Oh fuck me! I haven’t been here in a bit, and there have been some changes (not to self: get used to new shit)… Well I haven just reactivated my FB, I’m also on Instagram, Tumblr, and now Twitter. Yes, I WILL do a review of TL’s Thunder and Lightning… someday…
It’s that time of year again! You guessed it, Happy Draw Mohammed Day! It’s a day to read bronze age books and thank the universe that we have freedom of speech and we will die fighting for it. Just like You religious nutcases will kill for your faith- regardless of what fucking spot of Jerusalem you get dibs on. So take a look at my contribution: Michelangelo it isn’t, but I think it’s a rather cute family portrait of Mo and his dozen wives. And yeah I know, some did die before he married others, but honestly, if you were a man of Mo’s power and influence would you honestly care if a lowly woman was alive and protesting? I think not. Next time I might draw one of Joe Smith and Mo going toe-to-toe. So come and kill me wackjobs. Allahu akbar!
And now, something to offend everyone:
I was eight or nine when NYC had one of the coldest winters on record, and every year as far back as I can remember, I come down with a cold that leads to bronchitis. This spell was particularly harsh that it superseded the two-week limit.
Mom picked my homework up daily so I could keep up, and Dad (that worthless asshole) would stare me down as I sat at the dining room table doing my homework diligently as I sniffled and barked like a fucking dog. One night as my coughing just wouldn’t quit, I heard the old people haranguing in the living room:
“Just give her the fucking thing!”
“But she’s a kid! This isn’t like what you used to get at the drug store!”
I honestly could give a shit as I sat on the floor all dehydrated and miserable trying to read my Dr. Seuss clutching my Care Bear Love-A-Lot when Mom, frazzled to fuck, burst into my room with a medicine bottle and a teaspoon.
“Now I’m going to give you this, but if you feel sick tell me right away.”
She dosed me with something that tasted like cherry schnapps mixed with diesel. Dimetapp tasted like a Popsicle, and the amoxicillin I was taking had to have been made by the Dubble Bubble people. But this shit was wretched…
And then I saw God.
Well as much as dancing Big Birds and rainbows with Wonder Woman spinning cotton candy could be considered God to a third grade atheist. I regained consciousness two hours later, and after I emerged from my room walking on sunshine to use the bathroom, Dad proclaimed:
“See? Nothing out of her after all this time. And she’s still alive!”
Twenty-three years on and Vic has been quite an influence. Campus rent-a-cops can’t catch everybody, and once outside the grounds Russians like to do business. CWE is a precious tool, but once I decided to do a threesome with blue label vodka, my nodding became scary. Since then I stick to the seasonal ‘script (although when someone goes to the dentist or gets a cough the bottles do empty quite fast- they let it go, I do everything around here).
I don’t hate Janis, Jimi, Kurt, Dee Dee, River, Johnny T., or Phil for making love to a needle. I don’t hate them for dying. I love them even more for their imperfections.
He who is without sin, may cast the first stone.
Well my fellow reptiles, the Wacko Jacko Clan has done it again! And by that I mean generating more press (and thusly more dollars) by waving Michael’s shriveled corpse in front of a camera.
Four years ago Michael Jackson died of a drug cocktail consisting of propofol (a pre-anasthetic) and bennies (a.k.a. antidepressants- lorazepam). Now I avoid daytime TV like the fucking plague but on The Talk, panelists Sharon Osbourne and Sara Gilbert made a pair of realistic comments on the Jackson Clan taking li’l MJ’s GP Dr. Conrad Murray (serving a 4 year prison sentence) to court for $40 billion dollars. Now both women come from celebrity backgrounds- Sara acting, Sharon metal- where drugs are simply part of the entertainment culture, so they have direct experience with drug use and/or those who use. A combination of inspiration, arrogance, privilege, boredom, and stress has invited the uses of pharmaceuticals as quick fixes. Gilbert was bombarded with Twats from rabid MJ fanfucks screaming their umbrage over their black-turned-white-quasi-Peter Pan idol, and today she backpedaled.
Way to go Darlene.
Why don’t we step into the Wayback Machine and zip back to 27 January 1984. Wacko Jacko was filming a Pepsi commercial in front of fans when a pyrotechnical effect misfired causing Mikey’s scalp and face to catch fire. Suffering 2nd degree burns he was scarred and had permanent nerve damage, not to mention the trauma of the injury. It was either at this time or his two previous nose jobs that Mike began his addiction to painkillers that opened the doors to other prescription drug abuse. Remember coke, weed, meth, and smack, the accepted drugs that stars abuse that turn up in red-topped newspapers aren’t the only ones. Judy Garland and Elvis were total pill freaks, enabled by family, friends, doctors, agents, and producers alike. You think Mikey was any different?
It’s a fact that the last two Jacksons that were solvent were Janet and Michael until the 1993 sex abuse allegations. Michael was more than likely financially supporting his siblings’ lifestyles. But the millions he raked in sales after his death was taken by record companies and creditors with little to spare even for his mother and kids who were handsomely provided for in his will leaving the bulk of his fortune to his charities. This, of course, didn’t sit well with those who expected a big payout, so they held up little brother’s burial for 10 days forcing for his estate to pay for not only MJ’s tomb in Hollywood Forever Cemetery’s private mausoleum, but for ALL THOSE JEHOVAH WITNESS ASSHOLES’ WALL PLOTS! And adding insult to injury, they forced the LAPD to provide a motorcade for the the Staples Center memorial that displayed an empty gold plated casket, but it was a time when the police department was suffering motherfucking cutbacks!
So what can we take from all this? A failed reality show, a ridiculous musical (that only ran in London’s West End), and a Dumb and Dumber kidnapping of Katherine and the kids couldn’t keep these big-headed assfucks afloat, now they have to resort to the talk show circuit and Court TV to kick a dying horse for sympathy and money. People, Dr. Conrad Murray is just one of thousands of Hollywood’s Dr. Feel Goods. If he didn’t procure for Mikey, someone else would have (and we all know that despite an agency “contracting” him on paper under shitpiles of legalese it was really Michael). And MJ had an entourage that wanted to stay in his good graces to get a piece of the action, Murray liked the money addicted starts gave him, and if anybody said “no” they were ignored, threatened, or removed.
Welcome to La-La land people. Careful what you wish for, you just might get it.
If Richard Simmons, Debra Messing, and that preggo Streisand-wannabe dumb bitch from Glee taught me anything, it’s to trust your best gay- especially if he does your hair!
The first time I ordered off QVC it was Dennis Basso’s faux fur blankets (I own two- mink and lynx- and the leopard print I gave to my BFF), and it was around that time when I saw- and heard- the presenters, models, and callers creaming their mom jeans on this religion called WEN. Developed by stylist Chaz Dean, he (like the rest of his celebrity ilk) is hellbent on changing the world one head of hair at a time banning shampoo forever! Back the fuck up, mom and I screamed! How in high holy hell can you clean your hair without shampoo? We ignored the WENNITES until a week ago.
When K came round to file the ole 1040 for us mom asked what shampoo she used. Since she’s black I assumed she used Pink, Dark n’ Lovely, and the slew of relaxers and other nappy hair treatments you’d find at the far back corner of the Duane Reade shampoo aisle and beauty supply shop I’d seen her buy countless times. Nope! She was a WENNITE, converted by our other friend Mika. Like the QVC idiots, K glossed on and on about Chaz’ baby and educated us on what a cleansing conditioner was. When I translated for mom we were still skeptical, but despite the price, she encouraged us to take the plunge. We had no choice. Seriously.
When mom went into menopause, her hair became an unmanageable bedhead rat’s nest forcing her to wash it every motherfucking morning. Now we all know that washing your hair daily strips your hair of all moisture, but mom didn’t seem to have a problem because her L’Oreal Color Vive shampoo and conditioner was her DOC for over 25 years. Then the corporate assfucks bought their competition (CoverGirl, Maybelline, and Max Factor) and all went to hell. When the global markets crashed (with the ponzis fueling that fire) quality products turned to shit, and beauty and personal care weren’t immune. In 2011/12 it became harder for me to find L’Oreal hair care products until they eliminated the Color Vive line for this green sulfide-free (and more expensive for less in the tube) trendy bullshit line. Mom went through $100 worth of other brands only for them to end up in the recycling bin because of the damage they caused. Then two months ago after customers more than likely bombarded L’Oreal’s inboxes with death threats did they relaunch Color Vive renaming and repackaging it using the Glee dumb ho as its spokestwat. But the formula was fucked with (to save $$$) and while it did the trick for mom’s hair, it lacked magic. Still better than nothing.
But my hair has been giving me nothing but grief for the last 18 years. PCOS women have acute frizziness, dandruff, breakage, and hair loss caused by hormone imbalances. I had hair loss at 12, and then when I was 14 my shiny smooth hair went berserk. It looked like I had a tumbleweed on my head with chunks of my scalp lifting off every time I pulled a brush through it, and the scabs were so thick you could see them at my temples. In other words, I was pretty popular. I was 24 when I finally became a redhead and what people may not understand is that ammonia and peroxide- the dominant chemicals in all hair dyes (except the bullshit ones which are ALL save for L’Oreal)- are also major components in relaxers. It was taming my frizz but it remained bushy, breaking, and a big fucking mess during the rainy season. I was diagnosed with PCOS when I was nearly 30 and went vegan after that, but my hair remained a problem. Doc said my hair would start behaving once I got on birth control, but alas, no insurance. I did some online research and began a supplement regimen in addition to my multivitamin that included biotin. I take biotin and used biotin shampoo and conditioner, but the dandruff and breakage is still a misery.
Enter WEN Six Thirteen. Now for the noob I ordered the gift set and that includes a 16 oz. bottle of Six Thirteen and a 4 oz. bottle of replenishing mist. It’s prettily boxed with the pump boxed separately because the product is so fucking thick it will spurt out if you put it in. My suggestion is to use the product first and then insert the pump. The WEN comb is necessary, but isn’t included with this set so I bought it off Amazon for $13. The instructions aren’t intimidating as you might think (emphases mine):
Rinse hair thoroughly and completely with cool water for at least 1 minute. Daily Cleansing Treatment should be applied in four sections: the crown of your head, the nape/back of head, ends to the left side of your hair and ends to the right side of your hair.
For hair above your shoulders, use a minimum of 6-8 pumps.
For hair down to your shoulders, use a minimum of 8-10 pumps.
For hair past your shoulders use a minimum of 10-12 pumps.
For hair to your mid-back use a minimum of 12-14 pumps.
Add a splash of water to help evenly distribute through the ends and massage vigorously into scalp for 2-3 minutes. Comb through with a wide-tooth comb and clip hair up for the remainder of the shower. Leave on for at least 3-5 minutes. The longer you leave it on the better for maximum results. Rinse with cool water thoroughly for 1-2 minutes by massaging your scalp and running your fingers through to the ends.While hair is soaking wet, apply a dime size amount of the Daily Cleansing Treatment as a leave-in conditioner starting from the back of the head through to the ends.
For thicker/coarser hair increase amount of pumps in order to thoroughly hydrate and cleanse the scalp and ends.
If you choose to rinse and repeat, use half the amount of suggested pumps for each cleansing.
As I initiated some hours ago the breakage and color bleeding was still present, but I’ll tell you this I hadn’t been able to take a comb to my hair since childhood. The top layer is still damaged and bushed out, but my hair is lighter, softer, and is able to separate and fall easier. I used eight products (including shampoo and conditioner) to get my hair to behave and it felt flat, weighted, and unclean. I’m giving WEN until the end of this bottle, and with the rains just weeks away the next 3 days will be Chaz’ first exam with the cold, dampness, and humidity on the schedule. If I get results he’s got a new customer, and I can mix and match my WEN! The best thing to do is check out the WEN_comparison_chart to see which product is good for you. In my case the fig line is probably best because it tackles damage and coarseness. Personally I can’t wait to get the intensive oil treatments so I could finally retire the cold pressed argan oil and keep it for my skin. WEN also has a kids line and can be used on your pets. I mean, who wouldn’t want beautiful coats like Hunter, Spencer, and Ella?
Blame Humon for this, but I’d been watching the uber-gay-naff Eurovision Song Contest since I was a kid as we had the Italian station RAI on our former Channel 31 PBS station. Now thanks to Brooklyn-based Vice TV, Heavy Metal in Baghdad has placed a spotlight on a genre of music that is illegal in Acrassicauda’s compromised part of the world based on the deist insanity claim of satanic worship. You can also check out British-Canadian filmmaker-anthropologist-heavy metal bassist-nut Sam Dunn’s Global Metal (and 2 disc CD soundtrack- TWO HORNS UP!) for further exploration and discourse on metal culture versus establishment stupidity.
But I’d like to focus on the European-Asian bridge of Turkey on this post. Now thanks to The Metal Voice who has made me a Myrath devotee, the Turkish metal band Mezarkabul (a.k.a. Pentagram) I think should be playing at the billion dollar waste Barclay Center to give it some REAL flavor that Jay-Z and Streisand just can’t do anymore.
See what I mean?
But I have European relatives and know how they get rabid for their techno dance pop shit. Please tell me that the clubs in Istanbul isn’t playing this pile of fuck:
And YES I fucking know one of Mezarkabul’s former guitarists wrote the 2003 ESC winner. If Alternica would just fucking retire (their ’91 The Black Album was their last good album) the international acts would have their proper shot and nuke everything Cowell built, and people wouldn’t have to resort of pop music to make a living.
Now if Turkey would just fess up to the Armenian Genocide I’d spend my money there.
Although techno dance pop (I don’t care if it’s from the US, Moldavia, Korea, Mexico, or Japan) will likely give you meth mouth, please “LIKE” this video if you HATE totalitarianism. Hitch would’ve been impressed (although he’d probably despise the music as well and wouldn’t be too arsed to write a book about it)!