Friday, June 10, 2011
Battle of the Gods
I would really really like to know why simple videos like this are so hard for me to make. It should be easy shouldn't it? It's just a minute of footage.
Well I'm starting to realize that I'm not the problem here, it's the people I'm forced to work with. Yeah, if she's reading this she knows what she did. I'm talking about my awful awful (Just dreadful) sister.
"Tyyyyleeeer! I want to make a video! D:" She kept saying last night.
"No! I'm playing chess against myself!" I said.
She scampered into the room, slightly confused. Then she saw it: me, with a giant PHX chess board in Garry's Mod with Daleks strewn all over the map. I was having a surprisingly heated battle against myself. I had just moved the white queen into position to take the black king but I forgot that I left a black night in the perfect spot to retaliate.
"Tyler, that's so sad! D:" She said as she made some imitation of the "Forever Alone" face.
I knew the point she was trying to make but it was futile, I was having a grand time. Besides, there was obviously no other way I could have a true battle of wits seeing as she was the only other person there. Either way, we decided to try and start a server to try and have a proper game of chess.
I was cringing the whole time, hoping it wouldn't work. The scenario played out a dozen times a second in my mind, I envisioned a great flame. I started to have flashbacks to when I made videos with Idontknow and how we eventually had to defend ourselves from Gary Busey by smashing all the windows.
So before I could even spawn the board we were having a gun battle.
And then we fought in real life, I have no shame in telling you I was behaving in an extremely childish manner. It was the only way I could defend myself.
At least nothing was set on fire.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
For the Rest of My Life
I have a very good reason why I haven't posted anything on here since last month. Basically, I graduated High School.
Yay!
To everyone's surprise, I was deemed acceptable to join society at large after I "completed a course of studies in accordance with the requirements of the State Board of Education for Graduation" from my school and therefore was rewarded a shiny new diploma. Whether it was a terrible mistake of the State of California to give me this power has yet to be determined.
In the meantime, I've been busy writing thank you cards and partying it up. There's been much cake to be had by all here. The strange feeling has already passed after I've spent a week not going to school. I can tell you now, I already miss the opportunity to interrupt my classes by giving impromptu lectures. No doubt that my first place of employment will have to let me make similar speeches or I won't be there long.
All my bros and I have agreed that we need to stay in contact now that we're all adults doing adult activities. Ordinarily this would mean we're condemned to never speak again, but seeing as how everyone in my social circle (including my awful awful sister) is on Steam this shouldn't be a problem.
With school out of the way I can focus on what truly matters. All my attention can go to preparing for the future, to setting right what has gone wrong. Armed with the knowledge I have acquired I can make a difference in this world. There are problems in our society that need fixing and I think I have the solution. It'll be difficult, but with enough hard work and sheer grit I think my generation can solve this problem that has been plaguing the people of this great nation for far too long.
What I am talking about, of course, is Daleks.
The new Daleks introduced in the second half of Victory of the Daleks to be precise.
Look at those things. Those are not Daleks, those are toys. For children. They are hunchbacks, they are plastic, they are brightly colored disco bumper-cars and they simply will not do.
They're even worse in diagram-form. Look at how bulbous they are. Everything about them is too big and awkward looking. Their eye-stalks are big and bulbous, so are their plungers. Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure their gun-sticks are bigger than the old Dalek's plungers even. I'm not pointing any fingers here, but I'm sure a certain Doctor Sigmund Freud would have something to say about their insecurities and repressed feelings, especially so considering the fabulous color schemes they appear in.
"Sometimes a plunger is not just a plunger..." -Freud
As you may recall, in Dale's first post here he mentioned this same episode before going on a Scarlet Johansson induced rant. He probably never actually watched the episode or else he would have marched across the Atlantic Ocean, stormed into the BBC building and rip Steve Moffat's face right off. It's a bit late for that now so I'll just let him tell you in his own words how he found out about these abominations...
Yay!
To everyone's surprise, I was deemed acceptable to join society at large after I "completed a course of studies in accordance with the requirements of the State Board of Education for Graduation" from my school and therefore was rewarded a shiny new diploma. Whether it was a terrible mistake of the State of California to give me this power has yet to be determined.
In the meantime, I've been busy writing thank you cards and partying it up. There's been much cake to be had by all here. The strange feeling has already passed after I've spent a week not going to school. I can tell you now, I already miss the opportunity to interrupt my classes by giving impromptu lectures. No doubt that my first place of employment will have to let me make similar speeches or I won't be there long.
All my bros and I have agreed that we need to stay in contact now that we're all adults doing adult activities. Ordinarily this would mean we're condemned to never speak again, but seeing as how everyone in my social circle (including my awful awful sister) is on Steam this shouldn't be a problem.
With school out of the way I can focus on what truly matters. All my attention can go to preparing for the future, to setting right what has gone wrong. Armed with the knowledge I have acquired I can make a difference in this world. There are problems in our society that need fixing and I think I have the solution. It'll be difficult, but with enough hard work and sheer grit I think my generation can solve this problem that has been plaguing the people of this great nation for far too long.
What I am talking about, of course, is Daleks.
The new Daleks introduced in the second half of Victory of the Daleks to be precise.
Look at those things. Those are not Daleks, those are toys. For children. They are hunchbacks, they are plastic, they are brightly colored disco bumper-cars and they simply will not do.
They're even worse in diagram-form. Look at how bulbous they are. Everything about them is too big and awkward looking. Their eye-stalks are big and bulbous, so are their plungers. Speaking of which, I'm pretty sure their gun-sticks are bigger than the old Dalek's plungers even. I'm not pointing any fingers here, but I'm sure a certain Doctor Sigmund Freud would have something to say about their insecurities and repressed feelings, especially so considering the fabulous color schemes they appear in.
"Sometimes a plunger is not just a plunger..." -Freud
As you may recall, in Dale's first post here he mentioned this same episode before going on a Scarlet Johansson induced rant. He probably never actually watched the episode or else he would have marched across the Atlantic Ocean, stormed into the BBC building and rip Steve Moffat's face right off. It's a bit late for that now so I'll just let him tell you in his own words how he found out about these abominations...
HOW DALE FOUND OUT HE WAS BEING REPLACED BY ABOMINATIONS
BY DALE
THAT IS DA-LEK CHUCK SITT-ING IN THE CUBICLE NEXT TO ME. EV-ER-Y-ONE AT THE OFF-ICE IS CON-CERN-ED ABOUT HIS DRINK-ING HA-BITS.
LA-TER THAT DAY I WAS SPEAK-ING TO DALEK THAX ABOUT THE NEW SEASON OF DOCT-OR WHO. WE WERE HAVING A DIS-A-GREE-MENT ABOUT WHO IS WORSE: THE DOC-TOR OR HIS BOW-TIE. THE SUB-JECT OF THE MAS-TER-RACE (CODEWORD FOR THE DALEKS!) CAME UP, HE TOLD ME THAT WE WERE RE-PLA-CED BY A NEW MO-DEL.
WE CON-SUL-TED DALEK CHUCK FOR MORE IN-FOR-MA-TION REGARDING THE NEW PARA-DIGM DALEKS AND IMMEEEEEEDIAT-LY REGRETTED THE DESCISION.
WE VOMIT-ED IN RAGE FOR THE NEXT FIVE THOUSAND RELS (DALEK UNIT OF TIME EQUAL TO 1.5 EARTH SECONDS) AND BURNT DOWN AN OR-PHAN-AGE. AFTER THAT, WE HAD A TEN THOU-SAND REL THER-A-PEU-TIC SCREAM-ING SESSION TO COPE WITH THIS AWFUL NEWS.
THE SCREAMING THERAPY DID NOTHING TO EXTINGUISH OUR RAGE AND NO AMOUNT OF AROMATHERAPY BATH-SALTS COULD HELP SO WE CREATED A MASTER-PLAN TO DESTROY THE IMPURE DALEKS.
THIS IS A PICTURE OF ME INSTRUCTING THE BOARD ON OUR PLAN. I WAS VOTED CHAIRDALEK OF THE BOARD AFTER I EX-TER-MIN-A-TED THE PRE-VI-OUS CHAIRDALEK.
WE MOVED IN-TO POS-I-TION TO ATT-ACK THE IMPURE DALEKS' HOME IN WEST HOLLYWOOD. DA-LEK KAHN FOR-GOT TO BRING S-NACKS.
THE "ETERNAL" DALEK AN-SWERED THE DOOR, THINK-ING WE WERE PIZZADALEKS SENT TO DE-LIVER A PIZZA. WE EXTERMINATED IT AND STARTED BURNING THE IN-TERIOR OF THEIR HOME. WE DID NOT SPARE THEIR EX-PEN-SIVE LEA-THER SO-FA.
WE FOUND A COPY OF THE SPICE GIRLS MOVIE ON DVD UPSTAIRS. WE EXTERMINATED IT!!!
AFTER WE EXTERMINATED THE IMPURE DALEKS EVERYONE WENT OUTSIDE TO FOR A GROUP POSE. I MIGHT PUT THIS LAST PICTURE IN MY PORTFOLIO ALONG WITH ALL MY OTHER GLAMOUR SHOTS. SEEING AS HOW STEEEEVE MOFFAT HAS LEFT ME WITHOUT A JOB I HAVE LITTLE CHOICE.
I AM HOPEFUL THAT THE PEOPLE FROM THE BBC WILL CALL ME BACK, THEY SAID THAT I'D BE A GREAT PRESENTER ON MASTERPIECE THEATER!!!
BY DALE
GREET-INGS IN-FER-IOR LIFE-FORMS. I AM DALE. THIS IS A PHO-TO-GRAPH OF MY BROS AND I WORK-ING AT THE OFF-CE. THIS IS WHERE WE PLAN ALL OUR EVIL DEEDS.
THAT IS DA-LEK CHUCK SITT-ING IN THE CUBICLE NEXT TO ME. EV-ER-Y-ONE AT THE OFF-ICE IS CON-CERN-ED ABOUT HIS DRINK-ING HA-BITS.
LA-TER THAT DAY I WAS SPEAK-ING TO DALEK THAX ABOUT THE NEW SEASON OF DOCT-OR WHO. WE WERE HAVING A DIS-A-GREE-MENT ABOUT WHO IS WORSE: THE DOC-TOR OR HIS BOW-TIE. THE SUB-JECT OF THE MAS-TER-RACE (CODEWORD FOR THE DALEKS!) CAME UP, HE TOLD ME THAT WE WERE RE-PLA-CED BY A NEW MO-DEL.
WE CON-SUL-TED DALEK CHUCK FOR MORE IN-FOR-MA-TION REGARDING THE NEW PARA-DIGM DALEKS AND IMMEEEEEEDIAT-LY REGRETTED THE DESCISION.
WE VOMIT-ED IN RAGE FOR THE NEXT FIVE THOUSAND RELS (DALEK UNIT OF TIME EQUAL TO 1.5 EARTH SECONDS) AND BURNT DOWN AN OR-PHAN-AGE. AFTER THAT, WE HAD A TEN THOU-SAND REL THER-A-PEU-TIC SCREAM-ING SESSION TO COPE WITH THIS AWFUL NEWS.
THE SCREAMING THERAPY DID NOTHING TO EXTINGUISH OUR RAGE AND NO AMOUNT OF AROMATHERAPY BATH-SALTS COULD HELP SO WE CREATED A MASTER-PLAN TO DESTROY THE IMPURE DALEKS.
THIS IS A PICTURE OF ME INSTRUCTING THE BOARD ON OUR PLAN. I WAS VOTED CHAIRDALEK OF THE BOARD AFTER I EX-TER-MIN-A-TED THE PRE-VI-OUS CHAIRDALEK.
WE MOVED IN-TO POS-I-TION TO ATT-ACK THE IMPURE DALEKS' HOME IN WEST HOLLYWOOD. DA-LEK KAHN FOR-GOT TO BRING S-NACKS.
THE "ETERNAL" DALEK AN-SWERED THE DOOR, THINK-ING WE WERE PIZZADALEKS SENT TO DE-LIVER A PIZZA. WE EXTERMINATED IT AND STARTED BURNING THE IN-TERIOR OF THEIR HOME. WE DID NOT SPARE THEIR EX-PEN-SIVE LEA-THER SO-FA.
WE FOUND A COPY OF THE SPICE GIRLS MOVIE ON DVD UPSTAIRS. WE EXTERMINATED IT!!!
AFTER WE EXTERMINATED THE IMPURE DALEKS EVERYONE WENT OUTSIDE TO FOR A GROUP POSE. I MIGHT PUT THIS LAST PICTURE IN MY PORTFOLIO ALONG WITH ALL MY OTHER GLAMOUR SHOTS. SEEING AS HOW STEEEEVE MOFFAT HAS LEFT ME WITHOUT A JOB I HAVE LITTLE CHOICE.
I AM HOPEFUL THAT THE PEOPLE FROM THE BBC WILL CALL ME BACK, THEY SAID THAT I'D BE A GREAT PRESENTER ON MASTERPIECE THEATER!!!
Monday, May 23, 2011
Serious Buisness Time
I realize that some of you may not appreciate ponies so maybe you actually do like my god awful fiction. Good for you because I have some here:
The statue had a lively silver color like mercury. It's construction was simple, a single bar, bent at three ninety degree angles to create a triangle, all facing towards each to align. Barbra had been admiring it the whole night and finally walked over, martini in hand, to take a better look.
All over the house, party-goers had planted themselves in leather sofas, quietly socializing and sipping at their martini glasses, discussing the eclectic pieces of art that covered the walls. It was evening, the sky was a dull pink like polished quartz. The summer air was hot as it wafted in through the open patio, carrying the smell of steaks cooked over an open fire.
"Hey Barb', what are you looking at?" Glen said as he sauntered over.
"Oh, just this, I saw it earlier and thought it was interesting." She said "What do you think of it?" She asked as she waved her glass at the triangle. Glen contemplated the metal construction and the two were silent for a long while. Finally, he blinked and turned away.
"It makes me dizzy." He said as he lifted the martini to his pencil-thin moustache.
Barbra couldn't help but have a feeling of falling when looking at the twisted triangular frame. She felt like she was looking over the edge of a high cliff into the abyss below.
"Oh, that reminds me, Reynold said someone left a letter for you." Glen said.
Barbra made her way across the house, stopping to refill her glass along the way.
Her room was quiet compared to the rest of the house, unpacked luggage was still laying on the bed. On the mantelpiece was a single envelop, made of plain, white paper and a single stamp with a picture of a small crooked triangular shape.
102842 Aleph, Ipanema was the mailing address. Other then that, there was no markings on the unassuming envelope. Without hesitating, Barbra opened it. The room filled with a bright white light and a sound like a harpsichord. Everything in the room gave way to the intense light and a feeling like floating overcame her.
It subsided, and she put the unopened envelope back on the bed.
She went back to the party, everyone was quietly chatting and sipping at their drinks. The hot summer air poured through the open patio. Laughing and the smell of coffee filled the room as the party-goers sank into their leather sofas.
Barbra moved across the room in a lazy arch, greeting old friends along the way, taking long glances at the collection that covered the walls. Throughout the night her attention was drawn to one piece in particular: a small metal statue in the corner. She walked over to get a better look.
The statue had a lively silver color like mercury. It's construction was simple, a single bar, bent at three ninety degree angles to create a triangle, all facing towards each to align. Barbra stood there, tracing it's shape with her eyes. Over and over, she would make it back to the same spot. It looped back in on itself.
Glen sauntered over, "Hey Barb', what are you looking at?" He said.
"Oh, just this, I saw it earlier and thought it was interesting." She said "What do you think of it?"
...
Also, good news! My mother, as in Mother is coming to visit this week and she's bringing my sister. You know, the one who called me a slut a few posts ago.
The Dinner Party
The statue had a lively silver color like mercury. It's construction was simple, a single bar, bent at three ninety degree angles to create a triangle, all facing towards each to align. Barbra had been admiring it the whole night and finally walked over, martini in hand, to take a better look.
All over the house, party-goers had planted themselves in leather sofas, quietly socializing and sipping at their martini glasses, discussing the eclectic pieces of art that covered the walls. It was evening, the sky was a dull pink like polished quartz. The summer air was hot as it wafted in through the open patio, carrying the smell of steaks cooked over an open fire.
"Hey Barb', what are you looking at?" Glen said as he sauntered over.
"Oh, just this, I saw it earlier and thought it was interesting." She said "What do you think of it?" She asked as she waved her glass at the triangle. Glen contemplated the metal construction and the two were silent for a long while. Finally, he blinked and turned away.
"It makes me dizzy." He said as he lifted the martini to his pencil-thin moustache.
Barbra couldn't help but have a feeling of falling when looking at the twisted triangular frame. She felt like she was looking over the edge of a high cliff into the abyss below.
"Oh, that reminds me, Reynold said someone left a letter for you." Glen said.
Barbra made her way across the house, stopping to refill her glass along the way.
Her room was quiet compared to the rest of the house, unpacked luggage was still laying on the bed. On the mantelpiece was a single envelop, made of plain, white paper and a single stamp with a picture of a small crooked triangular shape.
102842 Aleph, Ipanema was the mailing address. Other then that, there was no markings on the unassuming envelope. Without hesitating, Barbra opened it. The room filled with a bright white light and a sound like a harpsichord. Everything in the room gave way to the intense light and a feeling like floating overcame her.
It subsided, and she put the unopened envelope back on the bed.
She went back to the party, everyone was quietly chatting and sipping at their drinks. The hot summer air poured through the open patio. Laughing and the smell of coffee filled the room as the party-goers sank into their leather sofas.
Barbra moved across the room in a lazy arch, greeting old friends along the way, taking long glances at the collection that covered the walls. Throughout the night her attention was drawn to one piece in particular: a small metal statue in the corner. She walked over to get a better look.
The statue had a lively silver color like mercury. It's construction was simple, a single bar, bent at three ninety degree angles to create a triangle, all facing towards each to align. Barbra stood there, tracing it's shape with her eyes. Over and over, she would make it back to the same spot. It looped back in on itself.
Glen sauntered over, "Hey Barb', what are you looking at?" He said.
"Oh, just this, I saw it earlier and thought it was interesting." She said "What do you think of it?"
...
Also, good news! My mother, as in Mother is coming to visit this week and she's bringing my sister. You know, the one who called me a slut a few posts ago.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Just to Prove I'm Still Here
Ladies and Gentlemen, I wouldn't neglect this blog as much as I do if I felt like I had something interesting to say. But nothing new and exciting has happened, nothing except Paranoia getting over 100,000 downloads from the in-game toybox on Garry's Mod. But that's old news, that map is old (but no less genius). What's happening now?
First of all, I've been meaning to say this for a while: as far as lounge music goes, Les Baxter isn't half bad. You might remember him as Spaceman Baxter from the second album covers post. That very same album that pictures him dressed up in a ludicrous spacesuit also holds quite a few quality tunes.
Hear that? That's the sound of the smoothest production music you've ever heard.
What else is new? Well for one thing I have been emotionally devastated once again. What is it this time? The first season of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is over and there won't be any new episodes until December. Worse yet, the executive producer Lauren Faust is stepping down to consulting producer.
Now me and my Bronies have to find some new show to watch on Fridays. We've already ruled out Doctor Who, the ratio of Daleks to puny Earthlings per episode is shockingly low. We've also ruled out Battlestar Galactica due to being extremely dull and severely lacking in the homicidal robot department.
Whatever. In the meantime, lets take a look at some of the fascinating pony-pictures I've accumulated over the past few weeks...
Indeed.
First of all, I've been meaning to say this for a while: as far as lounge music goes, Les Baxter isn't half bad. You might remember him as Spaceman Baxter from the second album covers post. That very same album that pictures him dressed up in a ludicrous spacesuit also holds quite a few quality tunes.
Hear that? That's the sound of the smoothest production music you've ever heard.
What else is new? Well for one thing I have been emotionally devastated once again. What is it this time? The first season of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is over and there won't be any new episodes until December. Worse yet, the executive producer Lauren Faust is stepping down to consulting producer.
Now me and my Bronies have to find some new show to watch on Fridays. We've already ruled out Doctor Who, the ratio of Daleks to puny Earthlings per episode is shockingly low. We've also ruled out Battlestar Galactica due to being extremely dull and severely lacking in the homicidal robot department.
Whatever. In the meantime, lets take a look at some of the fascinating pony-pictures I've accumulated over the past few weeks...
Indeed.
Friday, April 29, 2011
Have I Got News For You!
Good news everyone! I finally got my fancy new video card working. Why is this significant? Because up until now every single multiplayer game I had on Steam did not work on my computer. Oh sure, the games loaded just fine, but in game everything looked like a lava lamp had vomited on it. Plus, ragdolls (models with joints like people, robots and aliens for you non-technical types) didn't render so much as they were splashed across the screen like a giant kite made of skin and blue overalls. It was extremely distressing, not just because I couldn't play my beloved Counter-Strike, but because Leo was getting more hats then me in Team Fortress 2 (It's ok, no one plays that anymore anyway.).
So that's how it was for a couple months. I was deprived of my precious video games, with nothing to do but create Insomnia. Strangely enough, Half-Life 2 and it's Episodes weren't broken even though they received the same update as every other game.
A few weeks ago, Insomnia finished, I thought my life couldn't become any more beautiful, but who would have guessed it, Portal 2 was released. So I've been playing that AND Counter-Strike non-stop this week. I'll tell you all about that later. For now, it's time to take another look into the dark world of...
...album covers.
Night Rocker By David Hasselhoff
Oh thanks David, this is a real great way to start the evening. Honestly, those leather pants can't be comfortable. If my calculations are correct, that awful fuzz that's obscuring the picture is actually rain, in which case David here is even more unfortunate for being stuck in those pants. While we're at it, KITT probably isn't taking to kindly to having a view of those pants' backside.
"Funk Dumpling" By Perry Robinson 4
It's never a good idea to host a jazz orchestra in Paranoia, it's inevitable that all the clarinets will turn into Planet Killers, after that happens the whole evening generally goes down hill.
Grey Oceans By CocoRosie
Around the time my mustache became thick and properly manly, I started to see the world in a new way. I had an epiphany: everyone should have a mustache, even women.
After seeing this cover...I don't think women should have mustaches.
They should have beards.
(Yes, their music is as strange as the cover would have you believe.)
No, no no no!
NO. I don't want to see these two in my dreams! Seriously, take a look at that one to the right, it looks like some awful plastic mannequin brought to life with witchcraft. If those aren't murder-eyes I don't know what are.
On second thought, don't look at that one too long. It might steal your soul.
Slave to the Rhythm By Grace Jones
Oh my god. Grace Jones was always a little frightening, she was a Bond villain after all but this is pushing it. I'm serious, I get the sensation that I am actually going to fall inside her mouth, it's like staring into the event horizon of a black hole. Please stop screaming Grace, you're making this post more frightening then it needs to be.
If it helps there's a My Little Pony version...
NO!
Trout Mask Replica By Captain Beefheart
Finally, a proper cover. You know, not all Deep Ones want to impregnate our Earth-Women with mutant fish-spawn. Some of them are upstanding citizens who pay their taxes. Take the captain here, he became quite popular in the Innsmouth night club scene. Afterwords he went on tour all over New England, eventually playing at the Grand Ole Opry.
Now that's the American Dream.
The Ethel Merman Disco Album By Ethel
Don Elliot hurtled through the void of space on his moped of death. Entire worlds went up in flame trying to fight the power of Jazz, none succeeded. It seemed like all was lost, nothing could be done to stop Don from destroying all of reality.
But Ethel knew his one weakness: Disco.
Leberkas Hawaii By Gerhard Polt
Um, appetizing? Honestly, Gerhard here doesn't look too thrilled after transforming into a hunk of spam. It's okay Gerhard, at least you have a tasteful garnish to keep you company. I'm pretty sure no one wants to eat you anyway...well, maybe Grace Jones might.
HEINO!
Heino strikes again! This time with an armful of poodles! Escape is impossible: They will hunt you to the ends of the motel parking lot and force you to listen to Heino's musical stylings.
Oh, Seymour! Fancy meeting you here!
So that's how it was for a couple months. I was deprived of my precious video games, with nothing to do but create Insomnia. Strangely enough, Half-Life 2 and it's Episodes weren't broken even though they received the same update as every other game.
A few weeks ago, Insomnia finished, I thought my life couldn't become any more beautiful, but who would have guessed it, Portal 2 was released. So I've been playing that AND Counter-Strike non-stop this week. I'll tell you all about that later. For now, it's time to take another look into the dark world of...
...album covers.
Night Rocker By David Hasselhoff
Oh thanks David, this is a real great way to start the evening. Honestly, those leather pants can't be comfortable. If my calculations are correct, that awful fuzz that's obscuring the picture is actually rain, in which case David here is even more unfortunate for being stuck in those pants. While we're at it, KITT probably isn't taking to kindly to having a view of those pants' backside.
"Funk Dumpling" By Perry Robinson 4
It's never a good idea to host a jazz orchestra in Paranoia, it's inevitable that all the clarinets will turn into Planet Killers, after that happens the whole evening generally goes down hill.
Grey Oceans By CocoRosie
Around the time my mustache became thick and properly manly, I started to see the world in a new way. I had an epiphany: everyone should have a mustache, even women.
After seeing this cover...I don't think women should have mustaches.
They should have beards.
(Yes, their music is as strange as the cover would have you believe.)
No, no no no!
NO. I don't want to see these two in my dreams! Seriously, take a look at that one to the right, it looks like some awful plastic mannequin brought to life with witchcraft. If those aren't murder-eyes I don't know what are.
On second thought, don't look at that one too long. It might steal your soul.
Slave to the Rhythm By Grace Jones
Oh my god. Grace Jones was always a little frightening, she was a Bond villain after all but this is pushing it. I'm serious, I get the sensation that I am actually going to fall inside her mouth, it's like staring into the event horizon of a black hole. Please stop screaming Grace, you're making this post more frightening then it needs to be.
If it helps there's a My Little Pony version...
NO!
Trout Mask Replica By Captain Beefheart
Finally, a proper cover. You know, not all Deep Ones want to impregnate our Earth-Women with mutant fish-spawn. Some of them are upstanding citizens who pay their taxes. Take the captain here, he became quite popular in the Innsmouth night club scene. Afterwords he went on tour all over New England, eventually playing at the Grand Ole Opry.
Now that's the American Dream.
The Ethel Merman Disco Album By Ethel
Don Elliot hurtled through the void of space on his moped of death. Entire worlds went up in flame trying to fight the power of Jazz, none succeeded. It seemed like all was lost, nothing could be done to stop Don from destroying all of reality.
But Ethel knew his one weakness: Disco.
Leberkas Hawaii By Gerhard Polt
Um, appetizing? Honestly, Gerhard here doesn't look too thrilled after transforming into a hunk of spam. It's okay Gerhard, at least you have a tasteful garnish to keep you company. I'm pretty sure no one wants to eat you anyway...well, maybe Grace Jones might.
HEINO!
Heino strikes again! This time with an armful of poodles! Escape is impossible: They will hunt you to the ends of the motel parking lot and force you to listen to Heino's musical stylings.
Oh, Seymour! Fancy meeting you here!
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