March, 2014:

A Farewell to Dave Brockie

I had a different Final Word written for AwesomeTalk season 2, episode 7 (well, halfway written… like half a page… like three sentences), but then this happened. I woke up around 4 in the morning on Monday, looked at my phone to see what time it was, and saw rumors circulating all over my social media. I spent the next two hours constantly refreshing, hoping that it wasn’t true. Sadly, it was.

A Farewell to Dave Brockie

In eighth grade homeroom, a kid named Alex handed me a tape. On the back, crudely written in pencil, were a list of songs titles: Penis I See, Have You Seen Me?, The Salaminizer, and Saddam A-Go-Go to name a few. This was a GWAR mixtape, and with it came the following verbal instructions – stop listening to your pussy grunge bullshit and listen to GWAR.

I took half of his advice. And like most things you discover at an age when time and boredom are endless, I became a scholar of everything GWAR. The characters, the mythology, the direct-to-video movies that were at once the cheapest looking and also the most original things I had ever seen. I learned that if you inject crack into a dinosaur egg, the hatchling will grow to the size of a skyscraper, and you’re going to need gigantic swords and warhammers to stop it from destroying the world that YOU were sent to destroy.

dave-brockie-oderus-birthday-cakeAs an adult I look back at what drew me to GWAR besides the gore and the metal and the endless decapitations. They were underdogs. They were art school dropouts that created a world in which their characters, as godlike and powerful as they were, were always foiled by their own shortcomings. They dressed as barbarians from another planet, and no matter how hard they tried to escape it, they found themselves endlessly stuck on Earth.

Now I don’t want to be all, “OH GOD GWAR CHANGED MY LIFE” but in a sense they did. Kind of like how people love super heroes because they’re outsiders dealing with a world that doesn’t understand them, that was GWAR for me. On the surface, they were carting a bunch of foam rubber celebrities and politicians on stage and hacking them to bits, but if you dig a little deeper, there was an honest-to-god sense of right and wrong. It also helped that they had lyrics like “If you’re really lucky I’ll vomit on thee, shit in your stump and then bathe you in pee.”

Unfortunately, I’m referring to GWAR in the past tense. Their lead singer and lifelong member Dave Brockie was found dead on Sunday afternoon at the age of 50. Old members have come and gone, and since they all wear costumes they’d either slip a new person in or create a new character. But Dave’s armored, fish-phalluced killing machine Oderus Urungus will be impossible to replace. You could tell from his appearances both in and out of the costume that GWAR was his disgusting, boil-covered, puking baby.

So I’ll  miss going to GWAR shows. I’ll miss the blood and spew covered selfies that I’d take when I got home, from a time before selfies were a thing. I’ll miss buying a physical GWAR CD only for the lyric sheet, and trying to decipher what a “suck a dick a lick a log” really meant. And I’ll miss Dave. I never met the guy, but we were all lucky enough to see the world through the eyes of his one-of-a-kind, demented, and hilarious creation, and that’s what I’ll miss more than anything.

Could I BE Creating Midseason Replacements… Any… Better?

I read this little number on AwesomeTalk last night. It was a real doozy. A doozy number. You can relive my experience by reading it aloud yourself. Try it!

Could I BE Creating Midseason Replacements… Any… Better?

Midseason TV replacements are a great way to wipe the slate clean. Sure, we all thought a new sitcom starring Matthew Perry as a hot air balloon repairman was going to be a huge hit, but audiences just weren’t ready for Could I BE Repairing Any More Hot Air Balloons? Not to worry, NBC can just quietly cancel it and puke up some other bullshit to take its place – cheaper, less risky midseason replacements. Something quick and easy like, oh I don’t know, how about…

Mouse House, Mondays at 9pm on NBC – Two recently widowed gentlemen are forced to share an apartment, and their lives are turned upside down by a family of animated mice that live in the walls. An unstable, stuttering neighbor that never wears shoes adds to the hilarity. Their landlord, also animated, constantly insinuates that the neighbors are gay, and also helps the gang solve mysteries. Oh right, I forgot to mention – the mice and the two guys, and the shoeless, stuttering neighbor solve mysteries for some reason. And also breakdance.

No good? OK, how about –

Don’t Stand There!, Wednesdays at 10 pm on A&E –  We’re done with Hoarders. But we still need a way to exploit the mentally ill for our amusement. Don’t Stand There! is a new game show from the people that brought you Hoarders, and the rules are simple – spend 5 hours inside a house filled with garbage, and find a place to stand. A certifiable crazy person will let you know whether it’s safe for you to stand there or not. Whoops, looks like you’re standing on the hoarder’s duffle bag full of USB cables, that’s a no-no zone! You just lost 100 points and now a confused, stammering maniac is reading you the riot act. “DON’T YOU STAND THERE, YA HEAR ME? THIS MY HOUSE. THIS MY HOUSE AND YOU DON’T GET TO STAND THERE.” Much like the Game of Thrones, when you play Don’t Stand There! you either win or you suffocate to death under a pile of garbage.

Don't stand there. Or there. That's my favorite pile of cat turds you're standing on.

Don’t stand there. Or there. That’s my favorite pile of cat turds you’re standing on.

Looking for a healthy dose of reality? Bravo’s got you covered –

American Muscle Jerks, Monday through Friday, 24 hours a day, only on Bravo – If you’re like me, you want to watch the day-to-day shenanigans of old tyme throwback soda jerks, serving up vanilla cokes and smiles. Also, you want the soda jerks to be steroid-abusing, testosterone-dripping muscle-bound freaks. Follow Anthony, Trab, Flint, Bonesaw, Lil’ Pounder and the rest of the gang as they run New Jersey’s hottest sodee fountain slash gymnasium. Every episode will feature at least 20 references to “jerking it,” guaranteed. What else will happen? Who gives a shit, just look at these adonnesis! Put some creatine in your milkshake and stop hastlin’ me ya fuckin’ pipsqueeks! And if you like the American Muscle Jerks, you’re going to love The Real Housewives of the American Muscle Jerks. 9 women, all named Brandee, all selling their own brand of flavored water, all constantly pummeling each other.

I’m ready to write, produce, direct, and star in every one of these masterpieces, so please call your local cable providers and DEMAND that these shows get made.