The day after I write a scathing response to an article published by The Frisky, they copy an idea for an article that I wrote almost five years ago and try to pass it off as something super-fresh and cool. This article was written by yours truly on February 3rd, 2006. I didn’t know about websites like Photobucket at the time, nor did I consider self-hosting images back then, otherwise it would be a lot more impressive a sight. Still, the idea of a top-ten list involving wacky haircuts should be readily apparent. Just look at the title of the post. This article was written by Amelia McDonell-Parry — my new Facebook friend of one week — on September 1st, 2010. Apparently she was just inspired to “research the wackiest hairstyles ever posted on the Internet” by a silly haircut she saw on another website. She couldn’t have possibly been inspired by my website, which she admitted knowledge of when she offered her hand in Facebook friendship, and which probably reads daily. A little credit would be nice, Amelia. It won’t stop me from mocking The Frisky, but it might stop me from calling all your writers horrible, horrible pigs. Fat ones. I feel like I should call them all “fat” now because that’s what men like myself do.

The truth is, I can play the role of éminence grise. The question is, how long can The Frisky hold out before their masthead contacts me to admit malfeasance.

That’s pretty much all I have to say. I’m posting an interview tomorrow so at least if you come back in 24 hours there will be some purpose to your visit. I don’t think I’m going to waste any more time tonight pointing out other blogs who have ripped off this one. Instead, I’m going to go eat Vietnamese food and maybe play some poker. You’re so jealous.

Technorati Tags: Editor-In-Chief, Online Magazines, Plagiarism, The Frisky, Women

Anyone who says that Fay’s first album was overproduced or too baroque can go to hell. This album is the work of a genius. From “Garden Song” — saxophone and all — straight on through to the end. I’m sure you wouldn’t dare say that shit about Elliott Smith, would you? Even when he was double-tracking the same melody in left and right channels, with the guitar on one side and the piano on the other? Fay’s orchestral instrumentation always heightens or depressed the mood. It serves its intended purpose. How else are you going to capture the essence of a guy who is singing about burying himself and leaving his body for maggots, only to awaken and leave his chair and live his life? Sometimes you just need a wild string section to capture the triumph and the heartache.

If anything, this album suffers from a lack of consistency. The first two tracks on the album are the best: the aforementioned “Garden Song” and its follow-up number, “The Sun Is Bored.” Screaming guitar leads and rising and falling strings overshadowing absurdly morbid lyrics. It’s brilliant, I tell you. It might take some effort to get through the rest, but it’s a killer album. Highs, lows, rapidly shifting dynamics and that dark, soulful voice constantly spouting stunning couplets. I can’t think of another voice like his. It’s like a young Leonard Cohen maybe mixed with some John Lennon and Steve Winwood on the early Traffic records. What say you, reader?

Bill Fay
Bill Fay
Deram, 1970
MediaFire DL Link

Tracklist:
01. Garden Song
02. The Sun Is Bored
03. We Want You To Stay
04. Narrow Way
05. We Have Laid Here
06. Sing Us One Of Your Songs May
07. Gentle Willy
08. Methane River
09. The Room
10. Goodnight Stan
11. Cannons Plain
12. Be Not So Fearful
13. Down To The Bridge

Technorati Tags: Bill Fay, Deram, Folk, Pop, Self-Titled, Singer-Songwriter

Oh God, 2012. It’s happening. Now the big news story the media has latched onto is that a massive solar storm is approaching Earth. The expected due date? Twenty-fuckin’-twelve. Great, now all you paranoid types are going to keep bringing this up every few months for the next two years. And I’m going to have to endure so many conversations about the end of the world and the stupid Maya calendar. It’s going to make me miserable. I couldn’t care less about your fucking Maya calendar. It doesn’t mean anything. You’re not a great prognosticator. I don’t even think the Maya were that good at predicting the future. Did they foresee the Spanish destroying their civilization? Did they? Huh!? Fuck 2012. [story]

The Texas state fair is happening later this month. I won’t be there, but if any of you go you need to try the deep fried beer. Oh man, what I wouldn’t do for some of the insane deep-fried concoctions people in Texas have dreamed up. The fattest state in the country (is that even still true? I thought I heard Mississippi outweighs Texas now), the home of all things gross and extreme, it has to have the best state fair in the country. Am I right? Seriously, if one of you in Texas wants to be my reporter on the scene, and photograph all the horrifying deep-fried edibles at the Texas State Fair, I will PayPal you some money to be my man (or woman, oh my God would that be hot!) on the scene. What say you, Swan Fungus audience? Any takers? Deep fried beer! DEEP FRIED BEER! [story]

Which one of you said New Jersey was a good-for-nothing fuck hole with no depth or character? Was that me? I don’t really remember. Whatever it was, the state of New Jersey now has more than just a famous blogger to crow about, the new World Pokemon Champion is also from New Jersey. So my home state might have birthed two local legends, but only one of them can get pussy. God, I envy that Pokemon champion… [story]

People are always saying how European countries are so “progressive.” That might be, but America is a superpower and none of those nations are. China’s probably going to dethrone America as the world’s most powerful in the near future and they’re pretty much the opposite end of the spectrum from “progressive.” So really, European countries aren’t doing much right as far as influencing world events and projecting power. But I have to admit, Switzerland legalizing a sex drive-thru is a pretty bold step. I’m all for it. If you’re going to have legalized prostitution, it makes sense that you designate locations where people can fuck if they want to. In Vegas you have to deal with the embarrassment of bringing a whore back to your hotel room. It could be one from one of those fliers you’re handed on the strip, whom you paid for sex, or it could be one you met a club. Either way they’re whores. In Switzerland you can pull into a sex drive-thru, park your car and receive service. I’m all for it. Let’s convert a parking lot into a sex drive thru here in LA. Like in that episode of Seinfeld…[story]

Good news, Southern California! You’re totally overdue for a gigantic earthquake. You know “the big one” they’re always talking about? The one that’s going to literally break the entire state away from the rest of the country and sink it once and for all? It’s coming. It’s coming very soon. In fact, we’re apparently long overdue. In the same day, the LA Times published two articles about just how overdue we are for a deathly, horrifying earthquake. Don’t even bother trying to estimate the number of casualties. Instead, try to estimate how many of us will survive the disaster. Five? Ten? Who knows. At first scientists thought that insanely massive earthquakes occur every 250-450 years in Southern California. A few hours later they decided it was only every 80 years! To me that says scientists in California need to get on the same page, but it also says “BE AFRAID. BE VERY AFRAID.” And afraid I am, and dead I will be, once the big one hits! Call it suicide by laziness. I could move and avoid certain death…but I’ve got a shitty life here! It might even be shittier somewhere else! [story 1 | story 2]

The last time I went to the gym I watched a TV show called Monsters (at least I think that’s what its called). Usually they specialize in shit like Chupacabra or werewolves. The episode I saw focused on killer bees. Ever since that day I’ve had killer bees almost constantly on my mind. Everywhere I go, everything I look at, I think in terms of what could potentially make a home to a swarm of killer bees. It’s starting to affect my life. I used to walk up these stairs behind my apartment when I would return from my morning run. But because the area is a bit secluded and people throw shit like old dressers and garbage cans and shit into the knoll beside the stairs I started wondering how long it would take for a clan of deadly bees to take up residence in one of those containers. Now I walk several hundred yards and a few blocks out of the way to avoid those stairs. In other news, a swarm of 50,000 honeybees trapped a state trooper in his patrol vehicle recently when they fell off a truck carrying 60 boxes of bees. This sounds like the worst thing that could ever happen to me. My biggest nightmare. The only thing worse would be if I was trapped in the car with someone who had a stomach virus. [story]

What is a “hate blogger?” Do I fit the description? It says here in this article from WIRED that a “hate blogger” was convicted of threats after multiple trials and faces a maximum of ten years in prison. Do you think the editors and writers of The Frisky could bring a case against me for calling them fat? What if I call them cunts? Is that hateful? Could I really be thrown in jail for that? Maybe it’s time to reevaluate about whom I choose to blog. [story]

Speaking of The Frisky, dumbfuck Judy McGuire wrote another article called “How to mesh your friends when dating,” because apparently the only way to make a relationship work is to force your friends to like one another. No one ever said the women who write these articles are smart, but I never expected them to become more retarded as time wears on. I mean, seriously, I think they’re becoming retarded. If I were a scientist I’d be fascinated by this phenomenon. Born normal, started writing for The Frisky, turned retarded! What a weird, weird path for one’s life to take. You suck, McGuire! [story]

Technorati Tags: 2012, Deep-Fried Beer, Earthquake, Killer Bees, Maya Calendar, Sex Drive-Thru, Texas State Fair

Then I found an amazing article by Anna Sofia Martin, a pretentious girl who uses her middle name for journalistic purposes, yet who isn’t opposed to stooping so low that she uses the Internet to find a date. In her article called, “He told me to lose weight on the first date!” (As if!) she introduces the reader to “Dan,” a guy with a big grin who liked fancy smart-person books, and who “looked like a cute professor.” Miss Martin states — after her brief intro — “Could this be…my guy?”

Well, no sweetie. This probably will not be your guy. And that’s a really dumb remark to make upon looking at a man’s profile on a social networking or dating site. You can’t honestly believe that your immediate physical attraction plus the fact that he says he likes old buildings connotes a budding romance. This unreasonable leap in logic is why women are stereotyped as being irrational. You’ve gone from random visitor to someone’s website to oh-my-God-you’re-already-planning-the-wedding loony bitch in thirty seconds. It’s scary. It’s weird. It’s a turn-off. I don’t like it.

What do you mean when you write online dating for a few months is “long enough?” You’re tired of the scene and you want to quit? Or are you feeling like you’ve paid your dues and now you deserve to find the right guy and leave Internet dating thing to the geeks who can’t get out of their parent’s basements, because for some reason you’re feeling a sense of entitlement, like you’re worthy of better? You’ve described three men you went on dates with, and it sounds to me like you had typical online dating experiences, but you are too impatient to find the right person. Now you’re trying to force it. This always leads to horrible, horrible disasters. I have no doubt your story is leading us in this direction. The title gave it away, but still, the exposition you provide detailing your thought process makes realizing the cruel fate you are soon to endure so much more worthwhile. If anything, what you deserve is another bad experience. I assume that’s what happened…

You offer up “size 10 pencil skirt, black cashmere sweater and boots” like you’re proud of it. I don’t know from skirt sizes, so I Googled “size 10″ and this is what I got:

Already the title of this article is perfectly sensible, but I’m going to continue anyway, because that’s what I do, and the joke isn’t funny until I’ve made it five or ten more times. Repetition equals comedy.

The story of your date with “Dan” begins with the revelation that the dude you saw in pictures was — surprise! — not the guy you were seeing in real life. Welcome to the 21st century. It’s called “hottification,” and I wrote my first story on the subject back in 2005. If you expected anything even remotely similar to the photos you saw online, you don’t know the first thing about being single and using the Internet. Hey, I was where you are for a while, and it wasn’t fun. I mean, I never used a dating website before but I understood the implicit consequences of joining a social network. Everyone is looking to fuck. You put your best photo out there and wait for the response. Except I didn’t use photos at first. I used album covers or pictures of me that were too obscured to make out my features. I didn’t want to put anyone through what “Dan” put you through. It’s not right. It’s not fair. But if you’re naive enough to think you’re getting what people advertise about themselves on the Internet, well…I don’t want to startle you, but you might be retarded.

With all the presuppositions you throw into your story (and it is a fictional story I’m sure is in no way accurate, from the “shoving” of the pasta into his food-hole to the annoying questions asked multiple times, and your perfectly timed witty remarks, which in reality were likely conceived when you penned this article) you manage to paint a pretty abysmal picture of “Dan.” It’s all in preparation for what is to come, of course, the big payoff, the fat joke or whatever he’s going to say. As he shoves food down his throat. As he imbibes wine and you sit there munching on lettuce in the hopes your waistline will recede even after you spent the afternoon pigging out on whatever-the-fuck you could get your grubby paws on, probably at a gas station or bodega or maybe you even stole a co-workers food because you can’t go ten-god-damned-minutes without eating you’re like a fucking CNN “check out this crazy disease where this person has to constantly eat or they’ll die!” freak.

Sorry, where was I? Oh, right. You’re trying to implant all these negative feelings towards “Dan” in your story in anticipation of him calling you fat. So that we the reader would empathize with you. He asks why you don’t run during the week and you make something up about getting robbed in the park, as if the only time you could ever run would be really late at night when all the crime happens. Right? You can’t run because late at night, the dark people, they commit crimes in the park at night, and so you can’t exercise. They’ve taken that liberty from you. The ability to run…on the street…when you’re not at work. Even if it’s not dark outside. Maybe in the morning, before work, like the rest of us do. Your point is, it’s not your fault your fat, it’s the world’s fault.

At long last, we get to it. The payoff. The climax. The orgasm — you probably don’t know what that one feels like, or maybe you haven’t for some time, since you were skinnier maybe, oh hell, your cute younger sister could probably tell you all about it — the e-mail “Dan” sends you telling you you’re fat. Oh man, this is going to be priceless. Hang on, I’m going to dim the lights. I’ve been waiting for this. Can anyone see me? I’m going to start jerking off right now.

He calls you pretty. He admits you’re prettier than him. Flattery will get him nowhere. You’re too stuck up to appreciate it. You want love handed to you on a silver platter. You don’t want to work [out] for it. You just expect it. “Dan” sighs. Did he really type the word “sigh” or are you making this up? I mean, the whole text is italicized, but it’s not quoted. Does that give you some journalistic leeway? It kinda reads like this thing was written by a girl. Anyway, he says there’s no chemistry between you — physical chemistry — and then he mentions (perhaps unnecessarily) that it’s because you’re “very curvy.” I’ll admit going into detail about his own choice to change the direction of his life and get in shape was not required, but maybe he’s the type of guy who calls a spade a spade, you know? Maybe he thought you’d be angrier if he just said there wasn’t chemistry, and didn’t give you a reason. Better he should tell you you’re fat than let you think you’ve got some gross deformity (I mean, you do, but maybe you think you have another deformity in addition to your disgusting weight problem). Sometimes, the harshness of an unflattering remark can act as the first stepping stone on the path to self-realization and self-improvement. But you don’t care. The tone of your article makes that very clear. Through condescension and self-absorption your warped worldview comes to light. It does not make you look any better, either physically or intellectually.

I’m not even going to touch your girl-power response to the guy who called you fat, because it’s moronic. Your pettiness, irreverence and ignorance manage to make you an even more deplorable character in this story than the guy who called you fat. It’s actually kind of an amazing feat, when you think about it, considering you’ve spent paragraphs upon paragraphs trying to paint yourself as a victim. If you grow to be morbidly obese and succumb to stroke or heart disease, I’m sure “Dan” will regret calling you fat that one time. And should you balloon up to a size…whatever (I said I don’t know about sizes) I’m sure you’ll find more excuses for why it’s not your fault, why the world is conspiring against you, and why you’re too good for any guy who thinks a woman who has trouble breathing because there’s a whole ham stuck in her windpipe is unattractive. I’d say “Go to hell” but if you’re being called fat by guys who you seek out on Internet dating websites I’d say you’re already there.

In all seriousness I hope you find “Mr. Could Be” someday, if only because it means someone has given you the time of day. Someone who isn’t waiting impatiently on the other side of a counter while you scour your change purse to pay for that umpteenth candy bar. It’s not even noon and already you’ve eaten a sleeve of Oreos. Finding your “Mr. Could Be” means at least he’s thinking about possibly dating you for a second or third time. The potential for a relationship will exist. Apparently that’s all you’re looking for right now. A guy who could stand to date you a second time. I want you to find that, Anna. I want you to know what it’s like to realize the fantasy of being with a guy after your first date. When it’s more socially acceptable. When he’s seen you for what you are and you’ve seen him for what he is, and neither of you are scared or offended or guilty of pre-date hottification. Everyone deserves some happiness in their lives. Everyone deserves some love. Even people who break the law. Even complete assholes. Even bloggers. Even girls who paint guys out to be chauvinistic, slovenly neanderthals who misrepresent themselves on dating sites, which is something women never do. Even you, Anna. You horrible, horrible pig.

Technorati Tags: Anna Sofia Martin, Exercise, First Dates, Hottification, Internet Dating, Online Dating, Social Networking, The Frisky

Oh, what’s that you say? A homosexual? Well, how dare you take umbrage at my refined palette. I do believe, sir, that you are the homosexual, not I. Why is that, you ask? Because you enjoy milk-fisting other dudes, that’s why. So take your white-bread “indie” records and insert them into your gaping rectum. Please.

Ahem. Hi. I’m totally over my classical phase now. I just bought all these Bartok and Messiaen records and I feel bad filing them all away on my shelves without listening to them, so that’s what I’m doing tonight. It’s nice, really. Last night I was out drinking and causing a scene until the wee hours of the morning. Then I had to wake up early and go into work. Funny how two or three weeks ago I was dying of stomach pain and three hours of sleep seemed ungodly, but when you’re shit-faced and making new friends at a party three hours of sleep is totally acceptable. Life, ain’t she funny sometimes? Funny enough to rape.

That probably wasn’t the most sensitive remark I’ve ever made.

Here, have a mix tape. It’s your favorite…

RULES for uninitiated noobs: I give birth to a weekly Mix Tape to be deposited on your iPods or Zunes or Kingklangs or whatever the industry is currently pushing on you. Sometimes there will be themes that link all the songs together, other times I’ll just throw songs at a wall (not literally) and see what sticks. There is a theme tonight, but it is a (gasp!) hidden theme! If you guess what it is — use the comments section — you’ll win a prize. I won’t tell you what the prize is, but I’ll need your mailing address. And you’ll want to invest in some kind of water-based lubricant. The goal of this endeavor, as always, is to pique your interest in these artists so you’ll support the artists and buy their albums.

This week I’m going back to writing little notes about the bands/artists, only this time won’t tell you anything about the music. I’ll just ramble about shit.

Sunday Mix Tape – Number 194
Sewing Mouths Together

01. The Kinks – Sunny Afternoon – Does anyone in the LA area want to find a midnight screening of that 3D Piranha movie this week and bring in some booze and get wasted? I’ve been wanting to do that for a few weeks now but nobody I know is into it. You can be a girl too, this isn’t just a guy’s-night kind of thing. I’ll even provide you with pepper spray. So you know you can trust me. (buy this album)

02. Nebula – Anything From You – Sometimes when I listen to these guys — and it’s much more infrequent than “sometimes,” I probably should have just said “One time…” — and I think, “What if all the word is just a hallucination these guys are having when they’re tripping? What if I don’t exist, I’m just a figment of these guys’ imagination?” Then I remember it’s all just music, and I don’t have to listen to it if it’s going to make me ask a bunch of dumb metaphysical questions I don’t know the answers to. (buy this album)

03. Eyeless In Gaza – Lie Still, Sleep Long – I haven’t read any Huxley books in a while. I think the last one was “Diary Of A Drug Fiend” back in 2006. He was pretty good, I thought. I don’t know from the whole mysticism aspect of his life, but the books are good. Could you imagine having your eyes burned out? Is that something you can actually survive? It doesn’t seem like it, but then again I’m no doctor. I don’t even play one on TV. I just play one in the shower when I check my balls for lumps. (buy this album)

04. Teenage Fanclub – Mellow Doubt – Is it supposed to be “mellow doubt” or “mellowed out?” You tell me. I heard Teenage Fanclub turned Mogwai onto drugs. Maybe it was the other way around. I don’t really remember. You know who I haven’t written about or posted MP3s by in a long time? Teenage Filmstars. That band was so amazing. (buy this album)

05. Gram Parsons – Brass Buttons – Do you think Graham Nash feels a bit queer when he writes his name? The four-letter variation of their name is so much cooler than its boojwah alternative. (buy this album)

06. Jellyfish – New Mistake – I know I just posted a Jellyfish track a few weeks ago but it’s really hard for me to stay away from one of the best pop bands I’ve ever known. The best part about Jellyfish is that they’re not actually fish! They’re actually…well, I don’t know what the word is, but I’m sure even if I did I would misspell it. You’ll just have to look it up for yourself. What’s the word…cephalopod? I think that’s what a squid is. I don’t think jellyfish and squid are related. But wouldn’t it be amazing if, like, Roger Manning had a cousin who was in a band called Squid? Whoa. Mind = blown. (buy this album)

07. B.B. King – When My Heart Beats Like A Hammer – Could you imagine pounding a nail into the wall — in order to hang up a framed picture or something — with your heart? There would be blood literally everywhere. I think Itchy & Scratchy might have done something like that once. If not, and someone who writes for The Simpsons is reading this, you owe me for that idea. You can just click the little “Donate” button near the top of this page and send me some money. Thanks. (buy this album)

08. Ronnettes – Walking In The Rain – The thing about the Ronnettes is, none of them had Ronnette in their names! It was two sisters and a cousin. They should have called that goofy trio of James, Ronnette and Donna from Twin Peaks the Ronnettes. I don’t know why. Maybe Julee Cruise could write all the music. She could be like the Phil Spector of the real Ronnettes. No? I don’t know what I’m talking about? Okay. (buy this album)

09. Les Baxter – Girl From Uganda – No Les, no more. Les Baxter died heroically attempting to save his family from a surprise volcano eruption on an uninhabited Indonesian island back in 1996. Just kidding. He died of kidney failure. (buy this album)

10. Waylon Jennings – Crying – Just because I didn’t want fat boy Gram Parsons to be the only country musician featured on this mix tape, I went ahead and found a Waylon song to use. I don’t remember where I was when I was driving cross country in 2005 and happened upon a water tower marking the birthplace of Waylon Jennings, but I remember my excitement. It lasted maybe thirty seconds, and then I did a few more bumps of No Doz and kept on driving. (buy this album)

11. Judee Sill – The Kiss – Here’s a little known fact: Judith was the first artist David Geffen ever singed to his label…and it wasn’t Geffen! It was Asylum, you fucking moron! God, don’t you know anything about music? I guess they’ll just give anybody a keyboard and a monitor and some speakers these days, because you are an idiot and you don’t deserve to live. There, I said it. (buy this album)

12. Catherine Wheel – Heal – I’m not a big fan of this album, but I like this song. It’s alright. It’s…whatever. (buy this album)

13. Nick Cave – Into My Arms – A lot of people say this is a love song, but I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it’s not. I don’t care what Nick has said about it in the past. I’m going to say that this is a song about shooting drugs. Why? Because I have nothing better to do and want to see if one of my stupid Internet rumors can proliferate and challenge the widely believed theory about the story behind this song. (buy this album)

14. Gin Blossoms – Cheatin’ – What do you mean, “Nobody listens to the Gin Blossoms anymore?” You mean New Miserable Experience isn’t still the greatest album in all the land? That’s perfect. Now that everyone’s got their stupid Arcade Fire and their Soupjam Stevens to enjoy, I can go back and enjoy this shit. I’m like Burgess Meredith in that episode of The Twilight Zone when he finally has all the time in the world to read his precious books. Only in this version of the show, my ears will fall off. And then my dick will fall off. And then my nuts. Betcha didn’t see that twist coming! (buy this album)

15. Boards Of Canada – Open The Light – They’re not even from Canada. They’re from Scotland. They use the word “cunt” like we use “dude.” Yup…Scottish highlanders really do lead the most amazing lives. (buy this album)

Technorati Tags: Boards Of Canada, Download, Eyeless In Gaza, Gin Blossoms, Judee Sill, Kinks, Mix Tape, MP3, Nebula, Nick Cave, Teenage Fanclub

I don’t have to explain Rapeman to you, do I? Good, because I’m not even going to try. Instead, I’m just going to say, “Enjoy this amazing Rapeman live radio session from ‘88 and don’t forget to thank me.” Enjoy this amazing Rapeman live radio session from ‘88 and don’t forget to thank me.

You know what? Because I care about you, because I worry that maybe some of you reading this don’t know who Rapeman is, I’m going to let the greatest rock journalist of our time — Mark Prindle — tell you all about the band. Take it away, Mark.

(As I simply cut and paste a paragraph from his website, but pretend I actually know the guy)

“Between Big Black-ack-ack-ack-ack and Shellac-ac-ac-ac-ac, famous record producer Steve Albini led a non-Billy Joel-influenced band called Rapeman. Kind of like Glenn Danzig’s Samhain, this short-lived outfit didn’t quite hit the watermark as often as his first and third bands. But that doesn’t mean they were the worst band ever! I’ll have you know that the drummer was the talented Rey Washam (Big Boys, Scratch Acid, Didjits, Helios Creed) and the bassist was the fellated David Wm. Sims (Scratch Acid, The Jesus Lizard)! So even if Steve was experiencing writer’s block, how bad could the band be? Essentially Rapeman was the developmental middle road between the angry clanging screaming of Big Black and the restrained rhythm-driven Shellac.” – Mark Prindle

Rapeman
WZRD FM Chicago
July 13th, 1988
MediaFire DL Link

01. Radar Love Lizard
02. Marmoset
03. Superpussy
04. Trouser Minnow
05. Coition Ignition Mission
06. Upbeat (instrumental)
07. Hated Chinee
08. Outro

Technorati Tags: Big Black, Download, Live, MediaFire, MP3, Rapeman, Shellac, Steve Albini, WZRD FM

Good day, friends. Before I begin this week’s post (wait a minute…it’s already begun!) I would like to extend yet another Thank You to Swan Fungus super-fan (he’s the first, it’s official) Stephen in Japan. Listen to this: he actually send me a personalized bottle of Woodford Reserve VIP Kentucky straight bourbon! It’s got my name etched into the bottle. I’ve never even thought to award super-fan status to a Swan Fungus reader before, but Stephen has clearly earned the title. If you’re reading this — and I’m sure you are — your membership card will be mailed to you shortly along with some nice little rewards. The rest of you could learn a lot from Stephen. Do nice things for me.

My old, dear friend Matt made contact today briefly today just to tell me that he’d seen a website ranking the worst episodes of Futurama — pre-cancellation — and it not only included “Jurassic Bark,” but it called “That’s Lobstertainment!” the worst episode in the series. We commiserated for a few moments about how stupid the list was, and then I got the idea to write my own list. As an avid Futurama fan, there’s nothing harder than picking out ten horrible episodes of a show you commonly refer to as “flawless.” Alas, since I’m always up for a challenge, I decided I would try my hand at such a list. And here it is, folks. Straight from my groin to your ovaries.

Yes, I know it’s not proper English to say “Top Ten Worst,” and I should have just said “Bottom Ten” or “Ten Worst,” but since this website has long been known for its top ten lists, I have to stick to my formula. It’s worked for me so far. I’m a rich, famous blogger, I can’t just shift gears after five years!

The Top Ten Worst Episodes Of Futurama

Honorable Mention: “The 30% Iron Chef” – This is nearly one of the ten worst episodes of the series, but because I like cooking shows it’s hard for me to fault this for being a parody of something I watch regularly. As you’re about to find out, a lot of episodes where Bender is given the A plot tend to be weaker than the rest of the Futurama episodes. You’ll see…

10. “A Pharaoh To Remember” – Within the first five minutes you have Bender dancing on rollerblades trying to impress a gang. That’s not a recipe for success. Bender’s “funeral” works because the rest of the characters are given a chance to make the jokes. It’s especially funny because, well, they’re quiet throughout the first act. Then the plot develops and you get that story about the fake delivery to the ancient Egyptian-esque planet. Once Bender takes over as Pharaoh…well, things get pretty dumb pretty fast. It’s just not an entertaining episode.

09. “Raging Bender” – You’re noticing the trend already, aren’t you? This one’s okay for the Lela plot line but taking on professional wrestling doesn’t exactly make for hilarious television. At least compared to the rest of Futurama. The most memorable scene is the motion capture fight between Lela and her old kung-fu instructor through Bender and the giant robot. Other than that I can’t remember what happened in this episode. Bender accidentally beats up a wrestling robot in a movie theater. There might have been some funny jokes written around that, but I can’t recall them. In other words…meh.

08. “Xmas Story” – It’s kind of a cheap shot to call out Christmas episodes of television shows for not being funny enough. So don’t blame me, blame my being raised Jewish for my disinterest in Christmas television. John Goodman is great, but the story is pretty flat. Is this the year when Fry was trying to buy the perfect gift for Lela? Or was that the other, even less interesting Christmas episode? I think I’m correct…Fry buys her a parrot. The best part of the episode is when Fry is hanging onto dear life to a digital clock. Visual humor ensues.

07. “Bender Should Not Be Allowed On TV” – This was one of the last episodes to air before the cancellation, and I guess the writers knew they were done for because this one is pretty dreadful. The whole “All My Circuits” and Calculon stuff never really amused me, except for — irony alert — his role in the critically panned “That’s Lobstertainment!” episode. Wasn’t the B plot in this episode about Farnsworth…but with a lot of Cubert? Ugh. If there’s one thing worse than bad Bender episodes, it’s an episode with Cubert. The pointless recalling of an old Hypnotoad joke at the end seals it. Note: Hypnotoad isn’t always funny.

06. “Bendin’ In The WInd” – This one’s just like a bad late-era Simpsons episode. Celebrity voice appearances, moronic plot, and bad hippie parodies. I’m surprised this one isn’t ranked higher (and by that I guess I mean lower) on this list, but I don’t remember Cubert being there, and it’s not a stupid Christmas episode, and there’s no Flexo. Yuck…Flexo. In the hierarchy of shitty Futurama characters, I’m pretty sure Flexo and Cubert rank one and two. That is, characters who appeared in at least two episodes. Even the staunchest of Futurama fans would have to agree with me on that, right?

05. “A Tale Of Two Santas” – It’s really, really hard to rank the five worst Futurama episodes because, let’s be honest, they’re all really bad. What I mean by that is, as someone who is obsessed with the show, it’s difficult for me to admit that there are five episodes I never care to see again. I’m going to give this Christmas episode some bonus love because I recognize it’s not really fair of me to criticize something for being non-secular. Still, this is way worse than the first Xmas episode. John Goodman is good, but then they freeze his character in ice and it becomes another mundane Bender episode. Dumb, dumb dumb…

04. “A Clone Of My Own” – Rather than do some serious Futurama re-watching in order to finish this list, I’m going to take a slightly easier way out and just stagger the top four — Cubert episode, Flexo episode, Flexo episode, Cubert episode — effectively ruining the remainder of this list for you. I never felt like Futurama jumped the shark before its cancellation, but if you really want me to try and pinpoint an episode for you, you can start your search with either of the two Cubert-centric episodes. This was just…so bad. So, so bad. I can’t remember anything about it other than the fact that when I was in college and watching Futurama four times a night (during Adult Swim’s 10-11pm block and the repeated 2-3am block), I would never watch this one.

03. “The Lesser Of Two Evils” – Like Christmas episodes, when choosing what’s worse between two Flexo episodes, go with the one which aired second. That means “The Lesser Of Two Evils” quite literally lives up to its name. It’s the better of the two Flexo episodes. Flexo. Who’s dumb fucking idea was that? Seriously. What was funny about that episode? A bunch of sight gags involving two characters who are identical to one another? Another Futurama episodes, “The Farnsworth Parabox” did the same thing ten-times more effectively. Sorry, Flexo fans. You suck.

02. “Bendless Love” – They brought Flexo back. If ever there was a dumb plot on what was arguably the best show on television during its original air dates, here it is. It starts with the discovery that Bender is “sleep-bending”? Are you kidding me? Come on, writers. You can do better than that. Apparently you can’t. It ends with Bender bending an unbendable girder. Seriously, this is about the worst thing they ever produced. Not counting the new episodes or the straight-to-DVD movies. I haven’t seen all those because I want to preserve Futurama in my memory as a near-perfect, divine gift from above. Flexo nearly ruins that every time I think about him.

01. “The Route Of All Evil” – This was unequivocably the last interesting half-hour in all of Futurama from 1999 to 2003. Cubert and the little Hermes kid (see, I don’t even remember his name! That’s how insignificant he was to the show!) decide they want to start a delivery company that will directly compete with Planet Express. Already it’s the most fascinating thing ever. No, wait. I mean the opposite of that statement. Couple that with an uninspired B plot (Bender gives birth to his own beer?) and you have, without a doubt, the worst episode in the history of Futurama. Before it got cancelled. I can’t stress that enough.

And for those of you who think “That’s Lobstertainment” sucked worse than those ten, I don’t even want to hear about it from you. You’re simply not evolved enough to enter into debate with me. Goodbye.

Stephen, thanks for the bourbon, I’m going to drink it now. The rest of you, have a good weekend.

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