Music’s 3R’s 01.01.13: The Year In Ridiculous
Happy New Year’s Eve, Babies, from the frigid Midwest!
Face it, everybody: even we diligent 411mania.com authors deserve the odd day o’ rest every now and again. I’ll be enjoying some peaceful, easy downtime tonight to ring in 2013 following a banner 2012. Therefore, as this year breathes its last, I’m going quietly into this good night not with a bang, but a cop-out.
Fresh from my road trip vacation into the Midwestern Motherland, I sat down to a frosty caipirinha and a home-cooked meal to revisit some moments from the past 12 months in which people who make more than I’ll ever dream of having fell flat onto their faces. I didn’t always observe these with humor. In some instances, the stories rattled me with disgust and the death rattles of my hope for artistic integrity, let alone humanity.
In a year in which crazy seemingly fell from the sky like rain, these were the stories that made my rain barrel o’ “WTF, yo?!” run right the f*** over.
10. Taylor Swift Thinks You’ll Believe Anything:
I could’ve cited any number of stories. But I’ll just stick with quotes demonstrating conclusively that some men will believe any lie from the right woman.
It just wouldn’t feel like a complete year if blonde objet du restraining order against Jeremy Lambert didn’t once more con somebody into being pitched under a bus in the name of Swift notching another infantile Billboard #1 breakup song. This year, by all accounts, Jake Gyllenhaal’s number was up as the speculation pointed to him being the vitriol well into which the disingenuous, moderately talented tapped to pen Red‘s lead single, “We Are Never, Ever Getting Back Together.”
Along the way this year, she dated/dumped a Kennedy, and ended it having launched a relationship with British boy-band hotshot Harry Styles of One Direction. Here’s hoping Styles read Swift’s November New York Times Magazine interview, in which the relationship sociopath admitted to outright lying to a fellow to bait him into a relationship she (and, from the sounds of it, he) seemingly knew would be fodder for his public defenestration.
‘The only time that has ever crossed someone’s mind was when we were in the process of breaking up. ‘Of course I was like, ‘Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.’ And then I did,” Swift said. “Look, it’s not like it was written somewhere in the fine print that I write songs about my life. If we break up, I’m going to write about it. But I’m probably also going to write about when I fell in love with you. So there’s an upside.
”I don’t talk about who it is specifically because these are real people,” Swift continued. “You try to give insight as to where you were coming from as a writer without completely throwing somebody under the bus.”
No, public humiliation is not an “upside” to your falling in love with someone – which, since you seemingly fall for anybody who lets you have cutsies at Starbucks, happens a little too frequently for it to mean much.
What was the line by Julia Nunes from “Indecisive” that summed this up? “This week’s news/I have a new crush/Third this month/So it doesn’t mean much/Leave me alone/’Cause I can’t control my hormones…”
Which brings me to the biggest point of all this, Men of the World: stop dating Taylor Swift.
9. I Apologize For Any Slash-Fic Horrors This May Create:
I tried, Babies.
I tried so very, very hard to find something that augments how physically repellent what Ke$ha poses here should inherently be. Time and time again, I had nothing.
Let it be known that I rarely wish mercy upon Justin Bieber. But when Ke$ha expresses her desire to violate him … well, there are some STDs that nobody deserves.
“Sure. Wait, is he even legal? Could I go to jail for this?” Nature’s greatest argument for impaired hearing told Rolling Stone. Keep in mind, she was trying to make clear her denial that she’d previously given the Canadian pop moppet some American-style humpity bumpity. “OK, then I would. We could go out and buy lottery tickets, vote, play putt-putt golf. All the things that are legal at the age of 18.”
That’s not a bottle of Jack you should now be gargling at the thought of Music’s Most Vapid boning Music’s Most Puzzlingly Popular. I would hope that it’s bile.
8. The Rhythm of Rod’s Heart Is Beating Like A Drum … Coke Will Do That:
Nary a yarn of debauchery by any rock and roll veteran wearing hedonistic scars like badges of honor could surprise me.
Rod Stewart wrote in this year’s autobiography Rod: The Autobiography that rumors of his stomach once being pumped of enough semen to fill a milk jug were greatly exaggerated – more to the point, they were about as genuine as Kim Kardashian’s marital vows.
That being said, he did cop indirectly to ignoring the fact that there are easier ways to ingest one’s illicit substances of choice.
“We started buying anti-cold capsules from the chemist’s, separating the two halves of the capsules, replacing their contents with a pinch of cocaine, and then taking the capsules anally, where, of course, the human body being a wonderful thing, they would dissolve effortlessly into the system,” Stewart explained.
It’s one of the most perpetually entertaining things about many drug enthusiasts: their lack of satisfaction with the most conventionally accepted means of ingesting foreign substances. If you’ve ever heard the Bill Hicks plagiarism more commonly known as Denis Leary’s No Cure for Cancer, you’ve nodded your head in understanding at Leary’s mention of potheads who make it their sworn life missions to turn anything and everything into a bigger, better bong. It’s not enough to be Cheech or Chong; some people can’t resist being MacGuyver, too.
The next time you feel the need to cram your candy up the “That doesn’t go there!” hole, remember that if there are any corroborating witnesses, you will one day have explaining to do.
7. We Can’t Wait To Be Rid of Him; Two Sexy Women Wanted Him Back…
I have no idea how Chris Brown does it.
Given that we’re talking about the man most famous for beating the tar out of Rihanna the night before the 2009 Grammy Awards – and then spending the next three years all but demanding a Congressional Medal of Honor for failing to do it again – I can’t say I want to know, either. But somehow, the man so had his mojo working in 2012, that both Rihanna herself and the woman Brown dumped to get back together with her scrambled to get back into his pants of fail.
TMZ reported in October that Karrueche Tran was desperate to keep her quasi-fame alive following Brown’s public dumping, and even scheming to get Brown to “cheat” on Rihanna before the two were even publicly back together. This all followed Tran reportedly breaking down in tears over Rihanna professing her ongoing love for Brown during her interview this past summer on Oprah’s Next Chapter.
This isn’t the only time Brown – or, for that matter, Rihanna – will be appearing here. This does seem like a fine place to begin, though. Does no one Google-vet this man before even going Dutch on coffee and a movie? How unceremoniously must one be dumped?
I won’t belabor this point with a complete album review. Instead, I’ll borrow from Jeremy Thomas’ review of the album, slapping it with a squarely-deserved 5/10 rating.
“Ultimately, Rihanna’s undoing on Unapologetic is her willingness to cash in on her personal controversy,” my esteemed colleague wrote. “It is one thing to use one’s music career to explore the emotional issues of one’s past, but it is another entirely to play the media game to stir those events in one’s private life for record sales, which is clearly what has been done here. The last half of the album falls into that trap while the first half schizophrenically alternates between the kind of crassness that made Talk That Talk such an uneven album and a few truly solid pop songs.”
By my nature, I hold few groupings of human beings in as low esteem as I do men who beat women. I draw a blank not long after child molesters and Noah Antwiler. It’s similarly difficult to harbor much respect or sympathy for someone who takes what is a personal tragedy that breaks inner parts of many women for life and resorts to opportunistically milking it.
5. Remember, She Said It This Time … Not Me:
Oh, what a double-whammy of “I Give Up On You, Rihanna” this was.
Yep, within a week, Dingus managed to fill out two-thirds of the Ridiculous. It would’ve been enough when The (U.K.) Sun reported that she’d gotten a tattoo of Brown’s “Breezy” nickname.
Then came this alleged quote from Rihanna while watching the late Whitney Houston’s “Something in Common” music video. “Their relationship is like the early Whitney and Bobby days,” a supposed friend of the artist’s allegedly told Hollywood Life. ” Ri was watching Bobby and Whitney’s ‘Something In Common’ video the other day and said ‘This is just like Chris and me. For real though, that’s the type of fun we having right now. I love Whitney. She was my girl. Can’t nobody do it better than her.’
“She loves that old Whitney jam and knows that she and Chris have so much in common that just bonds them. They get each other just like Bobby and Whitney. You could see it’s like real love with she and Chris – like ain’t no bullshi**ng. The s**t is magical and it’s real.”
I can think of this other nickname for Rihanna that begins with the sound “Re-“…
The LAPD’s “ongoing” investigation into The Notorious B.I.G.’s March 9, 1997, death has been one public indictment of the department’s capability after another – up to and including the damning implications that department personnel helped orchestrate the rapper’s death in a hail of gunfire at a Los Angeles party.
Eventually, the department couldn’t even be bothered to notify first Christopher Wallace’s family – and not the media – that the rapper’s autopsy results had been released to the public.
“Our detectives personally spoke with the Wallace family on Friday night, and apologized for not notifying them prior to the release,” Robbery-Homicide Division Captain Billy Hayes explained via released statement. “Obviously this has been a challenging case for us to solve. We hope that witnesses or other people with information will come forward and give us the clues we need to solve this case.”
3. Amanda Palmer vs. The New Yorker:
Recapping this story resulted in my embarrassment that anyone would deem this chucklehead a “journalist.” F*** every last 40-pound bag of Joshua Clover.
It’s one thing to misconstrue a statement. It’s another still for a story’s scope to be changed by information coming to light after its publishing, necessitating a follow-up piece.
It’s absolutely another matter entirely to brandish the verbal hatchet and be as far from the truth as possible in one’s reporting despite every contextually correct, first-hand quote one could ask or need being as near as a 10-second Google search.
In a column for The New Yorker, Clover went to great lengths lambasting Palmer for the lady-half of The Dresden Dolls proudly touring with her Grand Theft Orchestra this year backed at each stop by local musicians auditioned and rehearsed in the day or so leading up to each performance. Palmer advertised on her website, AmandaPalmer.net, indicating no guaranteed monetary compensation, but instead a chance at professional exposure before a massive live audience, beer, merchandise, and appreciation.
Smugly pointing out that Palmer’s Kickstarter campaign to fund her latest album raised millions in donations from fans for recording and touring, Clover wrote, “Just one thing, local musicians. There would be none of this million-plus dollars available for you. Supposedly, Palmer had spent it all on producing her album, along with things like airfare, mailing costs, and personal debt, and so couldn’t afford to pay anyone else. She promised instead to ‘feed you beer, hug/high-five you up and down (pick your poison), give you merch, and thank you mightily.’ This is a compensation package which, honestly, might be worse than nothing. Depends on the beer.”
Yeah, funny, that….
As demonstrated by my (appropriately sourced) verbatim reprinting of Palmer’s multiple public blog entries clearly explaining the situation right here, Clover was either completely unaware of or blatantly ignored Palmer’s own detailed explanations after multiple readers of her blog voiced their own gripes about Palmer circumventing local, unionized professional musicians to offer a golden ticket to people who just want a chance to be seen and heard.
And yet … this somehow wasn’t the most insane story I told this year. Oh, no.
The blue-ribbon baby might’ve horrified me. But the runner-up story?
Once more, folks: the quotes speak for themselves. The following was taken from TMZ’s disclosure of a lawsuit by a Michigan man both claiming to be both the father of Bieber girlfriend Selena Gomez, and a victim of the most hilarious credit-card fraud in history. All quotes are direct from the TMZ article.
-“Bieber has cost me $426.78 and never paid me back. This money was used as abortion money because Justin Bieber got my daughter Selena pregnant in my bedroom, on my Canadian bear rug.”
– “Usher Raymond came to my house on the forth of july 2012 and sodomized me with a firework and lit it inside my anal area while blaring kate perry [sic] firework song in my ear drums.”
– “[Bieber] gave selena a std and Bieber stole my credit card to buy him and sean p-ditty combs cocaine to use in drug free school zones.”
– “Bieber also got a penis enlargement with my stolen american express card. “
– “I’m an emotional mess … America must boycott biebers music!”
1. Nickelback. Penis. Fan blade…:
No, I didn’t lapse into a Lindsey Stirling-fueled fugue state. When I think of this story, that’s what my mind processes.
Nobody needs further reasons to hate Nickelback. Lead singer Chad Kroeger has all but publicly admitted that making money by the dump truck makes acknowledging how droning, repetitive and lazy his band’s music is that much easier.
There’s being a willful douchebag … and then, there’s … this: paying a dimwit to stick his man-parts into a whirling fan blade.
In Captain Ass-hat’s very own words to Men’s Health earlier this year …
“We’ve always been very close to our crew, so we’ve had a lot of fun getting them to do silly, stupid things that could possibly cause them to hurt or injure themselves in some way. We were in Germany years ago—this was one of my favorite stories—and we were just bored. There was a heat wave going on in Germany. In a back room in the venue where we were playing, there was an old fan with a metal blade. I don’t remember the last time I saw a fan with a metal blade. And we paid the drum tech…. Oh god, I forget the exact amount. I think we got the pot up to about 600 deutschmarks. At this time Germany hadn’t converted to the Euro yet. I can still hear the ‘bleh-bleh-blehhhhhhh’ of the blade slowly sputtering to a stop, and this blood-curdling scream. It was fantastic. Somebody has video footage of this somewhere that needs to be resurrected and shown at the guy’s next birthday party.”
Neither Nickelback nor fan blades, Babies: don’t stick your dick into either.
Well …. As far as 2012 is concerned, that’s that, Babies. I’ve personally had the 29th and most unforgettable year of my life. I hope many of you can say similar. But if I’ve but a moment left of this 365 days, let it be ….. A MOMENT OF GWAR!
From myself, Larry Csonka, Ashish, Jeremy Thomas, Jeremy Lambert, Samer Kadi, Mark Radulich, Jon Butterfield, Robert Cooper, Stewart Lange, Ari Berenstein, and my many esteemed friends & colleagues here at 411mania.com, have a safe, happy, prosperous, Ridiculously Right New Year. I’m Sean. You’re not. Never dull your colors for someone else’s canvas.