WFMU's Beware of the Blog

Fxxk The Humans!

This week, animator/comic genius Brad Neely dropped a new short musical animated piece. I wrote a bit about Neely in a previous post, and he is popping up on screen as one of the subjects of the new film We Are Wizards, which examines the subculture around the Harry Potter books (the film played at the NY Underground Film Festival earlier this month, as is in the Independent Film Festival of Boston this weekend).

His new cartoon is musical ditty in which "all of the woodland elves, satyrs and hobgoblins are finally coming together for a ragtime protest ditty against us Homo sapiens." They have a rather impressive list of all the things we get wrong.

Dirty, crude, juvenile, and completely reprehensible. And catchy as hell...

NSFW video after the jump.

Is "Cathy" Still in the Market For a Man?

Whitehouse's William Bennett, now comic strip star (Ultraskull via Billy Kiely):

Fumetti Terror Blu on Groovy Age of Horror

(NSFW) The Groovy Age of Horror is a blog devoted to bizarre horror paperbacks, comics and movies. For the past year the curators have been posting scans of Italian Fumetti (comics), starting with the wild and weird series Terror Blu. The stories are a sick and hilarious mix of gynecological and genital terror told within ludicrous sci-fi storylines The stuff is not for the faint of heart but I'm sure your ghoulish curiosity will get the better of you as you scratch your head wondering how anyone concocted such a carnival of carnage.

My Secret Garden (the weird alienated one)

I sometimes hear guys talking about how mystified they are by choices women make when it comes to a hetero partner. Frankly, even as a broad, I can offer little insight into what goes on in the minds of women myself. I just know that girls start a hell of alot earlier than you may have been led to believe when it comes to creating a sexual inner life. Add to that mix the fact that most boys find girls icky until they are almost thirteen and you've got yourself the first giant chasm in the gender gap.
As early as the age of four back in the late sixties/early seventies my preoccupation with and crushes on celebrities were a mental tsunami drowning the village of my own potential. Worse was the fact that my crushes were on personalities so incredibly unsexy to other young girls who dreamt about the classic version of Prince Charming that I could not even share during girltalk, leaving me left out of that whole female bonding thing. The endurance of each of my manias made Wuthering Heights look like a Peanuts cartoon. Meanwhile other girls flipped their crushes as quickly as they thumbed through the latest Tiger Beat. Similarly when other little girls collected 45s, I sat transfixed with my LPs stacked on the return arm of the stereo.                                                                                                            
For the sake of some (any) logic, I've lumped my pre-teen loves into three different categories. Mind you, some of the celebrities are literally shoe-horned into these groups but I'm trying make things easier for you people. Anyhoo, there are "The Nice Jewish Boys", "The Pan-Sexuals" and "The Feel Funnys".
In the first category, I give you Barry Gordon From A Thousand Clowns, one of the more influential films for me as a kid. I guess I related to Barry's geekiness. He plays Larry David's Rabbi now on Curb Your Enthusiasm. Then there's Wes Stern. You might remember him from Getting Together with that douchey Bobby Sherman, and also The Mary Tyler Moore Show, where he played Lou Grant's nephew who wanted to lose his virginity to Mary. Later I think he grew up, changed character and did it with Brenda Morgenstern on Rhoda. Scott Jacoby was the Nice Jewish Boy who played Bad Ronald, one of the greatest '70s TV-movies ever. There's quite a bit of Scott up on youtube and I still think he was pretty hot back then.
Inevitably, we come to Gene Wilder in this first group. When I finally did get a friend by the sixth grade, she and I fought over who was going to marry him first. I really resented her for this. Can I just say a million dorky girls like me were really really happy when he married Gilda Radner because we actually could relate to her just a little bit more than say, Farrah Fawcett-Majors? 

Enough already

Spitzer went to prostitutes, and McGreevey had threesomes with his driver, and Paterson had affairs and did coke, and NOW we find out Bush is into furries.

Total Destruction

via Crotchbat.

The Debased Fairy Tales of Ludovic Debeurme

French artist/musician Ludovic Debeurme is a fantastic illustrator of debased fairy tales populated with sad and dejected characters. His work veers from cute to the sexually surreal with an awkward but animated figurative style similar to Dan Clowes and Max Beckmann.

His website has some great examples of his work although he has been posting his newer work to his MySpace blog. His excellent Django Reinhardt guitar stylings can be heard on his MySpace page as well.

Garfield gets weird and Muppets get dirty

This is making the rounds of all the big bloggie-things today, so who am I to deny it's awesome power. Herewith, we have Garfield cartoon strips brought to life, and then remixed into trippy music videos. Ladies and Gentlemen, LasagnaCat, an idea so simply stupid that it is absolutely brilliant.

More details on the people behind this new viral craze here.

Here's another disturbing video update of a childhood character. This one is a lovely mash-up of two of my favorite comedy bits from when I was 13: Muppet cranks Statler and Waldrof with new dialogue from Derek and Clive.

NSFW - unless your workplace likes copious use of the word "cunt".

Related: Dead Garfield, Derek and Clive on MP3 (and more FMU Blue),  Derek meets Air Supply

Herr Schulze - Inked Mayhem of Pop Detritus

German illustrator Herr Schulze's chaotic works are a comical maelstrom of stabbing, sex and spam rendered in a layered and tight style. Believe it or not, he also creates pretty darn cute characters that would fit nicely on a Hallmark greeting card.

Any Book Depicting Don Henley Being Savaged By Crazed Birds = Perfect Post-Xmas Gift

Thanks to the artist just known as "Mark" (perhaps wisely forgetting to put his last name to avoid having Glenn Danzig and Jerry Only show up at his front door) for sending his Slade Vs the Monkeys comic book, as well as allowing us to put some of his artistic executions up on the blog. The Goner store should have 'em ready for your shopping cart. In the meantime, enjoy such scenes captured as:

 

The Fetid Corpulence of Brian K. Jones

Brian K. Jones' paintings of fat men culled from the Craigslist classifieds are strangely alluring. I usually find that source material of this nature trumps any “artistic” copy because of the incredible difficulty in conveying the dense but subtle narratives of the originals. Jones seemingly started this project for shits and giggles (some of the paintings come off as one-note fat man jokes) but somewhere along the line he hit a painterly stride where he began to enjoy rendering the mounds and folds of flesh in a manner not unlike Jenny Saville albeit in a much (appropriately) cruder manner.

it's a fucking toy, morons

We need to "dialogue" with these people.

You go first.

Update (12/10): Desperately seeking asylum.

Update (12/18): Blogger action!

Nina Hagen meets Don Rickles

No, I'm not trying to describe some kind of demented performance artist. I mean this literally.

A Report On Film Restoration as of Jan. 1, 2150

An intrepid band of so-called "film preservationists" attempt to recreate and restore a long-lost medium, derisively referred to as "flatties." These cinematic artifacts are neither virtual nor immersive, but involve documented action embedded on sequential frames of transparent strips of photographic stock. Historians claim that these relics served as "entertainment" vehicles generations ago.

"What survived, survived piecemeal," according to researcher Sky Hepburn. "We work with a variety of binary source materials which are themselves re-encodings of long-obsolete single-perspective external media. Sometimes we have just one channel of information to work with, so we can only approximate the original experience."

Hepburn described the difficulty of trying to reconstruct an artifact from 1968 entitled Planet of the Apes: “We have the picture element and a commentary track by Roddy McDowell, but all attempts to recreate the original dialogue through lip reading have come up empty."

Hepburn also explains the mysterious process known as "maltinization."

 

From Wall of Sound to Huckleberry Hound: The Vinyl Side of Hanna-Barbera

Hanna-Barbera will always be synonymous with their "Saturday morning assembly line" as 60 Minutes once described it. Although their cartoons were never synonymous with quality, the endless stream of licensed merchandise that was churned out to cash in on the popular HB characters was even more dubious. From their weird line of cigarette smoking figurines to the incorrectly colored comic book adaptations, Hanna-Barbera products rarely achieved even the marginal quality of the cartoons they were based on.

There is an exception to this rule. In 1965, after six years of licensing their characters to the Colpix and Golden record companies, they founded their own label, Hanna-Barbera Records. The company put out, as you might expect, albums based on The Flintstones, Atom Ant, Touché Turtle et al. However, they were also responsible for some of the most impressive (and now sought after) garage rock, psychedelia and rugged soul music of the era - and indirectly spawned a band called Three Dog Night.

America Fears the Penis

A few months ago I got to go to a special unveiling of the first dog ever to be immortalized in wax by Madame Tussaud’s: Bullseye, the Target dog. (Of course he’s the first; we don’t even need to discuss why.)

There was a lot of canine genderbending going on at this event. All the press people stood around outside the wax museum, where there was a red carpet and special dog bodyguards—two Rottweilers wearing vests. The Rotties were supposed to look tough I guess (being large and black), but they were actually two girl dogs and both sweet as could be. Big limos pulled up, and various dogs representing dog-adoption agencies got out and walked up the red carpet while the press folks shouted and took photos. Then an incredible white Bentley limo came, and a big white Standard Poodle wearing a plaid taffeta ballgown got out. The Rotties were brought forward to “protect” her from the scrum of press, escorting her to one side of the red carpet. I forget the Poodle’s name, but she was supposed to be Bullseye’s girlfriend.

Lassie showed up next, the real Lassie, because the new Lassie movie had just been released. She sat next to the Poodle and seemed pretty interested in her, and you might have thought Lassie was a lesbian except that, as always, “Lassie” was a boy dog. (Boy Collies have a bigger, thicker ruff of hair and are more photogenic, supposedly.)

After a short delay, another limo glided along, stopped, and Bullseye himself jumped out. He was obviously a LOT more interested in Lassie than in his alleged girlfriend Poodle, but that was because Bullseye was being played by a girl Bull Terrier (easier to train than a male?) and Lassie was a boy. And the big tough bodyguards were sweet girls, and who knows what was under that Poodle’s dress?

I was wondering how the Madame Tussaud’s people were going to portray Bullseye—as the boy he’s supposed to be, or as the girl who plays him at special events? But it turned out not to be an issue, because the wax Bullseye, while a very good likeness of a Bull Terrier, is completely smooth underneath, with no genitalia whatsoever. C’mon, waxworkers! It’s a DOG! Are they afraid that some child will see the wax doggy’s weewee and be traumatized for life?

Some time after the wax dog event, I found a Crazy Frog CD in the new bin at the radio station. It was really annoying so I played one of the songs on my show, and afterwards Program Director Brian told me that while Crazy Frog in Europe has a little penis, the Americanized Crazy Frog is completely smooth down there. This is not just an animal, it is also a cartoon, but even cartoons must not have peepees in the land of permanent war.
America fears the penis.

Yes, They Called Him the Streak

You all know this photo. It's the Oscar streaker. And it's David Niven looking at who knows what. I've searched the internet far and wide and, for the life of me, can not find one image of streaker Robert Opel's uncropped, unblurred "statuette." It might be for the best (maybe he was just born with a blurry penis), but you'd think that at one of the most photographed events in America, there might have been more than two photos of Opel's legendary jaunt. Ah, but here's the thing. Many people believe that the famous incident, where this naked man ran through the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion past David Niven at the 46th annual Academy Awards, was staged. This theory of planned spontaneity receives most of its weight from the fact that Opel wasn't even arrested for trespassing on Hollywood's most exclusive event, but instead got dressed (with clothes provided for him by the Academy) and had security promptly escort him to "winner's row" where he held a press conference! Opel was sporting a blue jumpsuit when he showed up, and still managed to remain undetected. But a little bit of investigation lays the conspiracy theories to rest - it also opens up a fascinating story about a man most know only as a photograph.

Robert Opel (sometimes Opal) was born completely naked on October 23rd, 1939. He was thirty-three years old when he crashed the gate of the Oscars. Moustached, long-haired, flashing the peace sign - he was a member of the fleeting Los Angeles hippy scene and a key figure in the burgeoning gay liberation movement of the early nineteen seventies. Opel was a mover and a shaker (spare me your obvious jokes) in underground art movements on both coasts. His Oscar stunt gave him immense publicity and in art circles, strange as it might seem, a significant amount of credibility.

Opel's streaking tendencies had started several months prior to the Oscar ceremonies. He had appeared naked, on more than one occasion, at Los Angeles City Council meetings. The purpose was to protest the City Council's plan to place a ban on nudity at local beaches. He stood with his balls strategically swaying in front of the seated Los Angeles Police Chief Ed Davis' face. "I thought the Council should see what an actual nude person looks like," he said. When he appeared at his court trial after being arrested for the display, he showed up dressed as Uncle Sam. He was sentenced to four months in prison for public lewdness (later diminished to probation). A 1979 San Francisco Chronicle profile spoke of his advocacy for "sexual freedom." The article stated, "He wanted people to be absolutely free sexually ... He saw sexual repression everywhere. And he believed it was politically motivated ..."

Dancing Fools

Few rock musicians had more integrity than Frank Zappa. Uncompromising, non-conformist, prolific - FZ may have appeared on an episode of Miami Vice as a drug dealer, but he never sold out. And then suddenly... this footage surfaces!

Betty Hutton (1921-2007)

Legendary exponent of the Bob Clampett school of song and dance:

"Can't Stop Talking About Him"

"Murder, He Says"

"I'm Just a Square (In a Social Circle)"

"Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief"

Not the Father of Old-Time Radio — just a sperm donor

    The Old Codger will always be a sort of one-lunged animal,
    never rounded and perfect, as a cockroach, say, is perfect.
                                                     — H.L. Mencken, 1926

He's an ageless radio legend who has outfoxed the actuaries, but he's a far from commendable role model. WFMU's third-string program host Courtney T. Edison, a.k.a. The Old Codger, has been called many things during his century-plus life, and the consensus can be distilled in four words: increasingly, unremittingly, irredemptively unhinged. Ugly and Uglier, rolled into one. He's been around too long and nobody knows how he got here. He won't quit and he won't die. But we refuse to concede the Codge a regular air slot. If you ignore pests, they go away, right? Eventually??

When you're dealing with an obsessed, post-geriatric 78 rpm disc-hoarding Ukulele Ike fan, "eventually" is a theoretical concept. One WFMU staffer (who wishes to remain anonymous) speculated that the Codger will attend each of our funerals.

But did you know that for a 1943 Columbia Records ad, the Codge modeled for artist Jim Flora?

Li'l Jinx ... Li'l Dead.

What with all the talk of Anna Nicole Smith, somebody seems to have forgotten to let you know that the creator of Li'l Jinx passed away just about twelve hours later. Remember Li'l Jinx? Yeah ... you do.

Yo Aaron, Get Out of the Hulk's Way Now

As a kid I was once given the gift of a customized book that included all my family and friends as characters, being led around with me having adventures in Giraffeland or something. I think it cost $15. But now, you can have yourself inserted by name into cheesy, terrible songs about Marvel Comics characters. Go here for MP3 samples. Whoa. From Living Between Wednesdays via Matthew P.

Mr. Personality Himself- Alan Gillett!

From Peoria, Illinois...Here is artist #277, Mr. Personality himself- Alan Gillett!

Suburban cowboy, Alan Gillett, croons in the most peculiar Kermit the Frog warble. Alan trekked down to Nashville, Tennessee to compete in  Music City Television Network's talent competition- a sort of low budget American Idol for the country crowd.

Standing slightly slouched in his black denim, cowboy hat and mustache (and looking a bit like 80s era Beefheart)- Alan is swallowed up by the massive blue carpeted stage (I guess keying in a snazzy background for him was out of the budget). In this monotone sea, being framed dead center is enough to make anyone's effort at entertainment worthless- but Alan makes it work by being so deadpan and monotone himself.  Alan eventually loosens up throughout the course of his eleven songs- first by incessantly flapping his hand at his side to keep rhythm and then by dancing...an amazing dance...a stilted step worthy of a spastic with both feet encased in concrete.

All Shook Up ( .mov video | YouTube link ) | Mr. Personality ( .mov video | YouTube link )

The latter video is quite late in the competition and the audience lounging in the studio's plastic lawn chairs seem a bit bored, amused and a little confused. Or at least I am confused when a woman starts snapping her fingers and gets up to do an Alan Gillette dance. The blustery host even gets into it by barrelling back and forth in the studio. At this point Alan is a bit out of breath and his timing strays off of the karaoke track.

At the end of his eleven songs, Alan is interviewed by the host (.mov video). Mr. Gillett is shy and nervous and has to be reminded to speak into the microphone. His favorite artist is Lloyd Price and he will travel for national bookings.

But Alan's true philosophy is summed up on his 2000 appearance on Chicago's kiddie dance show Chic-A-GoGo where he states that music must be a balance of harmony and disharmony- just like life (mp3).

Here for your irritainment pleasure are five songs ripped from the video in addition to Alan's performance on Chic-A-Go-Go. Put them on your ipod and crank it up. Have a party with Alan blasting in your cranium as you're on your way to work this morning!

Silver Threads Among The Gold  | Fast As You | Personality | All Shook Up | Waltz Across Texas | Come On Home

Thanks to Decker from Resipiscent for sending this to me!

Stars Come Out for Coachella

We included "Cartoon Sexuality" in the category heading on account of the much overdue return of MC Scat Cat to the live forum. Somebody's got to get Paula back on the rails and he might be the one to do it (flyer swiped from Matablog).

Dianekamikaze Craps In Her Pants

So I just got an email commenting on something I mentioned on the latest edition of DKFM. The Melvins have a new CD out - (A) Senile Animal on Ipecac, & in my backannouncing frenzy I waxed poetic about how great they were live - the last time I saw them was at Maxwell's this past October, and they really were massive, perfect and heavy all at once. A kind listener emailed me to tell me that when he saw the Melvins live he "literally" crapped his pants. This email brought back memories of when I once "literally" crapped in my pants, so here goes...