Fuck C.D.s! It's The Mummies

Ahh, the Mummies. The band that got me into garage rock. The band that got me interested in playing in a surf rock band. The band that finally entrenched my belief that live music is best played drunk as fuck, fuzzy as shit, and not very skillfully, but with the energy of a blazing typhurricane.

I remember buying my first Mummies record. It was 2004 or 2005, I was already in a surf band, and happened to be on a surf trip to Tofino, BC. There's a little record store on the outskirts of town there, and after a few minutes of filing through Ben Harper, the Dead, String Cheese Incident, and the like, I came across their final release, Runnin' on Empty, Volume II. I never spend more than $30 on ANYTHING, let alone vinyl, but I knew right then and there that I had to have it. I took that record home and got drunk alone listening to it over and over and over again. They fucking cover Devo, ferchrissake. TWICE. If you consider yourself a garage rock fan and haven't heard this record, I'll fucking lend it to you. 

Ricardo Fumar, the foremost authority on the band, majestically postulated on the record's liner notes that "the Mummies were proof that you CAN eat shit - and live!"

Here is the song that started it all for me:

The Mummies. The band that, mark my words, will make me start another garage rock band.

NWSFLSH: Unquestionably Human Highlights of the Leaked 9/11 Texts

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

What it do.

Yeah, I persistently neglect updating this blog. Whatever, I've been busy:

...Apart from competitive eating , I've been doing quite a bit. I've never blogged about my personal life, but it's been an exciting year. I escaped a poisonous and mutually damaging relationship, went on an epic and immeasurably worthwhile journey all over Southeastern Europe to cap off my time living in the Czech Republic, moved  back to Canada, and finally found a job I love working in Vancouver's Downtown Eastside.

I've recently promised myself I'll never again work a job that I can't feel great about. How strictly I'll adhere to that is anyone's guess and only time will tell, but to sum up, I'm poor as fucking shit right now yet I feel happier and more ambitious than I ever have in my life. It's really refreshing; for the past four or five months, I feel like I've been radiating joie de vivre in the same way that Lil Wayne emanates pure ineptitude at the guitar or that Babar exudes the spirit of neocolonialism. 

Unrelated to (though definitely not hurting) my newfound exuberance for humanity is my decision to have a 'So-vem-ber': one month without putting anything "bad" or "fun" into my body. The goal is to work on self-control, something I could always work on, and to generally be more aware about my consumption. In other words, no more of this:

Fuck, that was a rough night. I also started a tumblr page in a sort of lazy, stream-of-consciousness effort to (micro)blog more. As for this page, I'm hoping to continue writing about ridiculous things I see all over the place as well as reviews of anything and everything I find interesting. I'm planning on reviewing my kitten Chuck once I get to know him better, but we've only been hanging out for a week or so. So that's what's up with me. 

My First Youtube Video Remix

Idiot + FOX News =

Me+ Poverty + Unable to go out on Saturday night + Bored as hell =

Masterful Czech Graffiti #6: Slovenian Dicks Edition

The title says it all. Hanging out in Ljubljana, Slovenia in June was an outstanding and unique experience. My only knowledge prior to going to Ljubljana was that it was just a funny name in the window of the Eastern European travel agency next to Bon's all-day breakfast spot in Vancouver. But it's actually a fucking amazing city. The city rents out cruiser bikes for 5 Euros a day. It's flat and very green. Beers run about 2 Euros. There's an exciting and vibrant free living commune with bars and clubs in a three-block compound which was formerly a Yugoslav military base. The women are beautiful and they all speak English. But the icing on the cake for me, though, was the inexplicable dick graffiti literally plastered all over this town. Without further ado, some highlights of the many dicks of Ljubljana:

Romance!

Happiness!
True love!
Self-portrait!

...and finally the piece de resistance, a daring three-dick Baile Funk masterpiece (with my rental bike in the foreground)!

I've been moving around a lot recently. More to come. 

Masterful Czech Graffiti: #5

I could lie and say I haven't had time to update this blog, but I've basically been spending my time in the past few months going on aimless yet epic walks, sitting on my ass trying to watch Two and a Half Men and Touched By an Angel in Czech, and playing a SHITLOAD of Earthbound for SNES. I have no regrets.

I guess the good news is that during these epic wandering treks I've seen a lot of stupid shit recently and I've been pretty good about bringing my camera around with me. So without further ado:

Plunder!

Reverberation!
Redundancy!

ESL!
Gangland!

Brutal honesty!

Personal Favourite!
Uttering threats!
Rawk!
Size!

Malaise!

Emo!
Indiscriminate rage!
Dripping cock!
Unpleasant wishes!

More soon!

FUUUUCK

I apologize for turning this 'blog of questionable repute' into a 'blog of much neglect'. How's about a ma'fuckin update, clown?

Well... How's THIS for lazy blogging? BAM!

What about THIS?

How about some of THESE?

This blog has little focus and even less direction. It gets better, I promise.

I also have about six thousand new graffiti photos, which I will upload as soon as my primitive Czech village gets electricity.

NWSFLSH: Local Man's Hopes Dashed by Shit African Economy

by Jeffy Jefferson, Staff Reporter

HARARE, Zimbabwe -- The dream is over. It's all gone Pete Tong. Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is that The Central Bank of Zimbabwe has essentially abandoned its currency with the announcement that businesses can now legally conduct business in foreign currencies. This means a couple of things: among them, 1) that the starving trillionaires of Zimbabwe will continue to use US dollars for basic transactions, as they have been for months; 2) that Zimbabwean teachers, many of whom have resorted to selling their bodies on the street to earn money, might have some reason to go back to work in the coming months with the incentive of being paid in non-imaginary currency; and 3) that it no longer makes logical sense to continue printing new, obscenely high denominations of money nobody is using anyways.

So on to the really bad news, the related but much more distressing story for me: today we have news that a week or two after introducing its highest denomination bill ($100 trillion) they've knocked TWELVE more zeros off the Zim Dollar. If you've read this blog before, you know how devastating this is for me and my dream of rolling and writhing around in a bathtub teeming with cash money dollar bills, be they worthless or not. There's nothing I can do, and as a result it's probably time I start looking to other countries with floundering economies. Mother shit.


A short calculation: Under the new system, one trillion ZWD now equals one ZWD. In the last five months, this country has knocked TWENTY TWO zeros off its currency. At $100 trillion, the newest bill was worth about $35USD. If the system were left unchecked... Okay that's a poor choice of words, because the system HAS been left entirely unchecked. But if the system had not made its ludicrous attempts to control inflation by cutting 22 zeros out of the equation, $0.33 USD would today be worth ten SEXTILLION ZWD, or $10,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (there are something like 70 sextillion stars in our motherfucking GALAXY according to the most recent estimates). All that works out to about three and a half metric shit-tons of zeros. This kind of hyperinflation makes me finally understand why we had to learn scientific notation in high school, as when you get to numbers like these it's not even worth your time to write that many zeros. You know your country is in trouble when.

Anyways, in moderately positive news for the nation, it also looks like president Bobby "Dick" Mugabe may have finally come to a power-sharing deal with Morgan Tsvangirai, the HUGE-balled opposition leader who has in the past been kidnapped, threatened, and beaten to a pulp by Mugabe's troops. So maybe something good will come of that, but I wouldn't bet the farm just yet, as Mugabe has a promise-keeping history on par with Hitler himself ("Guys I told you already, I'm not gonna invade Czechoslovakia. Seriously. You have my word."). Because it's topical, and because Mugabe's a dick, I want to share this awesome drawing my brother Justin did of Mugabe recently:

'mr. mugabe, how do you get your powers?' (2009)

Awesome.

When Advertising Goes Oh So Right

You may have seen this, and I usually refrain from posting videos, because there are so many of them and they are not really the focus of this blog, but this is the best thing I have seen in a long time. It is taken from a recent broadcast of Battlestar Galactica on the Space network, where apparently Jesus Christ Himself is working overtime as the Hilarious Advertising Placement Manager. Make sure you watch it to the end. Alls I will say is, ka-blammo.



Alleluia!

Masterful Czech Graffiti: #4

To make up for the serious lack of graffiti photos over the past two months, I will now unleash a warm torrent of photo action all over your sultry, volunteering eyes. Here we goes, starting with the most astounding piece I've seen yet:

Celeb Movie Reviewzz: Cannibal Holocaust

Well that was quick. Peter Koss, who seems to be the only person to respond to these shitty non-'contests', was the first to figure out that our guest writer a few days ago was none other than Adam "Pacman" Jones, although I do prefer answers to be in the form of a question and repeated in triplicate wherever possible. You're 2-0, Pete. Hook up the mailing address.

Now it's time for another edition of Crunk in Public's Celeb Movie Reviewzz. This afternoon we're pleased to have respected 'subversive' actor/director/producer George Clooney with us. Mr. Clooney was Michael Clayton in the good film Michael Clayton. Today we've watched Rugerro Deodato's 1980 film, Cannibal Holocaust, which may deserve a bit of an introduction before we get into talking about it. 

Firstly, this is not to be confused with the 1992 hit single Cannibal Holocaust by Brutal Juice, the one that came with that B-side Punk Fuck. Not that one. The one I'm talking about is the extremely controversial and totally fucked up film that was banned in a fair number of countries due to its disturbing content. In order to qualify for free distribution around Europe, the film stars two Italian actors. The shooting is said to have been an absolute nightmare, and the release didn't go any better. After the premiere, director Deodato (who, by the way, is OUT OF HIS MIND) faced life in prison because Italian courts believed the graphic deaths in the film were real. To make things worse, the actors had signed contracts forbidding them to come forward to the media for at least one year in order to make it seem like the story was true. This would have been an awesome publicity stunt, until the heat really came down on him and in order to save his own ass he ultimately had to go on a talk show with the cast to prove they were alive.

I can't say anything more about the movie other than it lives up to its title, and that out of principle I will not link to its Wikipedia site. I suppose that is a somewhat suitable introduction. So, Mr. Clooney, would you care to begin with your thoughts on the film?

Mr. Clooney:

Ryan: I must admit I am also rather troubled right now as a direct result of the things we have just witnessed.

CONTEST: Who Am I?

First person to guess who I am in the comments section will get that crisp Hitler postcard personally mailed to them, by whoever I end up being. By the way, you can now comment on all my posts without signing in to anything.

CLUES:

I like American football. In fact I am an NFL star.

I love drugs. I was arrested in 2006 with a bunch of weed and have since claimed, on record, that I know how to beat the NFL's drug testing system.

I love women. Well actually this one is more of a love-hate kinda thing. You could say I have a penchant for spitting in the faces of women at nightclubs. Although there have been several incidents of this, the most recent was in 2006. Her story: motherfucker spat in my face for no reason. My story: bitch stole my wallet.

I love violence. A laundry list of misdemeanour assault and weapons charges litters my criminal record. Perhaps my fondest violent memory was the time a few months ago when I drunkenly assaulted some bodyguards who were personally assigned by my NFL team to keep me out of trouble. As a result I was suspended indefinitely from the NFL for the second time in my career. How many guys can truthfully speak that sentence?

I was also arrested a year ago for assaulting a female strip club employee in Atlanta. Her story: motherfucker reached over the counter and suckerpunched me in the left eye. My story: to quote Slim Thug, "I ain't heard a dat."

I suffer from autism, or if I'm not autistic, I simply have no concept of finances or monetary value. Outside of my football career, I am best known for walking into a Las Vegas strip club and showering 40 strippers with literally over $81,000. Club owner's story: motherfucker flipped out once my girls started to actually pick up the money he was throwing around. He repeatedly bashed a stripper's head against a metal bar and when confronted, threatened to kill our security staff. Upon leaving, two of his friends returned into the club and shot up the place, seriosuly injuring two people and leaving another paralyzed for life. My story: I'm a paying customer.

So? Who am I?