Fuckman Sequel Rumored to be "Meh" and "Not Bad"

Fuckman Part VIII is opening in three days and there’s already lines at the box-office in many cities around the country. This is certainly the case at the Zaptastick Theater in downtown Zaptasticville. But The mood here, as in most other cities, one of sadness and despair. The reviews for the film have so far been unenthusiastic, and some writers have even gone so far as to call the film “a trifle silly.”

This year, only seventeen people have been shot, maimed, or decapitated in the presale line. Last year, during the presale for the sixth sequel, there was ten times as much violence. One man, a Mr. Wayne Hitchcock Presley, said that he was waiting a few weeks to see the movie even though last year he had one of his arms chewed off in the presale line.

“Yeah,” he said, “see, last time I didn’t mind having a bloody stump where my arm used to be. I was there on opening night to see the new Fuckman movie, and, by god, I made it. I still had one arm free to eat popcorn, though I was still spurting blood everywhere. But I figure we gots plenty of blood in our bodies and there’s only gonna be one Fuckman VII opening night, right? But, this year my wife said something that kinda made some sense. She told me, she says, ‘Wayne, you dumb bastard, the movie’s still gonna be in theaters for another five months after it opens.’ So, yeah, plus they’re saying the villian’s gonna be Pancake Boy. In the comics, the character comes off as a little stale, and very flat. If they done got to Pancake Boy already, I think they’s running out of ideas.”

Three Penis Man is rumored to be the villain  next year

One Zaptastick resident, a Mr. Hay Seed, said that if the rumors were true, and the movie was simply “okay” or “not shitty,” he was prepared to riot. “I’ve got everything ready,” he said. “I’ve perfected my angry look, I’ve been lifting seven pound weights every day and I’ve spent months training myself not to shit myself and squeal like a schoolgirl at the first sight of a cop.”

But Mr. Seed might not have to worry about any cops. “As chief of police for this city, I’ve pledged to help the rioters in any way I can. If Fuckman isn’t a completely fantastic costume caper, I’ll put on my gear and help destroy the theater. And don’t think I won’t. Hell, I once gnawed a poor schlub’s arm off on presale day last year. What happened was he sneezed so hard it moved him a few paces out of line. I called that vacating his spot and told him to get to the end of the line. He refused and I had no choice but to use force.”

The Mugwump Corporation loves a good riot, so we’ll be there opening day. Not to cover the event, of course. We just freakin’ love a good riot.

Are You childproof?

Original Copy album cover / collage

First question: do you like to dance while becoming one with the Weird? Of course you do. After all, you’re reading this award-winning blog (note: we have won no actual awards). You have style, you’re refined, you’re cool. You’ll dig a musical group outta Brooklyn called childproof (no capitalization on the dance floor!). The band is the brainchild of a way out there stargazer named JP Marin, sometimes known as “tv.” Also in the band are three cool cats named Cole Jett, Albert Goold and Charles Goold. This here is bonzo good music. Fun and thought-provoking stuff. The band stitches together rock and dance styles from the 60’s to the present for a sound that is both nostalgic and futuristic.

It’s a weird, funky psychedelic sound that creates a feeling of wonder and desire. Desire for childhood, when having a good time wasn’t something trivial. When it was everything. But Marin understands that being young is more than just innocence. He knows perfectly the darkness and fear that comes with it. It’s a time when we are completely lost in our fantasies, yet surrounded by the cynicism and menace of the adult world. A strange thing, this musical detournment.

Which makes sense, because Marin also makes digital collages. He takes images of pop-culture icons and places them next to political, religious and social figures. Actually, anything is fair game. These here are schizoid re-imaginings of the freak world we see every day, images that are routinely presented in full color on our television sets. To see an 80’s teen heartthrob turned Jesus freak striking a pose while Sigmund Freud appears to look away from the spectacle in disgust is just something else entirely. A cool curiosity, this strange explosion of culture and politics. In many ways, a childproof song is the audio version of these collages. Both take disparate cultural elements to create something that startles and mesmerizes.

Marin’s been writing and performing music since 1996, but formed childproof a few years later. Marin writes the songs, but he’s always open to collaborations from the musicians he works with. As well as being the architect and bandleader, Marin plays guitar and sings when the group plays live. Originally from Florida, he’s made his way to Brooklyn and has been playing club dates there since he arrived.

Marin describes his music as a “condition.” An interesting thing this, implying a certain possession by the Muses, an involuntary activity. One never wants an artist to completely lose their sanity, but, let’s be honest, it doesn’t necessarily hurt. Just ask any Surrealist. But one doesn’t have to push themselves that far. Marin seems stable enough. But what kind of condition would he be in were he not able to practice his itchy obsessions? Well, thankfully, he does have that outlet. So much better for the rest of us.

Look, you really should listen to this stuff. You can stream childproof’s most recent albums in full on their Bandcamp page. Toss in a few bucks (three dollars! Cheap!) and you can download a copy of their newest album, a six-song EP called Anonymous! Plus, if you join their Facebook page, you’ll get to see plenty of artwork and weird stuff.

I’m glad I found out about these cats. Seriously, they’re now one of my favorite bands, especially of this decade. I look forward to further following their Weird.

Why You Should Probably Try Psychedelics

I don’t know if this makes me an asshole or not, but I think I might be pro-psychedelics. I feel like, if you’re relatively mentally stable, you should try LSD or mushrooms once. I mean, I’m not saying you should take ten or twelve hits and run around like ol’ Uncle Morty when he ties on a few too many and starts chasing his pet rooster around the backyard while he twirls his dick and yells “Aieeeee!” No. That’s not what I’m talking about. Take a reasonable dose. And only do it once. Or maybe twice. Okay, three times, but that’s the max. Got it?

To make sure that you get the most out of your trip, there’s just a few guidelines you should follow. First of all, make sure you’re in a safe place where you’re not likely to get interrupted. There’s nothing like having a good trip ruined by a police raid. Trust me, you do not want to be mad-hallucinating while locked up. Taking psychedelics at your apartment or house will work just fine, provided you don’t do something stupid, like make a bunch of noise. Just don’t do what I did. I took my first trip during my senior year of high school. On a school night. I spent most of the night alone, running my fingers through my dog’s hair and imagining that we were psychically communicating. I felt incredibly silly about it in the morning. Which, by the way, came too soon. Because I was still tripping when the sun came up.

So, yeah, never take a trip alone. Taking acid or mushrooms by yourself is never a good idea. Find a friend. A relatively sober friend, if possible. Someone who won’t mind you going on for hours about how you would like to fold his kids into squares and then roll them down a hill. This is a purely hypothetical example, of course. Your humble author is much too sophisticated to go on a rant-delirium like that.

Having a sober friend around is great if you freak out. You probably won’t. Most likely, you’ll have a fucking blast. But, who knows. It’s always a good idea to have someone around who can give you a glass of orange juice or talk you down from your madness. I tripped quite a bit in the late-1990’s but I never had a bad trip or saw someone else have a major freakout. Well, my friend Mondo Zee forgot how to talk and, instead, barked insanely at a couple of girls when we were in a movie theater, about to see The Matrix. Also, he once hid in the closet, clutching a rather large knife for a few hours. Okay, I suppose he did freak out a bit, but he’s a special guy. Real special, you know? Anyway, having someone around to tell you that you’re not losing your mind is kind of a good thing. Maybe your friend will feed you Runts and read you a story. Yes, that would be nice. That would be a good friend.

If you want a more “spiritual” kind of experience, there’s nothing better than going out into the woods or even someone’s backyard on a sunny day. Don’t do it at night, though. You’ll see terrible things. Not good, man. Horrors. But during the daytime, Jesus, what a fucking ride! I mean, pardon me if I sound like a Hippie but...everything around you vibrates with a kind of life force and you feel this supreme psychic connection with everything around you. This experience is where it’s all at. It’s why we take psychedelics. And it’s fucking awesome.

So...they're...like...talking to me (source)

The reason you don’t want to do acid more than a couple of times, at most, is that you don’t need it. Once your mind has been opened and you’ve been given a small glimpse of the Infinite, there’s just no closing that particular door. It’s that freaking powerful. Do too much, though, and you become a stupid asshole without the brainpower to make your own breakfast. Believe me, I’ve been there. It’s not pretty.

Just remember, taking acid is like being shit on by an elephant: just a little dab’ll do ya.