…and proceed to rock my balls off. But Dysrhythmia don’t rock balls in the typical fashion- for there is nothing typical about this band. What they do is swim up your urethra like the dreaded candiru, gestate in your testicles, and then burst forth from your scrotum like a chest-hugger, splattering blood and seminal fluid all over the unsuspecting hipsters inhabiting Brooklyn’s Union Pool. That’s how they rock balls.
Dysrhythmia are one of the most technically proficient live bands I’ve ever seen. Colin Marston wields the six-stringed bass like a dwarf wields a battle axe, drummer Jeff Eber crunches rhythms like he probably crunches numbers in his day job, and Kevin Hufnagel’s hands move so fast and with such economy of motion, they look like they are vibrating. When the man shreds, he makes faces like he is simultaneously taking a shit and traveling through time. Dysrhythmia is a band that demands your respect.
Click on Jumbo for the full gallery of uncensored pics
You know what’s great about Europe? The lack of shame. Where else can a grizzled old dude strut around town in tattoo underwear with his baby arm hanging out? It is an inalienable right- alongside life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. In fact, in the Declaración de Independencia, the term pursuit of happiness is replaced with pursuit of being a horny old dude with a piece like a fleshy tire iron. La búsqueda de ser un viejo tipo córneo con un pedazo tiene gusto de un hierro de neumático carnudo. Look it up.
It goes without saying, these pics are NSFW. It’s like feeding time at the reptile house. Seriously, it looks like dude is putting a leg lock on an anteater. The thing’s practically prehensile. If you ask nicely, maybe he’ll even let you feed it some peanuts.
Time again for another anecdote laced book review over at Chuck Palahniuk dot net. Whether you love or hate immigrants, this is the book for you:
A young immigrant travels to the land of ice and snow to whisper tales of gore on how he calmed the tides of war.
Cockroach is the story of a Lebanese immigrant living in Montreal after a botched suicide attempt. The metaphor of immigrant as cockroach is usually a negative one, but in Hage’s novel our narrator imagines himself scuttling beneath the feet of the privileged elite as a Kafkaesque badge of honor. He is a womanizer and a thief, and when he is not sneaking into people’s homes and stealing food, he is recounting his childhood in war-torn Lebanon to his court appointed shrink.
Support dime-a-dozen bloggers and the literary arts. Read the review in all its roach squashing, immigrant hating glory HERE.
Just in case you’d thought we’d forgotten our roots…
Thanks to SG for the pic of his dick(s)
Inspired by an older post (Having Sex With Your Clone Does Not Make You Gay,) I got to thinking. The lines of sexuality have become so blurred these days you need bifocals just to make them out. What makes a person gay? A little bit of leather and some feather boas? Probably not. Your self-righteous religious types would argue that it is the pursuit of a sinful, deviant lifestyle and that AIDS is the cure, but any rational minded person knows that opinion went out of style with Sebastian Bach. I don’t think anything specific makes a person gay (except, ironically, god,) but I do know what doesn’t. So if you are at all unsure, I present to you this handy guide for what IS NOT GAY.
If you’re banging some chick and a buddy of your is watching- that’s not gay. It’s called voyeurism, and lots of straight people are into it. If said friend decides to strip down and join in- that’s not gay. You’re just talking double-team. If you accidentally touch something you shouldn’t- you’re still not gay. Accidents happen. To quote Willem Defoe in Autofocus, “It’s a group grope. Everybody’s touching everybody.” So if some dudes fingers “accidentally” find their way into your hidey hole, you’re not gay. (He might be, but you’re not. Roll with it.) If you happen to cross swords or bump ball bags, don’t worry, you’re totally not gay. It’s hard to keep those things from meeting at the intersection of Anus Lane and Pussyhole Junction when they are flopping around like pigs in a burlap sack. If you accidentally get a smattering of jizz on you, YOU WILL NOT CATCH GAY. Ask Izzy and Slash. It comes with the territory and is actually quite good for the skin.
You see where I’m going with this? The lady is the main course. Anything else is just collateral damage.
At least one of these fabulous gentlemen is not gay.
I’ll take it one step further. If there is a female involved and things get all experimental, you’re still not gay. Hell, you’re not even bisexual. If the chick wants to take a breather while the two of you go at it, you guessed it- still not gay. As long as there’s a lady present, you could be rogering a dude like nobody’s business and IT’S STILL NOT GAY. If she’s got to take a phone call and steps out of the room for a minute, she’s still under the same roof, so technically- not gay. If she wants to go out and grab something to eat, as long as she brings some back for you, YOU’RE TOTALLY NOT GAY. If she goes home for the night to catch some sleep, as long as you thing about her every once in a while, you’re still a red-blooded, heterosexual male.
And of course, if you click on the picture at the top of the post, I can assure you, YOU ARE NOT GAY. If you were previously, it might even make you straight.
I hope this guide has been helpful. Go forth and spread the word like ass cheeks.
Four years ago, my girlfriend lent me Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake on our very first date. I was hesitant to accept, not only because that locked me into seeing her again, but because other than Geek Love, I had never read anything by a female author that I had actually liked. (Imminent backlash in 3… 2… 1…) Flash forward to the present and we are still together and I am anxiously awaiting the release of The Year of the Flood. Looks like I have fallen prey to not one, but two crafty she-devils.
I feel a relapse coming on just looking at this picture.
Festival Fatigue is defined as a proportionate lack of patience in direct relation to the quality and quantity of films viewed in a short period of time. So was I a dick for flipping off the screen and walking out during The Revenant in front of the director? You be the judge.
Read all about it over at TWITCH. I am already receiving hate posts.
No filmmaker’s feelings were harmed during the writing of these reviews…
CROPSEY
A nebbish filmmaker and his yenta pal delve into the garbage heap that is Staten Island in search of the mysterious child killer, Cropsey. Very effective real-life horror doc.
METROPIA
Vincent Gallo voices a timid cubicle worker who doesn’t drive shifter-cars in this Orwellian nightmare that is an animated mix of Pixar and Bratz. Just don’t look at his dick in the urinal.
STINGRAY SAM
Was initially unsure, but as soon as the song Fredward hit, I was sold. If this slice of originality doesn’t tickle the funny bone in your heart’s taint, you have no soul.
[REC] 2
Had the same problem as its predecessor- 90 minutes of screaming and camera flailing punctuated by moments of genuine terror. Basically the same film as the first, but the expanded mythology effectively changes the genre from zombie to possession.
BREATHLESS
A borderline psychotic debt collector strikes up a friendship with a sullen high school girl. Well acted, heavy handed Korean drama in which every character is in a physically abusive relationship. Not nearly as sexy as it sounds.
SALVAGE
A quasi zombie flick with post 9-11 overtones that suffers from leaps in logic and continuity issues. A stronger third act could have salvaged this film.
SWEET KARMA
Stripper revenge flick in which the director “played to the strengths” of the lead actress by re-imaging her character as a mute. There were a couple other actors whose characters should have been mute as well.
DURESS
A decent film I was ridiculed for not hating with an unbelievable plot twist that has to be explained via flashback to things we never saw. Yeah, one of those.
PRIVATE EYE
A Korean film noir that is part Indiana Jones, part Sherlock Holmes, and all crowd-pleaser. Really well made and fun as hell.
AVATAR: PREVIEW FOOTAGE
I don’t know why producer Jon Landau had to give such a hard sell to a theater full of nerds, but he did. Impressive visuals combined with a script up to Cameron’s usual standards. Depending on who you are, that could be just good enough or flat-out terrible.
HUMAN CENTIPEDE
Gets my coveted award for Best of the Fest. A generic horror plot gets elevated by an already iconic performance by Dieter Laser and the preposterous premise of sewing people together, ass to mouth. Brilliant.
HAUSU
Seven Japanese school girls get trapped in a haunted house that needs their blood to survive in this unearthed gem from the 70’s. Sounds run of the mill, but the whole thing is directed like an episode of The Monkees. Rumored to be receiving a Criterion release.
DIRTY MIND
Refreshing Belgian comedy that comes across as wholly original despite following what is basically a standard rom com plot. Hollywood, please take note.
REVENANT
An irritatingly mediocre buddy comedy featuring a David Spade lookalike and his vampire friend. No need to sink your teeth into this turd unless you like blood in your stool.
“Toilet paper – and no baby wipes – in the bathroom. If they’re using dry paper, they aren’t washing all of themselves. It’s just unclean. So if I go in a woman’s house and see the toilet paper there, I’ll explain this. And if she doesn’t make the adjustment to baby wipes, I’ll know she’s not completely clean.”
Hahaha. You tell that to a women’s magazine? Dude is seriously out of touch. I’m surprised he didn’t demand women on their period be sequestered from society due to uncleanliness, Bible style.
Thou Shalt Not!
Leviticus 15:19-30
And if a woman have an issue, and her issue in her flesh be blood, she shall be put apart seven days: and whosoever toucheth her shall be unclean until the even. And every thing that she lieth upon in her separation shall be unclean: every thing also that she sitteth upon shall be unclean. And whosoever toucheth her bed shall wash his clothes, and bathe himself in water, and be unclean until the even. And whosoever toucheth any thing that she sat upon shall wash his clothes, and bathe himself in water, and be unclean until the even. And if it be on her bed, or on any thing whereon she sitteth, when he toucheth it, he shall be unclean until the even.
I bet when Terrence is alone and life is making him lonely, he’s shit out of luck. I find it hard to believe he would “listen to the rhythm of a gentle bossa nova,” if you know what I mean.
Terrence demonstrates the proper way to clean the female vadge-niner
The consequence of not using Terrence Howard brand vag wipes
Time again for another anecdote laced book review over at Chuck Palahniuk dot net. Whether you love or hate immigrants, this is the book for you:
