LETTERS FROM HENRY
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 15, 2006]
Dear Ann Coulter,
You used to be fun, at least funny, at least gently and amusingly insane. But girlfriend, you've changed.
The 1,000-yard stare you've acquired in the last couple of years says lonely nights, too much wine, and insecurity about the future of your career. Where to now, my sweet fascist? Another one of your silly books? More hilarious appearances on "Hannity & Colmes"? Bill Maher has to be tired of you by now.
You're anything but stupid, and by now you must see the writing on the wall. You'll never have a real place with the Beltway in-crowd, as they see you as a Northeastern hickoid pro-wrestler type with a degree from Cornell. I mean, really, Ann, where can it go from here?
Ann, I think I have the answer. In fact, I know I do. I want to hire you, Ann. I want you to come and work for me. I want you to be my Ann Friday; my housekeeper; beekeeper; floor, chimney, and mine sweeper; my window-washing, grocery-buying, dinner-cooking, obsequious, submissive concubine-domestic.
You will laugh at my jokes, celebrate my victories, and lament my failures. You will praise my friends, and vow great harm on all who oppose me. You will treat me like a god, a guru, a mentor, and the best night in the sack you've ever had. You will carry my bags, wash my cars, walk my dogs, and turn your savings over to me. You will massage Susan Sarandon's aching shoulders, whip up vegan delights for "Hanoi Jane" Fonda, and loofah Barbra Streisand's stretch marks. But most of all, Ann, you will just shut the fuck up.
I can offer you a life of obedient servitude on my compound. In your time with me, you will learn much. You will learn that America is made up of people from all races, walks of life, and sexual orientation, and that it's all okay. You will learn to be patient and kind. You will learn the meaning of the word 'respect' and memorize every line of "Caddyshack". You will listen to the Ramones, Black Sabbath, and the Brides of Funkenstein. You're a figure of fun, and I plan on having fun with that figure. You will learn who your daddy is, that's for sure. But mostly, Ann, you will just shut the fuck up.
Come on, Ann, you fucking psycho. Let's do this.
--Henry
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
LETTERS FROM HENRY
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 1, 2006]
Dear Laura Bush,
I'm writing you today out of a genuine concern for you and your wonderful daughters.
First of all, please allow me to compliment you on standing by your man. I know how unbelievably trying, embarrassing, and infuriating it must be for you at times. I know you're college-educated, literate--a librarian, no less--and that conversations with George W. Bush may be reminiscent of the time you waved and said hello to the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo a few years ago, or trying to establish a meaningful dialogue with a bowl of wax fruit.
Your patience is only matched by the perpetual frozen expression of fear, heartbreak, and startled surprise that cries out, "I self-medicate. I'm on half a bottle of Stoli and a fistful of Zoloft before noon." I see you at his side as he visits Louisiana and dodges questions about FEMA and the lack of aid going to people in that region. You are with him every step of the way as his approval ratings continually sink.
Your wonderful monologue at the Correspondents Dinner a few months ago had me in stitches! They should rename you the First Lady of Comedy! You know, you and I have a lot in common. Neither of us feel any safer since the invasion of Iraq, and both of us read. We both have an attention span that lasts longer than half an hour, and we both have a sense of humor.
That being said, I'm going to go out on a limb here and offer my friendship to you. I have to think we could have a better time than what you're used to. I mean, come on. How many hours of a drunken Lynne Cheney reading aloud from "Mein Kampf" can anyone stand?
If you do want to hang out, think of all the fun we could have. WE could go to one of the many American seaports and watch weapons of mass destruction get waved in by Dubai nationals. We could light bags of dog doo on fire at Hillary Clinton's doorstep, ring the buzzer and run like hell!
All I'm saying, Ms. Bush, is I know you're suffering your husband as much as I am, and we might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. What do you say?
--Henry
[from The Henry Rollins Show, IFC, April 1, 2006]
Dear Laura Bush,
I'm writing you today out of a genuine concern for you and your wonderful daughters.
First of all, please allow me to compliment you on standing by your man. I know how unbelievably trying, embarrassing, and infuriating it must be for you at times. I know you're college-educated, literate--a librarian, no less--and that conversations with George W. Bush may be reminiscent of the time you waved and said hello to the gorillas at the San Diego Zoo a few years ago, or trying to establish a meaningful dialogue with a bowl of wax fruit.
Your patience is only matched by the perpetual frozen expression of fear, heartbreak, and startled surprise that cries out, "I self-medicate. I'm on half a bottle of Stoli and a fistful of Zoloft before noon." I see you at his side as he visits Louisiana and dodges questions about FEMA and the lack of aid going to people in that region. You are with him every step of the way as his approval ratings continually sink.
Your wonderful monologue at the Correspondents Dinner a few months ago had me in stitches! They should rename you the First Lady of Comedy! You know, you and I have a lot in common. Neither of us feel any safer since the invasion of Iraq, and both of us read. We both have an attention span that lasts longer than half an hour, and we both have a sense of humor.
That being said, I'm going to go out on a limb here and offer my friendship to you. I have to think we could have a better time than what you're used to. I mean, come on. How many hours of a drunken Lynne Cheney reading aloud from "Mein Kampf" can anyone stand?
If you do want to hang out, think of all the fun we could have. WE could go to one of the many American seaports and watch weapons of mass destruction get waved in by Dubai nationals. We could light bags of dog doo on fire at Hillary Clinton's doorstep, ring the buzzer and run like hell!
All I'm saying, Ms. Bush, is I know you're suffering your husband as much as I am, and we might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames. What do you say?
--Henry
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Monday, April 10, 2006
GOGOL BORDELLO IN DETROIT...PARTY!!!
Monday, April 10, 2006, 3:20am--Just returned home from seeing Gogol Bordello at the Magic Stick in Detroit. My ears are still ringing, and I'm taking in liquids like a sponge. Hard to believe my shirt is dry again after all the sweating.
Right off the bat, I must give props to my newly-knighted karaoke buddy, Sir ProZak, for getting me there and back. We had a multi-goal mission, and we accomplished it and then some. I got the EP I didn't yet have, "East Infection", plus both t-shirts I wanted, which I will soon take to a tailor to have converted to 4XLT size.
Opening act was Zox. Pretty good. The violinist, Spencer, was amazing. Sort of like Eddie Van Halen with a Stradivarius. As for the second act, Dub Trio, they were all over the place. Self-indulgent and overly-long jam session.
Now, when I saw Pansy Division a couple of years ago, it was a good-size crowd but I was still able to stand in one spot more or less and rock out and enjoy the show. But when Gogol Bordello took the stage, the mosh pit formed in about one second, and yours truly was caught in the middle. Hey, I'm 41, I didn't start going to concerts until a couple of years ago, and frankly this was my first time in the meat grinder. I've never been squashed in a crowd like that before, all lurching in unison, and hopefully never will again. By the end of the show, I was feeling my advanced age. Best to leave this shit to the kids. But Gogol B was kicking ass, so I went with the flow as long as I could stand.
Lost track of Zak after a couple of songs. Accidentally tit-groped some poor squashed gal in front of me at one point, but I was stuck in place, as was my arm, and was getting cooked alive by all the body heat. About halfway through, I finally managed to get some leverage, and slowly pushed my way to the side, all the while staying within 5-6 feet of the stage. My weight actually did me some good for once. Stayed right up front at stage right the rest of the show, and enjoyed it as much as I could despite my exhaustion.
Once the encore began, I almost snagged a copy of the set list, which has become a personal tradition. But the bitch in front of me snatched it away from me. Thankfully the violinist, Sergey, was kind enough to snag another one for me. Serg, you are a sweetheart!
After the show, I was able to get all 9 members of the band to sign my Gypsy Punks CD case. And I can honestly say every one of them was approachable and personable, which is good because Pansy Div and Dirty Power both spoiled me in that regard.
And best of all, the band's lead singer/lyricist/visionary, Eugene Hutz, agreed to sit down for an interview with me for the Pond. So after the show, when things had queited down a bit, we sat in the tour bus and I recorded our chat.
It's now 2:24 pm, I woke up a while ago and finished transcribing the interview to the best of my abilities, and you can read the results in my newly-contructed Duck Pond Interview Loft!
Monday, April 10, 2006, 3:20am--Just returned home from seeing Gogol Bordello at the Magic Stick in Detroit. My ears are still ringing, and I'm taking in liquids like a sponge. Hard to believe my shirt is dry again after all the sweating.
Right off the bat, I must give props to my newly-knighted karaoke buddy, Sir ProZak, for getting me there and back. We had a multi-goal mission, and we accomplished it and then some. I got the EP I didn't yet have, "East Infection", plus both t-shirts I wanted, which I will soon take to a tailor to have converted to 4XLT size.
Opening act was Zox. Pretty good. The violinist, Spencer, was amazing. Sort of like Eddie Van Halen with a Stradivarius. As for the second act, Dub Trio, they were all over the place. Self-indulgent and overly-long jam session.
Now, when I saw Pansy Division a couple of years ago, it was a good-size crowd but I was still able to stand in one spot more or less and rock out and enjoy the show. But when Gogol Bordello took the stage, the mosh pit formed in about one second, and yours truly was caught in the middle. Hey, I'm 41, I didn't start going to concerts until a couple of years ago, and frankly this was my first time in the meat grinder. I've never been squashed in a crowd like that before, all lurching in unison, and hopefully never will again. By the end of the show, I was feeling my advanced age. Best to leave this shit to the kids. But Gogol B was kicking ass, so I went with the flow as long as I could stand.
Lost track of Zak after a couple of songs. Accidentally tit-groped some poor squashed gal in front of me at one point, but I was stuck in place, as was my arm, and was getting cooked alive by all the body heat. About halfway through, I finally managed to get some leverage, and slowly pushed my way to the side, all the while staying within 5-6 feet of the stage. My weight actually did me some good for once. Stayed right up front at stage right the rest of the show, and enjoyed it as much as I could despite my exhaustion.
Once the encore began, I almost snagged a copy of the set list, which has become a personal tradition. But the bitch in front of me snatched it away from me. Thankfully the violinist, Sergey, was kind enough to snag another one for me. Serg, you are a sweetheart!
After the show, I was able to get all 9 members of the band to sign my Gypsy Punks CD case. And I can honestly say every one of them was approachable and personable, which is good because Pansy Div and Dirty Power both spoiled me in that regard.
And best of all, the band's lead singer/lyricist/visionary, Eugene Hutz, agreed to sit down for an interview with me for the Pond. So after the show, when things had queited down a bit, we sat in the tour bus and I recorded our chat.
It's now 2:24 pm, I woke up a while ago and finished transcribing the interview to the best of my abilities, and you can read the results in my newly-contructed Duck Pond Interview Loft!
Sunday, April 09, 2006
WHAT MY MUSIC SAYS ABOUT ME
Ripped this idea from Noel, who ripped it from someone else: "Put your music library on shuffle and answer the questions with songs in the order they come up."
You won't believe how well mine turned out (and of course it helps that I have a really eclectic and f'd-up playlist)...
1. What's my mood like right now?
Torn--Natalie Imbruglia
2. How's tomorrow going to be for me?
Walking On Sunshine--Katrina And The Waves
3. What kind of person am I?
Sober--Tool
4. Am I loved?
Alan Parsons In A Winter Wonderland--Grandaddy
5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
Drinkin' Bone--Tracy Byrd
6. What should I do with my life?
Rush--Big Audio Dynamite II
7. Is everything really going to be alright in the end?
All Things (Just Keep Getting Better)--Widelife
8. What is my best quality?
She's A Rebel--Green Day
9. How does my sex life look?
Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight--Spinal Tap
10. What's the meaning of life?
Start Wearing Purple--Gogol Bordello
11. What do people think of me?
My Cellmate Thinks I'm Sexy--Cledus T. Judd
12. Would I make a good catch?
Are You Lonesome Tonight--Sam Kinison
13. How crazy am I?
I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks--Bloodhound Gang
14. Will I have a good life in general?
If I Ever Leave This World Alive--Flogging Molly
15. Can (insert YOUR name here) ever really love me?
Living In Hope--The Rutles
16. Can me and (insert YOUR name here) ever be more than friends?
Writing On The Wall--Lowen And Navarro
17. What's going to happen to me this week?
Eat, Bite, Fuck, Suck--John Valby
18. Where will I be a year from now?
Downtown--Neil Young & Pearl Jam
19. What is my biggest wish?
I Need A Jew--Family Guy
20. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
What Would Mountain Do--Dirty Power
21. How will I die?
Unhappy Birthday--The Smiths
22. What will happen after I die?
Across The Universe--Rufus Wainwright
23. How do my friends feel about me?
It's The End Of The World As We Know It--R.E.M.
Ripped this idea from Noel, who ripped it from someone else: "Put your music library on shuffle and answer the questions with songs in the order they come up."
You won't believe how well mine turned out (and of course it helps that I have a really eclectic and f'd-up playlist)...
1. What's my mood like right now?
Torn--Natalie Imbruglia
2. How's tomorrow going to be for me?
Walking On Sunshine--Katrina And The Waves
3. What kind of person am I?
Sober--Tool
4. Am I loved?
Alan Parsons In A Winter Wonderland--Grandaddy
5. How can I achieve my highest potential?
Drinkin' Bone--Tracy Byrd
6. What should I do with my life?
Rush--Big Audio Dynamite II
7. Is everything really going to be alright in the end?
All Things (Just Keep Getting Better)--Widelife
8. What is my best quality?
She's A Rebel--Green Day
9. How does my sex life look?
Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight--Spinal Tap
10. What's the meaning of life?
Start Wearing Purple--Gogol Bordello
11. What do people think of me?
My Cellmate Thinks I'm Sexy--Cledus T. Judd
12. Would I make a good catch?
Are You Lonesome Tonight--Sam Kinison
13. How crazy am I?
I Wish I Was Queer So I Could Get Chicks--Bloodhound Gang
14. Will I have a good life in general?
If I Ever Leave This World Alive--Flogging Molly
15. Can (insert YOUR name here) ever really love me?
Living In Hope--The Rutles
16. Can me and (insert YOUR name here) ever be more than friends?
Writing On The Wall--Lowen And Navarro
17. What's going to happen to me this week?
Eat, Bite, Fuck, Suck--John Valby
18. Where will I be a year from now?
Downtown--Neil Young & Pearl Jam
19. What is my biggest wish?
I Need A Jew--Family Guy
20. What is the love of my life doing at this very moment?
What Would Mountain Do--Dirty Power
21. How will I die?
Unhappy Birthday--The Smiths
22. What will happen after I die?
Across The Universe--Rufus Wainwright
23. How do my friends feel about me?
It's The End Of The World As We Know It--R.E.M.
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