I avoid eye contact with three things, and I’ve gotten pretty good at spotting them from 50 yards out: Evangelicals, Homeless Dudes and Abortions. Not people for or against abortions, just actual abortions…like in a box on the side of the road or whatever. Usually it just ends up being some old pizza, but I’m always afraid I’ll come face to face with one (or face to mostly-formed-face, I suppose). ANYWAY, I end up walking past this booth with this box:
“What’s in the Box??!? WHAT’S IN THE BOX WHAT’S IN THE BOXXX?!?!”
There’s all these bible verses hanging on the booth, and this guy is just standing next to the box smiling. Another thing I’ve learned to watch out for, is guys standing next to boxes with holes cut in the top. It’s like the old saying goes: Fool me once, I grabbed a dick. Fool me TWICE…
Plus, there could be any number of abortions, homeless guys, more Evangelicals, Gweneth Paltrow’s head…it’s just freaking me out. But clearly, it’s okay for children over 12.
So let’s check it out, ya Dingus!
Simply amazing. Kudos, nice old man. Kudos. Your life will be spared when Pan, The Goat God, returns to Earth for the final vanquishing.
I’m about to go to Lollapalooza for three whole days, so I think my new strip is appropriate (click for full size).
—In other news of note, I was right about Tommy Wisseau and the sneaking suspicion I had about his “legal council,” thanks to commenter Rebochan:
Just thought I’d let you know, “John” actually *is* Tommy Wiseau. He got outed in a Harper’s Bazaar article some time back and his little war with The Nostalgia Critic is getting this publicized.
I’m no stranger to gospel music, techno mash-ups or inappropriatereligiousiconography…so perhaps that’s why this perfect storm of videos (brought to my attention by Bryan Sandlegs Morrelli) is something I will never, ever, ever stop enjoying. Just try not to Get The Ghost when you watch these. Like, every time I see them I want to go out of my mind. I want to fly a cross shaped jet at supersonic speed. I want to cut someone’s head off with communion wafer ninja stars. I want blood to spray out of a Virgin Mary statue’s eyes like a fire hose and knock everyone over in the first 3 rows. I want to LIVE, dammit! LIVE!!!!
Ok, so yesterday I touched on Handicapable Gospel Singers. But there are also a multitude of able bodied fire-and-brimstone preachers who shouldn’t have been allowed near a recording studio, Dictaphone, homemade tin can and string, or otherwise. Here’s a few I found while digging through records at Vintage Vinyl in St. Louis and, again, from this site.
What in Hell do I want? Well, for starters, not to be cheerfully flipping through records and suddenly getting yelled at like I was selling cell phone upgrade plans door to door. The back of the album says “If you think about it for just one moment this is one of the most logical questions you will ever be asked.” Hey kids, the next time your parents ask “What in hell do you want?”, tell them that’s one of the most logical things you’ve ever been asked. Then enjoy your brisk, merciless beating with a JC Penny’s fake leather belt.
“What if Mary Would Have Had An Abortion?” Wow. That’s gotta be the worst Marvel “What If?” issue in the series, right above “What If Wolverine Drank and Drove the Blackbird through a Children’s Hospital?” I guess the answer would be, “she’d look like someone ate the last Little Debbie’s Stars & Stripes Snack Cake, just like Rev. Johnny Williams here.” Actually, he looks just like when Louis Gossett Jr. wants Sean Astin to PICK UP THAT GODDAMNED BANANA in “Toy Soldiers.”
“Hi! Am I a bigot? Well, I don’t see any other bigots on this album cover so you must be addressing me. Also, where’s Jesus? He was supposed to be here 15 minutes ago. I can’t wait to meet him, I wore my bright yellow background and everything.”
Record Company: “What’s your album called?”
Rev. Clay Evans: “‘Too Many Babies in The Church.’ You know, people who are babies spiritually, but also actual babies, whom I hate. I mean, leave your kids at home Sunday Morning, you know?”
Record Company: “So for the album cover, you’re thinking…”
Rev. Clay Evans: “Me riding a big camel through the desert.”
Record Company: “Oh good, good…I’m glad we’re all on the same page here.”
Hmm…this was in the Gospel Section, but I think Rev. “Cheeks” is a Reverend the same way Sgt. Pepper served bravely in the British Army.
“Lord, Seriously…I have osteoporosis. Lubricate my bones. And maybe add some cod liver oil to my diet, and grant in me the ability to decipher double entendres as they relate to ‘bone lubrication’ jokes hurled in my direction.”
I, umm…..I’ve got nothing. Except maybe “it’s my world, and it’s not a place I have to hide in/
Life’s not worth a damn ’til you can say ‘Hey world, I ammm what I am-mmmm!’”
You know, it says Jesus did an awful lot of healing “the lame” in the bible. And I don’t mean Lady Gaga fans, I’m talking about the handicapable. But that fact doesn’t seem to bother these gospel singers who are maimed, mauled and scarred beyond belief but still sing his praises.
Now, lest you think I’m cruel, we have a family friend who is a blind pastor. But here’s the thing: he was born with one eye, and the other was poked out in a basketball game by an ornery 10-year old when he was in junior high. How’s that for rotten luck? You think I’d be kneeling at the old rugged cross if I was dealt that hand? Much less cutting gospel records?!? I’d be drinking alone in the dark and cursing to myself, mixing a Downward Spiral follow-up on my Fisher Price tape player.
That’s my best guess, as I’ve never known real adversity and would be a total puss in the face of any physical challenge that doesn’t involve me retrieving a bright orange flag from a vat of baked beans.
So, I guess I can’t tell if these albums are inspirational, exploitative or terrifying…and I don’t know if it makes me a prick for posting them….but they are kind of awesome. Enjoy the misery.
Yes, it truly is a miracle to tickle the ivories when you have nothing to tickle them with. There’s a guy in my hometown, a lawyer, who comes into a diner every single day and eats breakfast with no hands. He uses utensils like a pro. That’s impressive. I’ve seen a guy with no arms and no legs roll and light a cigarette. Amazing. So equating this woman’s hard earned adaptation to a “miracle” is a bit of a stretch, and actually kind of condescending to her when you think about it—as if she had nothing to do with the work that went into learning the organ with no freaking hands. Like, if it were really a miracle, wouldn’t Jesus give her new digits? Otherwise that’s just a half-assed miracle, and God don’t make junk, as my t-shirt once said.
…Also, would “The Handless Organist” be her given Christian name, or is this a nickname she earned later? The record gives no indication. [This one, and a few others, come from Ester Goldberg's blog. Her true treasure lies in heaven for uploading these.]
Illinois: my state invented the corn dog, the ferris wheel, and the Raul Julia of singing midgets. Like The Handless Organist, The Singing Midget apparently doesn’t have a name—first, last, middle or otherwise. It was also an affront to the tens of other Singing Midgets in Illinois, and spawned the landmark copyright case “Singing Midget v. Billy Barty’s Half-Pint Jug Band.” In the case of the album’s name, “Colorful” is obviously an old-timey way to say “Ghastly” and “Evil in God’s Eyes” while seeming fun and innocent. But the Singing Midget knows better, and when these three aren’t suspecting it he’s going to leap out of that bass cello and gnaw their crusading faces off. Then we’ll see who’s “colorful.”
What Handicapped Gospel Album article would be complete without Little Richard Miller, he who is without arms and legs? I wrote extensively about his life story in comic book form HERE, but still think it bears repeating that this dude is the Conan O’ Brian of armless, legless gospel singers. His follow up album—”Jesus, Use Me, Just Not For A Doorstop This Time”—was poorly received, and the tour bus was cut in half and sold to the Singing Midget. Also worth repeating: this album has tracks like “In the Shelter of His Arms.” You don’t see the Handless Organist doing “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands,” you know. That’s sick. Also sick? The dude was double-promoted twice in high school. What’s that even mean?
I call bullshit—these dudes ain’t blind. Look at ‘em yuck it up, knowingly. I call bullshit. The fact is, you could get PRET-TY far as a blind act in 1939 and the money was just rollin in and…what’s that? They’re STILL TOURING 60 YEARS LATER? Man, that’s a long time to keep up the blind shtick. Especially after that dust-up with another band calling themselves “The Blind Boys of Alabama,” forcing them to add “Original” to their name…and then Gallagher’s brother was calling himself “The Blind Boy From Alabama” and…the whole thing just got ugly.
They finally had a hit not too long ago and…well, this video kind of makes me goosebumpy. Plus, “their rendition of Tom Waits’ ‘Way Down in the Hole’ was used as the theme song of the HBO series The Wire in its first season” according to Wikipedia. Pretty good for some fake blind fellows. Don’t believe me? Listen to the subtext of the song: “Was Blind But Now I See.” I’m not asking for “Paul is Dead, Paul is Dead…” but c’mon! Hide your ruse a little better!:
Maybe they should have called this album “Lord, It Is By Faith in Our Calculations Alone That This Trio is a Five-Piece.” These guys did a bunch of albums in their day and don’t sound half bad, but it’s unclear who did what. I think the tall guy sings, and the guy in the wheelchair is like the Professor Xavier of gospel music—I only say that because he’s surrounded by mutants.
And THAT brings us to this little album I bought not but 2 days ago: Merrill Womach’s “Happy Again.” So, basically, Merrill Womach is like a burned face version of Mickey Rourke, with a little Tom Waits sprinkled in.
According to the album, the guy was horribly burned after surviving a horrible plane explosion. And, praise be to Jesus, they even show you on the album’s inner fold!
Hey, now that’s something I wanted to see. You could have just told me “it looked as if someone had taken a marshmallow and left it in the fire too long,” and I would have believed you, Mr. Womach. But, no we get to see it. We get to see it all. He even does a song called “Here Comes the Son,” because actually doing “Here Comes the Sun,” (or “Hot, Hot, Hot,” or “Fire Down Below” for that matter) would just be in poor taste. And thank the maker, we get to HEAR him thanks to the magic of the internet. You’ll be surprised to learn his vocal chords are completely melted, he sounds like a dehydrated donkey braying out praises. Just kidding, he sounds like this:
“He has promised to dry every tear in my eye…”
Yep. That’s fucked up.
Maybe Merrill and this guy can get together and do a world tour. I mean, I’d pay to see that. If one blown up dude is an inspiration, two would be like an inspiration explosion!
When the producer of Snakes on a Plane asks if you’re a god, you say YES.
It’s with the greatest of pants-tightening enthusiasm I can officially announce that, in addition to this site, I’ll be a regular poster at GEEK WEEK, which officially launched yesterday! I know, I know…you’re used to seeing me write for Fan Belt Quarterly and Fish Hook Enthusiast Digest, so it’s kind of a stretch for me.
I was approached several years ago by Mr. Jeff Katz—producer of Snakes On A Plane, X-Men Origins: Wolverine, and Shoot ‘Em Up—about a web venture he was working on, and after years of hard work, research and sweat that I had absolutely no part in, the Six Apart team (they designed the Huffington Post) have finally launched this beast. I’d like to think I have a pretty good bullshit detector (working for Wizard Magazine will help you fine tune that sixth sense), and Katz seems to be a guy who’s been on the level with me and knows how to spit game, knows what he wants and how to get it—as anyone who saw his San Diego ComicCon panel can attest.
I’m thrilled to be on board. I like this guy, I like his big ideas, I like his fire and vinegar, I like how he treats creators, and I like that he’s from the Midwest. He’s that perfect storm of Actual Geek and Daft Businessman that could pull this off. And he’s got a little bit of The Joker running through his veins, which is the kind of personality I tend to roll with. And, most of all, I like that my good friend/superb writer Gary Hodges is involved, as well as the only editor I’ve ever worked with who has his face printed on a goddamned thong.
Here’s a great article about Katz in Variety, as one of the 10 Producers to Watch.Personally, I thought Wolverine was a great movie right up until Wolverine stays in that barn, and the farmer forbids him from sticking his penis in any of the three holes. That’s not in the comic book (well, maybe one of Chris Claremont’s later titles).
And, say, here he is on Attack of the Show talking about his new comics brand:
Ok, so up until now it seems like I’m kissing a lot of ass. And while I’m not above that, I am sincere about what I’ve said thus far. So let’s play the Devil’s Advocate: there are tons of “Geek-Centric” websites out there. Maybe too many. Hell, MC Chris said it (I think)…geeks are kind of like the new jocks. And we’re constantly being marketed too, with words like niche-marketing and pre-awareness being bandied about, terms that raise everyone’s BS Terror Alert to “Reddish Orange.” And G4 is…well, G4 is what it is. True blue geeks still think of G4 as a corporate wolf in L33T speak clothing, with no real reason not to. We all know the score, dummies. Olivia Munn can only strut around in that White Queen get-up so many times: baby, I’m bored. My dick is not a rat, and you are not the pied piper. So what’s next?
In the words of Tom Atkins, “Thrill me.”
In the past year, I’ve seen that sites like Topless Robot ,Panels on Pages and the Robot 6 blog (just to mention just a few) can be wonderful models to look up to. After years of working for publications that scream “THE 10 GEEK THINGS YOU GOTTA OWN!” and “BEST COMIC BOOK RACKS! WE TALKIN’ BOUT BOOBS!” (fool’s posturing, basically), these sites are down to earth, candid, transparent, respectful of their audience and—when they’re at their best—there’s some refreshing humility there.
And visitors of those sites know that smart writing and good company brings a smart, fun community along with it. While this post has been a hopeful, forward-looking rah-rah-rah for the industry so far, I’m not naive. I want to make some money doing this—doing what I love to do. It’s all I’m really qualified to do except drive women wild, and I’ve already kissed all the pretty girls.
So, I hope you’ll stop by and comment often, and let me know how I’m doing. A crowd draws a crowd, so please support me and I swear I’ll try to do better at leaving comments at my friend’s websites. I’ve been scattershot at that lately. We do this in a vacuum and any comments are good comments. That’s why I leave up all the hate comments—nothing gets me hawt like the occasional person yelling at me or telling me I suck. I feed off your energy, anonymous, ball-less flame poster. I love you. Let’s have a discussion. Thank you sir, may I have another.
Really: why so serious?
Oh yeah, and I’m occasionally going to use Geek Week posts here at this site. Hey, I’m not stupid. Why work harder? That said, I can now edit videos at my house instead of driving across town, so expect a lot more men in banana hammocks and Ghetto Jesus posts in the near future. Plus, I’m working on two secret projects you’re really, really going to enjoy…
Let’s have a good decade for a change. Happy New Year.
[note: As Chris grew up in and lives in Illinois, much was kept from him about Hanukkah. And by "much," we mean "everything." Though he now has many Jewish friends, they never stopped to explain anything to him, even when he thought Baklava was a traditional Hebrew dessert.We now present you with his entire 6th Grade report on Hanukkah.]
Today marks the beginning of a 33 day tea ceremony the Japanese call “Hanukkah.” The Japanese are let out of school at 1AM, a full two hours early, and don traditional “giant banana hats” for the night’s activities.
Shown: The Jew in his Banana Hat.
This is the extent of human knowledge about this mysterious holiday and its people, though footage is rumored to exist (below). Some even say Jews live among us today. Thank You.
For the curious, I received an A on that report. Everyone else in class being from Illinois, they took me at my word. Looking back, it seems silly to think of a time when Christmas dominated the Midwest, before our Jewish friends invaded every Wal-Mart and Dollar General with their crassly commercialized “hot toys of the year.” Happy Hanukkah, Midwestern Illinois!
Shown: Impossible to find toy of the year 2009 and Toys R’ Us 4AM crowd who will soon be turned away.
What if God were one of us? Just a mumbling, ghetto-fabulous, do-nothing slob like one of us? “JC in Tha Hood” is the kind of movie that appears like a star of wonder, star of bright in the video store. How can you not immediately grab this off the shelf, and be healed by its power?
Saafir…Caffeine…Shorty Mack…Eastwood. Don’t look for any Da Vinci Code meaning to these seemingly random words on the DVD cover: these are the film’s actors. Caffeine (you know, like the drank!), Eastwood (not Clint ), Shorty Mack (in the flesh!)…they’re all here like a Holy Trinity with a +1 on the guest list!
We rented this and Left Behind last weekend (naturally). Needless to say, after watching JC In Tha Hood, we had not a second to devote to Kirk Cameron’s end-of-the-world shenanigans. They suddenly seemed silly next to JC’s keepin’ it real message.
Saafir plays a character named “Jesus,” and he at least has the “one name” thing in common. Everything else…not so much. Picture if Humpty Hump from Digital Underground and Jesus got bizzee in a Burger King bathroom. You’d get JC in Tha Hood.
His voice is, like, transcendent. Just the way he says Lucifer as “Loocifer” floors me. I can’t get enough of it. When he says “Wha happen, Loocifer?”, it’s like a crappy Song of Solomon on mine ear. “My Fah-thuh, who arts in hea-vun” is another favorite. The movie even seems to ask the audience “what if Jesus was BLACK?” I know, I know…this question was resolved by Yahoo! an entire YEAR AGO!
Not convinced of the godsend that is JC in Tha Hood? Watch these jaw-dropping clips from the movie (for sale here), which I’m officially propping up as the Christian version of The Room! Seriously, you have to see the entire movie. This montage doesn’t do it justice.
(note: while JC in Tha Hood has the trappings of a Christian film—and while I doubt that capital-g God cares which mortals are saying words like “motherfucker” down here on Earth, in English or otherwise—this movie is full of language, sexual violence and homeless funk that would make the Pope weep. It’s definitely Too Hot for the Fireproof Crowd. I left out the, ahem, sexual romance for this montage.)
Additional things you’ll get to see when (and I say WHEN) you watch this movie:
- A long speech between Satan (in a cherry red Brooks Brothers suit) and Jesus about a battle for souls, FOLLOWED by scenes of Satan getting people to do awful things to themselves. And what’s the titular Jesus do this whole time? HE WALKS AROUND LA HOLDING A BIBLE IN THE AIR. There is not ONE scene between Jesus and anyone in this movie who needs his immediate help. It’s maddening. The whole time my friends kept screaming “Jesus, DO something already!”
-A green-screen heaven. No, not the LucasArts ranch. An actual green-screen heaven.
-A whore-killing pimp who has a full-size posters of The Mummy, The Matrix, and one prominently displayed Paul Hogan/Elijah Wood Flipper Poster in his apartment. And it appears to be SIGNED!
-A slideshow from director Dale Stelly (which just makes me want to say “Stale Deli!” when I read it) featuring the crew slamming Colt 45s. Works every time! Also, the gangbanger’s car says “STELLY” on the license plate, which kind of takes me out of the film. Which is where I wanted to be, actually. So, in that case…thank you!
-A drawn out final scene on a staircase, where a reformed gang member preaches the gospel and thanks his members for letting him preach in the house “while the church is being worked on.” Uh-huh. The church is under construction. So we couldn’t film there. Eli eli lama sabachthani?* ["My God, My God, why have you forsaken my Location Scout?"]
-At least 3 different takes of the “Hey Old Man, wanna buy some DRUUUGGS?” guy. [note: those guys are totally the same age, but he insists on calling him "gramps" and "old man" in every version of the 3 stories! GAHH!!! Also, this guy would make a GREAT team with whistle-enthusiast Bubb Rubb.]
Woo-WOOO! WANT SOME DRUGS, OLD TIMER? WOOOOOO!!!!! THA DRUGZ GOES WOO-WOOOO!!!
And by the time the whole film ends with someone screaming “GLORY!” into a microphone—WHO?!?! Someone TELL ME WHO!!!—followed by an inexplicable tribute to those who lived through 9/11…well, it’s stranger than any apocalyptic future Johnny Cash sang about.
You won’t find a finer line between a $10 candle and a $0.25 clearance item than this little gem. It’s a great example of a tiny, tiny mistake that must have cost this company a wheelbarrow full of money, and eventually landed pallets full of them in the bargain warehouse I found it in (IE: my all-time favorite crap store, Dane’s Discount on Stevenson across from the Deja Vu strip club/pizza place).
Can you spot the error? If you have a lisp, then probably not.
This most certainly got some religious product wholesaler guy fired during one of those wonderfully passive-aggressive arguments Christians get in. Those are the arguments where if you disagree with someone, they tell you “why don’t you pray on that first,” which is code for “why don’t you re-think your opinion until it fits mine.” You know, something like this:
Me: I don’t think we should have to get in the lake if we don’t want to.
Church Camp guy: Why don’t you pray on that.
Me: I did. And I don’ t think Jesus wants me in the goddamned lake.
Church Camp guy: I’m gonna ask you to go ahead and pray on that.
Imagine my excitement when, while shopping at Goodwill in preparation for an upcoming appearance on “Hoarders”, I saw THIS staring back at me from the VHS rack…
And imagine my sour disappointment face when I found out this is what the video actually is….
In addition to the promise of being “100% Wild”, The back boasts “21 hunts, 17 kills and 4 misses!” Ooo, the tension! Which four deer will escape from death’s icy, orange-vest-wearing grasp? Furthermore:
“Throughout the video, we take totally wild and totally unfenced bucks. Everyone gets in on the action! You’ll see a lady take a huge 9 pt. buck and some kiddo’s take their first deer.”
This is either the most poorly written copy for a deer video ever, or a description of the world’s most illegal pornography.
Still, this clip I saw on TV yesterday cooks up a nice WTF Soup with a brothy, full-flavored “holy shit” bouillon base. Watch how the kid just jacks around with that neck before, you know, giving thanks to Jesus. If you’re from the Midwest, these good-natured hunters and what they’re doing may not seem too crazy, until you take a step outside your little world for a quick second and then actually realize that THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING CRAZY.
