Happy Draw Mohammed Day!

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:scan 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:

Ai Weiwei Style!

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)!

Thin Lizzy playback conversations

Now this gem I found quite by accident. Some in the Lizzy fanbase may disagree with me, but I think that Renegade was their weakest album. It was 1981 and (according to Putterford) the drug problems within the band were spilling over into the studio and onstage. Actually the heroin problems with Phil and Scott began while cutting Black Rose (see deluxe edition liner notes) in Paris. This isn’t to say that the entire band weren’t into all types of shit, there was a shit-ton of coke and pot being used regularly. Downey and Robertson also fessed up to dragon chasing experimentally, but dropped it quickly. During the Wild Horses tenure, Jimmy Bain was a major smackhead. Scott said that back in LA he was really getting into the heroin scene, but when he set sail for England (originally to audition for a post with Supertramp) he managed to get himself clean- if only temporarily.

Some are quick to blame Lizzy’s American contingent for getting Phil into smack, but a track on the Bad Reputation album is quite telling. Opium Trail describes a luscious trip in allegorical context, a caveat and subtly brilliant on Phil’s part. One tale that long-time Lynott pal, Bob Geldof, tells was of Phil’s epic FUBAR seduction of his ex-wife the late Paula Yates. Phil slipped Geldof what he believed to be coke, but he actually snorted a line of heroin. But Robbo describes stumbling upon a virtual opium den when dropping in on Scott and Phil at the chi-chi Welbeck Mansion flats in West Hampstead. Robbo also claims that he didn’t know what they were doing because heroin wasn’t available at the time in his native Glasgow, but London was infested with it. Robbo’s dichotomous endearing train wreck personality screams amphetamine freak, but this scene seems to interrupt the timeline. Robbo was sacked from Lizzy in summer ’78 (the last album he appeared on was Live and Dangerous, but it was the late Gary Moore who took to the right side of Lizzy’s stage for the big US tour until his departure in May ’79, and Mark Nauseef filled in for Downey who was temporarily shot down from a drug-induced nervous breakdown and was featured on the DVD Boys Are Back in Town: Live in Australia) after getting bottled through the hand protecting fellow Glaswegian heathen Frankie Miller during a drunken night of mayhem concerning the band Gonzalez, but Scott claims that it was during the recording of Black Rose in Paris (winter ’78) when heroin creeped back in.

Technically the Wild Horses started up before Robbo was sacked, but on his official site, Robbo lists the debut in ’80 when their first album came out. Wild Horses and Lizzy partied and played hard together- Robbo’s cool T-shirt from his appearance with the Horses on the Lynott-presented episode of Alright Now described Lizzy and everyone else around them perfectly: I’M INTO EXCESS. So was it after they got back from Paris, or had Phil shared a bit of his dope beforehand? Scott was Phil’s best man for his wedding. They had a special rapport whenever they took to the stage with that incorrigible, goofy chemistry. They were heroin buddies. And Scott said that he wept like a baby after his wife Christine broke the news when Phil died. How could he have not known what Phil was getting into prior to Paris? That’s something only Scott could answer, and I have a feeling that with all these revival acts he’ll have a memoir out (in the UK most probably) in the future, and it will be very candid. At 60, I don’t think he’s very shy about shit any more.

Well enough with the depressing shit, onto the funny!

Like I said I think that Renegade was the weakest Lizzy album, and the worst song associated with it is Trouble Boys. The band (with the exception of Phil) agreed. However, a West German live music TV show, Music-Box, may have changed that opinion. Take one look at Lizzy’s antics as they perform it, and it will grow on you like mold. Downey held out to the last, Phil was perfect, Darren was young and dumb, and Scott, ever the gorgeous antagonist. Even Snowy was joining in on the absurdity!

DISCLAIMER: See my last post.

00:25 Scott: Yoo-hoo! Snowy!

00:30 Snowy: (FLASHBACKS TO TOKYO HYATT PRINCESS) I took one for the team! Now leave off!

00:41 Scott: Hello camera four! Look who’s beautiful!

00:43 Phil: KRELBOW!

00:49 Darren: Ahh, Phil’s vest… so soft, creaky, and warm…

00:59 Scott: The blonde’s my bitch!

01:06 Scott: Channeling Elvis!

01:10 Phil: Then suss him out!

Scott: Fuck off…

01:17 Darren: But I want to be Scott’s bitch!

01:21 Phil: You have no future.

01:25 Scott: Yo mamma!

01:28 Scott: Cooties!

01:34 Downey: I’m just banging this crap prop kit… Anyway, Christine won’t speak to Scott. And now he’s got the gay again!

01:48 Snowy: Catch me if you want me!

01:53 Scott: C’mon! What the fuck is this? Finland?!

02:08 Scott: Hair close-up please!

02:18 Stage Manager: Get yer popcorn! Escape this rockabilly shit!

02:34 Scott: We can pwn West Germany fer sure!

02:43 Scott: Random destruction! And the best 80s hair!

02:58 Phil: CLOTHESLINE!

Scott: In your wet dream!

03:01 Snowy: A threesome or nothing’s doing!

03:08 Phil: You’re just jealous that I get the best bitches!

03:20 Downey: Hi hat win!

03:29 Phil: To all my bitches…

Thin Lizzy photo caption games!

DISCLAIMER: The following photos were ripped off from other sites- regardless of whether or not they are watermarked! In other words, THEY AREN’T FUCKING MINE!!! I take NO CREDIT for these shots, and anyway I was born in 1980 as the Chinatown album was being cut. Also, I’m a huge Thin Lizzy fangirl so I mean no offense to the band (regardless of lineup), their families, or other fans. I’m just bored and having a little fun. And one more thing, can we quit the Snowy White effigy burning? The Isle of Wight native isn’t responsible for the weakening of our Lizzy (and he’s a kick-ass blues/rock guitarist, he’s just not a rocker). For more proof read Mark Putterford’s biography Phil Lynott: The Rocker, and the liner notes of the 2011 deluxe edition albums of Vagabonds of the Western World, Jailbreak, Johnny The Fox, Live And Dangerous, Black Rose, Chinatown, and the (recently released) updated import of Bad Reputation. Loving the added tracks and photos for that one! The updated edition of Fighting will be released this November (I know I pre-ordered mine). You can’t find gold like this in Best Buy or Target, they sell complete and utter bullshit (I think I saw one Whitesnake album but I can’t be sure if John Sykes was in the lineup). Nope these are pressed in Germany and sold online for Americans with sense (I miss HMV and Virgin Mega with a bitter passion).

Also, a big shout out to a certain dedicated Lizzy fan who so wonderfully put a series of nine torrents of Lizzy music porn for us to drool over. Although it took me a few days to download only the first of them (a compilation of performances, vids, and interviews from ’74-’81), I’m hoping someone could seed the hot stuff in part two from ’81-’83. The fan will remain nameless because I don’t want the SS or the rest of the Nazis shutting his shit down. But there’s one particular piece I’d love to see. Back in ’75 after the release of Fighting, Lizzy made a TV appearance on The London Weekend Show starring Janet Street-Porter, the most asinine looking and sounding presenter I’d ever seen. The episode was entitled Shoes, and Lizzy simply rocked with It’s Only Money, but they edited out the interview! All I saw was the camera panning out from Scott and Janet sitting at a set table after the interview was concluded, then the tape cut to Rosalie. I’d really love to see a young Lizzy in their early days (of course Philo being there is the best treat) and high as a squadron of kites (when didn’t Scott have pretty gray stoner eyes?)! If anybody has this (or knows what the fuck I’m talking about), could you put it up on YT or somewhere to download. I’d really appreciate it!

Now on with the Lizzy funnies!

Robbo: Charlie! There’d better be a fresh bottle of Johnny Walker on my cabinets! Phil: Kitties and puppies with waggly tails… Scott: The joke? I just smoked a pound of primo Buddha Thai! Everything’s funny, man…

Robbo: I still dunno what the fuck happened last night… can somebody tell me! Phil: I got this! See the knife? Got the badge? This pose is so ME. Downey: I need a bigger budget for the white kit… I have plans for those floor toms. Scott: Man the sun can’t get any brighter this… maybe in Montecito. Now what the fuck happened last night?!

Scott: Note to self: kick the shit outta the wind! My hair is flyaway! Robbo: Clogs are comfy and roosters are sexy… Downey: I am so fucking fat in stripes! Phil did you pick this out on purpose?! Phil: *SMIRK*

Scott: Studs, gold spangles, and THIS hair? Ladies, I’m the perfect man! Phil: Dennis The Menace ‘fro, police tape tie, and just slippin’ on this glove here… Gary: I know I’m ripping off Jagger, but I’m just better than him. Downey: Soon those floor toms will reach their purpose…

Phil: I match my gold records in this gear. Scott: I will rock this shirt into the 80s! Where the fuck are we?!

Phil: Who’s your daddy? Downey: Tiny and tough, and I can pose too goddamn it! Scott: Mom, for the last time, I’m not wearin’ the mouse ears…

Phil: About the track “Dealer”… Scott: Yeah, let’s NOT talk about Arkansas. Phil: Fair play to whoever that was… I really thought it was a woman.

Scott: I’m tellin’ you Snowy, white shoes + tight pants = chick magnet. Snowy: And what does Christine have to say about it? Scott: I’m workin’ on that… Snowy: She’s been avoiding you again.

Scott: No offense to the kid Phil. But do the words “filler twee” mean anything? Man, I need some Visene…

Scott: I’m so hot, I’m on fire right now! Chrissie honey, c’mon and fuck me! Christine: STFU Gorham! >_< Phil: Darren said he’s totally going gay for you.

Crazed fan: PHIL! SCOTT! BLESS MY TOWEL WITH YOUR SWEAT! LONG LIVE LIZZY! DEATH TO NEW WAVE ROMANCE! Phil: Got a pile of “Vienna” singles you could burn…

Phil: Now show your uncles the little Lizzy cheer Da taught you, Catie darling! Robbo: Ginger hair is best, I say. Midge: Did ya have to go burn all my singles, Phil? Scott: Now what does this put you in the mood for, Chrissie baby? Christine: For the love of fuck Gorham… -_-;

Phil: I wear ties MY WAY. Downey: A gong is next on the list. And its purpose is essential to the plan… Robbo: Fuck glasses! I do it the old fashioned way. Scott: Pucker up! ‘Cause I’m beautiful!

Downey: Now the drum riser must be fully-equipped to execute the plan… Phil: I’m the man… I’m the man… I’m the man- ooh it’s a puppy! Robbo: The stair is wedged into my ass!! Scott: Adieu Sweet Marie… hello Sexy Chrissie! Christine: Fuck you Gorham…

Scott: Thanks for the aerodynamic hair Dad! Bill Gorham: O.O

Downey: At long last! The plan’s coming to fruition! Snowy: 1/1000, 2/1000, 3/1000… Phil: HA HA HA!!! It’s Chinatown! Get down Snowy! Scott: Muscle tees and silk shirts! Scottie G for the 80s! BA-RING IT BABY!

Scott: What you’ve heard is true. I can run in heels. Robbo: Fuck you, I’m not losin’ the shades! Frankie Miller got me into something last night, and NO, I’m not tellin’ you! Phil: Yes, I’ve got a bit of a bad reputation… hey! That’s a great album title! Downey: I wouldn’t lean too close to the floor toms mate… John Alcock: TAKE THE PICTURE AND GET ME THE FUCK AWAY FROM THESE CRAZIES!

Scott: Yes, these are my teeth. Y’know LSD-coated Malteasers were a great idea! Phil: And as you can see my friend here has quite the sense of humor. In fact I’ve nicked all his beer and he still hasn’t caught up yet.

Scott: I love this fuckin’ job! I can’t feel my legs, but I love this fuckin’ job!

Scott: You lend a guy a silk shirt, and he drools all over it! Snowy: Can I stand by my amp now? I’m going insane…

Scott: And the method to my madness is… I don’t tell, I SHOW!

Scott: Check this out Snowy. We might be able to increase our Asia sales if we make subtle references to THAT. I hear Japanese high school girls cream their jeans over it! Phil: It’s time to take one for the team, Snowy. Snowy: …

Scott: Strike a pose Gaz! Gary: You mean throwin’ shapes? Yeah, I had that covered long before you Mr. LA Glamour Boy. Phil: I SO regret not buying those shoes…

Scott: The earth moved and spoke to me…

Scott: Beer, best for the hair. Phil: Yes, but do they know you actually wash your hair with it?

Retarded Danish fangirl: Tee-hee! I’ll take him home to Mummy! Scott: MY EYES! MY EYES! Phil: You’ll live in a gingerbread house and have 18 kids!

Gary: Wah-wah pedals, things of beauty. Scott: Hey Vicki! Tell Bob-o that Supertramp may have sold 50 mil, but can he get away with murder? I don’t think so…

Phil: Lockets are too a manly thing! And so is sporting a pair of leather studded belts. Gary: Ah, polka dots, my current fetish… Scott: But we know what your TRUE fetishes are, don’t we Gary?


Scott: Ladies, in my right hand is… Fangirls: A guitar pick. Scott: And behind my left hand is… Fangirls: The stairway to heaven.

Gary: Lookin’ sexy there, Gorham! Scott: I’m so fuckin’ high, I’m ready to consider it…


Phil: Note to self: buy more studded leather vests. Scott: RETURN OF THE AERODYNAMIC HAIR! HELL YEAH!

Phil: Renee Descartes was a very clever man… Scott: He said ‘I am zinc, therefore I’m a pram.’

Scott: A cig, some OJ, all is cool with the world. But are these shoulder pads too much?

Gary: High? Who’s high? (kicks a bottle of ‘ludes away) Scott: Are we still in Paris? Delivery man: Package for Brian Downey! Downey: Just put it behind the floor tom. Phil: Hey Brian, what does ‘WMD’ stand for?

Scott: Yeah, about this album Phil… what’s up with the rhyming lyrics? Phil: It came to me in a dream. Besides, it was either that, or haiku.

Scott: Look Ma! Playin’ the back of my head! Phil: And ya nicked me silk trousers… I’ll have Gary fix you boyo.

Sykes: Age before beauty… Scott: Fuck you! Watch me kick, stretch, and kick!

Sykes: I’m the brand new pretty boy! Scott: *SNAPS CAT O’NINE TAILS* What was that, bitch?

Scott: I’m not bad, I just rock that way. Now shut up and kiss me… and don’t forget the tongue. Christine: Impossible man!

Darren: Are we there yet?! Are we there yet?! Snowy: Note to self: re-read contract. There’s got to be an end in sight to all this… I know it… Downey: And to think we paid that much for the kid to turn in his v-card… Scott: Yeah, honey, the hotel management said we’re gonna have to foot the bill for the bed. Christine: And you owe me a nightie. Scott: Nothin’ like good old-fasioned American sexy violence.

Scott: Originally I was gonna wear the red outfit from the “Lonely Hearts” video, but I decided that the focus of this shot should be the hair. ALWAYS. THE. HAIR.

Scott: I’m a closet perv, who does the preppy thing. Okay? O-fucking-kay? Chrissie, defend your man! Christine: I’m still trying to work out what tree you fell from Gorham…

Scott: No, I’m not playing with myself. But if I don’t do this, Phil will punish me…

Sykes: A phallic thing? Whatever could you mean? Scott: Little bitch, I had the whole guitar-fucking thing locked down way before you! Phil: Think he needs a reminder? Scott: Charlie! Get me the thorn lash!

Darren: Look, Scott, I dunno why you have to feel uncomfortable around me. I know Sykes is your bitch… Scott: You wouldn’t get it, piano boy! Sykes: I don’t enjoy it… I don’t enjoy it… I don’t enjoy it… Phil: I may have to spill the beans on you and Gary, mate… Downey: The final stages of the plan will commence here…

Scott: Ladies and gentlemen… introducing, SCOTT GORHAM’S HAIR!

Scott: Hey-y-y-y Brian… ya ever wonder what it’s like to roll around naked on a shag? Downey: Shit! Phil! Did ya have Phyllis make those “special brownies” again?

Butthurt, an hero? Fill this out in triplicate please.

From thom_c, a kick ass EMT from bratfree. Can be used on annoying breeders, trolls, dick coworkers, your significant other, spouse, soon-to-be divorced spouse, your parents, or anyone who thinks that their superiority complex is going to lead this world out of chaos. Blessinz of teh Ceiling Cat be apwn yu, srsly.

Because your mommy and daddy always said YOUR feelings come first.

FPS Russia, I have one thing to say to you…

FPS Russia, I have one thing to say to you…

Spaseeba! (Translation: Thank you)

Oh, and for this too:

And now for your listening enjoyment, from the Nochnoi Dozor soundtrack TT-34’s Jack and Biopsihoz’s Zlost.

I hate having a best friend

Happy fucking new year (two weeks before St. Paddy’s Day).

I really hate having a best friend. I know I’m not the only one, but I just can’t keep up with the emotional train wreck-baggage my BFF carries with her like a lucky rabbit’s foot. We are at an age where we are no longer talking to one another, but AT one another. Sounds self-absorbed, but it’s true. And you’re all going through that right now. K. can dither up a shitstorm about the most nonsensical topic (example: why she still beats herself up over the $600 stilettos she wore at HS prom she was forced to give away because of pain) with a blind passion for two hours, then gets that Dunkin’ Donuts glazed look when I ask about her latest accounting temp job.

But it’s a job, you groan. Who wants to talk about their job while hanging out with your bestie? I feel it’s my duty to emotionally and mentally stimulate her with positive reinforcement since she’s gotten clean. For over a year K. went on an alcohol and MJ-soaked binge that could be construed as a female working class Charlie Sheen rocket ride. I cut off contact with her as I was cleaning my own act up, and couldn’t infect myself with the depression she was prone to spreading (as well as the bedbugs that her Mom’s boyf brought). She admitted how much she missed me, but was genuinely happy to see me on an emotional uptick.

Well I’ve had a bit to be happy about: we paid off our debts! FUCKING A, MOTHERFUCKER!!!! The only downside is that we also paid off a chunk of the asshole’s debt, $19k worth to be precise. It seems that one of the credit cards he didn’t feel like paying off back in ’93 (round about $3k on the original bill) had both Mom’s AND his names on it. The bank was willing to settle for around $8k, but the interest that accrued was more than $10k. My debt went up to $10k because of interest, and, to make shit even shittier UPS LOST the check THREE TIMES that I sent to Ellenville, NY. Luckily, the legal secretary was very nice and told me that UPS has always been problematic when they’ve dealt with them. So we sent off another check via USPS express that they got the next day. We just got the original check back and deposited it on Thursday.

Out of the $50k we got from my great aunt’s estate, we have a little over $10k left. It’s just enough to pay the taxes (making a nice federal deposit this year), and Mom and me will split the rest to re-open our bank accounts.

So K. has worked her accounting magic and Mom will be getting her FULL refund within this week. But life for K. has taken on its old topsy-turvyness. She’s back with her lazy boyf A., and is happily putting her life on hold in order to take him by the hand to get his life started. Very typical of a devoted woman. When she was high as a kite, and just able to slur to me over the phone over how it was much easier to live on the streets of Vegas than live with a crackwhore mom. She was making a whole lot more sense then. She admitted that A. was only in the market for a mommy-fucktoy, and wasn’t serious about getting his degree, or a real job, or marriage. Yadda, yadda. His mom wants K. to convert to Islam and wear a rag, and she wasn’t having that.

When she was getting cleaned up, K. put an ultimatum on A. and told his ass she was leaving him if he refused to make a serious commitment, and she was going to get her CPA and then go back to school to get her MBA. Well, now that he’s gone back to being a passive-aggressive cunt face (on account that his usual cunt wouldn’t be there), K. has switched back to stupid mode. She’s getting her CPA, but hates the office culture. She wants to do freelance accounting, and stay at home with her roommate’s baby to practice when she has her shitlings (I should add that A. has remarked on several occasions he was willing to be a SAHD for the first few years. All he needed was plenty of sex and video games, but we all know his two sisters and psycho mom would be doing all the grunt work). She’s spending the majority of her time chasing after A. with baby wipes and going with him to get enrolled in radiology school that only does student admittance ONCE A GODDAMN YEAR!

She’s once again making excuses for future MIL, and is willing to capitulate for two weddings. The first, an Islamic wedding for his family, and the second for her family and all their friends. I won’t be attending either since I can’t afford gifts nor a dress at this time. Also, I reject any idiotic religion that requires sex segregation- even during fucking weddings! I will not see my vibrant best friend wearing bedsheets from head to toe. And I will not hear of any idiocy regarding religious indoctrination to their sprogs. I have to draw a line somewhere, and even though you might call me an unrelenting, unfeeling bitch… so be it.

People-pleasing nearly drove me to suicide when I was younger. When it comes down to having a best friend, or losing self-awareness, I choose self-awareness.

I dare you to tell me otherwise.

A little something on white guilt

Last night at the Pay-O-Matic I saw ABC Nightly News broadcast their weekly social awareness blurb starring a Sesame Street producer. He and his wife adopted an Ethiopian baby and now that she’s in pre-k, she’s been complaining as to why she doesn’t have Barbie hair like all her friends and dolls. A pair of New York socialites put their adopted black child in one of those Woody Allen recommendation and principal bribe required Montessori leadership schools (with the optional vegan organic lunch menu) that are inhabited by little rich white brats. Do you think that the Upper East Side is the epicenter of black empowerment?

The asshat has a look of complete doofus-like bewilderment. So he hires the kid who played Nala in The Lion King Musical, wrote a song, and directed the following:

And here cures all racism and self-hate.

He obviously has never seen this:

And he’s obviously never visited a ghetto beauty supply store chockablock with skin whiteners, wigs, weaves, and relaxers.

Look people, this goes deeper that what’s attractive, what’s ugly, black, white, dark-skinned, light-skinned, plaçage, and euphemisms for skin color. Nappy hair, Afro, relaxed, braids, dreads, or a wig- you do what’s good for you. You do what you want. Especially if you’re American- fuck them all! Ignorance and stupidity will never die out regardless who or what you are. I personally think that all hair care is just a pain in the fucking ass- especially if you’re a woman! But if you’re observant you’ll see white people walking around with dreads, braids, extensions, cornrows, and the occasional Afro. So if you’re trying to look like you’re supporting your black brothers and sisters and buck the corporate system (that you’ll soon be chomping at the bit to get into to buy your toys and pay off your college debts), let me tell you something Ephus: you’re not trendy, you look retarded, so why don’t you take a lesson and be real. Be corny! Be lame! And be proud of being just another white person!

Long live George Carlin

There’s a retarded guy on my block. We call him Scrambled Brains.

Now obviously people already hate what I’ve said: “retarded guy”. Well it’s true, he was born fifty-odd years ago mentally retarded. His older brother is also somewhat retarded. I should really say slow. The dude is slow. But he’s got a job, a wife, and healthy kids. This family isn’t a big problem. Anymore.

The father died from lung cancer 10-11 years back, I felt sorry for the dog. It looked so lonely as they pulled the covered gurney from the house. Then a couple of years later the dog died. Don’t worry, they got a new one. The reason why I’m bringing this up is because, have you ever noticed how people benefit after a death? And I don’t mean mixing rat poison in the sugar to get a measly $800k from the life insurance. I’m talking about real, life changing benefits.

Scrambled Brains used to be a real problem for everybody. But because his Moo-my dearest is such a bitch we had to refrain from complaining. He’d take people’s mail and throw it around. I remember seeing him walking up and down the block collecting trash can lids. One serious incident (that I’d only heard of) was that he’d gotten arrested for indecent exposure- taking a piss in the park. Then he’d shout nonsensical shit at passersby sitting on his stoop, as he’d be planted there all day during the warm weather.

Then his father died, and suddenly he got calmer. And even a little functional. I know for a fact that this is the result of anti-psychotics and tranquilizers. It’s not a secret that my neighborhood is filled with cheap, old bastards who are willing to put up with all sorts of shit to avoid spending a dollar. But now that his family are free from the old man, they finally took charge.

In my family it took three deaths for some progress to happen. More on that later.