Posted 12:13 PM by Brian K

From The Brain of The Giant Head

You Know You’re Right, It Smells Like Teen Spirit

Many of you who know me know I’m a punk rock fan. While I put the chain wallet to rest many moons ago, I still head-bob and knock things over with the best of them. In fact, I still have bruises on my tailbone from crowd surfing back in the late 90s and, earlier this year, the Authority Guru and I got back out on the mosh-pit floor to show the youngsters that we still had it. And when they beat our out-of-shape bodies senseless, we did what any self-respecting adult punk rockers would do. We waved our beers in our over-21-stamped hands in their faces and laughed.

My obsession with punk has led me to follow the Nirvana legacy very closely. I was one of the biggest Nirvana fans back when corduroy pants and flannel shirts were making their way to local mini-malls. (I’d like to thank my Grandpa Klems for letting me steal some of his clothes. My Grandma always said ‘He’s never changes the way he dresses, yet he goes in and out of style every 10 years.’) The "grunge phenomenon" started. And it was started by a punk-rock trio from the city where it always rains but the people have tons of energy -- Starbucks, Washington.

I remember exactly where I was when I heard the news about frontman Kurt Cobain’s suicide. I was helping my Dad build our new computer desk, and by ‘helping him build’ I mean getting the tools from the garage and cleaning the sweat off his forehead with my sleeve. It was a devastating day for me and for my sleeve. The voice of my generation was gone. My Dad comforted me with the wisdom only a father can give.

"Son, I dropped a screw in the carpet. Find it."

It’s been more than eight years since My Generation’s voice took his life, but two years ago rumors started flying about an unreleased Nirvana song that had been hidden in a vault no one could find. Lucky for us, the vault was made out of cheese and drummer Dave Grohl’s dog found the final recording by Nirvana.

The remaining band members were working out plans to release the song as part of a greatest hits CD, which was supposed to be released in February, 2001, the 10-year anniversary of Billboards’ number 1 ranking of Smells Like Teen Spirit. Everything was going well until Her Beastliness got in the way.

Courtney "I need to fire whoever does my make-up" Love sued the band members to keep them from releasing the greatest hits album and the new song. As Cobain’s widow, she had a one-third equal right in the band’s decision-making including release dates, song track order and pizza toppings. An agreement was reached last month by Love and the surviving Nirvana bandmates. When asked how they reached a settlement Love responded, "Money, more money and extra anchovies."

So this week, the Nirvana Greatest Hits album was released, featuring the unreleased Nirvana song, "You Know You’re Right," along with a new song from the remaining members called, "Courtney Love Can Suck It." As a partner, though, Love will receive one-third of the profits from the album. While that settlement is all water under the bridge for Nirvana, a new lawsuit has been issued from Love’s former band, HOLE, as they are pissed that Nirvana stole the title and lyrics of "Courtney Love Can Suck It".

Radio airplay has been heavy for the previously unreleased tune "You Know You’re Right," with the song shooting straight up the charts. It brings back the feeling we had as youthful teenagers, children of the Baby Boom generation, that needed an escape from hair bands and cheesy pop music. And now, faced with almost the same problem, Nirvana is giving us the same escape.

The song, which mixes deep bass rhythms with the scratchy guitar licks of the grunge masters, features an angry Cobain screaming "Pain" in the background of the song. Was he talking about his own emotional pain? Was he talking about his own physical pain? Was he talking about the pain of waking up to Courtney Love’s ugly face every morning?

I have my guess and I bet you have yours.

And You Know You’re Right.

Posted 2:51 PM by Brian K

From The Brain of the Giant Head

Run All You Want, But We’ll Eventually Hook You In

On my drive to work this morning I was listening to the radio and the radio had very little to say. "Unemployment is up." "The Market is down." "The Economy sucks." All the usual garbage I am forced to listen to on my daily commute from my nice warm bed to the hell that pays me slightly better than minimum wage.

A lady called into the radio station to complain about the news. "This is the lamest news I’ve ever heard," she said. "All you guys ever say is ‘Unemployment is up.’ ‘The Market is down.’ ‘The Economy sucks.’ What gives?"

The irritating radio jockey replied, "Well ma’am, we always say that to sucker you in. Everyone cares about unemployment. Everyone cares about the market. Everyone cares about the economy. If we can sucker you in and hook you, you won’t change the station. We just need to catch you, and that news blurb always catches everyone."

"Unemployment is up." "The Market is down." "The Economy sucks."

And he was right. I fell into the trap, hook line and sinker. I stayed tuned into his station. He lured me in and captured me.

After hours of scratching my butt-crack and cursing the heavens above for inventing traffic, I finally became very interested in a news story on this station that didn’t involve political scandal or cow tipping. Over the course of the past couple of weeks, some egghead in the Washington D.C. area has taken a long distance shooting device that fires bullets further than fireworks and aimed them at unsuspecting citizens, notably ones that are low on gas. The radio (and presumably TV) networks have labeled this guy the D.C. Sniper. They tossed around ideas of The D.C. Sicko and the D.C. Moron, but Clinton and Dubya Bush could sue for copyright infringement.

Aside from the Sniper and his killing, which makes about as much sense as Michael Jordan’s cologne ("The Scent of a Sweaty Basketball Player), what ticked me off was every politician proclaiming that "We plan to seek the death penalty for the Sniper when we catch him." The death penalty is what we do for criminals who steal lawn flamingos (See Texas law). This is a different kind of criminal -- a malicious, cold-hearted stupid-head -- with an unprecedented type of crime. So I propose an unprecedented type of punishment.

Instead of killing the killer, I think torture is the way to go. Our nation would be better served to hold a lottery, at $1 a ticket. Through this lottery, select 100 individuals (on top of all the family and friends of the D.C. victims) to participate in the punishment events. Everyone has anger stored up inside of him or her and this would be a perfect way to legally let out the aggression you have from catching your spouse cheating on you in your own home or someone eating your last Hot Pocket.

After the winners are selected, they are flown to D.C. and taken to the jail of the Sniper. Here, the festivities begin.

Each person will get a turn to hold the miscreant by his feet and dunk his head in the toilet for an hour, flushing in 4-minute intervals and giving him a wedgie for good measure. If you can rip the underwear, you’ll get another turn at the end of the week.

When the swirly phase is over, it’s on to Phase Two. Apparently this Sniper has a fancy for Tarot Cards, so we should definitely make good use of that. Everyone from around the country can each mail in one card with a message written on it in black ink. Messages can range from "Burn in Hell" (or "Burn in Heck" for children under the age of 16) to "Die, Bastard, Die" to "Don’t Eat Yellow Snow"

Next, each lottery winner will take 5 Cards received from the public and personally shove them up the Sniper’s butt, one at a time. If the Sniper moves or tries to push any of them back out, a victim’s family member gets to punch him in his twig and berries. This process goes on till all 500 Tarot Cards are stuffed in his large intestines at the same time.

We save the best for last. The final phase of the punishment involves the Sniper being taken to a white room where he is forced to listen to Michael Bolton albums for one week straight. After that I can’t imagine he would want to live any longer. He ruined so many lives, now we have ruined his. And this would serve as warning to all future copycats. Death doesn’t scare criminals, but Michael Bolton does.

And as I negotiated my car through traffic and devised this strategic punishment plan, I continued to think about the D.C. Sniper. I just can’t believe anyone would think he or she could get away with random murder without facing any consequences. The cops need to catch the Sniper and catch him now. They keep offering bubbling messages through the media that don’t work. They need to hook him in, and there’s a simple way to do that.

"Unemployment is up." "The Market is down." "The Economy Sucks."

Posted 1:13 PM by Brian K

From The Brain of the Giant Head

Go Rally Monkey!

The World Series, my favorite sports platform, begins this week and is a battle of two incredibly different teams: Disney’s Anaheim Angels versus Barry Bonds. This might not excite you but it tickles me. Barry Bonds is a shmuck. He is the player you either love or you hate or, like me, you love to hate. And he will lose because Anaheim has one thing the Giants don’t possess -- The Rally Monkey.

What is the Rally Monkey?

Apparently the legend of the Rally Monkey began back on June 6, 2000. The Angels were losing by four runs late in the game to none other than Barry Bonds’ San Francisco Giants. A couple of young video crew members were bored. While working hard on the job, they had just finished a game of Hungry Hungry Hippo when they flipped on TV and saw the movie "Ace Ventura, Pet Detective." They saw the monkey in the movie and spliced him out, using very technical equipment that I will call ‘scissors.’ They shot images of him jumping up and down and put colors around him using wax-coated design instruments I will call ‘crayons,’ and they flashed their creation on the jumbo-tron. The fans in Anaheim started chanting. The chant got louder and louder. Finally, the whole stadium was chanting in unison.

Anaheim Angels Fans: "What the hell is that? What the hell is that?"

Well, I never said people from southern California were bright.

The video guys took their crayons and wrote the words "Rally Monkey" underneath the simian and flashed him back on the screen. Finally, the crowd got the picture and began chanting, "Rally Monkey, Rally Monkey."

The Angels rallied to win that game against the Giants and the Rally Monkey was born.

This spur of the moment instinct by these video guys has led to an unexplainable phenomenon in Anaheim. Now everyone in the city owns a Rally Monkey -- Kids, adults, grandparents, elephants. Don’t believe me? Check out these pics at RallyMonkey.com. The Rally Monkey has even been arrested a couple times for getting unruly. But is he the greatest mascot in sports?

With the Rally Monkey hype, fans of the Calgary Flames of the National Hockey league decided they needed something to get their team fired up as well. On Thursday night a man took off all his clothes, climbed over the glass and ran across the ice in the nude. The man got cheers from the 15,000 fans in attendance as he ran to the center of the rink. Not surprisingly, this genius forgot that ice is slippery and fell, conked his head on the frozen mat and knocked himself unconscious. So this guy passed out in the middle of a hockey rink, naked in front of 15,000 fans. While embarrassing, he emerged as the leader in team spirit by inventing The Nude Dude.

So I’m encouraging all you hockey fans to take to the ice in nothing but your socks. Wear your team enthusiasm loud; just don’t wear it on your body.

After thinking this over, I decided The Nude Dude has more spirit than any other fan of any other sport, including the Angels. And while I predict Anaheim will win the World Series in seven games, the Naked Fan in Calgary might have taken team enthusiasm to a whole new level. Anaheim can take great comfort in one thing, though.

They’ve never gotten frostbite on their Rally Monkey.

Posted 11:50 AM by Brian K

From The Brain of the Giant Head

I Feel Pretty And Witty And Gay (Meaning Happy)

When our grandparents were young, the word ‘gay’ had different connotations than it does today. When my grandfather called a man gay, he simply meant that the man was happy and in good spirits. Now when I call a man gay, he generally punches me in the face. Why? Because the word gay now refers to men (and women) that fancy the company of the same sex in, well how should I put this, in booty calls.

Now I’m not here to debate the moral issue of being ‘gay,’ as I really don’t care who you like as long as it’s not the Yankees, but I did find an interesting trend in Hollywood as they have recently tried to ‘out’ one of their own ‘A’ list members. His name is renowned. His action figures have sold millions. He has two buck-teeth that drive me crazy. Hollywood and the media have ‘outed’ Nickelodeon superstar SpongeBob Squarepants.

The debate over gay cartoon characters started years before SpongeBob entered the scene. In January of1999, Tinky Winky, the baggy-toting member of the PBS kids’ show, The Teletubbies, was denoted as "the gay Teletubby" in the New Year’s Day edition of the Washington Post. His creators claimed that the Teletubbies hadn’t even hit puberty yet, although they were concerned with Tinky Winky’s fondness of Broadway shows.

[Editors Note: Rumors in LA say that with the show not garnering the ratings it once did, Tinky Winky has auditioned for a role as the fourth PowerPuff Girl.]

Now while I had seen the Teletubbies show multiple times because I enjoy the seizures it induces, I had never once watched an episode of SpongeBob Squarepants. So I flipped it on the tube the other night to develop my own opinion in this situation. The episode revolved around SpongeBob getting a new pair of shoes that he "absolutely loved." That sure pointed in the gay direction, but I wanted to give SponeBob a chance to defend himself cause he seemed like such a nice guy.

So I called SpongeBob’s father, creator Stephen Hillenburg, to get to the bottom of this, and I did get to the bottom as Hillenburg told me to dig a hole and bury myself in it. But a publicist called me back and got me an interview with the man, er sponge himself, SpongeBob.

The Brain: How are you doing today, sir?
SpongeBob: Just peachy. And don’t called me sir. I prefer to be called Tiger.

The Brain: Um, okay...Tiger. What do you enjoy most about working in television?
SpongeBob: Well, I get to meet tons of celebrities like Matt Damen and Ben Affleck and, my favorite, Leonardo DiCaprio.

The Brain: Um, yeah. Speaking of Leonardo DiCaprio, I’ve heard rumors that he’s gay. If you were him, would you tell the world you are gay?
SpongeBob: Is he gay? Well that’s just the greatest news I’ve heard since I found out that that humor columnist, The Giant Head, is gay.

The Brain: WHAT!?!
SpongeBob: Yeah, everyone here in Hollywood has been talking about how gay he is.

The Brain: WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?! I’M NOT GAY!
SpongeBob: Oh, YOU’RE the Giant Head? Sure you’re gay?

The Brain: No! You are.
SpongeBob: No I’m not! You are.

The Brain: NO I’M NOT! You are.
SpongeBob: NO I’M NOT! You are.

The Brain: YOU SUCK, SQUAREPANTS!
SpongeBob: KISS MY YELLOW ASS!

After our conversation, I was able to determine that, while on the show, SpongeBob is a fun-loving cartoon that all the kids love, in real life he’s a real prick. I hate him and I would love to ruin him.

In fact, while he wouldn’t admit it, SpongeBob square pants is gay. GAY GAY GAY! And I don’t mean happy. He’s Gay-er than Bert and Ernie from Sesame Street and Natalie from The Facts of Life. Tell all your friends! Tell everyone!

TAKE THAT SQUAREPANTS!

Disclaimer From The Brain-- If you don't have a sense of humor, you suck.

Posted 12:22 PM by Brian K

From The Brain of the Giant Head

Spread the Gospel of Minsterfest

Someone once told me he felt overwhelmed with holidays and thought there were too many throughout the year, and I turned to that person and said, "Are you stupid?" Holidays are what make this country great. They get us out of work. They give us an excuse to eat craploads of food. And they give us a reason to drink till we unintentionally wet ourselves.

I love holidays.

A good friend of mine, Nice Smile Mitch, invited me to her hometown, a small corner of Ohio called Minster, to celebrate the only holiday people from Minster know how to celebrate. They call it ‘Minsterfest.’ It was named by way of a contest, in which children under the age of 10 wrote in and made suggestions. And since, at that time, there were only 3 children under the age of 10 in Minster, the suggested names for the party were "Giant Party," "Minsterfest," and "I Think I Have The Flu." A committee of 7 people voted and Minsterfest was born.

According to it’s Web site, (oh yes, it has a Web site), over 80,000 people flock to the village the first weekend each October to enjoy three fun-filled days of parades featuring colorful floats, marching bands, and famous celebrities such as Donny Osmond. They play games like The Beer Tray Rally and are punished for losing by running a 10K race.

While most people’s eyes are generally set on the arts and crafts area, what interests me the most is the invitation to sing and dance to German music. I love to sing (just ask anyone within shouting distance of my shower) and dance (I can walk like an Egyptian and Cabbage Patch), and polka-ing might be the perfect venue to display my spirited skills.

Now as you all know I’m a City Guy, (pause for a moment as I break into the theme song of the best Saturday Morning TV show around, City Guys), and the thought of small towns gives me the heebee geebees. I also picture people from small towns walking around in overalls with grass hanging out of their mouths while talking into a tin can attached to a string. While these images scare me, there are some advantages to townie life, like no crime, you know everyone, and gas is only 15 cents per gallon. And, most importantly, people still care.

Early on I realized I couldn’t make it to the metropolis that is Minster, and three tears ran down my face cause I really wanted to experience small town life. My smile returned when I learned that I don’t have to attend -- I could vicariously watch the whole thing via Webcast on the Internet. Minster may be a small town, but contrary to my belief it has the basic necessities like cell phones, irritating AM radio hosts, and broadband Internet connection. I love technology.

And I know that I always give Mitch a hard time for growing up in a small town, but I also compliment her all the time for making the jump from small town to big city life. It’s hard to do. But eventually she will enjoy some of the finer aspects of living in the city like the rest of us City Kids -- air pollution, traffic, neighborhood crime, etc.

I applaud her town for starting Minsterfest, and I propose that it be a national holiday in recognition of small town life. Most of us in the city don’t appreciate what we have and take for granted all the life there is to celebrate around us. Minsterfest should teach us that there’s more to life than watching TV and getting food delivered. And from now on, in the spirit of Minster I am going to take advantage of life. I will get off my butt and explore more of the city. I will visit museums. I will volunteer my time to shelters and soup kitchens. I will...oops, sorry have to run. FRIENDS starts in a few minutes and that pizza I ordered should be arriving any minute.

If you have a chance this weekend, head on up to Minsterfest and have a blast. Thanks to Mitch for being such a good sport in all my small town jokes. And don’t worry, one day you’ll be smiling down on me from heaven as I suffer in a small town the Bible refers to as HELL. I hear God has a sense of humor on that stuff.