Is TV evangelist and exorcist extraordinaire Bob Larson so down on his luck that he’s resorted to making house calls? Or is there a sudden and overwhelming demand of late for bogus exorcisms from callous grifters preying on the old and ignorant? I don’t know, but if you watch Larson’s TV commercial for his new house call business, you’d think pretty much the entire population is in desperate need of Larson’s soft touch to rid themselves of demons or other common household spiritual entities. The commercial is so ridiculous and comical it almost comes off as a Tim and Eric sketch or a commercial parody from Idiocracy.
As one woman named Rachel claims in the video, “...he already saw the demon within me before it was revealed I had Jezebel. Bob Larson’s amazing ability that he’s gifted with… I thank Bob Larson and most importantly I thank my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”
Break family curses at the root! Discover the cause of destructive habits and addictions. Get rid of demons. Uncover hindering issues. Be healed of infirmities. No pastor, priest, or counselor has dealt with more spiritually bound people and seen them set free. This isn’t counseling. This isn’t therapy. This is intervention to get answers NOW! Your lifetime of suffering will end. Your torment will stop.
Need help right where you are? Is your house haunted? Are you unable to travel? Bob makes house calls. If you can’t get to Bob, he will get to you [emphasis added].
You better believe he will!
There are so many amazing one-liners and golden nuggets of fucking idiocy in this video that I don’t even know where to begin. You’ll just have to watch this craptastic commercial to understand what I’m talking about. The idea that there’s a commercial on TV like this in the year 2014 is just mind-boggling! By 2505, sure, but 2014?
Sometimes I feel it’s difficult to explain America to people who have never been here.
Bob Larson doing what he does best.
After the jump, Bob Larson’s incredible cameo appearance on Marc Wootton’s criminally unseen, bust-a-gut funny Showtime series La La Land…
The League of the South is not your ordinary band of Southern racists. In describing the group, the Southern Poverty Law Center emphasizes its intellectual credentials—“Originally founded by a group that included many Southern university professors, the group lost its Ph.D.s as it became more explicitly racist.” Hmmm. It seems that the professorial roots of the group have never really gone away, no matter how small the group is today. The group’s mission is, per the SPLC, is as follows: “The league believes the “godly” nation it wants to form should be run by an “Anglo-Celtic” (read: white) elite that would establish a Christian theocratic state and politically dominate blacks and other minorities.” It turns out that the League of the South takes that “Anglo-Celtic” thing pretty seriously.
Buried on the group’s website is a series of pages on the theme of “Verbal Independence.” They were written by Dr. James Everett Kibler Jr., and just by using periods to cap off the “Dr.” and the “Jr.” there, I’m annoying the good doctor mightily, for as he writes, seeking an unimpeachable Southern authority to justify his preference: “Mr Mrs Ms Dr Sr Jr Rev Esq—We do not use a period with these abbreviations. Interestingly, the great Southern writer William Faulkner always deleted the period in Mr and Mrs. ... We Southerners certainly thus have powerful precedent in adopting these forms used by the 20th century writer most celebrated worldwide. So, indeed, thank you Mr (no period) Faulkner.” Kibler is identified as the League’s “Cultural Committee Chairman.”
Dr. James Everett Kibler Jr.
So what kind of “style guide” does a committed racist write? Turns out, one that would not garner any attention whatsoever in the United Kingdom. That is to say, the bulk of Kibler’s guide is dedicated to such exciting prescriptions as spelling “color” with an extra “u,” replacing the “z” in “organize” with an “s,” and so on. Kibler even takes pains to insist upon single quotation marks in preference to double quotation marks and vice versa, just like they do in England. Kibler also includes a “special section” of words not covered by any rule, such as cheque, meagre, enquiry, and so on.
Once you get past the British-American style recommendations, the style guide degenerates into a series of ad hoc rules designed to retrofit a system of grammar around preexisting Southern phraseology, as in the paragraph that states that “mash” is too a perfectly acceptable synonym for “press,” as in telling someone to “mash three, please” in an elevator. (It took me a few moments to glean his meaning, actually, but I’m a nasty Northern type.) Amusingly, his irritation over this word apparently stems from incidents “in a Northern city (like Atlanta or Charlotte).” Burn! Take that, Atlanta!
One of KIbler’s longest entries is about the distinction between the words raise and rear. Now, I have to confess .... I’m an editor by trade, I’ve edited at least 150 books in my time as well as countless other pieces of printed matter. I’ve read style guides very much like that produced by Dr. Kibler (only with less racism). I’m a devotee of the Chicago Manual of Style. So all this stuff is very, very familiar to me. I do this for a living, I think about the differences between titular and eponymous, between further and farther, and much else.
All of that is preamble to this: confession: I have never seriously considered the words raise and rear as being of especial interest. Not so Dr. Kibler—he is very upset about raise and rear. Let’s give him the floor (note that the removal of apostrophes from single-syllable words accords with one of his rules):
A celebrated Pulitzer prize winning, South-hating author of my acquaintance once chastised me in an emotional outburst for my saying a certain black lady was raised near my home. ‘Like turnips!’ he blazed with righteousness, saying I had used a racially demeaning figure of speech like the ‘n-word’ or boy. Even after I got over my initial shock, I did not attempt to explain what most Southerners know—that we in the South are (if we are fortunate enough) all raised, both black and white, and not reared. And it is, indeed, no doubt, like turnips with us—yes, and also like cotton, okra, and beans—and with no shame in that! Any agrarian people well knows the image is a good one, for crops need the careful long process of planting, daily tendance, and then the grace of God over all—to yield up a successful crop. Raising requires great loving care and more than just biological growth. So out of our noble Southern agrarian heritage, let us keep our expression to raise, and foreswear to rear. And that will make certain we also keep the good old countryman’s phrase, ‘Boy, aint you had no raising?’ And we’ll know precisely what we mean. Because inherent in raising is good, courteous behaviour—good manners which must be taught in social situations by the family.
Call me crazy, but if touchy incidents involving race yielding a ringing sense of ressentiment constitute the core of your orthographical and grammatical agenda, it may be that you’re not really all that interested in spelling and grammar to begin with.
Meet crotchety old man “Jimmy.” Jimmy lives in Queens Village, NY, and loves to terrorize his Indian neighbors every day with pornographic images hanging in the front window of his home. Jimmy’s probably hoping the images are so offensive to his neighbors and to their 4-year-old son, that they’ll eventually move out. Jimmy’s one nasty son of a gun. It’s so bad, the neighbors have resorted to hanging a sheet on their front porch to block the view of Jimmy’s house.
Sanjeev Aggurawal and his family are the neighbors the pictures appear to be aimed at offending the most.
“He’s upset because some Indian guy moved in next door. That’s the basic thing,” Sanjeev Aggurawal said.
Police have been called on Jimmy’s ass before, but like a skillful old porn ninja, Jimmy removes the images before they arrive and promptly puts them back up when they’re gone. Jimmy must be stopped!
If you’re like me, you can’t resist a good piece of moral panic red-baiting propaganda, especially when it’s directed at a social phenomenon that seems so chaste by today’s standards. As luck might have it, I recently came across the 1974 opus, The Marxist Minstrels: A Handbook on Communist Subversion of Music, by the good Reverend David A. Noebel.
Evangelical tracts denouncing rock ‘n’ roll, especially as related to either homosexuality or “race mixing,” aren’t hard to find if you scour antique shops in middle America, but as something of a connoisseur of the genre, I have yet to find a piece of literature that so succinctly combines the collective fears of old, white, crazy Christian dudes. David Noebel, ordained in 1961, started his illustrious career with the above pamphlet, Communism, Hypnotism, and The Beatles. He saw the rise of Beatlemania as the result of Communist indoctrination via hypnosis (yup, just like the title), a thesis he developed more thoroughly in his 1964 book, Rhythm, Riots, and Revolution: An Analysis of the Communist Use of Music, the Communist Master Music Plan. The book transitioned from The Beatles to folk artists, focusing on Bob Dylan, his colleagues, and their earlier influences. This is at least slightly more understandable, when one considers the political leanings of the folk movement, frequently with explicit anti-racist, pro-labor lyrics.
The Marxist Minstrels: A Handbook on Communist Subversion of Music however, synthesizes all of his previous work, citing children’s records, folk, and rock ‘n’ roll as being part and parcel to some elaborate integrationist, free-love, Communist conspiracy. As a rock ‘n’ roll propaganda collector, I’m used to trudging through a lot of this stuff, and the majority of it is incoherent ramblings—the sort of thing you’d read in a madman’s personal manifesto. Noebel is compelling because he’s intelligent, coherent, and well-researched, despite being absolutely paranoid and utterly mad. Aside from some minor comma abuse, he has a clear, if discursive thesis: rock ‘n’ roll is turning kids into gay, Communist miscegenators.
Some of his “evidence” is fascinating. For example, Alan Freed’s “payola scandal”—who was paying him to play all those rock ‘n’ roll records to unsuspecting teenagers? Communist record companies invade the airwaves by bribery, infecting the youth with music that is ““un-Christian, mentally unsettling, revolutionary and a medium for promiscuity.” He cites psychological studies, sociological statistics, numerology, etc. to scientifically “prove” the moral degradation incited by popular music, causing everything from sky-rocketing “illegitimate” birth rates to sexual rioting. Lots of sexual rioting. The appendices are incredibly dense and well-cited.
What follows his strange assessment of rock ‘n’ roll is an (actually, semi-accurate) account of the American Left, including some background of the American Communist Party and Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC). Then of course, Noebel posits that folk artists were inspiring the youth to instigate a race war. He believed acoustic musicians like Malvina Reynolds (her “Little Boxes” is the theme music to Weeds) and Pete Seeger were instructing white students to join with “radical groups of Negro racists” so that they might revolt and achieve racial dominance in America. The weirdest part of all this is that by 1974, integration was (at least, on paper) complete. The folk artists who were most explicitly leftist or Communist weren’t a particular focus of pop culture, The Beatles had already long been broken up, and he never quite explains how these two very distinct fanbases are somehow connected (except that they’re obviously both very Communist). One can only imagine the lovely psychosis that The MC5 would have brought him.
Noebel is still living today, and I recommend checking out his extensive collection of YouTube videos and blog, if you’re looking for a laugh. These days, he’s much more on the “Obama’s a Socialist” train and decrying “Warmism” (Noebel’s evocative name for climate change) than he is into denouncing rock ‘n’ roll. Hell, even Paul Ryan loves Rage Against the Machine. Still, his older words bring an odd comfort, when we read his treatise on rock ‘n’ roll, comparing it to a children’s record that supposedly contained subliminal messages only audible when the record is played in reverse; “the noise that many of our youth call music is analogous to the story tape played backwards. It is invigorating, vulgarizing, and orgiastic. It is destroying our youth’s ability to relax, reflect, study, pray, and meditate, and is in fact preparing them for riot, civil disobedience, and revolution.” Dear god, I hope so.
If you’ve ever wondered what kind of person would…
The story goes that Ernest Hemingway once made a $10 bet that he could make readers cry with a six-word short story. Hemingway wrote:
“For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.”
That story may be apocryphal, but in this case, packing a narrative into a single sentence or even a title was pretty easy. However inducing tears in the reader is unlikely to happen this time. Something else maybe, but not necessarily “sadness” per se...
An Albuquerque woman tried to poison her two roommates after one of them caught her having sex with a dog, police said.
One of the roommates said she found 53-year-old Shari Walters lying nude in a backyard shed with her German shepherd, Spike.
Walters admitted to having sex with both of the roommate’s German shepherds, the woman said.
A male roommate who had been dating Walters broke up with her “because she was having sex with dogs,” police said.
I really can’t say I blame ‘im!
The Gollum-esque Walters is alleged to have spiked their water with rubbing alcohol and of putting toilet bowl cleanser in the meal she had prepared for them. She also is said to have admitted that she’s been having sex with canines since the apparently not-so-tender age of 14.
Walters was charged with aggravated battery, cruelty or extreme cruelty to animals, and assault with intent to commit a violent felony. Not to mention, her photo is plastered all over the Internet today in a, uh… dogfucker kinda context. Both roommates were treated for minor injuries and poisoning.
After three casinos on Indian reservations cancelled Ted Nugent’s scheduled appearances recently due to his frequent offensive and insensitive public statements, the Nuge, to no one’s surprise, decided to escalate matters by calling Native American protesters “unclean vermin.” He seemed proud of having offended them.
WE ARE ON OUR JET NOW HEADING FOR TOLEDO RIBFEST JAM AFTER AN INSANE INCREDIBLE OUT OF BODY ULTRAROCKOUT at the Full Throttle Saloon in Sturgis SD! Simply astonishing gig! 4 stinkyass unclean dipshit protestors that admitted they hate me AND ALL WHITE PEOPLE THAT STOLE THEIR LAND BULLSHIT!!
See, it aint me they hate, they hate all Americans that produce & live the American Dream. Simply insane!
Or so says Sarah Palin with an electric guitar and loincloth.
A “Ted Nugent Rib-Off” Facebook page was set up to encourage turnout for a protest at Nugent’s concert tomorrow night in Ohio:
Sure, Nugent has a right to free expression under the First Amendment. But no matter what your political views, every citizen also has a right and in a democracy, a civic responsibility to protest bigotry and intolerance. That’s why we are urging everyone to add their voice, speak out, and join in protest of the appearance of this man and his vile stream of hate speech in our community!
Good on them. Toledo has some fine citizens. Who needs this jerk?
There’s also been some movement online to pressure various concert halls, venues and music festivals to cancel Ted Nugent appearances, or to simply not book him at all. Apparently many people booking these shows are quite unaware of Nugent’s penchant for xenophobic, sexist and racist comments, and in a sense, I applaud their innocence and ignorance of this man, because it’s quite reasonable to ignore such a malignant asshat, right? That’s why signing a petition like this—it’s sent to places booking him—actually matters.
If you’re booking a hall in a small town and you get a whiff of the sulphur trailing behind Ted Nugent, why would you want to risk embarrassing your town or losing your livelihood over a fucking loose cannon asshole like Ted Nugent? What positive effect can that possibly have on your career? The downside, for anyone with half a brain is… well, obvious. A Texas town paid toxic Ted $16,000 not to show up at its July 4th fireworks after receiving complaints over his scheduled appearance.
Even shock jocks should view this man with extreme caution, this much seems obvious by now. He’s a perpetual motion machine of what you probably don’t need to be associated with professionally. Just ask Mitt Romney!
They let you make a comment when you sign. I encourage you to be creative and as emasculating as is possible and then to spread it around to all your friends
It’s First Amendment vigilante justice, the kind you’d think the Nuge himself might even appreciate if he personally wasn’t the helpless target. Ted Nugent can go suck on his own little machine gun. Not a shot will be fired—just Ted!
The reason Ted Nugent’s name is seldom seen on “100 Greatest Guitarists of All Time” lists isn’t because he’s a toxic bigot, it’s because he’s a shitty musician making terrible music for morons. Here’s Ted Nugent’s one good song, “Journey to the Center of Your Mind” performed with the Amboy Dukes. He’s been losing IQ points since this moment, the (sole) musical high point of his overlong career:
Every weekday after school, I used to tune into KDOC to watch Wally George spit right-wing hate from a dingy studio in Anaheim. I must have found it comforting in the same way procedural dramas or reality shows can be comforting. The simplicity of the dramatic formula, the banishment of thoughts and thinking from the action, and the very narrow range of rhetorical and emotional possibilities are all balm for the soul.
Wally’s set was austere and his talismans were few: a gavel, an American flag, a photo of a space shuttle launch with the caption “USA IS #1,” and an outrageous combover. Somehow, I had learned that he was estranged from his daughter, the actress Rebecca De Mornay. He seemed like he was maybe not the most sympathetic resident of Orange County.
George was all assertion, no argument, and he didn’t actually say very much—it was all about how he said it. With his voice always rising in pitch and volume, George punctuated his screams by slapping his desk or banging his gavel. His laconic cries left no doubt about his political views. He was for Reagan, Bush, televised executions, Star Wars, the war on drugs, the war in Iraq; against abortion, health care, gay people, evolutionists, devil worshipers, obscenity, metal, punk, and women. He did think racism was a bad thing, or said so.
Gauging the sincerity of these opinions was never easy because the show was so theatrical. To give you a taste of the level of discourse, here’s a brief exchange about the death penalty with regular Hot Seat guest Rick Scouler:
“First of all, what we have to admit is that the death penalty does not cause a downward trend in murder. Okay? That’s proven. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a jerk.”
“No, Rick—the first thing we have to admit is that you are an idiotic nerd!”
(George also liked the insults “stupid moron,” “freako” and, for women, “bimbo.”)
As with George himself, it’s often hard to tell how committed the audience was to any position. On every show, spectators would chant “SICK! SICK! SICK!” and heckle the guests, but the crowd looks and sounds more like it belongs at a pro wrestling event than a hate rally.
Whatever the level of cynicism in the room, the beliefs were bad enough. As one-time Hot Seat guest Timothy Leary told People in 1984, “George is part of the 1984 George Orwell nightmare.” Here’s Wally advocating the quarantine of people with AIDS and explaining how you can catch AIDS from a sneeze:
There are now hours and hours of Hot Seat episodes and clips on YouTube, but you, citizen, will most likely want to skip right to the GWAR and Mentors episodes. The GWAR interview on Hot Seat remains, for me, their definitive TV appearance. Presidential candidate Sleazy P. Martini earnestly defends a key plank in his platform, a modest proposal to legalize crime.
More Wally George madness with GWAR and The Mentors, after the jump…
Oh, this is too funny. Evil genius YouTuber Clemtinite took old footage from the Trinity Broadcasting Network with televangelists Paul and Jan Crouch—the Christian duo are trying to find satanic messages by playing the Led Zeppelin classic “Stairway to Heaven” in reverse—and then reversed the whole video. “Turn me on dead, man!”
Obviously this video was made from a mishmash of different footage and Juggalo documentaries like American Juggalo. It’s still very funny nonetheless with Morgan Freeman doing the voiceover (and no, Freeman didn’t do the voiceover for this, it’s from March of the Penguins, but it works.)
It seems appropriate to post this today as the annual Gathering of the Juggalos has taken over Thornville, Ohio. Those poor, poor souls who live there. You’re in my thoughts.
The video below is NSFW. You’ve been warned.
Bonus: Someone used a GoPro in the pit during Cannibal Corpse’s performance. I’m just tryin’ to give ya feel for the Faygo-chugging festivities. Don’t hate me.
Fox and Friends’ resident cheerful idiot Steve Doocy is obviously one of the stupidest people on television. Doocy comes off as so completely brainless that his utterly gormless co-hosts Brian Kilmeade and Elisabeth Hasselbeck look good (or at least slightly better) by comparison. One would have to think that Fox News viewers with low to barely average IQs would be perceptive enough to realize that Steve Doocy is an abject buffoon. I don’t think SNL even does Fox and Friends parodies anymore, do they? Why bother?
In any case, this morning Doocy made a game attempt to get a small number of “Fox fans” (as he called them) to react negatively to the new multigender bathroom signage at Illinois State University (This is the latest “outrage” on Fox News, in case you aren’t aware of it, even though they are for single-occupancy restrooms!)
Here’s how it went down, live on Fox News as Chyron captions read: “Bathroom Boondoggle: Are New Gender Signs Just Too Confusing?” and “Gender Bender”!
Doocy: “See, they were designated as ‘family restrooms’ in the past and now, apparently, they’re going to be known as ‘all-gender’ restrooms! Does that make sense?”
Woman: “Restrooms for both genders.”
Doocy: “That’s right. Bathrooms for both genders, or transgenders!”
Man: “Transgender, that’s right.”
Unable to rile up even the slightest bit of “moral” indignation, let alone any anxiety even among these “Fox fans,” the floundering Doocy quickly threw it back to his co-tool Brian Kilmeade in the studio who then, astonishingly, offered up pretty much one of the truest things that I’ve ever heard a Fox anchor say (if only accidently):
“Well, they’re better people than us.”
Yes, indeed they are. Most people are better people than bigoted Fox News morning show hosts, I’d have to agree with that and this segment proved it. In spades!