The Gerard Cosloy Radio Hour (That Feels Like Two Hours)

my planned day and a half to do a comprehensive social media cull keeps getting put off which is a shame, because I end up seeing posts from respected members of the underground music world (ok, Don Walsh) alleging Los Angeles anti-ICE protesters are in fact, paid agitators getting rich from the generosity of someone named George Sore Eros.   Putting aside for a moment the disconnect of the current regime's (laughable) promises to wipe out antisemitism while engaging in the most basic, pathetic antisemitic tropes (ie. the world's strings are being pulled by an EVIL jewish zillionaire), the question remains, where can my friends — as broke as they are conscientious, get their stipend from George Sore Eros?  Surely there must be an app where you can upload your invoice/receipts. Or does he hold auditions on a soundstage somewhere (and if so, will there be food)?   I attempted to get answers to these burning questions for this weeks show but had to re-record the entire thing after being informed East Village Radio ran the risk of George Sore Eros cutting off their funding.  Hopefully the hastily assembled musical selections will not result the cash spigot being forever turned off.   above, heavily discounted bricks at a local big box retailer.  Instead of blaming George Sore Eros for social unrest, why isn't the media going after the person who is subsidizing street violence — Arthur (I Belong To The) Blank (Generation)?

for this week's episode, I pay tribute to the late Colin Jerwood in the most respectful, appropriate manner possible --- by updating his look for 2025. OK, it was really JJ Ruiz' idea, and much like Jerwrood's original shirt, the best ideas are always subject to revision (except for mine -- and I'll let you know if I ever have a good idea). Jerwood's original "Only Stupid Bastards Help EMI" tee is available from DC's Joint Custody for a modest sum and if you'd like to amend it in whatever way you chooce, hey, that's fashion, right?

when this program began 5 years ago, America, nah , the world was in the midst of near-universal harmony, health and prosperity.  It would be the height of exaggeration to say the global events that followed were  in any way influenced or informed by the launch of this radio program, but really, it's ok with me if only 3 or 4 of you are willing to say it out loud.  It's been my privilege to bring you two hours of music  (that feel like 3 or 4)  every week and while contemplating the next 5 years fills me and probably anyone else with a functioning frontal lobe with a sense of inescapable dread, to quote one of our more beloved philosophers, "the longer the note, the more dread". So the answer is shorter notes (maybe I'll try that next week, lotta long ones this time).

if this were a real call-in show, an all-too obvious topic for discussion might be "who is the worst live band you've ever seen?" I mean, for there are some all-too obvious candidates (Sump, Juliette Lewis & The Licks, Quiet Company, Ween) however what does it mean if you never thought the band in question was any good to begin with? How can you properly measure a performance if you're already disinclined to like the material or the performers?so maybe the real worst show you've ever seen is someone you otherwise respected or liked who simply shit the bed. Onstage (or in bed). This would be a great topic for this week's show except a) we don't have the technological know-how to  take calls for a prerecorded show and b) I really cannot stand the sound of anyone else's voice besides my own. SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO HASH IT OUT IN THE COMMENTS (again). (above : Anti-Nowhere League, best set I ever saw by a genuinely awful band - potential topic for a future episode)

While the New York Knicks are on the precipice of reaching the Eastern Conference Finals, said development neatly coincides with Erik and Lyle Menendez (shown above sitting courtside at a 1990 Knicks game) being eligible for parole, there is the likelihood, however slim, the convicted parent-slayers might actually be front and center when Jalen Brunson, Karl-Anthony Townes et al capture New York's first NBA Championship in 52 years. Of course, this would require someone else being supplanted from Celebrity Row and today's program will consider who is the best self-obsessed candidate to get the heave-ho.  It really should not take two hours to determine MICHAEL RAPAPORT is the obvious choice (while he's not a double murderer, he's been murdering acting, sports yak and world affairs commentary for longer than anyone cares to remember) and that's very good because I had to find some way of cramming in nearly two hours of music this week.  Current events be damned, with the possible exception of The Damned's local appearance this Saturday night (which neatly coincides with my referring to Jalen Brunson as Captain Sensible). 

I really hate the expression "there's so much to unpack" but regarding Celtic Frost's open solicitation for auditioning drummers,  THERE'S SO MUCH TO UNPACK.  "MUST BE WILLING TO LIVE IN SWITZERLAND".  "MUST BE WILLING TO TURN A BLIND EYE TO ASSAULTING SOMEONE IN A MOTLEY CRUE TEE".  "WE HAVE A STRONG IMAGE" (yeah, we've seen the back cover to 'Cold Lake'). We can spend all day getting bogged down in whether or not there's a contradiction between coveting a drummer who is "wild" but also expecting one who is "precise".  And that's exactly what I am going to do, I am going to get TOTALLY FUCKING BOGGED DOWN in whether or not there's a contradiction.  This examination will take place during the program's third hour.

while preparing this week's sbow,  like many of you, I could not help but reflect on Shedeur Sanders' precipitous free-fall thru the NFL Draft, with the projected early-round pick sliding thru rounds 1-5, then doing a complete nose dive thru the UFL Draft before finally being selected in 3rd round of the 2025 Arena Football League draft. Despite Sanders' humiliation, this is an impressive achievement just the same given the AFL has been defunct since 2019. But Sanders' difficult weekend brought to mind so many of the challenges I face with this show every week. Impossibly high expectations. A cruel, callous media (to say nothing of the public) that cannot wait to micro-analyze even the tiniest of errors. And then of course, there's the irrational jealousy on the part of my alleged friends & colleagues in the online radio game. Much like Mr. Sanders, I'm a manufactured-motivation FACTORY over here. He'll persevere and if the same is true of myself, I'll be certain to TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT.

good morning dear friendsmuch as been written this week about the passing of Pope Francis, in particular the unfortunate timing that saw his Holiness meeting with J.D. Vance just hours before expiring.   It is probably the height of exaggeration to claim Vance's was the last face Pope Francis saw, however it does poses the question, if you were near death, whose face would you like to be the last one you laid eyes upon before transitioning to the great beyond?  I've thought about this long and hard and I've decided the only answer for me is veteran character actor Richard Masur.  I've never met the man and know little about him past his thespian prowess, but in a large percentage of his appearances on the big and small screen, his presence seems imbued with care and empathy.   I know, most of you are making obvious choices like The Great Kat or Ed “Too Tall” Jones, but during _my_ final moments on this metal coil, I'd rather gaze deeply into the eyes of a deeply thoughtful, caring person (even if that person is merely playing the role of a deeply thoughtful, caring person).   I was going to take calls on this subject on today's program, however I've misplaced my telephone.  You'll have to settle for another, mostly-music episode. 

much has been written /meme'd over the past 48 hours about the successful efforts to send Katy Perry into outer space (and yes, she has returned safely, so you can all exhale, finally) and to some degree I can understand the public's frustration.  I've been petitioning FOR YEARS to send other performers to into outer space (not necessarily with a return ticket, it depends) and have received no response whatsoever from any of these private space travel firms.  We're never gonna know, for instance, how humanity might've benefitted from Spam Axe of Teddy & The Frat Girls being blasted beyond the earth's atmosphere for 20 minutes, but that's just as well as EVR's rights clearance department informs me playing Teddy & The Frat Girls' “Club Nite” on loop for 120 Minutes is not only a terms of service violation, but it's also “really lazy programming”.  OK, I'm paraphrasing.  I was told it was “really fucking lazy programming”. 

 it seems there's a bit of a problem in that during the show from two weeks ago we had to ban someone from the EVR chat room for posting “White Lotus” spoilers.   Then last week, we had to ban someone from posting “JAG” spoilers (here's one - did you know that “JAG” is an acronym for “Judge Advocate General”?).  I realize this seems like a slippery slope but if you want unfettered, free expression, maybe there's another chat room for you on the dark web (hopefully one entirely devoted to “JAG” spoilers — here's another, the show is terrible)

it's been a tough week already.  Hello torpedo bats -- wouldn't everyone be happier if they were torpedo cats?  Goodbye Val Kilmer, thanks for "Top Secret" (and perhaps to a lesser extent for driving not one, but 2 successive directors to distraction on "The Island Of Dr. Moreau").  Hello plans for a 2nd Sully From Godsmack autobiography (clearly the world's paper shortage resulted in vol. 1 being less than fully realized).  In the midst of all this turbulence --- cultural, political,, etc., there is one constant in this irreparably fucked up world and that's The Radio Hour That Feels Like Two Hours.  You know that every week, I'm going to help you make sense out of the senseless.  OK, that's completely untrue., it;s more like you're going to help me make cents out of the senseless after EVR cuts me in for a percentage of the underwriting windfall that's long overdue.  The important thing is that we're helping EACH OTHER (and after all this time, I it's time you finally reciprocated). 

given the show is a little long in the tooth, I thought it might be fun this to replay an older episode, perhaps one from the year 1925. The part that makes it confusing is that even 100 years ago i was a particularly well-versed time traveler (you've heard of Dr. Who? Well, now you've met Dr. What The Fuck). This week's broadcast of a show from 1925 sounds unusually contemporary because I'd zapped myself into 2025 to pick out the repertoire. Needless to say, all of this century hopping has me laid up with a nasty case of Fred G. Sanford level WHIPLASH but I'm hoping you'll find it all as entertaining and educational as always. If I happen to say something wildly inappropriate, please keep in mind the bullshit excuse, “those were different times” actually flies in this case because it _was_ a different time. It was a hundred fucking years ago.(above : I'd wanted to include a picture of the pod from “Timecop” but I got distracted and ended up watching another, earlier time travel saga, “Freejack” (1992, dir. Geoff Murphy) and that's another reason why I'm gonna be laid up all day) 

good morning dear friends.  If you're like me, your social media has been chock-a-block with stories concerning a regional tech/influencer convention “reducing their footprint” in coming years and there's no shortage of misinformed, self-styled experts willing to declare the entire endeavor deader than Deadsy.  To which I say, PISH FUCKIN' POSH.  Did Tom Vu throw in the towel the first time he had a poor turnout at the Best Western?  Did Marshall Applewhite take his ball and go home the first time he failed to fill a room?  And if he did, is there such thing as an official mass suicide ball (signed by Bowie Kuhn)?  Without even making a Dr. Gene Scott analogy, if there's one thing I'm overly confident about (other than thinking anyone wants to hear this show) is that the next generation of grifters and narcissists will continue to find an audience, even if they have to lay low for a year or 3.  Goodbye Austin Convention Center, HELLO KICK BUTT COFFEE.  (above : likely location to pick up your 2025 Platinum Pass) 

(above - a rare photo of the show's original studio, circa 2020)dear friends, welcome and thank you oh so much for being part of EPISODE 250 of The Radio Hour That Feels Like Two Hours. If you're like me, you're finding it difficult to put this particular broadcasting achievement --- 250 episodes!  Not as many as 300!  But more than 200! -- into proper perspective.  How does it stack up against, say Brady Anderson's not-chemically-assisted-at-all 50 home runs in 1996?  Susan Lucci losing the Daytime Emmy 18 years in a row?  I'd say it's right up there with both, but it's not my place to judge. No, I think this is the sort of thing that should be decided by an actual judge, perhaps the Chief Justice Sonia Sotomayor?Regardless of how she rules on the matter, I am very grateful for all of your support since the show's inception.  It's customary to say, "I couldn't have done it without you," and I've never quote understood this custom because I have, literally, done it without you. 

I think we can all agree this is way, way too much work to get the Central Intelligence Agency off the hook But yes, Lars' relationship with the fans is very, very special. If you can call suing them a very special relationship. Presently, many of us are in an equally special relationship with the United States of America, or perhaps one that is even more exploitative and corrosive. A "Don't Blame Me, I Voted For 'Re-Load' bumper sticker won't get you off the hook, either.

Surely it is possible to eulogize a cultural icon with some measure of accuracy?  Like many of you, I read the many tributes to the Roberta Flack and her unworldly talent last week and was troubled by how many of them (perhaps byproducts of A.I. or non-extant copy editing) credited her with the innovation of the flak jacket, as popularized by Houston's Dan Pastorini.   In fact, the flak jacket was invented by the late Byron Donzis (above), a lifelong Roberta Flack fan who tried to license her surname for the product and upon failure to come to an agreement, had to opt for the alternate “f-l-a-k” spelling. I mean, you can look all of this stuff up, I don't see why I always have to be the one to explain this stuff, particularly as I'm already busy enough programming the greatest radio program of all time.   For the record, this week's inclusion of Flack Blag was not intended as a tribute to Roberta Flack.  It's a (very) unfortunate coincidence.

I would like to apologize in advance for my utter failure to mount a proper tribute to The Jam's Rick Buckler on very short notice. Upon hearing news of Rick's passing, I'd planned on playing the widely discussed “fan club” aka boot of ‘In The City' solely featuring Buckler's isolated drum tracks (‘Mo Rick, Mo Problems') but either it's gone missing or this place is an absolute tip (most likely the latter). I'd mentioned this on air and someone kindly offered to bring round their copy of the isolated drum tracks from ‘Setting Sons', which, y'know, in a pinch would have to do. As it turns out, however, this record was actually Bruce Foxton's isolated bass tracks from ‘Setting Sons' which would not be appropriate for this somber occasion.

like nearly everyone else, I've had to endure countless on and offline “HOT TAKES” about Kendrick Lamar's SB halftime show, it's astonishing this performance generated so much controversy compared to Burton Cummings' appearance at the CFL Grey Cup nearly a quarter century ago.  Have we already forgotten Cummings not only setting fire to a Canadian flag, but a Canadian flag that was wrapped over a basket of kittens?  Sure, i bet a few of you were phoning talk radio to complain the organizers should've booked the Nihilist Spasm Band or Fur Trade or at the very least a collaboration between the two, but by and large this horrible incident has been wiped from the history books and I think you all know why.  At least I hope some of you know why, because I am counting on you to ring in or DM to let me know. (above :  from left to right, Burton Cummings and The Albert Henry George Grey Cup.  Not shown - the Canadian flag he set on fire and later urinated upon to extinguish the blaze)

There's an old cliche in the radio business --- you have forever to prepare your first show, but only a few hours to compile a memorial tribute to Rico Petroleum. OK, truth be told I had several hours but I had to walk the dog,, attend my jazzercise class, then visit my new neighbors with left over Pro Bowl Chili. This last step took a while because I had to explain what Pro Bowl Chili was (and there's much more of it left over now that they're no longer playing a proper, albeit zero defense or hitting-of- any sort game) In spite of these obstacles, I am hopeful I've done justice to the Petroleum legacy.

as you may or may not have heard, the Coca Cola Corporation has issued a recall order in Europe for several  of their products (Coke Jr., Coke Edge,  Fanta Medium, Tab CMD,  Evil Sprite) due to what's being called higher than usual levels of chlorate, a by-product of chlorine-based sanitizers.  I don't know, it seems like sanitizers are a good thing, right? Unlike Europe, here in the USA regulations are being shredded by the new administration and while this is almost entirely terrible news, if you're looking for a silver lining consider that we're never gonna be without Coke Edge and there might even be a new variant with EXTRA CHLORATE.  If this means Mike Francesa expires from a chlorate overdose, at least he went out doing what he loved (guzzling Coke Edge) and who doesn't want their insides to smell like a swimming pool (many associate the pool with leisure and family fun).   (above - it's great that you know “a guy”, but can he hook you up with this impressive a supply of sodium chlorate?) 

i dunno about the rest of you but there are (many) days where I'd rather not engage with any aspect of the real world (or for that matter, the television series, “The Real World” — whatever happened to Puck?) but I'll still fully acknowledge my bullshit ennui comes from a position of ridiculous privilege and comfort. The all-too-brutal circumstances that are coming to bear on so many of our friends and neighbors will likely make 2017-2021 look like a trial run and with that in mind, EVERY SECOND COUNTS. You cannot afford to squander your energy mocking Grimes on social media when the fucking Tesla dealership is sitting RIGHT THERE . You also cannot afford to waste your valuable time listening to a radio program that tries to pass off a Dollar General version of The Cool Greenhouse as “one of 2024's best” (or for the matter, a Dollar General version of Certain General). I personally think “this is what Jaqueline de Jong* trained you for” is a bit of a cliche, but when it comes to manufacturing motivation, sorry, I'm no Pat Riley.* – “The Most Confused Souls Find Themselves One Morning Conditioned by a Little Gravity”, 1966

so they ran a battery of tests on my head yesterday and I'm thrilled to report the results revealed NOTHING.   You have no idea how many years I have waited to use that line.  Even better, the MRI contraption made some glorious churning sounds, so much so that I contemplated asking the machine out for coffee to see if we could make a deal to release something.  I know, you're thinking “that's not very funny” but keep an open mind, please.  The MRI machine might lack the charisma of say, Danny Tantrum, but we can't all be world class entertainers.  Sometimes the subtle approach is warranted (though I certainly wish someone had told me that before I programmed this week's show, if not the last 5 years' worth of shows). 

happy new year, dear friends. I know those of you who love being tyrannized by the calendar are prone to making wild resolutions this time of year. Maybe this is the year you finally jump out of an airplane (preferably with a parachute)  Perhaps it's time to try out a diet besides fudge, cheetos and colt .45?  How about maybe limiting your screen time to something less than 22.5 hours a day?    These all seem like wild, thoroughly unrealistic promises for any of you to keep, but I'm built of stronger stuff. So that's why when I pledged on this week's show to not only keep the back-announcing to a minimum going forward, i wasn't fiddle-fucking around.  For starters, no one is paying me enough to hear my amazing voice so often (in fact, no one is paying me at all).  Each carefully constructed set has it's own unique ebb and flow ; not only would constant interruptions, well, INTERRUPT said flow but didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to interrupt?  For The Radio Hour That Feels Like Two Hours, 2025 is all about less talk, more rock.  Except maybe not so much rock. Maybe not so much music, either.  How about some goddamn peace and quiet for two hours, who's with me?

much the way Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert's scathing review of “Silent Night, Deadly Night” (1987, dir. Charles E. Sellier Jt.) ensured the film's notoriety and commercial success, I sorely wish there was some august body, say, the Podcast Council or The Society For The Betterment of Streaming Radio Shows, that could do likewise for this week's program.  Inappropriate xmas tunes.  Inappropriate tunes, period. Failure to suggest Forster & McLennan's “Suicide At Home” was meant to be called “(We've Got) Suicide At Home” and essentially jumpstarted the meme craze long before any existed.  There's all sorts of (negative) reasons to put this show ON THE MAP , but since this is the last episode for 2025, I would like to thank everyone that's been a part of it and wish you and your loved ones a happy and healthy hollandaise time (provided you listen every week, holidays included, otherwise you can fucking fuck off)(re : Suicide At Home, aka Hall & Oates)

as I gaze out my front window at the scorched landscape of shuttered Poke bowl eateries, Reverb Appreciation Society pop up shops and abandoned Crocs repair centres (to be fair, those things are ugly as fuck but don't break nearly as often as you'd think), I fear for the future of this nation. But even as we prepare to install Linda McMahon as the country's head of education (to be fair, Jim Hellwig was unavailable), I take some solace in knowing that you, the loyal listeners of this program, are prepared to rise up in stark opposition to the daily insults to our intelligence and basic humanity. That is, once you're done with holiday shopping and arguing over who won 2024, MJ Lenderman or Charli XCX. The correct choices, of course, would've been Ned Hayden or Charli XCX, but regardless, I am semi-confident your tolerance for all things crushing spirits and lives alike will dissipate sometime between January 2 and... oh who the fuck am i kidding.   It's gonna be business as usual.   Everything and everyone sucking is the planet's business and business is booming (with apologies to Dave Mustaine) 

there's 13 shopping days left before xmas (possibly 12 if you don't wanna be standing around Target at 9pm xmas eve) and with that in mind, it's time this week for the annual Radio Hour That Feels Like Two Hours Holiday Gift Guide! What's it gonna be for the loved ones in your life this year ---- a @methsyndicate "Deny Defend DiGiorno" tee, or perhaps a pair of Detroit Lions Zubaz overalls? If you're not into fashion, you might considering gifting a young person a copy of "Scene Loser" (or failing that, a copy of Ted Kaczynski's "“Industrial Society and Its Future"?) There's a lot to choose from and trust me, you don't want to be the sort of person left trampled and bleeding after all the Furbys have been scooped up (though I suppose that happened on Black Friday already). Tune in this week, I'll walk you through the options, one by one.

Perhaps this goes without saying -- most things do -- but this program stands in John Starks Contrast to all things "Yacht Rock", or back as it was known in a more sensible era, motherfucking "soft rock". Suffice to say many of the persons involved in extolling the virtues of these musical atrocities have been hit in the head with far too many soft rocks. I've been informed that a recent social media disagreement over this issue was not merely debated with some random schmoe with terrible taste, but in fact, THE GODFATHER OF SOFT ROCK. Short of a Black Angels marathon (don't give them any ideas, they've done fine without any to date) I can think of no form of torture more extreme than a PODCAST that tackles issues like if "if Seals and Crofts were both drowning and you could only save one, who would it be?" and "why weren't Pablo Cruise on the 'Cruising' soundtrack?" except for perhaps a feature length documentary that grapples with the same.

I'm sure you were all deeply alarmed (as was I) earlier this week to learn the unscrupulous Wheelchair Full Of Old Men Records had plans to relaunch Sockeye while employing an AI approximation of vocalist Food Fortunata.  It's a chilling development to be sure (particularly as Mr. Fortunata is very much alive and well) , but before we all jump to conclusions, perhaps it would behoove one and all to wait for the final results before passing judgement. Disruptors like Wheelchair Full Of Old Men didn't get to the top of the food (fortunata) chain by respecting the status quo (or Status Quo, for that matter who are probably due for an AI upgrade of their own).   Due to yet another failure on the part of East Village Radio's rights clearance department, there is no Sockeye on this week's program.  To be honest, I am no longer certain what any of us have to be thankful for. 

Dear Friends, I realize many of you are some combination of worried / outraged over the recent news Dr. CHUD has been nominated to head the US Dept. Of Health and Human Services. . Whether it's his questionable credentials (ie. not really a doctor) or highly controversial public statements (ranking The Misfits vocalists 1) Graves, 2) Steele, 3) Danzig) there is considerable public sentiment Dr. CHUD is The Wrongest Man For The Job. And with that in mind, I can hardly believe he was not tapped to head the department of Housing and Urban Development. I mean, he's throroughly unqualified for that, too, but "you cannot spell CHUD without HUD" would most likely have shut down any and all arguments. Anyhow, the next time we have a plague, this guy will be too busy giving drum clinics (which to be fair, are more like meet and greets with a smattering of clinic)

An alleged "fan" of this program (don't worry, I know they dont' exist) wrote last wednesday asking, "now that Peter Thiel and X Æ A-12's Dad are co-presidents, would you like a slice of humble pie with your Soylent Green?"  Well, the joke's on you buddy because I DO NOT PLAY CLASSIC ROCK on this show and Soylent (tm) comes in LOTS OF COLORS besides green.  That said, I share the outrage of my fellow centrists / not-so-innocent bystanders over the DNC's dubious decision to pay millions upon millions of dollars to the reunited Deadsy in exchange for performing at campaign events.  In retrospect, this was not a very good idea and not only are society's most vulnerable left to deal with the fallout, but I'm stuck with an entire warehouse of "Don't Blame Me, I Voted For Carlton Megalodon" bumper stickers (to be fair, even if Deadsy hadn't signed up for the gigs, these would've been a tough sell --- I understand they make automotive paint peel and there's not enough room on the sticker for a disclaimer).  What we're left with is of course, no laughing matter (much like the state of Deadsy's accounts before the recent windfall) and I hope this week's program reflects the gravity of the situation. 

I taped this week's show on Monday night, presuming I'd be thoroughly distracted if I did so last night in the midst of election coverage. While I don't expect a parade for this thoughtful decision (a small trophy will suffice), at this precise moment I have little to add that can make sense of the utterly senseless (I can't even chime in in with “maybe Sebastian Bach should've made his endorsement sooner?” - perhaps he was extremely busy). That said, this morning, hey, this week, this month, feels like the wrong time for escapism and mere entertainment and if you need to limit your plays of this week's wildly entertaining (and not timely in the slightest) radio show to 5 or 6 listens instead of your usual 15-20, I fully understand. Thank you.

 as we approach yet another edition of Austin's Levitation Festival --- each year answering the question "what if Altamont was held at multiple locations that weren't within walking distance?" --- i am somewhat sorry to say that I''ve been unable to properly prep a program that examines Levitation's most important aspect (ie. what everyone is wearing) because i know we're in the home stretch of the most important general election of our lifetimes.  While the rest of you are having a grand old time watching the Black Angels, I'll be at the back of the venue, handing out bumper stickers at the City Witches For Jill Stein booth. It's not that I'm actually supporting Jill Stein, but it turns out these bumper stickers can double as kinesio tape and we all know that shit's expensive.  Just my little part to help the economy, no need to thank me, having poor sightlines for the Black Angels is reward enough.

much as I hate to share any personal details on the program, I do think it is fair to warn listeners that I have begun a full scale remodel of TRHTFLTH's studios and offices, a mission whose tasks will include but not be limited to foundation repair, new chandeliers (the previous ones were nearly 18 months old) and sandblasting some offensive graffiti from the side of my garage.  Though after watching a series of HOUSE VS. EXCAVATOR videos last night on YouTube (til about 7am) , I am not ruling out BULLDOZING THE ENTIRE PREMISES and allowing Dutch Bros. Coffee to erect a drive-thru franchise on the lot. While this would effectively render me with nowhere to sleep (or produce the show), the free coffee (+ pissing off my neighbors) is pretty compelling. That and the hundreds of thousands of dollars from Dutch Bros.  It's all on the table. 

episode 229 comes to you on the precipice of Game 3 of the NLCS and I'm feeling pretty good about the New York Mets' chances against the heavily favored Los Angeles Dodgers. I've got my lucky Mitchell & Ness throwback (“Manes” and “86” on the back) and sure you'll agree my soothing presence in the monument to greed and avarice known as Citi Field will serve as a antidote to the foolishness of grown adults in purple monster costumes shilling for a fast food franchise. For those who could give 2 fucks about the above contest, fear not, as this week's program features no sporting content whatsoever and is instead firmly focused on a subject of universal interest : at what point is it no longer ok for someone to dress up as Darryl Porter for halloween? OK, I guess that's sports-adjacent but I would really like an honest answer for a change

while I couldn't be happier with the musical selections for this week's program, I am saddened, nay, personally devastated that not one of my alleged friends bothered to send me the clip of Fox LA weatherman Adam Krueger paying homage to Disturbed's “Down With The Sickness” last February.   It's bad enough that we don't take climate change seriously in this country,  it also sucks that I have surrounded myself with jackals, serial-users and Punishers With A Capital P, none of whom took the time to forward something that is not merely relevant to my interests (ie.  weather and The Disturbed) but crucial . 

This week's episode was recorded just a stone's throw from East Village Radio's 1st avenue storefront though I don't understand why anyone would be throwing stones at the station's HQ.  Surely it would be more efficient just to bang on the gate?  Despite a multitude of changes, this can still be a pretty tough neighborhood - for instance, I was scheduled yesterday to meet with Bobby Steele in order to launch a competitor to John Joseph's “Fear City” walking tour and it turns out the person I'd been sending money to on CashApp is not actually Bobby Steele but rather someone operating out of a boiler room on the other side of the world.  Which I suppose is a good learning lesson for all of us (but especially me) — if you're going head to head with the cadillac of walking tours, you'd better bring more to the table than the Yugo of walking tours  (particularly if it turns out the Yugo is really named Hugo and couldn't tell A7 apart from A24).  

I don't like to talk about this very often but when i was a young adolescent, the Unification Church tried (unsuccessfully) to recruit me.  I don't know if it was a matter of my being an usually difficult personality to break down or perhaps it was just that the snacks at the Jews For Jesus meetings were so much better (who buys RC Cola and realistically expects to brainwash anyone) but either way, I did not end up selling flowers by the side of the road.  Which brings me to present day and a memo from East Village Radio mgmt requesting my presence in NYC next for a “team building exercise”.  I've got some experience here and the rhetoric sounds suspiciously like something that will have me selling flowers by the side of the road.  And that's ok, I've never been a team player before and maybe it's time I started.  If do happen to see me selling flowers by the side of the road, please keep in mind a) the flowers don't sell themselves (if they did, they would be the smartest flowers of all time) and b) I CANNOT CUT YOU A DEAL. 

I don't know if you're aware of this, but apparently there are online tools —  artificial intelligence, if you will, that enable anyone to replace Perry Farrell in Jane's Addiction with “The Shield”'s Michael Chiklis.  I know, you're saying to yourself, “nothing's shocking” but trust me on this, the results are positively chilling.  I realize we're in an era of new singers being drafted in for touring purposes (strange no one has floated Chiklis as the new vocalist for The Smiths) but I don't think any of us are fully ready for the vast implications.  Please try to enjoy this week's program while the world continues to get exponentially worse with each passing second. 

Though today is a dark day in U.S. history, it is my fervent hope that at the very least you can use a morning of reflection to seek out timely bargains like the one above. After you've finished listening to the program, however, otherwise it's just inappropriate. In the meantime, can anyone source of pic of Rudy Giuliani at Ground Zero in full Yankees uniform brandishing a shovel? farewell : Lester Esser, Daved Hild, Villano V

Episode 223 comes to (ostensibly) live from the 2024 Venice Film Festival and you're probably wondering what sort of person travels 5600 miles in order to record an internet radio program.  Well, the joke is on you because I traveled 5600 miles to be here for the world premiere of “Sucking Is Our Business (And Business Is Kind Of Slow) : The Hollywood Vampires Story”. But as it turns out, the joke is on me, because the Hollywood Vampires movie did not in fact make it into the festival and this kind of bad intel has left me holding the bag.  And not the good kind of bag, i mean the sort of leaky bag that needs to be disposed of.  What sort of unscrupulous persons would knowing deceive a Hollywood Vampires superfan and how do they live with themselves?

There are few things in this world I find nearly as galling as fake columns. Phil Mushnick's comes to mind, but color me fully educated this time because I was not previously aware the National Gallery had a Sainsbury Wing. I'm not sure how far down the art ladder you have to drop before encountering an Iceland or Poundland Wing, but over the course of the next few days, I intend to find out. In the meantime, however, death to false columns 

with this week's internet sensation aka Anonymous Five Year Old's “46 Instances Of A Child Screaming Into A Microphone” we are forced (at least i am) to recount the best (and worst) prior examples of children-in-bands, stunt or otherwise.  Old Skull didn't have a happy ending (and with the Missing Foundation lineage, they didn't necessarily have a happy start, either).  From afar it seems like things worked out ok for Hanson, but if “Slapshot” came out in 1977, i don't understand how they were kid in the '90's.  Redd Kross is probably the gold standard,  Prussian Blue somewhat less so.  Harley Flanagan - PEAKED EARLY.   the 1-800-Kars-4-Kids Band - also peaked early (though perhaps not as early as Harley.   So they're not all gonna be as great at Tom Ardolino's ‘Unknown Brain'  (which in retrospect, I wish I'd played instead of “46 Instances Of A Child Screaming Into A Microphone”)

due to illness last weekend, I was unable to attend my local arena's presentation of The Misfits & Rev. Horton Heat and I'm told this was the first music event of it's sort to feature voter suppression booths in the lobby (ie. if you announced your intention to vote, you'd be promptly punched in the face several times).  I mean, fuck, this is the entertainment world Michael Stipe is coming back to.  But it's fine, I stayed home, did not get punched in the face and I got to fully concentrate on this week's program and while doing my du(d)e diligence on the Northside Kings' fella's book for kids (“A Child's Guide To Beating Up Danzig”, or something like that) I learned the same publisher is responsible for an Adrenalin OD coffee table book. I don't know why you think I'm making this shit up.    (above : in the unfortunate and unlikely event the Adrenalin OD coffee table book were pulped, it would probably look like porridge)

good morning, friends.  I am presuming you've read of James Dolan's plans to bring a digitally restored version of "The Wizard of Oz" to his monument of greed and avarice known as THE SPHERE at a cost of some $80 million dollars.  It's a ghastly idea to be sure, but let's OPEN THE PHONES and mull over some other cinematic options that might succeed in immersive form?  Perhaps the original cut of Tinto Brass' "Caligula"?  How about "Troll 2"?  Any fans of "Santa With Muscles"?  Really?  None?  But really, let's hear your suggestions, my call-screener had to pick up his kids from camp. 

Now that this show falls under the banner of East Village Radio's star-studded lineup, it seems I'm under some obligation to inform the station's powers-that-be what each episode contains in terms of themes, commentary.  I tried to explain that this episode was all about how I've got OLYMPIC FEVER but I guess the connection was poor and Brian thought I said “Ozempic Fever”.  Thus the entire show had to be vetted by the legal department at Novo Nordisk (who may or may not be bankrolling the station) and now I'm under what's being called TRIPLE SECRET PROBATION.  This seems a bit much, I mean, granted EVR has to protect itself but is an ankle bracelet really necessary (and does it have to be pink)?  (above 70's pop idols turned Ozempic pitchmen Pilot - hands up everyone who ever heard “Oh Oh Oh It's Magic” and thought, “there's no way this can be performed without a double neck SG”)

you've no doubt seen (many times) this week the 2023 video of Vice President Kamala Harris emerging from a Washington DC's HR Records brandishing albums by Charles Mingus and Roy Ayers.  Not to be outdone (?), GOP VP hopeful JD Vance was revealed to be a longstanding fan of allegedly funny duo Ween and directorial auteur Zach Braff. None of these are especially compelling reasons to support either candidate, though as much as I hate to be a single issue voter, I would look somewhat favorably on anyone who pledged to eliminate and/or outlaw Ween.  It doesn't have to be a drone strike, maybe just a house arrest scenario that keeps them away from recording gear or tour buses. Just throwing that out there if anyone's mulling a third party run. 

like many of you, I read over the weekend the accused gunman behind a recent unsuccessful assassination attempt was seen wearing a shirt promoting someone or something known as Demolition Ranch.  My first thought was, “it's pretty sweet after all these years that Barry Darsow and Bill Eadie maintain a ranch together,” but it turns out this has nothing to do with Ax & Smash, but is instead the branding of some YouTube weaponry nonsense. At a time when pollyanna calls for “unity” ring across the airwaves, wouldn't our society be better off if we watched Darsow and Eadie tending to animals, crops, etc., whatever farmers get up to, instead of some jacked up jagoff brandishing a military grade firearm?  If you've never phoned in before, now is a perfect time (because the call screener just quit)

episode 215 comes to you the morning after I suffered through the laughably bad "Kim's Video" documentary and like anyone else with a functioning noggin I awoke wondering if there was an means with which I could recover the $4.99 and 120 minutes of my precious time.  Which also poses the question, in this advanced era and living in one of the nation's tech hotbeds, am I entirely certain there isn't a method that would allow me to go back in time and instead choose to watch the show about the flying dragons or maybe the "30-For-30" about Sid Fernandez' prank phone calls.  I mean, we'll explore ALL THE OPTIONS on this week's show and yes, that is an official disclaimer. 

it seems a bit off to be celebrating indendepence and freedom while simultaneously prepping to usher in a new monarchy, but to paraphrase Rick Pitino, Takeru Kobayashi (above) is not walking thru the door this July 4 to save us from authoritarianism. Nor will Kenta Kobayashi emerge from an open convention (though to be fair, he couldn't be less appealing than the choices on offer). We're gonna need to look out for each other (again) in the coming days, and if you choose to take an afternoon or night to blow off some steam in the midst of democracy's collapse, I only ask that you try to traumatize as few dogs as possible while you're doing it. Thanks.

Over the weekend I had the singular misfortune of viewing Thea Hvistendahl's "Handling The Undead" (2024) and aside from the otherwise meditative take on zombie tropes, I remain outraged at the graphic, gratuitous murder of a child's bunny rabbit midway thru the film. Sorry for the spoiler but maybe they shouldn't be so cavalier about killing rabbits. I guess I'm having trouble with the subtle cultural differences. Is it better or worse to allow someone to take their kid's rabbit to the zombie hospital  compared to letting Varg record entire albums in prison?  Not saying we're doing everything (fuck, anything) right over here. I'll be taking calls on the subject during hour 2 of the show.

with today's New York Times report that Robert F. Kennedy's wife, Cheryl Hines of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” notoriety was attacked by the former's pet emu, we're coaxed (well, forced) to recall the heyday of the late Rod Hull's ill-behaved emu (above, left). Before Hull perished in a rooftop antenna-adjusting accident (THAT'S WHAT THEY WANT US TO BELIEVE), his Emu assaulted Michael Parkinson, Johnny Carson and probably a lot of persons who weren't TV hosts, either. Today's planned 2 hour salute to Hull & Emu was sadly scrapped by my new partners at E### V###### R#### who complained no one would be familiar with Hull (that's the point of the episode, FFS) and modern audiences would not understand someone falling to their death while adjusting a TV aerial (they might have a point here).