You need:

1 can of peaches (in syrup)

1 packet of cake mix

1 bar of white chocolate

1/2 stick of butter

1 plastic bag

Impeach My Bush

1 pie form

…and an oven.

And here’s how to:

1. Chop the white chocolate into tiny pieces.

2. Put the peaches on the bottom of the pie form. Muy importante! Do not pour out the goddamn syrup! You’ll need it!

3. Pour the cakemix into the plastic bag

4. Add the white chocolate

5. Turn on Fuck or Kill. Shake the bag to the song. The 49 seconds it takes is perfect to achieve the right
mix.

6. Now spread the cake mix/chocolate evenly over the peaches.

7. Pour about 1/2 cup of the syrup ALSO EVENLY over the cake mix.

8. Let’s microwave! Slang Chickens is optional, but you need to microwave the butter long enough for it to melt either way.

9. Pour the butter over the cake. Evenly.

10. Put it in a pre-heated oven (why do recipes say that? Do you EVER do it any other way unless the oven is a microwave ditto?) @ 350 °F for 40 minutes. It’s about as it long as it takes to listen to all of Fatherfucker in case you don’t have a timer.

And you’re all ready for a slice of Peach!

/clementine

In case you can’t see what it says, the full text reads:

The journey is beginning. Stretch your
soul and toast. Diarrhea Bear is
your only best friend.

Admire the day.

Just relax and make the public announcement.
Humano Urbano and Network Osaka is enjoyable and makes horny.

Unfortunately, it has not as far as I know had any useful purpose. But it’s pretty close to poetry. And isn’t it comforting to think that you are not alone? Because Diarrhea Bear is always there for you!

Check out Network Osaka’s flickr for more bizarreness!

/clementine

It’s not just that Pete Doherty and Peter Lorre share the same ageing babyface, they also share a taste in baggy suits and cigarettes.

Only Peter Lorre was infinitely cooler, of course.

Yeah, I know.

You know, and I know that One is a piece of sentimental hyperbole disguised as rock opera, but bear with me. I was young and in love so I tried to see his point of view. I even allowed him to explain to me how this song was based on a True Story about some poor soldier who lay in bed, paralyzed, unable to communicate; his life an endless suffering in the Hell of Solitude, or whatever. V. tragic.

So I gave it a shot. I sat down and listened to One a couple of times, trying to grasp what it was he found so gripping. And yeah, the lyrics were rather tragic:

hold my breath as I wish for tea
oh please God, wake me

I mean, imagine being that guy. Imagine lying there in bed, totally parched, desperate for a sip of tea and no way to be able to get it. You and me, we can just go out into the kitchen and brew us a nice cuppa, but the bloke in the song, he couldn’t even ask for it. You’d have to have a heart of stone not to be touched by his plight, right?

It wasn’t until quite some time later that I dropped these observations to the BF. He smacked me on the head and said: “DEATH! Hold my breath as I wish for DEATH!” Then he added, as an afterthought: “Idiot.”

Yeah, he was quite obviously an asshat in more ways than one, but in this case he was actually right. Of course it’s “death” James Hetfield is bellowing, but no matter what I do, I still hear “tea” every goddamn time I hear that song. And quite frankly, I think it would’ve been a lot more awesome if I’d been right.

Now our perverted, restless minds have produced a brand new devilry. We have created:

Evan Weiss The Paper Doll!

That’s right, you can print him, cut him out and play with him. But you are not to play any kinky shit, you hear? And no cross dressing. Unless it’s on a weekend.

You can, however, take Evan to the beach:

Or mountainbiking:

Or you can take him to meet your parents:

Or make him stay in with you all day and play GTA IV:

Or, you can make him sing Enrique Igleasias-songs and fetch you ice cream:

Or wait – that last shit was kinda kinky, wasn’t it? Well, well, I guess we were bound to end up there sooner or later. Somehow we always do.

Anyhoo, fetch yourself some scissors and press print! Go on, I KNOW you want to!

It’s definitely a very grown-up record, which may not be very surprising, considering that both Greg Dulli and Mark Lanegan are veterans in the music business. Greg Dulli’s past includes The Afghan Whigs and most recently The Twilight Singers. Mark Lanegan has, aside, from his time in Screaming Trees, worked with Queens Of The Stone Age, Soulsavers and Isobel Campbell (of Belle & Sebastian) as well as having a substantial solo career.

It’s not exactly a very cheerful record; more one of those where you have a lot of references to God, sin and absolution, blues and rock. There is bitter desperation mixed with sweet and rather fragile hope both in the music and the lyrics, perfectly interpreted by the smoke-laced, whiskey-drenched voice of Mark Lanegan and Greg Dulli’s pained harmonies. Their own description as “the satanic Everly Brothers” is probably as apt a description as any far lengthier that I could come up with. At least assuming that Lucifer is an inhabitant of New Orleans, but hey, I’m willing to go with that.

I was lucky enough to catch them live a while back, and if you have the same chance you should most definitely jump at it. The set started a bit slowly, partly I think because the audience was new to the songs, and partly because, well, they’re not exactly a party band, are they? Mark walked in and grabbed the mic and then he retained the absolute same stance through out the entire set. Not only that, he scowled rather aggressively and since I was right in his line of glare, I have to admit that I felt slightly… well, inhibited. OK, so I’ll be honest. I think Mark Lanegan is most likely the single scariest person in the whole world, and when he threw a couple of dark scowls in my direction I almost peed my pants. Luckily, I had Greg between us. I figured that if he was gonna eat someone, Greg is more of a meal than I am. Far juicier too, I bet.

Anyway, as I remember it, they more or less played the entire album right though, starting with The Stations and God’s Children, and followed by All Misery/Flowers. But it wasn’t until they hit Idle Hands that the audience started to perk up and really feel it. I guess it helped that Greg very sweetly but rather confusingly spoke to us in what I think was Spanish. I didn’t get what he said, but appreciated it all the same. Greg was generally as animated as Mark was immobile and even made us clap and sing along.

After about an hour, they walked off stage, but returned for about an half hour of encores, including the massively dark Hit The City and Metaphetamine Blues from Mark’s Bubblegum-album, as well as a mash-up of Amazing Grace/King Only that gave me goose-pimples all over.

All in all, it was a tremendous show, and my one complaint would be the t-shirts. They were clearly not sized for girls, and as I don’t need yet another nightie, I didn’t get one. Apart from that, it was pretty perfect. Oh, and before I forget, Greg had beautiful shoes. Kudos! Unfortunately my pics came out really shitty so instead here’s the video for All Misery/Flowers:
T

The first time I heard the name “Wires on Fire”, I thought: “That sounds like a drink.” You know, I could see someone – Lauren Bacall, Dean Martin, Elton John – sidling up to the bar and going: “A Wire on Fire. And don’t be stingy with the whiskey, baby.” It took some time before that thought turned into action (it usually does when I’m involved), but then late one night it was finally born.

You’ll need:

an orange

lots of ice

a glass

jameson

cointreau

red bull

matches

And you make it like this:

1. Cut the side off the orange and carve out the pulp using a sharp knife. Keep scraping until it’s all gone and you have yourself a little bowl of orange peel measuring about 1 – 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Dry it using some tissue, your shirt or whatever else you have available. This is important. The orange peel bowl must be completely dry (I first wrote orange pee bowl, but I edited that. I don’t care what your pee bowl is like. I prefer not to think about your pee bowl. Wtf IS a pee bowl, anyway?).

2. Fill the glass with ice – all the way up.

3. Slosh generous amounts of Jameson over the ice.

4. Fill up with Red Bull.

5. Put orange peel on top of the ice and fill it with Cointreau.

6. Set the Cointreau on fire.

7. Watch the flame until it goes out or you get bored.

8. Tip the remaining Cointreau into the glass.

9. Drink.

Of course, you don’t have to set it on fire, but if you don’t it’s obviously just a Wire and not a Wire on Fire. Duh.