Monica Naranjo - Europa

Cover of Monica Naranjo's 2009 "Tarantula"

I can't believe no one caught this epic, powerful song when it came out in 2009. And I have to thank Vevo for finally bringing her videos to light and to iTunes for making her music available - and with that, I basically answered my own question. No promotion? No one knows of your product. And Monica Naranjo is a diva. No, let me rephrase it: she's a DIVA. Powerful vocals that would make Adam Lambert pee in his leather pants, a beauty reminiscent of Joan Crawford circa 1932, and a production that while a bit reminiscent of Evanescence, marks a significant change in her career.

For those of you not in the know, Monica Naranjo exploded ino the Latin pop/dance scene in 1994, singing pop ditty after pop ditty to great acclaim. The problem was, she saw herself as pigeon-holed to a genre, and her label wanted to mold her into a package. She eventually rebelled against this imposition and after an album dedicated to Italian singer Mina Mazzini and a failed disco album intended for the English-speaking market, she went into a period of inactivity, dabbling in movies and appearances, putting out a greatest hits compilation for the ones devoted to her.

Until she came out in 2008 with the dark, intense, and rock-oriented Tarantula, audiences hadn't seen this side of her - the brooding, Goth-drenched melodies explode, writhe, and scream out their melodies as she soldiers forward, be it in Spanish, French, English, using a variety of characters through her powerful, commanding voice. Europa, the single that became her biggest hit in Spain, a song that seems to narrate the fall of Europe to either World War I or II, starts out like a rock-opera, swings into EBM (Electric-body-movement), and concludes in full rock mode with hints of metal to a thrilling finale. Todo Mentira, Usted, and Para Siempre hint at the music Evanescence was creating in 2000 (Bring Me to Life), while only one single, Amor y Lujo, brings her back to full-on dance mode.

While she prepares her next album due early next year I think you should check her music out, particularly on the aforementioned Tarantula. And see her gorgeous, dark video for Europa, compared to the neon-bright video for Amor y Lujo - a criticism of society and an ode to drag queens - below.

The People Vs. Their Government

Levels - Avicii

The much-anticipated Levels by trance master Avicii gets its turn on Vevo as a tremendously fun video where regular folk get turned into dancing zombies. There's also a cute Jean Genet reference as a flower pops out and blooms out of our hero's mouth. Clever. I love it.

My Muse

This is not the most romantic picture I've ever stumbled upon or taken (in this case the latter) but what this is, is the place where I find my muse and conjure up stuff. Of course this is not my bathroom but it's close. This is the bathroom of my gym, Brick Haus fitness, located in Jersey City, NJ. This is the place that has been the midpoint between getting there and getting a workout. Let's just say that before I can pick things up and put them down, I have to drop a load, first, and ponder on how my day went. As you can see, the before picture simulates that not much shit went down. As a matter of fact, since leaving my former job as a man-slave to a masculine woman devoid of sympathy or closeness to any human being other than her self and her perception of herSELF, my life has stepped up the crapper. My life has quite frankly, decided not to stink, but shine and gleam of cleansers, aromas, pastel colors, and spotlessness. Just like this toilet. On the down side - I'm still not getting as much action as this seat is and I am going to put myself out there for the world to see: I am looking. I am available. I'm quite a hot guy even though I personally come across cold and distant. I'm also, rip-roaring tipsy courtesy of Yellow Jacket. From down under. Now, I'm going to leave my door ajar and hope that someone can drop a hot load on me. And yes, that is exactly how I meant it.

For the record: I've been away for a week. I was in Massachussetts. Long story, because I was slated to be in Boston. However, things decided to take a turn for the worse. And why not? When it comes to me getting my freak on in a different city, matters have a way to belly-flopping all the way to Sunday and leaving me as empty as this terlet seat.

Hoodie in the Morning

I'm almost positive there's some airbrushing going on here but who cares?

Stephen King - Bag of Bones

I must have been living under a rock all this time. Then again, when I go into my writing mode I rarely watch the telly and only turn it on to view the news channels. I just found out that coming soon to A&E is a four-hour miniseries special starring Pierce Brosnan based on Stephen King's novel Bag of Bones, and from the trailer, it looks positively exciting.

Of course, now that I'm reading that Mick Garris is directing . . . oh, fuck it. I hope he didn't cock up a magnificent story.

The Iron Lady - Trailer # 1

If this woman doesn't win an Oscar, I'm throwing in the towel and myself, into the Hudson. I'm getting chills watching this tiny bit of performance.

Twosome

Homphobia from Brookfield Properties at Occupy Wall Street

Just watch it. And you tell me if the homophobic a-hole doesn't represent his company and its policies at all time, even as he states, "Your fly's open . . . faggot." Considering he did it to a guy who served our country.

When on duty you are a representative of your institution. At all times. If you act in a way that is deplorable while on duty, you in fact have made the entire company liable, and should be dismissed from your job.

Period.

Shame on Brookfield Properties.

Shame.

Sylvia Tosun - World Keeps Turning

This is, quite possibly, the saddest breakup song I have ever heard. Sylvia Tosun is a revelation. What are we supposed to do when the world keeps turning and we can't live without each other, but we can't stay together?

The Amorous Dentist

Recently a dentist in the complicated region of the Qinpu Zhongshan Hospital in the Qingpu District of Shanghai (whew! my fingers almost fell off at that location) was arrested for a particular case of malpractice in his office. Instead of ruining the mouths of numerous clients and swindling them of thousands of dollars like any American dentist, he decided to take the creep factor up a notch.

He stuck his dick inside his female client's gaping mouth.

Now, normally I wouldn't condemn this kind of behavior if he was Samuel Colt hot and the person sitting on the chair was me, but the least he could have done was nuke the girl with enough nitrous to erase her memories and proceed to whiten her teeth with a little extra special. Right? That's the way to do it, and be classy.

...And the Oscar Goes to... Oprah?

Oprah, looking a little more portly these days and apparently, happy about it.

Yeah, she just bagged herself a little gold man. Not that she needs more gold in her life - she practically OWNS everything, a Queen Midas if you will. But she didn't have this one little aware, you see, and the Academy used to include in their roster of self-congratulatory prizes the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian award for outstanding achievements in, well, stuff you and I cry our eyes out for but never truly indulge in because let's face it, can we build a school in Africa, for example? Of course not. Not enough moolah. Of course she can afford it, and for that, and other venues, she got her Oscar. As it should be. For someone who's spent her entire life being herself and a brand-name, winning for acting would almost be . . . a travesty. So good for you, Oprah. I'll make sure to be nice when you come calling for an interview if you ever return to that stuff. After all, the public listens to you, and I need to sell stories. Right?

On a side note, James Earl Jones, the voice of CNN, Mufasa, and Darth Vader, also received a Lifetime Achievement Award. Because, you know, the Academy kinda fucked up these past years and well, it was just time. At least  he got one. Where's Stanwyck's, and Burton's, and a conspicuous list of others equally deserving?

Heck, where is Glenn Close - who was present at the award and quoted how Jones' career influenced hers? I still can't believe she lost the Best Actress Award to Jodie Foster for Dangerous Liaisons. She was magnificent there, while Foster kept screaming and grating my nerves. Then again - Oscar loves a victim, and not until Hannibal Lecter - a character not unlike the Marquis de Merteuil - did it favor sleek, cool snakes dripping in venom and showing only polished elegance that hinted at a darkness underneath. She was ahead of her time. Still is.

An Oscar, an Oscar, my acting career for an Oscar . . . .

Bachmann: We Should Be Less Socialist . . . Like China

Oh, this is a doozy. This has made my day, and it's been a while since I threw darts at Bachmann's illogical incoherence. However, this one takes the cake. Listen:



Because of course, we should be more like China. Because that, people, is what makes us American. Being less Socialist. Because we're not a country of two parties, if you didn't know, and if you didn't, well - there you go, enjoy your coffee. We are socialists. And it's all Obama's fault. Yay, Michele! You go and you win your party's nomination and you just shine on with your asymmetrical eyes and your complete denial of personal responsibility when faced with a tricky question - that's not so tricky, after all, just a simple, innocent question, seeking a yes or no. Like cheese, you get better every day. Also, like cheese, you still stink. But we kinda like your stank so please. Entertain us!

Pectoralis Overload

All I want after a long, long week of sheer drudgery is to indulge. . . .

All I Want for Christmas

Uncle Sam Questions

Stroke Me Gay

 Chris Birch, who now plays rugby with a twist and a happy grin. And Emo hair.

It must be the full moon because everyone seems to be acting gay and they haven't even experienced what this bloke just went through. Chris Birch, a former rugby player, had a stroke. While barely old enough to wear emo hair without irony. The thing is, his stroke wasn't the kind that can paralyze half your face and turn you into a walking Picasso painting minus the famous signature. His was the kind that came with a little extra special - like when you order a Big Mac and you get a 6 foot tall Paul Bunyan sporting nothing but a glint in his eye and raging sexuality pointed straight at you. Where's the beef, indeed, and ripe for picking. Absolutely yums! And if you were wondering why I went slightly off topic, that's exactly what happened to Birch, who one moment was a raging rugby player tackling fellow players in order to score, and the next was, um . . . tackling fellow rugby players in order to score. So I say good for Birch that he's into Big Macs. Good that a little stroke can now guarantee he goes to bed with a self-satisfied grin on his face and a stud by his side. Of course, he should know that once you play for the opposite team, it's a free for all and last man standing must become the buns to a hot sausage filled with trouser gravy, grooving to some totally filthy Massive Attack super combo of lust. Oh, fuck it. Now I'm hungry.

Future Facebook Addict

Madonna and Hydrangeas

No comment necessary. Just watch it.