Music to lose your values to

Welcome to nihilism week.

I feel like an undergrad who just read some seminal think piece that everyone else has already processed, but still won't stop telling everyone how much his world view has changed anyway. Sadly, all I read was a graphic novel. Double worse, I read it after seeing the movie. It didn't really change my world view, if anything it strengthened my pre-existing cynical outlook, but it did send me into a spin cycle where it was all I could think about, at least for three days. But who gives a flying fart? It was sweet, so sweet that the Comedian's "the world is one big killing joke" philosophy reinforcement sent me into an existential crises.

If nukes don't level all our favorite American cities, the economic crises and accompanying city-crumbling will surely turn us into shells of the fine human beings we once were. I can't find any euthanasia clinics in central Illinois, apparently those goddamn-pinko-commie-atheist-fag-socialist-ball-sucking-tutti-fruity-loose-booty-LIBERALS haven't run us over quite yet. So if I can't shuffle myself loose the mortal coil as easy as buying a hamburger (that's the true American way), I might as well provide a guide to some cacophonous, slimy and dirty tunes to crawl inside your soul before letting out a silent-but-deadly cyanide fart. The best subversive songs don't actually have to be about dirty things, it's the feeling, the empty, cruel feeling of absolute rotten-decay that makes really good dirty music stink. Or, they can just be the grimy music that perfectly suits the background for a bit of debouched behavior.

Black Lips - Drugs
Often, the production is the dirtiest thing in a Black Lips tune. I have no idea what they are saying through most of this song, but I caught a few words like "back seat," so that can't be good, oh, and the song is called "Drugs." This is off the band's epic 2009 album "200 Million Thousand." Go get it, or be ignorant for eternity.
Here's a video for a better song on the album: Short Fuse.



The Kills - Fuck the People
The title says it all. The pure opposite of shameless populism, the track lets you know that Hotel and W really don't give a fuck about your existence. They would rather pout, scrape the rust off guitars and wear really, really skinny jeans. (And probably drink lots of PBR and smoke Parliament cigarettes, before telling you that your favorite band sucks.)


Getto Boys - Mind Playing Tricks on Me
One of the best rap songs ever, period, and it doesn't include one verse of bling-braggadocio or forced posturing. Instead, the honest rhymes tell the story of gang-banger rendered so paranoid by all the violence and substance abuse that he thinks some huge and angry killer is always lurking behind the nearest bush, waiting to lay a motherfucker to rest. This song is thick and eerie as hell, and you will probably murder your neighbors in a fit of confused rage once it's over.


Fucked Up - Any track from "Chemistry of Common Life"
The first song, "Son the Father" begs the question "It's hard enough being born in the first place: who would want to be born again?"
Track number 5, "Crooked Head," is one of the best songs of last year.



Richard Hell and the Voidoids - Blank Generation
One of my favorite Punk or post-punk tunes of all time — angled guitars, sneering vocals, a near-jazz drum beat — and the genre defining lyrics. This video's audio sucks but it's the best I could do.




Rolling Stones - Rocks Off
One off the band's best party jams, and the kickoff track on "Exile on Main street," this has just about all the best elements of the Stones' straight ahead rock numbers — Richards' perfect rhythm guitar, Jagger lyrics that function as either literal rock 'n' roll tales or/and sex allegories, and a little drugged out interlude that the song can take or leave.


God damn I love rock 'n' roll.
I'm cured already.

WALTER - Fucking Germans. Nothing changes. Fucking Nazis.
DONNY - They were Nazis, Dude?
WALTER - Come on, Donny, they were threatening castration!
DUDE - They're nihilists.
WALTER - Huh?
DUDE - They kept saying they believe in nothing.
WALTER - Nihilists! Jesus.

Game Plan

Watchmen, in theaters now ... and your local bookstore ...

Fairly soon, no doubt, nuclear warheads will rain upon American cities, rats will once again carry untreatable disease and the more paranoid among us will retreat into our concrete bunkers to wait for the fallout to pass.

In an effort to avoid a jarring transition between my current state of mindless consumption and the inevitable do-without lifestyle my underground trappings will require, I've developed a guide to living as if the Apocalypse has already happened. That way, when I do have to strip my daily activities to the bare minimum, it will require the same scant effort I put into everything else.

1.) Eat only canned goods
I brought a can of Hormel's canned chili to work for lunch today. It's not too bad, almost as spicy as advertised, and with just a minimal amount of gristle and sand. In fact, I appreciate the added texture. As long as I can still use a microwave in the future, my diet probably won't change drastically, although I will miss milk.

2.) Stockpile booze and cigarettes
Driving to the local liquor store will not be an option when the violent force of a hydrogen bomb renders neighbors nothing but shadows and Oldsmobiles to only dust. The most bang-for-the-buck, storage wise, is hard liquor, but a few hundred cases of PBR (for variety's sake) wouldn't hurt.

3.) Hoard books, magazines, DVDs and CDs
Entertainment, self-education and media will be the best time-filler. Once again, storage space is key, and books probably kill the most time per-square-inch, but DVDs can be watched over and over again, and I've not the type to regularly re-read the same books. A laptop and Kindle would take care of all these needs, but in the event of nuclear annihilation, it might be nice to actually hold the paper, art, liner notes, etc.

4. Grow and strengthen fingernails to dramatic effect
This will come in handy for building my legacy. When archaeologists (or my parents) find my remains in the bottom of a poorly constructed bomb shelter, they will also find a tally mark for each day of solitude scratched into the concrete walls. Never mind my tools and sharp aluminum from empty beer cans that could be used, they will know I was a man obsessed, a man of epic will who kept time with rat-like tenacity. This could prove difficult (I chew the fuck out of my fingernails) but I haven't trimmed my toenails in weeks!

5. When at home, wear pajamas and never leave the house
No further explanation needed.

Upon further review, I already live as if a nuclear holocaust has devastated everything outside my front door. No lifestyle changes needed, as long as I can dig a tunnel to The Dormitory.
Have fun transitioning to your new cramped quarters, you do-gooder health freaks — if you weren't already outside jogging when it all came to an end.