Those posters of this Pete Lee guy are pissing me off; where the hell does he get off thinking he's funny with his "mismatched couples" joke? Is this the kind of humor people want these days, completely trite reflections on relationships they already know are entirely meaningless? No, fuck that. And fuck these other comedians who fancy themselves new and original because they "Tell the truth". Sorry you pedantic goons, Bill Hicks et al, but your "deep" commentaries on religion and politics are bullshit, a smoke-screen to make people believe they're thinking about something important when you're just feeding them unsubstantiated rhetoric. And then there's the comedies in theaters now-a-days, all from the same three directors with the same three jokes about sexuality and the 'lovable scamps' that are the protagonist and his friends. The worst part of it all comes from my opponents who are going to ask me the most obnoxious question in the world: "Well then, what DO you find funny?" I don't have a pretty answer here, folks.
For the most part, my tastes are pretty tame and altogether typical. The first thing I know is that I'll be pigeon-holed into the 'intellectual', 'nerd' and, ugh, 'non-conformists' groups, all of which I loathe equally. Why? Because they take themselves and their humor way too seriously. Yes, I love the Monty Python troupe in all of its incarnations, my brother still hasn't convinced me that The Critic is anything other than the best animated comedy of all time, and I'm doofy enough to drag out my decade old Dilbert anthologies from time to time. Jesus Christ, I enjoy the comedic styling of Weird Al to this day! Not a one of them holds the title of favorite, though. No, not at all. None of them gives me deep belly laughs anymore; they've become a bit tired after all this time, boring and overplayed. The most I get now are chuckles and fond recollections of times when they were funnier. So, really, there's only one thing in the world aside from my friends that I find gives me that sort of laughter.
You probably don't know who The Angry Samoans are, which is a damn shame. A forgotten relic of the California punk scenes golden years, these guys were the most adolescent, mentally stunted (at least in their music; word is most if not all are college graduates with at least one being a mathematics professor) head cases with enough rage, confusion and venom (but never angst; they were too busy being demented to ever understand what in the world angst was) to find themselves banned from just about every venue in Los Angeles during their stint there. They were also the most unapologetic and politically incorrect band of all time, which in turn makes them one of the most hysterical. These 'kids' (the lead figure, Metal Mike, was 26 when they started the band) also possess what cannot be anything but the shortest amount of music produced ever, their combined works totaling something like 40 minutes; their most well album clocks in at around 20 minutes, only one song, the reprehensible and hysterical "Ballad of Jerry Curlan", clocking in at over a minute. Their music sounds like something an elementary school band of would-be punks would produce, except for the lyrics; they're too vile and too hysterical to come from any mind that young.
Anyone with a lick of self-importance or pretension is not going to enjoy this CD, nor will anyone who considers themselves 'above' juvenile humor. Fuck the lot of you, you're not even wanted. If you're open about the experience, though, and don't take your humor or life all that seriously (as you shouldn't) you'll be having fits. This stuff is classic; it alternates between insane , rage fueled diatribes against homosexuality to absolute and utter disdain for parental figures, compounded by only the thinnest layer of teenage isolation. But then, they have fun with this teenage isolation, never playing it up for tears; who the hell would cry when Metal Mike's screaming about his gas chamber of a room or his obsession with steak-knives and stabbing himself in the skull? You can't, because lord knows they don't. It's really stream of consciousness stuff here, uncoordinated screaming about what a stupid jerk you are and what a whore your mother is, how much they abso-fucking-LUTELY HATE JERRY CURLAN (it's scary to hear, like a guy with rabies dying at the hands of his mother's raper, that's how absolutely hateful the singer sounds), and someone's desperate need to drink blood for breath. It's awful in a way, like being caught inside of Son of Sam's mind, cept' without the religious bent.
And good lord, it's fun. This stuff is infectious, it seeps into you and does it ever feel cathartic. I'm serious; scream this stuff as you drive around, ideally on the interstate with windows rolled down, and yell it like you mean it. You'll notice something: it's too absurd to take seriously, you must look like a retard, but you'll also notice that you feel good. If you don't laugh at this stuff? I don't even have a solution here; something is wrong with you and it's not going to be fixed anytime soon. It's probably because you're one of those people who thinks constant 80's references are funny, you look forward to conceited and egotistical faux art-house fare such as 'Across the Universe', or you think M.C. Hammer references are still 'ironic' and 'hip'. All of which probably put you in the same camp as Jerry Curlan, and we all know the truth about people like Jerry Curlan. Like it or not, this stuff is hysterical, and you're miserable.
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