This is the graphic of the inside CD tray:
And here is the track listing for Listening Party:
Listening Party
My Neighbors
Purple Shit
Dinosaurs
England-Man American
She’s Trouble!
A Man Called ZZ Top
Piece of Poo
New Coke Rap
September 15, 1987
Ukraine Sexy Girls
Bob and Richie Go to Mexico
Guyliner
The Alexvanderpoolera!
14 songs, clocks in at just under 25 minutes. Hit it and quit!
I’m very proud to be releasing this CD & Digital Album with Infinite Number of Sounds Recording Company. If you’re not familiar with INS Rec Co, they digitally reissued the 5 prior EG releases on their record label. They are great, just like you! Browse the site, pick up some free digital albums. Or give us money for them, no argument there.
I’m so damn confused
I have no idea what the hell to do
I’m so fucked in the head
I have no idea whether I’m alive or dead
Chop up a fish
Blow up a car
Can’t turn back
‘Cause I’ve gone too far
I’m confused as hell
I think I’m insane
Those motherfuckers think we’re all the same
They put me down
I say “Oh well”
If you don’t like it, you can go to hell
The hell that is called Planet Smell
In a strange twist, Balloon Boy’s mom has decided to side against her husband with Balloon Boy, which is pretty bizarre. It’s difficult to wrap your head around why someone would admit to perpetrating a so-called hoax, when it it was simply a matter of a child misbehaving. In other words, Balloon Boy’s mom has officially taken the blame instead of having Balloon Boy be held accountable for his actions.
Well, fuck Balloon Boy extra now. This poor woman, the same person who forced Balloon Boy’s ungrateful demon head through her birth canal, is now being sold down the river by that six-year old sack of shit.
Say goodbye to your home (pictured below), Balloon Boy. Say goodbye to the warmth of your black sweatshirt (also below). Most importantly, say goodbye to the barn you decided to hide in (not pictured). Good night, Irene. Burn the flag.
Hey Mr. Plastic
Why do you conform?
Is it because it’s the norm?
Or is it because of society?
Don’t you even lie to me
Because I can see your invisible eyes
And is no surprise
That you’re the one I despise
Mr. Plastic
You and your wretched friends
Don’t even want to pretend
That you even really exist
So give your wife a kiss
In your mansion in suburbia
But I am impervious to your control
And I doubt you’ll ever see the whole
Photograph of your soul
Mr. Plastic
You think we want your table scraps?
You can keep them, you dicka-licka
Glad all you important eaters got to eat
We’re so grateful for your leftover piss salad
Ya stupid a-hole
Fight the power
You can’t bring me down, clown
I’ll watch you choke on your champagne
Mr. Suit Man
Keep your leftovers
I’ll set them on fire for you
You do not want my pain
Because I am insane
And you’re just a stain
I heard from Weird Paul that Rue McClanahan suffered a minor stroke recently. I don’t know how he does it, but he always is the first to tell me any pressing Golden Girls news.
Hopefully she’ll have a full recovery, seeing as how the stroke was minor. In honor of Rue, I scanned my personalized autographed 8×10 glossy she gave me at the mall in 1998. The recent passing of my personal fav Bea Arthur leaves only two surviving gold gals. In double honor of Rue and Betty, here once again is Miami Is Nice.
Here is a new song called Peegaze that will end up being an outtake from my upcoming March 2010 album Listening Party.
“Peegaze” is a genre of music I invented recently. It’s like Shoegaze music, but it sounds like pee. You’ll only understand this song if you live in Columbus. Partly why the song doesn’t really belong on the album.
Well, I hope you’re all happy as pigs in shit. Balloon Boy’s parents are going to jail, and it’s all because you fuckfaces would not believe the most logical explanation:
They thought he was in the balloon.
Whatever, it doesn’t really matter all that much. If I know Bill and Rhonda like I think I do, this adversity will only strengthen their resolve to make the truth be known. Meanwhile, little Falcon’s plan worked to perfection – get the parents out of the way so that he can go hide in the barn again and scare us all half to death. If kids today would just stop and smell the roses, they would realize that without parents they wouldn’t have the milk or clothing to survive in this world.
Once Balloon Boy’s parents get out of jail, I imagine that they will go to great measures to make sure Falcon stops acting out. Once a child is able to manipulate their parents in such a manner, it isn’t long before they’re tricking firemen to drive out to their house for no good reason. We can only hope for the best.
EG is gonna get revved up again here soon, starting with a Columbus album release show on Saturday, March 6th. Guess where? The next Saturday, March 13th, will mark an album release show in Cleveland at Bela Dubby. Even though the lovely Mary Alice! usually only does her image projection in the ‘bus, she is always up for traveling to project/see old friends in the fuckin’ C-L-E.
Saturday, April 3rd marks the return of EG to Pittsburgh with a brand new road projectionist, the lovely Derek Stewart. He’ll not only be projecting, but also showcasing his art. The hope then is to keep doing more road shows as a unit. If it doesn’t work out, my next step will be to go door-to-door selling videos of myself naked, rolling around in ice cream while being spanked by an attractive man.
That’s all for now. I had a longer version of this post, but it got deleted somehow. I poured out my feelings and everything. Meh, not really, I just talked about how it was weird to be alone in the dark. Long story.
I recently realized the MPee3 version of “Miami is Nice” that I had uploaded to the site was not the version off The Stenographer, but rather an early demo version. I just now replaced it with the correct album version. So a bunch of very lucky people got to hear a version of the song that was never supposed to see the light of day. VERY lucky.
The real version: Miami is Nice
It’s also listed on the MPee3 page in a font that doesn’t match the rest of the song titles. I don’t know how to fix it.
This is your loving grandmother speaking. I have to once again address the keywords that you typed into the search engine that made you arrive at this site. Shame shame, everyone knows your name. How do you think that makes me feel, dear? It makes me feel sad and sick all over. It’s like you kicked me in the face with a skinhead’s steel-toed combat boot. What would your mother say? I don’t understand this interweb stuff. What are all these inappropriate pictures of grandmothers doing on this small television screen? Oh dear me. You make sure to behave for now on, Billy.
So I know it’s been a little quiet around here in EG land as of late, but that’s going to change semi-soonish. I’m in the process of finishing up a new album which is scheduled for release in March 2010. There will be regional release shows around that there time to celebrate said album, which will be entitled Listening Party. I’ll have more exciting and breathtaking details soon. So hold on to your glasses, Poindexter!
Ok, so as of December 2009 the monthly series “Single of the Month” has become “Pilots and Reruns.” (I know the section says “Reruns and Pilots” right now, I told my webmaster Brent the wrong thing). But anyhoo, the idea here is to mix it up a little, and not end up with a series of demos (or “Pilots”) that will ruin the concept of a future album release. It’s interesting stuff, I know…
So in the spirit of the holiday season, this month’s “Rerun” (make sense?) is a song called “The First Day of Christmas” off my 2004 album Sin City Sex Mix. Take care of business.
I just now was listening to my copy of Mike Jackson’s Heal the World on 45, and it occurred to me how sad it is that this thing didn’t work out.
Never in my life have I cared for Heavy Metal music, but I’ve always had a fascination with the genre, especially the super scary stuff. When I was young, my mom showed me this book about Satanism written from a Christian viewpoint that she had borrowed from the library. It scared the living shit out of me. There was a part of the book where this guy talked about eating pages of the Bible and puking them out for fun. There was also a part where the book’s writer interviewed Slayer, and a part where a raving lunatic discussed mass suicide. Though I was terrified, I still couldn’t help but have a morbid curiosity about the subject.
Fast forward to adulthood, where I find myself first in a Borders reading about Norwegian Black Metal in the sub-genre’s notorious bible, Lords of Chaos. (Or it’s NOT their bible, whatever, I don’t want to be set on fire by Vikings). Once again I was scared shitless, and this is coming from a GG Allin fan (not really a “fan,” more of an observer who wants to be protected by GG Allin from Black Metal dudes). Doesn’t matter, I was scared and had to ride the bus alone at night thinking about churches being set on fire.
I recently watched a 2005 documentary film entitled Metal: A Headbanger’s Journey, and it did not disappoint in addressing the scarededness of the Black Metal movement. It was a very comprehensive movie, stretching from the roots of metal in the 60s to the extra crummy metal of modern day. In between, it covered the creepiest side of the creepiest people who have ever been associated with music. The filmmaker spoke to two members of the band Mayhem, arguably the poster children of Black Metal, at a music festival in Germany. They were out of their minds, and it was frightening. See that above picture? Those are two original members of the band, and they’re both dead. One killed himself and the other was murdered by a member of another Black Metal band. The guy who killed himself blew his head off, and the rest of the band made necklaces out of fragments of his skull. There IS a Bogeyman, and he’s masturbating under your bed.
So how do we protect ourselves from Norwegian Black Metal? For one, stay the fuck out of Norway. For another, make sure to check all your locks and make sure your oven is turned off before you go to bed. There’s really no clear cut solution to the problem, but we’ve got to try. All I know is that I am afraid, and I need some kind of buffer zone. GG Allin may very well be our only defense. Get ‘em GG!
Uh-oh…
I really enjoy listening to the first three Rancid albums. They remind me of being a rabble rousing teenager with angst in my pants. But even as a teenager, cracks began to show for me during their …And Out Come the Wolves album, when I heard Lars Fredrickson belt the stupidest lyric in of all time: “Little Sammy was a punk rocker!!!” It was then that I realized that me and these guys may not have a lot in common after all.
I’ve got nothing against being self aware with your punk-ness, but gimme a damn break. Little Sammy? It’s completely based on nothing. If you’ve got nothing important to say, don’t beat around the bush. I understand them wanting to be like The Clash, I really do. When I was younger I struggled with the fact that I couldn’t be like Joe Strummer and have something really groundbreaking to say. Once I was honest with myself in realizing that I was just a silly nose-picking suburban punk, I became much more relaxed in the process of creating music. Now I’m getting too serious here…
The aforementioned Lars is a great example of what I’m trying to get at in regard to taking oneself too seriously. I once read an interview he did in Maxim, and I was embarrassed by what a stupid asshole he was. Whoever did the interview made a bunch of jokes in the sidebar about him being a humorless idiot, and I couldn’t have agreed with them more. There’s a time and a place for The Clash; as a matter of fact, they’re my favorite band ever. But even Joe Strummer laughed and made jokes, and even interjected some humor into his music.
My point is this: Don’t try to be like The Clash if you don’t know where to begin. You’ll end up like Rancid, and you’ll put one of the guys from Good Charlotte in your music video and ask him to look scary. Yeah, they did that. It’s because they’re very confused people.
Leave these poor people alone. Their son flew away in a balloon, for fuck’s sake. At least they thought he did. It turns out that the young boy had lied to them. He was hiding in the barn the whole time. It begs the question of why a seemingly normal young boy would suddenly do something so deceptive.
Things are generally more difficult for parents these days than they were in the 1950s, with the internet and all. Recent studies have shown that the internet can cause children to act out in anger. But angry at what, exactly? It can get pretty complex down there.
In conclusion, children need to be nicer to their parents. Parents usually try, but they sometimes fail. I don’t really understand why, but who does? The children? Not in this lifetime. Some would argue that people do things just to get attention.
I saw this promo picture on Last FM this morning. So now The Killers are a 70’s glam-band? I always hated these guys’ fucking guts, but this has gone too far. Last album they were mustachioed hipsters. The album before that, they were electro-rock band from England. Why do I care? Because of the kids, man. The kids will see this popular band change with the times, and then decide it’s ok to be trendy instead of creating their own identity. What a horrible influence.
I read about the lead singer of this band criticizing Green Day for being anti-American, and additionally stating that The Killers are a better musical representation of American music, culture, attitude, etc. All opinions of Green Day aside, that has got to be the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. What kind of idiot says a thing like that? I’ll tell you what kind of idiot – an American Idiot (zing!)
So anyway, fuck those guys, and fuck every other band like them. I’m taking a stand, and I won’t fall. An it’s a real original stand, too. Nobody has ever said anything so outrageous before. Let’s see them try and stop me. They won’t, because they can’t. Who wants some?! Not you, because you know I’m the man who says things that you know you can, not, hear, sometimes.
Nothing much really to say here. I’m not really sure why they did this. Dick Tracy? The kids love 1930s comic strips, I suppose. A friend and I saw it in the theater as a sneak preview at about 10:00 in the morning. The fact that I saw it so early in the morning made the experience strange enough. The movie didn’t make any sense. Popcorn tastes weird at 10:00 in the morning.
