pastor eyes milk
(Or at least two percent do)
As worms learn to hate silk
(Which we hope isn’t true)
Can a ewe eschew this sort of snafu?
(Or at least creatures of their ilk)
Or maybe neither
My unorthodox friend went to see his uncle in Antioch
(But not his aunt in Uncleoch?!?!?)
Because he is pro-Constantinople
But he can’t wholly see, you see!
Or maybe neither
Kids today I tell you…..
(They grow up to be goats)
Ant live with them……
(Ants ruin a picnic)
Or maybe neither
(!!!!!Are you moving the puppet or is the puppet moving you?????)
A tail wagging a dog
(Told by a mongrel)
Somewhere in Missouri
(Signifying nothing)
Or maybe neither
Five Fantastic Facts About Donkeys
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on October 6, 2011
Recently, I have developed a bizarre fascination with donkeys. They are odd-looking creatures with funny ears that make terrifyingly amusing noises. What’s not to love? I have spent the last few months of my life reading extensively about donkeys and have discovered several incredible, mind-boggling facts that I’d like to share with you so maybe you can find the same feeling of joy and love that I feel when I see one walking down the street.
1. DONKEYS HAVE 14 STOMACHS!!!!
That’s right! Your average donkey is able to consume 40 pounds of carrots in less than an hour thanks to all of these wondrous organs. A donkey can also generate additional stomachs throughout their lifetime. A donkey in Uzbekistan is the current worlds record holder with a reported 59 stomachs. How about that!?!?!
2. DONKEYS CAN LIVE FOR UP TO 3,000 YEARS!!!!!
Not only are donkeys loveable, but they are durable as well. The donkey that belonged to Plato, affectionately known as Rufus, is still with us today. Donkeys are able to regenerate any cells that die within a span of minutes. Nessie, the world’s oldest donkey, just had her 3,357th birthday. Back in the 1960s, the U.S. Army experimented by dropping 500 donkeys out of an airplane at 30,000 feet into occupied Czechoslovakia. Only one was slightly injured. The rest were healthy and immediately able to produce milk for American soldiers who were bravely battling the Germans in World War II.
3. DONKEYS ARE DESCENDED FROM LIONS AND HORSES!!!
Sure, lions and horses seem like a strange match, but hey, love is a many splendored thing! If you mate these two beasts you will produce a donkey. As crazy as it sounds, lion ranchers in New Zealand have been mating these two types of animals for the past 20 years. As a result, the donkey population has tripled. And as you well know, more donkeys mean more happiness for everyone!
4. DONKEYS CAN GROW TO THE SIZE OF ELEPHANTS!!!!
It’s true! When properly fed a balanced diet of oatmeal cookies and orange sherbet, donkeys can grow to the size of full-grown elephants. This can mean serious trouble for those who keep donkeys as house pets. Sure, tiny baby donkeys can be cute, but a full-grown mammoth jack donkey can grow to the amazing height of 160 hands (53 feet tall). An angry mammoth jack donkey can go on a rampage and destroy an entire village causing massive damage and severe injuries. So BE CAREFUL!
5. SIXTY FIVE PERCENT OF DONKEYS ARE ACTUALLY ROBOTS!!!!
It’s sure hard to tell the difference between a robot donkey and a real one. Here’s a tip, if your donkey starts going wild during a lightning storm, it’s probably a robot. If your donkey gets a cut and begins leaking oil, it’s probably a robot as well. Robot donkeys were first built during The Great Donkey Shortage of 1927 and have been with us ever since. They are just as friendly and good-natured as donkeys, but often have additional fun options like the ability to blend smoothies in their mouths. If owning a regular donkey seems financially out of reach, you just might want to consider picking up one of these wonderful mechanical creatures at your local Wal-Mart or certified Robot Donkey outlet.
6. DONKEYS CAN TELL TIME!!!!
Ever notice how a donkey sleeps at night and runs around playfully during the daytime? Can you guess why? It is a known fact among donkeyologists that these wonderful beasts can roughly tell what time of day it is based on whether the sun is out or not. They sure are smart!
7. ONE IN EVERY TWENTY DONKEYS ARE BORN WITH THE ABILITY TO SING!!!!
They are known for that ridiculous braying noise they make, but did you know that 1 in every 20 donkeys, if properly trained, can become remarkable singers. These special donkeys are born with unique vocal chords that allow the donkeys voice to create beautiful melodies. The Turkmen Donkey Choir, a group of talented donkeys from Turkmenistan who travel around singing old Rogers and Hammerstein show tunes, have performed to packed houses around the world and even had an audience with the Pope! Recently, a first in donkey musical history took place when a jenny named Roberta starred in the 2007 Metropolitan Opera performance of Turandot. She received rave reviews and a bouquet of carrots from the audience. Oh what a night!
8. SHERBET IS MADE FROM DONKEY BONES!!!!
Next time you are settling down after a hard day of work to a heaping bowl of everybody’s favorite delicious treat, remember to thank a donkey. If it weren’t for the Kraft Corporations decision back in 1953 to mix vanilla ice cream, ginger and donkey bones, sherbet would never have been discovered. Sherbet, once only believed to be a wonderful dessert, has recently been used successfully in medical trails for the treatment of Exploding Head Syndrome. So, not only do donkeys make people happy, they might just save some lives.
Mambo #5 In Z-Flat Minor: Dissecting Carcass’ Oxidized Razor Masticator
Posted by Shawn "Von Deathmetal" Jobe in General Weirdness on October 5, 2011
Editors note: Tyranny of Tradition is honored to be visited by guest writer and world-renowned grindcore expert Dr. Shawn “Von Deathmetal” Jobe. Shawn received his doctorate from the prestigious Millard Fillmore School of Grindcore Studies at Yale University. Dr. Von Deathmetal has just emerged from seven years on a mountaintop in Tibet continuously listening to Brutal Truth’s Extreme Conditions Demand Extreme Responses in the hopes of gaining spiritual enlightenment. Dr. Von Deathmetal has also been on the forefront of the medical movement to use grindcore to help reduce migraines and plantar warts. He is a Pisces whose hobbies include juggling squirrels and playing canasta.
Reek Of Putrefaction,the 1988 release from Carcass, is easily one of the most misunderstood albums ever recorded. Before Carcass became actual musicians and wrote some of the greatest riffs in the history of metal, they created their first album. Bill Steer, getting a fresh start after his tenure in Napalm Death joined short-lived vocalist Sanjiv and Ken Owen. Jeff Walker eventually took over on bass & vocals.
Trying to one-up his former noisemongers (one can only assume), Steer & co. entered a quaint studio fit for wealthy canines of the feminine sort in December of 1987 with 83 guitars, 12 bass guitars, a drum kit, 2 tornadoes, and 7 or 8 car crashes, depending on who you ask. The end result? The Reek Of Putrefaction. On the surface, it is cacophony of the highest measure, with all the melody of a combat tank rolling through landmine infested terrain. However, once you’ve stripped it down and have peeled back all of the layers, you soon discover that it was England’s answer to Bruce Springsteen’s “Born To Run” album.
Oxidized Razor Masticator
Chomping and splicing, your gums sliced to shreds
Tattered bloody ribbons, incisored skin is shred
Scraping on sore teeth, cracking and chipping
Shredding and mincing raw nerve endings
Salivating – sanguis, phlegm, froth and foam
Masticating – your mandible stripped to the bone
Mangling your tongue, bloody torn and dripping
The swollen savage muscle frayed and blistering
Your vocal chords severed, your lips are mutilated
Masticating carved palate as your mouth is grated
Only raw gargles croak from your throat
A trickling death-rasp as you choke
A silly grin carved from ear to ear
Spurting mucus and tongue as your wind-pipe tears
Gaping and sore
The rusty razors bore
Skin hangs and seeps
Peptic ulcers bleed
Your mouth is a sea of cartilage, rabid saliva bleeds
Swallowing shredded tongue and pulverized, crunching teeth
Respirating a bolus of rusty razor blades
“Oxidized Razor Masticator”, unlike the album’s more eloquent tracks, lacks philosophical ambiguity. It was simply Carcass taking a few moments to set things straight. Rumors began to circulate that Carcass members were vegetarians. This was not due, however, to their love of vegetables, but rather their willingness to ingest anything that was not beef, pork, etc.
This hideous buffet included oxidized razors. Nowhere can you find the use of this method more upfront than the blood-gargling vocals in the second verse here. Clearly practitioners of what they preached, Carcass were said to have owned stock in the Gillette Corporation, and later on, the Mach series of blades were inspired by the fast pace of the band’s music.
The song starts off with a veritable ‘how-to’ take on grindcore vocalizing with the Step One of “Chomping and splicing, your gums sliced to shreds.” From that point on, they lay out the instructional manual for every goregrind band that would enter the scene for the next 20+ years. From General Surgery to County Medical Examiners. From (early) Exhumed to Lymphatic Phlegm. The entire subgenre owes their vocal assault to the clearly printed lyrics to this song. “Your mouth is a sea of cartilage, rabid saliva bleeds – Swallowing shredded tongue and pulverized, crunching teeth.” Indeed, lads. Indeed.
Morgan Freeman Slated To Play King Diamond In New Film
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on September 25, 2011
Freeman Outside of a Mercyful Fate Concert In 2001
In what some critics are calling the role of a lifetime, Oscar winning actor Morgan Freeman has been selected to play King Diamond in the forthcoming biopic “King For a Day, King For A Lifetime”. Paramount Pictures, looking to capitalize on his most recent American tour, expect to put the film out by October 2015.
The script was penned in less than two days by the reanimated corpse of Charles Dickens, who The King himself brought back from the dead in a Satanic ritual last week. Executives at Paramount were so impressed with the script that they have agreed to spend 100 million on the project and release it in 3-D.
Freeman was far from the only actor who was interested in the role. Actor and speed-addled lunatic James Woods campaigned hard for the role by dressing as King Diamond and robbing several banks in the Los Angeles metropolitan area. Actor Sir Lawrence Olivier was originally offered the part, but was unable get a visa to leave Purgatory for the four months of filming that would be required to complete the picture.
Creating a script for The King’s life was a challenge considering he is 879 years old and has lived through most of recorded history. Distilling that much time into a 2-hour film was a challenge, but Dickens was able to pull it off. The film will focus on his music career, his survival during The Spanish Inquisition, and his extraordinary battle with Satan for control of Hell back in 1964 after an argument over the fate of singer Trini Lopez.
Freeman, a major King Diamond fan who has each of the King’s solo records mounted on the walls of his Fresno, California home, has always dreamed of playing King Diamond in a film. He has seen The King 247 times in concert as a solo act and 423 times with Mercyful Fate. He even managed to catch The King with Black Rose once at a small bar in England in the 1970s.
In several interviews, Freeman has cited one of his proudest moments as the time he came out on stage at a show in Dallas back in 1998 and sang “Come To The Sabbath” with The King.
According to Freeman, his portrayal of the character of God in the 2003 film Bruce Almighty was based loosely on King Diamond. “For me, The King has been the greatest source of inspiration I have ever known,” said a misty eyed Freeman in an interview with CNN last week, “With The King, all things are possible.”
I Am A King Diamond’s Disease Survivor
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness, King Diamond For President in 2012 on September 13, 2011
A Picture of Me Getting Ready To Go To My Daughter's Piano Recital
Have you ever found yourself singing the chorus from a King Diamond song at an inappropriate time like in church or at a funeral? Do you ever wake up with your face covered with strange painted designs without knowing how they got there? Do you ever find yourself having bizarre urges, like making furniture out of the leg bone of your neighbor? If you answered yes to any of these questions, you may be one of the nearly 2 million Americans who suffer from King Diamond’s disease. You are not alone.
King Diamond’s Disease, known to doctors as Bendixitis, claims nearly a thousand new victims a week. You may see many of these poor souls on the streets, covered in backwards crosses, wandering aimlessly while singing the falsetto chorus to Abigail. They often struggle to maintain normal lives. They are your doctors, your teachers, your lawyers and your children’s crossing guards. I know their pain, because, you see, I am one of them.
My story isn’t different from most KDD survivors. It started innocently enough. I’d be in the car on my way to pick up the children from their Tae-Bo class and catch myself howling “Sleeeeeeeplesssss Niiiiiiiightssss” for no reason in particular. I’d find myself thinking about the King more and more each day. When I was eating dinner, I wondered what The King might be eating. When picking out clothing at a shopping mall, my mind would drift to what The King might think about the sweater I was trying on.
Then, one day, I woke up for a critical job interview for the position of Chief Tagalog Translator at The United Nations. As I was putting the finishing touches on my outfit, I looked in the mirror and staring back at me was a 6 foot 2 stranger in a suit and tie with his face painted just like King Diamond on the Conspiracy album. I know that I hadn’t painted it myself! The paint would not wash off no matter what I tried. Imagine my pain and sadness, sitting in the most important job interview in my entire life, knowing that no employer in their right mind would hire a guy who showed up for a job interview dressed like a demented ghoul. They laughed at me. “Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” they sneered. They simply didn’t understand.
The face paint has never come off. It’s been three years now. I’m still unemployed, although I had a brief part time job as a greeter at Wal-Mart until I was fired for supposedly causing the store to be attacked by evil spirits. My children try their best to understand, but when the other kids make fun of them because their daddy is dressed up for Halloween everyday it hurts their feelings. The community has shunned me. I stopped going to church because they kept dousing me with holy water. Everywhere I go I am an outcast.
There is no known cure for King Diamond’s Disease. A diet low in orange sherbet can lessen many of the symptoms, but Bendixitis is a lifetime ailment that will never leave you once you have it. I have found strength in my support group Survivors of An Unmercyful Fate. We meet once a week and discuss how to live life one day at a time. I have met a lot of great people in the Atlanta area who suffer like me including my sponsor Joann, a kindergarten teacher who has lived with King Diamond’s disease since she saw the King on The Spider’s Lullabye Tour back in 1995. Her strength in going through her day trying to teach the alphabet to screaming, crying, terrified children is an inspiration to us all.
With research and time, a cure might be found. Until that day comes, I will wear my face paint proudly knowing that my “disorder” allows me to have something in common with the greatest vocalist ever to walk the earth. But still, I long for a day when I can walk down the street without old women cringing and middle aged men asking me to sing them a song about my grandmother.
Gods and Ends
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness, Pointyheaded Highbrow Stuff on September 4, 2011
Greek Mythology has always been a source of great fascination to me. The Ancient Greeks had an uncanny way of explaining the random, capricious nature of life through their deities. The gods were wild and erratic. They could hand you a check for a million dollars one minute and throw you in a pit with a thousand rattlesnakes the next. Imagine the entire Old Testament was The Book of Job and you have a decent sense of how things worked for The Greeks.
The gods seemed to be a great way to explain anything and everything. At times, it can seem as if there were more gods then Greeks. Often, scholars spend their time focusing on the better-known gods like Zeus, Poseidon or Athena. However, there are many fascinating stories of gods that were widely worshiped in their day, but have disappeared into the great dustbin of history. Here are some great examples:
Arteriosclorities-The God of Deep Fried Foods
Beyond contributing democracy and many other key philosophical insights to our world, The Greeks are also the first society to deep-fry their foods. From yak to Snickers bars (a delicacy first created by Aristotle), the Greeks would throw nearly anything into a bubbling cauldron of oil. It is no wonder that the Greeks are believed to be the progenitors of Western medicine. Most Greeks weighed upwards of 300 pounds and were barely able to run. This fact tends to throw their achievements during the Olympic games into a whole different light.
Supposedly, Arteriosclorities was one of Zeus’ many sons from an affair with Eris, the goddess of strife and discord. In order to hide this affair from his wife Hera after the child was born, Zeus placed Arteriosclorities into the stomach of Dionysus while he was sleeping off a wild night of overeating and general debauchery. Dionysus awoke with a terrible feeling of discomfort and collapsed. Zeus, not meaning to have harmed Dionysus, sent Indigestius, the Greek god of stomach acid and ulcers, into his stomach to destroy Arteriosclorities. The two had a great battle, which was won by Indigestius. Dionysus finally awoke with terrible stomach pains that could only be allayed by eating massive amounts of antacids.
McKuenius-The God of Bad Poetry and Greeting Cards
The Greeks are known for creating some of the most poignant and moving poetry in human history. But, for every Homer, there were 1,000 less talented hacks trying to write their own Iliad. Many of these no talent writers ended up working for the Hallmark Corporation, which was founded in 654 B.C., with the mission of sending sappy, dull poetry to people on important days of their lives. Their patron saint is the god McKuenius.
McKuenius was known for writing terribly boring, pointless poetry and asking Hermes to deliver it. Hermes, the busy messenger god, was forced to deliver idiotic compositions like “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue, You are a Goddess and Athena is too” to Aphrodite or “Poseidon likes water, Demeter is his sister, She gave birth to his daughter,” to the god of the sea. After growing tired of having to read this drivel, Hermes begged Zeus to punish McKuenius in order to make him stop writing. First, Zeus sentenced him to one hundred years of writing dirty limericks on bathroom stalls. However, Zeus quickly discovered that he was enjoying his job. Zeus realized he was a lost cause and sent him to pits of Tartarus and made him write a detailed description of Sisyphus rolling a rock up the hill for eternity. He is still there today, happily describing suffering and misery in a pithy, gleeful, and highly moronic way.
Aggasius-The God Of Male Pattern Baldness
The gods seemed to all have some sort of fatal flaw. Be it rage, greed, avarice or just plain old insanity, they all seemed to have something locked into their character that made them both all-powerful and amazingly vulnerable. One of the earliest examples of this is Aggasius, the god of male pattern baldness. Aggusius was one of the original Titan gods who were overthrown by Zeus and The Olympian gods at 4:22 PM on February 12th 3212 B.C. Aggasius was capable of creating tornadoes, causing earthquakes and smiting entire nations with a wave of his staff. However, he was unable to grow hair on the top of his head. The tragic irony of Agassius was that he could grow massive amounts on his back, his ears and even on his shoulders like Sonny Corleone in the first Godfather film. He tried several potions created by Greek pharmaceutical manufacturers, a terribly made hairpiece created from the beard of Hyperion, and even tried to rubbing pomegranate seeds on his head three times a day, nothing seemed to work. In spite of his great power, the other gods laughed at “The Bald One” whenever his back was turned. Eventually, he grew tired of the mockery, quit being a god and moved to a suburb of Stillwater, Oklahoma, where he still lives today working as a successful middle manager at a meat packing company.
Pure Unadulterated Filth
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on August 20, 2011
“A newspaper is the lowest thing that there is” -Richard J Daley
I’ve read a good number of articles over the past few years decrying the end of the newspaper. For all intents and purposes, the medium is a dying breed. People are getting their news from the Internet, television and other sources much more frequently. The importance of the medium has been unquestionable. Some of the most significant writers of the last hundred years owe their livelihoods to it. However, the day the last copy of The New York Times or The Wall Street Journal (or whatever behemoth newspaper outlet manages to be the last one standing) disappear into the gutter of history I will dance a jig in the streets. The fact of the matter is that newspaper is the single most disgusting thing that has ever been created.
Forget the content for a minute. This is a case where McLuhan’s “Medium is the Message” idea really makes sense. In this case, the medium is enough to turn one’s stomach. The most vile odor ever created is the smell of newspaper. When I am in a restaurant and the person at the table next to me is reading a newspaper, I try to move to another seat. I’d rather the person sit there with a cup of coffee while vivisecting the stomach of a moose. The worst are the cheap local papers or supermarket tabloids. They stink like The Boston Harbor on the Fourth of July. The odor is simply unbearable.
If it just smelled badly it might well be tolerable, but the texture of it is enough to send me into sepsis. Accidently brushing into one or, worse, touching it with my hands is unquestionably the worst sensation possible. If I were ever captured and interrogated by the police all they would need to do is threaten to place a copy of the Op-Ed Page of the Washington Post over my face for 10 minutes and I’d cop to anything from the assassination of William McKinley to the kidnapping of the Lindbergh Baby.
I live in constant, unending terror over the thought of wet newspaper. Oh dear God! Even writing about it makes me want to vomit. The way it wilts and bleeds into the other pages. The horror! I am filled with anger anytime I see someone lick his or her fingers and turn the page. What type of disgusting animal would do such a thing? Of all the loathsome, repugnant habits! I could sit for hours in a smoke filled room with people eating raw steak and washing it down with phlegm flavored soda and not beat an eyelash, but if one of those folks licked their fingers and touched a newspaper I’d tear my eyes out faster than old King Oedipus.
My working definition of hell is a place where I am covered in a giant pile of wet newspaper for all of eternity. If there were actually a passage in the Bible that referred to this, I’d sit front row for every Billy Graham sermon from now until my dying day wearing sackcloth and screaming “AMEN!” even when he didn’t ask me to.
The ultimate obscenity is food on newspaper. To me, there is no greater assault on dignity and virtue then a newspaper stained with the residue of a pork chop. Ever since the day I first heard that the British will occasionally eat fish and chips off of newspaper, I have refused to see them as a civilized people. They could come up with fifty Magna Cartas and it would not overcome the sheer tastelessness of one guy at a Yorkshire tavern going ham on a pile of fried cod over a week old copy of The London Times. Disgusting! What goes through their minds? And the idea of wrapping fish in newspaper?!?!? What sort of sadist would think of such a thing? Take the most awful scent known to mankind and rap the corpse of a rotting animal in it. Really? Think of the aroma! What is wrong with people?
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night with this awful gagging sensation caused by a recurring nightmare where I have to clean up a tipped over garbage can with the remains of expired potato salad meshed with newspaper. I prefer the dreams where I am attacked by hordes of raging vampires. Sure I die violently, but by comparison it’s a walk in the park.
I’m not the type of fellow with a horribly weak stomach. I’ve had to man up and change a lot of terrible, noxious diapers over the past four years. I handle it like a pro. However, there is a limit for how much wretchedness a person can take. At least I live in Atlanta, a city that is not newspaper crazy. I just spent two months in Minnesota and those people love it. They would take off their clothes and roll around in copy of the Pioneer Press if they could. All anyone ever talks about is what is in the paper. They have no idea how nauseating their habit is.
The newspaper is an affront to hygiene and good taste. The thing is a pure abomination. I don’t ask much of the future, just a world where my children and my children’s children don’t have to live with the constant fear of this putrid entity. That is all I ask.
Members of Morbid Angel Eat Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young in Bizarre Promotional Stunt
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on August 6, 2011
CSNY Only Moments Before Being Ingested By Morbid Angel
In an attempt to revive sluggish sales of their new record, Ilud Divinum Insanus, Florida death metal band Morbid Angel ate all four members of 60’s pop supergroup Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young in a paganistic blood ceremony last night in Des Moines, Iowa. While the move was thought by many to be too extreme, Morbid Angel felt that they owed this to their fans. According to Vincent, “Several of our legion of metal warriors were disappointed by the latest release. We wanted to reach out and let them know, in no uncertain terms, that we are still committed to the values that once made us great. In eating these aging rock legends, we sent a message that Morbid Angel is back.”
Apparently, the band had been hunting Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young for over a month. After several near misses, they finally captured them backstage at the Iowa Peace and Freedom Festival after a beautiful encore of “Teach Your Children”. Initially, the band had only considered eating David Crosby, but the opportunity to devour the entire group proved to be tempting to resist. Morbid Angel was particularly lucky to have consumed the band in the State of Iowa, one of three remaining American states that have not outlawed cannibalism. “Every once an a while the good lord hands you a golden opportunity,” said guitarist Trey Azagthoth, “we knew it was the right thing to do.”
The eating of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young follows a recent trend of gormandizing grizzled rock veterans. Earlier in the month, Deicide singer and all around nice guy Glenn Benton ate the leg of Scottish singer songwriter Donovan during a spirited version of “Hurdy-Gurdy Man”. Country Joe McDonald, of Country Joe and the Fish fame, survived an attack of bloodthirsty members of the band Malevolent Creation by hiding all night in an abandoned farmhouse waiting for police. Clearly, Morbid Angel’s devouring of an entire band was meant to up the ante and bring death metal to the next level.
Since last night’s attack, Morbid Angel has received nearly 10,000 rambling letters of support. One letter was nearly 800 pages long with nothing but the phrase “Mormo loves me, Mormo loves us” scrawled again and again in red finger paint. Vincent claims he has been asked by several fans for his recipe. “Young was quite dry. It was important to add a good deal of cumin and sherry to overcome the taste of years of whiskey and bad living. The rest of the group required very little seasoning. Graham Nash was particularly delicious!”
As of now, Morbid Angel has no plans to eat any other celebrities, although with the declining economy, many Americans are expected to resort to cannibalism as grocery store shelves become emptier by the day. Morbid Angel’s record label, Seasons of Mist has already begun to capitalize on yesterday’s events by selling tee-shirts with “Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young” crossed out and replaced by “Breakfast, Lunch, Snack, and Dinner”. Rumors have circulated that a Morbid Angel human cookbook called “Morbid Angel Cooks With The Stars” may be available in time for Christmas.
The Tyranny of Tradition 