#74 Andy Burns: Doppelgänger

OK, here’s the thing about Luis Suarez, yeah? Everyone hates him, I know, including myself. Even Liverpool fans hate him now, as after proudly supporting his racism for many years they later played against a team containing him and were rightly appalled when for some reason Suarez was a big of a complete shithouse when playing against them as he was playing for them. Also, he celebrated scoring a goal against them, which he shouldn’t have, because Liverpool FC is a pure club that is in every Godly man’s soul and it shouldn’t be possible to enjoy hurting them. I’m not a Liverpool fan, by the way. Quite the opposite. Luckily, the team I support has been beyond reproach and criticism for as far back as I can remember, so I feel safe making these jabs. But yeah, we all hate Luis Suarez. He cheats, he dives, he hates the Jackson Five. Even if he was an exemplary character, even if he planted trees on the centre circle of every football ground he played in to combat climate change, even if he carefully measured each shot he took to ensure the ball would fly out of the stadium and land in a nearby orphanage to give those poor little tykes something to play with, on a base level he just possesses an extremely unlikable face. It’s not his fault, I know (though he can now afford plastic surgery many times over), but nor is it our fault – being as we are simple humans – to want to slap that dumb face of his, or at least enjoy it experiencing some sort of severe emotional pain.

IS THIS GOING ANYWHERE?

#75 Marissa Nadler: The Path of the Clouds

In 1928 the newly wed Glen and Bessie Hyde had honeymoon plans that would likely put yours to shame (definitely mine). You know how when your talking to your fiancee about your future wedding plans and one of you inevitably suggests trying to break the world speed record for traversing the Grand Canyon in a boat? In reality, this traditional fantasy never comes to pass, but six months after their marriage Glen and Bessie actually tried to walk the walk. Bessie would also become the first woman to run the canyon, so she was absolutely #girlbossing the shit out of everything.

“When are we going after the world speed records that I want to break…?”

On November 18th 1928, the couple visited photographer Emery Colb at his home and studio on the Grand Canyon rim to take some photos commemorating them setting off on their history making trip. And off they went. Forever! Dun dun duuuuuuun! A search party was launched about a month later, when the couple failed to make it to places along the Canyon as expected. They found the boat still full of the couples’ supplies, notebooks and equipment. Bassie had #girlbossed too close to the sun, and her and Glen were never seen again.

Or were they??

CLICKBAIT!!

#76 Aunt Sally: Aunt Sally

Before we criticise the gross and indefensible spectacle of the 2022 World Cup – where perhaps billions of people around the world tune in to watch a spectacle so polluted by decaying capitalism that hundreds or perhaps thousands of ill treated migrant workers have forcibly sacrificed their lives in order just to provide us global ruling classes our shits and giggles – let’s at least compare the quality of competitive entertainment to what it was a few hundred years ago. The game Aunt Sally dates back to 17th century and was played at fairgrounds in pub gardens across the middle English counties. It involves participants throwing sticks or battens at a ‘doll’ placed upon a pole. Traditionally, that doll is an old woman named ‘Aunt Sally. It has also been suggested that the doll eventually got its name ‘Aunt Sally’ because it was at one point meant to be in blackface and inspired by the character (sigh) Black Sal in the 1821 novel ‘Life in London‘. So, essentially, it was a game where drunk middle Englanders would throw things at an old black woman. But don’t despair at missing out on such good old fashioned competitive hate crimes – the The World Aunt Sally Open Singles Championships takes place every year in Oxfordshire. The first event in 2011 was attended by David fucking Cameron, because of course it was.

“Take this, you little pickaninny…”

An ‘Aunt Sally’ is also what you’d call an easily disprovable fallacy, so maybe I’ve been really clever and nothing I said in the previous paragraph is true and wouldn’t stand up to even the briefest of research. However, I know I’m safe, as none of you fat lazy slobs can ever be arsed to extend even the most minute of effort. It’s also the name of a 1938 film English film, which given those two pieces of information is also likely to be extremely racist. What I’m saying is: it’s not easy to Google the extraordinary 1970s Japanese punk band Aunt Sally.

That Aunt Sally rereleased their 1979 debut album in 2021, and provided more evidence for my reasoning to fucking hate punk music.

BAIT AND SWITCH?? ONLY ONE WAY TO FIND OUT!

#77 Soccer Mommy: Sometimes, Forever

We all like to imagine relationships ending in flames, don’t we? We want to think that all affiliations will grow into a whirlwind of emotions and angst until one partner is Marlon Brando STELLAAAAAAAAAAAAAing their guts out to the other partner, Adam Driver, inside the house… shouting…? I dunno, I’ve not seen that relationship film where Adam Driver and Scarlet Johansson shout at each other, but I gather it’s rather intense. Both of the partners will inevitably accuse the other of gaslighting them because, Jesus Christ, we just can’t get enough of using that fucking word, can we? You don’t think this Burberry scarf goes with my faux leather pants? Quit gaslighting me. You fascist.

“No I am not getting changed before the wedding, stop gaslighting me. If your sister has an issue, maybe she should first think about how fat she’s got recently. Glass houses, know what I mean? You both get it from your bitch mother…”

When we see an old friend and find out that they broke up with Alan, we’re always so disappointed to hear they just ‘drifted apart’. No, fuck that! Where are the story’s of Alan punching through walls or cutlery being thrown across your apartment as you both exchange obscenities!? Where’s the anecdote of both of your infidelities coming to light on the day you were supposed to get married when it’s suddenly revealed that you’re both fucking the Imam officiating the wedding?? One of life’s most depressingly dull facts is that the vast majority of relationships end with a sad whimper. Listen, there are billions of relationships in the world, and billions of people will be in multiple relationships. The majority of these relationships won’t be good fits. They might have thought they were in love at one point, but more likely they just really liked each other. Then they started to merely like each other. Then they tolerated each other. Now, they just find each other a bit annoying. It’s fine, it’s normal, and I’m not talking about your relationship, you and Stuart are meant for each other. Yeah, that’s the person you’re happy to spend the rest of your life with, yeah? Yeah?

The rest. Of your life…

#78 Jordana: Face the Wall

Allow me, if you will, to present a tale. A tragedy, really. One that took place in 2022. The biggest thing to take place in 2022. Yeah, I know, I previously said that some other shit was bigger, but I was just fronting, this was the tale that truly defined the year.

May I please be as bold as to take you back to last year’s Legit Bosses list, upon which Jordana appeared five times?

Pretty ballsy of me to state that Jordana not agreeing to an interview meant that she automatically hated me and everyone reading? Perhaps for other people, but I have always been confident in my writing skills and the affection that Jordana has for her fans, especially one who has been with her from the start such as me. Also, I have generally been good at judging this kind of thing in the past: I haven’t done many interviews for this blog in the past, but every person I’ve asked has agreed.

That includes you as well, reading this now, by the way. If she didn’t agree to an interview it meant she hated me, hated everyone reading that original post and also everyone who ever read this blog, and also everyone who ever read anything, on or off this blog, in the present, in the future, and in the past. Pretty hateful thing to do, I’m sure you’ll agree. But! Like I said! No worries! I knew we had each other’s backs.

but you drive me insane

#79 Waxahatchee: El Deafo (Apple TV+ Original Series Soundtrack)

OK, OK, OK, OK, full disclosure: this ‘album’ is nine minutes long. It manages to fit five tracks into its runtime. Kinda. The first two tracks are essentially the same song. Oh, and of the remaining three tracks, two aren’t even close to lasting as long as a minute. I’m sure this will start a veritable flame war of controversy and divisive debate over whether it really deserves to be considered alongside the year’s greatest. I’m sure there will be much blood shed needlessly over this inclusion unless I get ahead of the narrative and immediately offer an apology.

(I’m not doing this bit on every entry, I promise…)

Yeah, seem to have forgotten for a second that, although this list is actually scientifically backed up and objective data based approach to the year’s best music, it’s also indisputably my fucking list and any of you chumps have an issue with that be sure to send all complaints through to suck@mygigantic.ballsack. Dot com. Dot org. Oh, you don’t like it? Well how about you make your own list? Oh, what’s that, you can’t? Well isn’t that funny? Oh, oh, oh, you’ve made a list have you? Let me have a look…

will i have a look?? find out next!

#81 Beneath Utopia: Legacy

Do you ever feel that art is our main bulwark against the strangulation of Capitalism?

Sorry, sorry, I’ve come in too strong there, haven’t I? I don’t usually start screaming extreme leftist agitprop until this whole annual exercise in laboured futility that I needlessly put myself through each Christmas has really rotted away the discipline and self awareness parts of my brain. By the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster at #38 my post consists of nothing more than a frenzied call for a brutal Maoist reorganisation of the state of home ownership. All caps. No spell check. So looking forward to that this year.

Sorry, I shouldn’t have got your hopes up, the Eighties Matchbox Be-Line Disaster haven’t released an album since 2010. That’s the hole in your life that you’re struggling to fill, don’t listen to your fascist psychiatrist who says it’s dissociative disorder)

OPen you eyes, your legacy is now

A Brief and Inadequate Mimi Parker Tribute

A friend and I are both similarly shameless man boys, and are equally shameless enough in our arrested emotional and intellectual development to get together once every week to watch old wrestling PPV events from the early 00s, 90s, 80s and – if we’re feeling especially fruity and devil may care in our appreciation of video quality – even the 1970s. After each event – some amazing; some unintentionally hilarious; many, many, many absolutely fucking awful – we look back at the evening’s entertainment, give each match a star rating, hand out our individual awards. And read out the Death List. The Death List is the number of wrestlers and personalities we’d witnessed perform that night at an event forty, thirty. twenty or even just ten years ago who were now no longer with us.

It’s unquestionably a morbid joke, one that never allows us to forget the insanely short expected lifespan of professional wrestlers, particularly those from the steroids n’ cocaine heydays of the so called Golden Era, from the 80s to early 90s. Despite our flippancy, it’s not a completely disrespectful exercise, it’s rarely less than depressing to note how many great talents were lost to us early by being sucked into such a thoughtless and treacherous business. It never allows us to forget that people are killing themselves and being killed just in order to provide us with our shits and giggles. Considering that I’ve only been writing these lists since 2007, and in an era when musicians’ and pop artists’ lifespan is considerably longer than your average professional wrestler, it’s not a trope I’d ever imagined repeating for my Necessary Evil end of year countdown.

Continue reading “A Brief and Inadequate Mimi Parker Tribute”