For the tone deaf and the illiterate, there’s some good news and some bads news. The good news is there will be a new Oasis album. The bad news is that it might not have any lyrics.

Songwriter Noel Gallagher explained his writer’s block to reporters:

‘I’ve literally got nothing left to write about. I’ve written about being a youth, and I’ve written about being a rock star, and I’ve written about living life in the big city.’

Wow. What a crushing blow. An Oasis album without lyrics. That’s like having diarrhea without vomiting. Like being anally raped without getting fisted first. Like someone running over your dog without setting your cat on fire. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but let’s be reasonable people. Noel’s written about being young, being a rock star, and living in the city. I mean, what else is there?

Can you name one song in rock history —JUST ONE— that ISN’T about those things? Oh, you can? Lots? Well, sure YOU can, but what if you were a stoned, mildly retarded, douchebag from Manchester? What about then? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Still, always the humanitarian, I thought I’d give Noel some ideas for new songs:

• Sing something about an old not famous guy who lives in the country.

• Write a song about being so unsightly and annoying that you have to get your no talent, only mildly better looking brother to sing lead.

• Steal lyrics off of George Harrison’s tombstone now that he no longer has new lyrics to poach from.

• Write Blur an apology letter for all the hateful stupid shit you spouted and set it to music using the three chords you know.

• Examine the Zen inquiry: if a band no one cares about anymore releases an album no one buys does it make sound?

Awesome Video Of The Day

Jan Terri’s Get Down Goblin

On this most ghastly of holidays, I’m ghoulishly pleased to bring you the darkest, most macabre piece of music ever written. Darker than the Danse Macabre, darker than anything by Bauhaus, and possibly even darker than The Monster Mash. Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. I give you Jan Terri’s Get Down Goblin.

You probably haven’t heard of Jan Terri. A pill-popping limo driver by trade, Jan pursued a music career on the side, recording music and singing backup vocals in a Chicago bar band. She didn’t make much headway for a while, but then she got her big break: opening for Marilyn Manson in the late 1990s.

That’s about it.

Maybe JT Records never gave her the push she needed to really break through into the mainstream. Maybe the mainstream wasn’t ready for her. Encouraging goblins to “get down”? That does really jibe well with Judeo-Christian values.

I’m not going to suggest a right-wing conspiracy, but I can’t think of another reason why this woman’s career never took off. This video has it all: Dracula, The Wolfman, candelabras, back-up dancers, a pipe organ, and perhaps most importantly, a middle-aged woman who isn’t afraid to “get down” on Halloween. That has to be worth something, doesn’t it?

DOESN’T IT?

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For future reference, if someone at a party ever offers you meth, the ONLY proper response is to scream “NO,” hit them in the face with a lamp, start running, and never ever stop.

Why? Because meth is the scariest fucking thing that’s ever been unleashed on mankind. And quite honestly, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT IS. All I know about it is that the state of Montana put together one of the most effective ad campaigns I’ve ever seen to convince me to fear it.

In honor of Halloween, and in order of the level of horror they impart, I proudly present the eight most Requiem for a Dream-like and a subtextual analysis of each.

8. “Friends”

Subtext: Taking meth destroys all sense of responsibility, and will dissolve all meaningful friendships you currently enjoy.
Less Obvious, Positive Subtext: Taking meth makes you an extremely cautious, alert driver.
Simple Addition that Would Make the Video Hilarious: If at the end the shot widened to reveal that the girl’s friends left her at a Shakey’s Pizza.

7. “Boyfriend”

Subtext: If you take meth, you will sleep with faceless middle-aged men at the behest of your enterprising boyfriend.
Less Obvious, Positive Subtext: If you take meth, you’ll get laid.
Simple Addition that Would Make the Video Hilarious: If instead of consoling his girlfriend with a stroke on the arm, the young man offered her the rest of a Diet Root Beer he’d been drinking.

More horror after the jump.
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I think I remember being told by someone recently that we live in “The Age of Irony”—possibly it was the ambulance driver who ran me over, or the doctor at Planned Parenthood who knocked up my girlfriend—and if the news media is any indication, it’s true:

‘Saw’ Star’s Son Has Ironic Halloween Costume
‘Saw IV’ villain Tobin Bell’s creepy movie puppet sidekick Billy is such a hit in his household, the actor’s young son will hit the streets at Halloween dressed like him.

Now, the son of the star of Saw dressing up as a character from Saw is about as ironic as the son of a fireman dressing up as a fireman, or the son of Dick Cheney dressing up as an asshole, or the son of Tom Cruise dressing up as a batshit-crazy gay dude. Which is to say, not ironic at all.

Now, with a little knowledge of what the word “ironic” means, it’s not that difficult to come up with plenty of costumes that fit the definition more accurately. For example:

• Marion Jones’ son dressing up as a urine sample
• Sen. Larry Craig’s son dressing up as a men’s room
• A nappy-headed ho dressing up as Don Imus
• Woody Allen’s daughter dressing up as his wife, and vice-versa
• Britney Spears’ kids dressing up as underwear
• That Halo 3 guy’s son dressing up as Mario
• Nouri al-Maliki’s son dressing up as Muqtada al-Sadr (Mom will never let him hear the end of that one!)
• Michael Vick’s son dressing up as a pit bull and then biting Michael Vick’s balls off
• George W. Bush dressing up as a pilot and announcing “Mission Accomplished,” despite the mission clearly not being accomplished (oh, you master of irony, you!), and
• A guy who writes for Cracked dressing up as Sylvester P. Smythe, and then getting his ass kicked by a guy dressed as Alfred E. Neuman

Awesome Video Of The Day

Wacky Trampoline Jumpin’ Guitar Playin’ Douchebag

You and I both know that the internet is basically one long, drawn-out segment of Stupid Human Tricks, but here’s the thing that blows my mind about videos like this: They had to have actually occurred in real life at some point. And for that to have happened, some dude had to spend untold hours practicing jumping on a trampoline while playing guitar solos*. Then he had to take it to the band and tell them what he wanted to do, and then the band had to be like, “Yeah, dude! That’s a GREAT idea!”

That’s unlikely enough as it is, but here’s the clincher: For this video to exist on YouTube, somebody OTHER THAN THE BAND had to show up at the concert to record it! I’m willing to suspend my disbelief for all kinds of stupid crap on the internet (I’ve been ripped off by three completely different Nigerian email scams in the last year alone), but I have to draw the line somewhere. This video has to be a hoax.

Oh, wait… the band is from French Canada and they’re called OMEGADOM. I take it all back - this is definitely real. If they’d just named the video “How To Get Laid In Montreal” I never would have questioned it in the first place.

*Oddly enough, there are over 100 videos on YouTube of people playing guitars on trampolines. Is this the next big trend, and if so, does this post make me a “tastemaker”?

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I guess some interesting stuff happened in that episode. It was good to see Mr. Bennet reclaim a bit of his bad-ass-ness finally, and Suresh’s feet-stomping, stool throwing tantrum was both sad and hilarious. But all the subplots feel really adrift from each other right now. Until they subplots start to combine, they’re basically nothing more than ten minutes vignettes which air once every two weeks. The promise of what’s to come when these characters start to cross paths is tantalizing, but until that happens, it all feels like a bit of a dry hump.

On that note, I can’t help but notice how much more enjoyable this show was when I was able to watch several episodes all at once. Last season I didn’t get in to the show until after Christmas, and got to catch up on the first 11 episodes in a couple sittings. It was great - cliffhangers were less obtrusive, and if nothing happened in an episode I could always fire up the next one immediately after. Maybe next season I’ll forego the regular blog updates, and instead write a 12000 word treatise on Season 3 after it comes out on DVD the following summer. People would want to read that, right?

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Oliver Curry, an evolutionary theorist from the London School of Economics, predicts that by the year 3000 the human race will split into two separate species: a sexy, wicked-smart ruling class and a bunch of dumb-ass, goblin-like worker bees.

Don’t believe me? Check it out. It’s all explained in the article.

Oh wait, it’s not? Hmm. Well, that could be the reporter’s fault. Or maybe the problem is that this biological theory was developed by someone who works AT THE LONDON SCHOOL OF ECONOMICS! Call me old fashioned, but I like to get my evolutionary theories from biologists or, y’know, some kind of scientist.

Nevertheless, based on my extensive research —which consists of reading the article twice— Curry’s saying that, for some unexplained reason, people 993 years from now will be much hotter. Y’know, like Patrick Dempsey after the plastic surgery he allegedly didn’t have.

And then after that hotness kicks in, “sexual selection” will do the rest. Gotcha. Beautiful people will only be having sex with beautiful people, thereby making more beautiful people. Meanwhile, dorks and fatties will be generating loser spawn capable only of scoring with other trolls and/or Oliver Curry. Yeah, that makes sense. You can’t argue with it. It’s science.

Except it’s wrong. You’d think an economist would realize how money works. Because I’m pretty sure there’s at least one guy without movie star good looks who can bed just about anyone he wants. Hell, I’d even blow him if he could get my Windows Vista working right.

Awesome Video Of The Day

Rambo IV Trailer

What happened to Sylvester Stallone? In 2003 his career was basically over. A few years go by, and then all of a sudden he pulls a Rocky followup out of his ass. Now it’s a new Rambo movie? What gives? Maybe he fell down in the bathtub and thought to himself, “I could’ve broken my neck… and left the fans guessing what might have happened to Rocky Balboa and John Rambo. Better get to work.”

I don’t know what’s fueling his creative fire, but I hope he’s got a lot of it; there are a lot of Stallone movies that still need the loose ends tied up. What about Cliffhanger and Demolition Man? Where’s the Over The Top sequel? I need closure!

Here’s a basic plot: Lincoln Hawk’s son is all grown up now, a world-class arm wrestler with a chip on his shoulder. He thinks his dad (Stallone) died in the World Trade Center on 9/11, and he’s been out for revenge ever since, arm wrestling his way through Afghanistan. What he DOESN’T know is that his father is alive and well, working deep undercover within an Al-Qaeda Splinter Cell. Doesn’t know, that is, until they end up competing AGAINST EACH OTHER in the Middle Eastern Arm Wrestling Championship. Also, there’s a beautiful woman with a briefcase full of cash and some sort of interesting proposition.

You can have that one for free, Sly. Now get to work.

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Dear rest of the world: lest you think America’s public officials have a monopoly on meaningless war rhetoric, please allow me to direct your attention to Turkey, a country named after a race of birds invented by ancient American Emperor Benamin Jefferson, whom you may know as the man on the Quaker Oats barrel and inventor of the bifocal, pot-belly stove, and almanac.

Anyway, Turkey’s top military leader, General Yasar Buyukanit, claimed that he would hunt down Kurdish rebels who have killed Turkish citizens and “make them grieve with an intensity they cannot imagine.” I don’t know about you, but to me that’s pretty powerful shit. I can imagine some pretty intense forms of suffering:

But a suffering I can’t imagine? No thank you, sir, I’m fine here with my Mr. Pibb and grilled cheese sandwich. Sounds like Turks have some pretty fucked up imaginations. Or maybe they don’t, considering that when pressed for elaboration Buyukanit said “we can’t say when or how we will do it, we’ll just do it.”

Of course, I’m hoping the reason he said that is because he’s got a think tank of Turkish torture specialists brainstorming never-before-imagined ways in which to make someone grieve. Grieve so hard.

Otherwise, wow, way to undercut your frightening image, Yasar. Take a hint from American officials: when you instill fear, make sure it sticks and then use it to keep gays from getting married.

I don’t know about you, but when I heard the Spice Girls were getting back together, I had to rethink my whole masturbation schedule. I mean, how could I get these ladies into my rotation? Who would get bumped? Vanna White? Paula Zahn? The actress who plays the mom in my Tivo’d episodes of Alf? So many fine ladies.

It was a hard decision. And I started to think maybe I just didn’t have room for the Spice Girls. If only this had happened last year when Joan Collins hit 73 and was replaced with a younger more nubile Ann Margaret. 66! ROWR!

But then I heard that the Spice Girls were gonna be pole dancing!

A source tells British newspaper The Sun, “The girls all agreed that a pole dancing section in the show would be fabulous and sexy. And they wanted to get some proper lessons from professional dancers.”

Pole dancing! That’s awesome. I haven’t been this hot since I saw Sophia Loren do the limbo! So I’ve readjusted my schedule, and I’m now devoting Wednesday afternoons solely to these smoldering vixens. I’ve also declared Thursday, “Heal up from chaffing day.” Sorry Martha Stewart and Goldie Hawn. It couldn’t last forever.