Archive by Author | Benjamin Gullickson

Un-Valentine’s Day

Well another year has passed, which of course means another year of me being single.  I actually really enjoy it, but if there’s one day that has to try and convince me that I’m a lonely and pathetic person because of it, it’s that abomination of a 24-hour time period: Valentine’s Day.  Really, this is just the stupidest holiday we have, and this is taking into consideration we also have Columbus Day.  I mean, what did that guy ever do?!

But really, what this is about is how gross people get around and on Valentine’s Day.  I’ve got one set of grandparents that are vacationing in Hawaii.  Gross.  I’ve got another set that will probably have a nice dinner, drink some wine, go home and watch Dancing with the Stars or Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.  Ew.  My parents will probably tell each other that they love each other.  I mean, come on!!

Stop it! Just stop it!

Stop it! Just stop it!

Listen people, I get it; you’re in love and you like being around another human being for long periods of time.  You like to talk about feelings.  That’s great.  I’m so glad you’re happy, but keep that crap away from me.  On Valentine’s Day, if I see a couple holding hands, I’m going to shout, “Get a room!” at them.  If I see a couple making out, I’m going to yell, “Gross!”.  If I see a couple with their clothes off about to have sex, well, I’m going to call the police because that is public indecency.

I know it sounds like I’m bitter about being single on Valentine’s Day, but I’m really not.  One of the best parts about being single on Valentine’s Day is being able to do whatever you want with impunity or fear to ruin a “relationship” by not buying the “right” roses.  Sometimes I like to buy a box of chocolates and tell the cashier they’re for a special someone, but really I’m my own special someone and I really like chocolate.  However, I can’t really do that this year because I’ve already done that twice this week, and three times just seems desperate.  Other times I like to watch romantic comedies and heckle them for being “sweet” and “sincere”, but I’m currently banned from all AMC movie theaters nationwide on Valentine’s Day.

This year, I might try something different.  Since I’m dating myself, I might take us out for a nice couple’s dinner at the all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse that I live above.  And nothing says, “I love me” quite like a box of donuts in bed.  I might even go to Applebee’s and get the 2 for $20 lunch special for the both of me.  And if anyone asks if I’m waiting for someone else, I will proudly state that no, I am not waiting for anyone else, I am merely treating myself to a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner, is there a problem with that are you judging me can I have a third bottle of that pinot noir and bring me more meat too, thanks.

Happy Valentine's Day to me!

Happy Valentine’s Day to me!

So to all of you happy couples out there, I sincerely wish you a happy Valentine’s Day.  I hope you enjoy your time together and don’t run out of things to talk about.  And if you see one of us helplessly single people staring at you across the restaurant tonight, we’re not judging you.  We’re merely staring at you to make you uncomfortable so we can enjoy our Meat Lover’s Meat Plate for Two without gagging at the sight of you holding hands in public.  Get a room.

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The Beyoncé Halftime Show (Brought to you by Sasha Fierce)

There are many things I love in this world: my family, my friends, food, and air conditioning, to name a few.  And then there is the one thing I would throw that all away for, even if just for the opportunity to be in awe for five seconds: Beyoncé.  Ever since my sister first introduced me to the sweet, sweet sounds of Destiny’s Child, I haven’t been able to get over my addiction to Beyoncé.  With each passing year, this passion grows larger and fonder for the world’s most fabulous force of nature.  Normally, I would assert that this sort of hyperbole would be inappropriate, but we are talking about Beyoncé here!   There is no way you could ever possibly over exaggerate anything about her, ever.  I mean we’re talking about the woman who rented out an entire floor of a hospital for the birth of her first superbaby.  Granted, it was probably so they could redecorate with red carpet and crown molding and marble and art pieces from the Louvre, but that only furthers my point.

The Blue Ivy Carter hospital wing

The Blue Ivy Carter hospital wing

Way back when it was announced that Beyoncé would be performing at the halftime show of the Super Bowl, I was giddy.  Then, that giddiness turned ecstatic when I found out that there would be a Destiny’s Child reunion.  So between all of that buildup, the San Francisco 49ers playing in the Super Bowl, and the fact that I had been drinking mimosas at a crowded bar in SF since 11am, by the time the lights went down for the halftime show, I couldn’t stand it anymore.

Me, unable to stand it anymore

Me, unable to stand it anymore

And then the Queen rose.

The beginning of my mind-splosion

The beginning of my mind-splosion

I have never seen anything prettier rise out of anywhere (except for maybe chocolate coming out of a fountain).  Her fierceness could be felt through my bones, and I knew that I was about to enter 12 minutes of nirvana.

Naturally, she started with ‘Love on Top’ (of course she did!) because like love, she is also a sensation that can’t be destroyed.  Quite literally, she is made of fierce, and to quote Sir Isaac Newton, “Fierce is an element that can’t be destroyed”.

Does this look like something you can destroy?

Does this look like something you can destroy?

And then, the segue into ‘Crazy in Love’.  With each ferocious stomp of her (I’m sure) perfectly manicured limbs of destruction, my heart quite literally stopped.  Other things that happened with each stomp of her high heels: earthquakes, buttons popping open, haters being silenced, spontaneous orgasms, and the heavens being shaken.

"What's all that racket going on down there?" ---Zeus

“What’s all that racket going on down there?” —Zeus

Next there were some other songs that were not my favorite (NO JUDGEMENT), but there was some pretty sick technology-schmecnology going on.  Basically the consensus was that the best backup dancer Beyoncé could have was more Beyoncés.  And it was fabulous.

You get a Beyoncé!  You get a Beyoncé!  You get a Beyoncé!

You get a Beyoncé! You get a Beyoncé! You get a Beyoncé!

Then, the event that everyone said they were ready for, but no one was actually ready for: The Return of Destiny’s Child.  And there was much rejoicing.  As always, the performance was perfection on stage, even with Beyoncé making up for Michelle’s ungreatness.  For it isn’t truly a Beyoncé performance without her doing something charitable, like putting up with a walking train wreck like this:

Get it together, Michelle!!!

Get it together, Michelle!!!

As for the next song, I knew it was coming.  You knew it was coming.  But you weren’t ready for that jelly: ‘Single Ladies’.  It had it all: impeccable dance moves; fabulous hair; her dancing army of clones; ‘tude strong enough to strip the paint off the Golden Gate Bridge.  Just try to keep up, world.

The hair! The look! The army of dancers!

The hair! The look! The army of dancers!

Last but not least was the emotional destruction of your soul: ‘Halo’.  Probably my favorite of all the Beyoncé songs, and boy did she deliver.  I thought at some point God was going to come down and tell Beyoncé to come back up to heaven because we were not worthy.  Which we are not.  We are not worthy of the Beyoncé.

Kneel before Bey

Kneel before Bey!

And so ended my nirvana, and like a crack addict coming off a 3-day binge, I curled up on the floor of the bar and cried that I had nothing to live for.  After that soul-shredding performance, what do any of us have to live for?!  Nothing.  Except for her live show at the HP Pavilion in San Jose on July 2nd.

I was stuck like this for the rest of the game

I was stuck like this for the rest of the game

May Beyoncé have mercy on your soul.  Beyoncé be with you.

Welcome Back

So, as none of you noticed, we have been on a bit of a hiatus here at The Ironical Chronicle.  I could say it was do to a slew of momentous life milestones.  I could say it was due the obligations of living in the adult world.  I could even say it was due to a freak storm that completely wiped out electricity, and thus all possible forms of communication.  However, you all know it was due to sheer and utter laziness.  Surprise.

In all seriousness though, it has been a busy few couple of months.  In the firstly, I received an offer to become Grand Emperor of China (White Version), but I had to turn it down at the last minute because I forgot that I’m mildly racist.  So I took a desk job instead.  That being the case, I had to break the news to my parents that I was moving out of the house.  They took it pretty stoically, considering I am far and away their child, but I could have sworn I heard giggling in their room that night.  On the night I was moving, we had a big party to see who would take my room.  It was very sweet.

It was also very drunk, as usually happens when you get my entire family together in a room by ourselves.  Like the Bluth’s staged intervention with their alcoholic mother, this turned out to be one of the better Gullickson parties.  Needless to say, in the morning I was still drunk and facing the prospect of 6 hours trapped in the car with my ruthlessly cheerful talkative father.  This was probably the most hellacious experience that seemed like would never end.  And I’ve been to a Catholic wedding.

It looked something like this

It looked something like this

After about a month in Northern California, I finally found a place in the heart of the city that is 375 glorious square feet of bachelor living!  That’s right!  I am single, and ready to come home alone and struggle to make a basic dinner for myself.  Cooking is always exciting because I have a gas stovetop, and I never know if any of my meals are going to be my last.  I’ve never been so focused in my life.  But, I am extremely proud to say that I am now able to cook chicken without it being raw in the middle.  I am also extremely proud to say that my stomach has never been more resilient.  And I’ve been to Malaysia.

This looks like my living room!

This looks like my living room!

As of now, I’ve been working and living in the adult world for about 6 months, and let me tell you, I just want to retire.  Or marry rich.  Or win the lottery.  Cause it sucks.  You have to get up early, and on your own, without your mother to wake you up or anything!  It’s hard!  Also, you have to make your own food, and clean up after yourself, and be held accountable for your actions.  What kind of bullshit is that, am I right?!

Anyways, now that I’m living in a new city on my own, I will have plenty of tales about my misadventures, interesting events around San Francisco, and embarrassing stories about my interactions with other humans.  Like, for example, how I always carry spare change with me around the city to give to homeless people, who then in turn I become tight with, who then in turn tell me about all the places that have the cheapest alcohol.  Usually it’s convenience stores that sell rubbing alcohol by the jug, but I’m pretty sure I’m on to something there.  There is nothing cooler than having an army of homeless people, trust me.

To the select (read: awesomest) few who are still aware of this blogs existence, get ready for some awesome posts.  Because I’m awesome.  And you’re awesome.  Let’s be awesome together.

Ben

Our Dear Readers

My dear readers, it has been a while since anything has been posted, and we apologize for the lack of comedy and inspiration for the past month.  Mostly because TV shows are over, but also because us correspondents haven’t had many new posts.  Well, that’s about to change!  So, to make up for this fact, I’m dedicating this post to you, our dear readers, and what makes us here at The Ironical Chronicle love you so much.

One of the best parts of having this blog is being able to see the google searches people use in order to link up to your site. Recently, NY Correspondent Gen and I had a great laugh about some of them, so we’d like to share them with you:

Cheeseball jokes
Instructions to make a human centipede
Khloe & lamar dvd cover
Love is useless
Dr. pepper brownies
New styles lady blazer
Cool celebrity encounters
Beyonce falls Michelle Williams laughs
Is Jan Terri a real person?
Lonely girl
Sexy mature incest
“vanilla ice” tracksuit
Pizza delivery

Now obviously, these search items reflect not only the type of reader we attract, but also the type of material we put out. All in all, it is very disturbing. However, I didn’t mention what the most searched item on the internet that led people to our site was. With a whopping 61 searches, ladies and gentleman, your winner is:

Helen Mirren Boobs!

That’s right!  The only way our blog has any sort of audience is because people want to see pictures of Helen Mirren’s boobs. Or they are waiting for my follow up to “Top Ten Helen Mirren’s Boob’s Movies”. This number of searches did not include “Helen mirren tits”, “Helen Mirren boob”, “helen mirren bra pics”, “mature boobs hanging” or “Helen mirren breast size”.

Apparently the only way we can attract more people to our site is to try and figure out what type of boobs people want to see, and then include those hot topics on our site. I mean, anyone can find pictures of Lindsay Lohan’s boobs or Christina Hendrick’s boobs on the internets these days, so what’s our competitive advantage? That’s right: mature boobs.

Here, for your viewing pleasure, and for our site hit count, are some historically regal boobs:

Maggie Smith Boobs

Dayum girrrrrl, you lookin fine!

Barbra Streisand Boobs

Hello, gorgeouses

John Travolta Boobs

Bazoongas!

Bette Middler Boobs

Flaunt it if ya got it!

Jack Nicholson Boobs

His man boobs must be hungry

Judi Dench Boobs

Bada bing, bada boobs!

So, thanks for reading this blog folks, and be sure to come back soon for even more great posts like this!

Also, sarcasm!

Run the World (HBO)

Time and time again I’ve written about the aspects of living at home that are enjoyable:  Family, home-cooked meals, blah blah blah.  Well I’ve been feeding you bullshit for a long time.  Now it’s time to get down to brass taxes, shoot from the pelvis, and hear it straight from the horse’s lips: HBO is the greatest thing to ever happen to me.

Unlike Beyonce, who is undeniable yet only human, no other force has had a greater impact on my time living at home than HBO.  For those of you who don’t know what you’re doing with your life, I have some great advice: move home, make your parents pay for premium cable, and ditch all your friends.  I know many of you have trouble juggling your social life, what with all your party invites and dinner with friends and even trips to make fun of fat people at the mall (that’s still a thing, right?).  I, fortunately, do not have that burden, which is why I spend my Sundays (and Fridays and Mondays and Wednesdays) with my loyal friend HBO.

There are so many things to love about HBO, so I’m gonna break it down for you right here:

Game of Thrones:  This show is so awesome it actually made me read books again.  Ever since the first season last year, I’ve been on a year-long Game of Thrones diet.  Let’s just say it involves lots of wine and calling people whores.  Now that the second season is heating up, my life is complete again.  This season is chock full of nudity (bonus!), gruesome beheadings (double bonus!), and intricately woven explorations into the nature of power, where it resides, and what sort of influence the real or perceived effect of power has on an individual and society as a whole (OMG I just jizzed my pants!!!!).  Did I mention that someone is gruesomely killed every episode?!?!

Oh yeah, you talk about matters that concern the realm! You talk about those matters all season long!

Veep:  The only thing funnier than the concept of  the Vice Presidency is Julia Louis-Dreyfus.  Her and lady blazers and lady f-bombs, none of which are lacking on this show.  Whip-smart British humor and a strong supporting cast (Buster Bluth!) also help.  Additionally, there is in fact a black woman on the show, so it’s not like I’m a racist for watching shows with only white cast members.  Right, guys?!?!?!

I'M A MONSTER!!!!! Oh, wait, wrong show...

Girls:  For some reason I keep thinking this should be the theme song for the show.  Alas! it’s not.  However, there is something humorous about former co-eds drifting in NYC trying to get their shit together (Am I right, Gen Blau?!?!).  And despite the fact that the show was created by, written by, produced by, directed by, and starring women, the only thing that brought me to the show was the name of a bearded middle-aged man that was on the advertisements.  Am I right, Judd Apatow fans?!?!

Something is missing... Wait! Where are all the penises?!?!

TrueBlood:  Supernatural soap opera involving vampires, vampire hookers, werewolves, werewolf hookers, hookers, witches, bitches, fairies (the winged kind), fairies (the gay kind), mind-readers, lip-readers, lip-lockers, shape shifters, shape shifter sex, regular sex, shower scenes, gumbo, Oscar winners, lesbians, black panthers (the mammal), funny accents, demon babies, and Southern manners.  Need I say more?!?!

The most demonic of demon babies. Seriously, don't let the smile fool you. There's fangs there...

Curb Your Enthusiasm:  This last season might have been the best Curb season ever.  From a pleasure-inducing Prius, to Bill Buckner finally catching something important, to one of the greatest debates about performance-enhancing drugs not involving Jose Canseco, this was truly a season to remember.  The biggest takeaway:  I’m an elderly Jewish curmudgeon at heart.  Am I right, old people?!?!?!

My spirit animal

The Wire:  Sometimes, in social situations, I pretend like I’ve seen The Wire.  This is embarrassing, I know, because it’s supposedly the greatest show ever, or whatnot, but every time I try and watch it, I realize I’d rather not think while I watch TV, so I don’t.  It’s like the television version of War & Peace: a classic must-read that all pretentious educated people talk about, but you don’t want to put in the time.  And it uses big words.  Also, you prefer picture books.  Am I right, college grads?!?!?!

!

Yeah, yeah, I get it, ok? I should be watching your show. Now stop judging me with your eyes!!

Mad Men:  Okay, so technically this show is on AMC, but it’s like an honorary HBO show.  Kinda like how the two non-Beyonces were honorary Destiny’s Child members.  Also, this was just an excuse to put in a picture of Jon Hamm.  Am I right, ladies?!?!?!

So, as you can see, HBO and I have a great relationship, and we ain’t about to taint it with real people or anything.  In fact, to quote Game of Thrones:  “HBO is my king, and my king is HBO”*.

*Technically, the quote was actually “my husband” not “HBO”, but at this point in my life they’re practically interchangeable.  Am I right, Ben?!?!?!

A Day in the Life

Since I’ve been living in Los Angeles, I’m sure plenty of people believe that I am living a very glamorous life.  Well, I am: I live at home, I have a two hour commute, and my mother makes me dinner every day.  It’s pretty rad.  However, sometimes I like to imagine that my life is even more glamorous, so I will share with you a day in the life of my pretend glamorous life.  Then I will share with you a day in the life of my regular glamorous life, just to see how little I have to go to achieve this fantasy.  You know me: always giving minimum effort to achieve maximum result!

PRETEND GLAMOROUS LIFE

9:00 AM:   Wake up to to the sound of “Crazy In Love” playing in my hotel suite at the Downtown Ritz Carlton.

9:01 AM:    Walk out of my room to find Beyonce playing a stripped-down version of “Crazy In Love” on the white baby grand piano in the penthouse suite adjacent to mine.

9:02 AM:    Fist bump Beyonce.

Something like this...

9:05 AM:    Fist bump Blue Ivy on the way downstairs because we’re cool too.

9:30 AM:    Have a champagne breakfast with Helen Mirren.  She reads the NY Times out loud in her English accent while I pour her tea.  It’s very fancy.  We’re both wearing crowns because we can.

10:00 AM:  Get picked up by my personal chauffer, Morgan Freeman, as we drive around downtown pursued by paparazzi.  Thank god I had those built-in missiles installed.

11:00 AM:   Meet up with Julie Andrews for a rigorous hike.  We climb every mountain, ford every stream, while following every rainbow till we reached “Your Dream”, a super-secret mountain villa for super famous people only.  I flash my veneers and we go in for some truffle fries, caviar, and peanut butter M&Ms.

12:00 PM:   Catch a helicopter down to Hollywood for some really successful movie premier.  I don’t really know what one, because I go to sooooo many, but it was fun.

12:30 PM:   Go to the park with Jon Hamm where we feed breadcrumbs to Lindsay Lohan.  Then we laugh about how handsome we are and talk about doing this again.

1:00 PM:     Get lunch with Paula Deen, Ina Garten and Mario Batali.  Then we realize the elevator won’t hold all of us, so we kick Batali off cause we don’t do gingers.  We have such a great time without him that we send him pictures of us at lunch with the text, “Suck it, Ginger!”

2:00 PM:     Receive a frantic call from Yo-Yo Ma saying he has become too arrogant to perform and needs me to come down to deflate his ego.

2:15 PM:      Traverse secret tube system used by famous people to travel to brothels and strip clubs without being seen.  Wave to Tom Hanks as he heads to “Hoe’s R Us”.

2:23 PM:      Arrive at Walt Disney Concert Hall.  Shred the cello until I reduce Yo-Yo Ma to tears in awe of how he will never come close to being half as good as me.  He considers himself successfully humbled enough to perform that evening.

3:00 PM:      Meet up with Taylor Lautner to go visit his family at the Alpaca Farm.

I couldn't resist...

3:30 PM:      Play a match with Roger Federer over in Malibu.  We get some beers afterwards and throw some darts.  Rafael Nadal’s face is the bullseye, naturally.  We have a great time.

5:00 PM:      Smoke some weed with Miley Cyrus, Snoop Dogg, and Tom Cruise.  Things get weird when Tom thinks Snoop is Katie Holmes and tries to make out with him.  Miley and I politely extricate ourselves from this awkward social situation.

7:00 PM:      Go to dinner and a concert with Celine Dion and Cher.  We heckle the shit out of Barbra Streisand, with Celine piping up that her nose looked like it belonged on Mt. Rushmore.  We got thrown out of the concert, but we don’t care cause we’re divas.

8:04 PM:     Secret handshake with Celine and Cher as we part ways.

Our secret handshake may or may not involve one or both of those hand gestures/facial features...

9:00 PM:     Attend plastic surgery consultation with Kim Kardashian so they can verify that my measurements are correct so that she can get the right amount of bounce on her next round of cheek implants.

9:23 PM:      Punch Kim Kardashian in the face.

10:00 PM:   Go clubbing with Brad and Angelina

11:00 PM:    Perform a perfectly choreographed re-enactement of “Jai Ho” with Brad and Angelina.  All the brown people cheer.

12:00 AM:   Go to afterparty at Gwenyth Paltrow’s house.  You must have an Oscar statue in hand to enter, but I didn’t know which of my 27 to choose from, so I blew that joint.

1:00 AM:     Go to after-afterparty at Richard Simmon’s house.  Why? I don’t know, I just do.

2:00 AM:     Go to after-after-afterparty back at the Ritz Carlton.  Beyonce is riding a lion, and Jay-Z is riding an emu.  The theme for the party was Dr. Doolittle, so I guess it was fortunate I was already on my unicorn by the time I got there.

3:00 AM:      Close out the party and the night with a dramatic rendition of “Survivor” my Destiny’s Chilled, a Destiny’s Child cover group with Kelly Rowland, Michelle Williams, and Solange Knowles.  Beyonce falls asleep in a large-backed chair petting a white cat while the lamp shades her facial features.  Destiny’s Chilled looks terrified, but they do a great job.

REGULAR GLAMOROUS LIFE:

10:00 AM:    Wake up.

10:15 AM:     Wait around for my brother to come downstairs so he can make me scrambled eggs because I’m too lazy to do it myself.

11:00 AM:     Read the paper for a reaaaaaaally long time.

11:30 AM:      Wander around the house.

11:45  AM:      Look busy.

12:30 PM:       Go to the library  and peruse their encyclopedias, magazine, and large print sections.  Leave shortly after finding that the latest Mary Higgins Clark novel isn’t available yet.

1:30 PM:         Work out, but not to the point of sweating.  Wander around the gym a bit, using it as a time to get updated on Sports Center, as well as the latest gossip magazines.

2:00 PM:        Feeding time.  Anything in the fridge is fair game, even entire cheesecakes.

3:00 PM:         Wander around the house.

4:00 PM:         Get caught up on the 10-17 TV shows I couldn’t keep up with during the week.

5:00 PM:        Complain about being hungry, but be mysteriously absent when dinner is being prepared.

6:00 PM:        Feeding time again.  There is also an unwritten rule that if you do not finish before me, whatever is left on your plate is fair game.

7:00 PM:       Attempt to “conversate” with family unit.

8:00 PM:       Mock the stupidity of people competing on “The Amazing Race”

9:00 PM:       Decide between Game of Thrones, Mad Men, and The Good Wife based upon whichever has the most amount of nudity, witty reparte, and Jon Hamm.

10:00 PM:     Bed time.

So you see, I’m not really that far off from my pretend glamorous life.  Because at the end of the day, my life is pretty glamorous as long as Jon Hamm is a part of it.

The Old (Jan) and (Excuse My Christmas)

This is the final post in a weeklong homage to one of the greatest musicians of the modern era.  Please don’t look for any other videos on Youtube, or else you will be met with crippling disappointment for the rest of your life.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know that last one doesn’t work at all.  But I ran out of TFGJTVOAL titles that fit in with the Hemingway theme.  But did that ever stop Jan Terri from making a cohesive music video or finishing a song if the end didn’t make sense?  No! Of course not!  Here are the lyrical lyrics of “Losing You” to remind you:

Remember long walks, sandy beaches, all those swims together?/We were like a merry-go-round going around in circles
You said we’ll always be together/But you weren’t telling the truth
You were telling lies

You see, I don’t need “rules” to making something great.  So, pardon my genius.  Or better yet, let’s be like Jan Terri and ‘Excuse My Christmas’.  Like all great artists before her (Sting, Elton John, Chaka Khan) and all mediocre artists who have attempted to emulate after her (Mariah Carey, Barbara Streisand, Nickelback), you haven’t achieved icon status until you’ve put out a Christmas album.  Or song.  Semantics, really.

‘Excuse My Christmas’ is Jan Terri’s return to greatness, her first single in over ten years.  Obviously, she’s still got it, baby!  This old broad has NOT missed a step in all her time away from the limelight.  But to this song, join me as I say, “Welcome back, oh great one”. (I said join me!!!)

The first thing you notice is how great she looks.  There are plenty of stars who have tried to stem the onslaught of age with cosmetic procedures and a butt-ton of homeopathic medication (Bruce Jenner, I’m looking at you).  However, Jan Terri understands real beauty, and that is her luscious voice.

Secondly, in all her years of shunning fame, Ms. Terri has obviously been studying computers, becuase the graphicalistic effects of this video are mind-shattering.  It’s like she’s actually walking in a winter wonderland!!  And riding a sleigh!! And dancing with those…wait, I don’t even know what’s going on anymore.  Are the shaking maracas?  What the fuck are those things?!?!  Am I going crazy?!?!  IS THIS A SUICIDE CULT VIDEO?!?!  WHAT IS HAPPENING?????

I feel ya, Tyra. I feel ya

I’m sorry, I just can’t do this anymore.  I honestly thought I’d be able to go an entire week professing my love for Jan Terri and the amazingness of her music videos, but this is just too much. I can’t hold it in—I have to tell the truth.

Jan, I’m sorry, this is the worst. Even after ingesting that mountain of drugs and watching “Excuse My Christmas” on loop for 36 hours straight, I still don’t get it. It’s impossible to get. I doubt you get it. If you do, all I can say is that your greatness has shed its mortal coil and has transcended understanding by us mere mortals. If that is the case, then goodbye forever, Jan.  Goodbye…

A Farewell To (My Little Brother)

This is the fourth in a weeklong homage to one of the greatest musicians of the modern era.  Please don’t look for any other videos other than the ones I’ve posted, or else it will ruin the surprise.

Remember the classic song “Frere Jacques”?  Well, Jan Terri took a giant shit on that classic, put it in a witches’ cauldron, did some voodoo, put it into a Magic Bullet, made some delicious margaritas, then went and and crafted a better version that will forever replace that silly tune with a sublime piece of artistry.  That’s right, prepare to get your mind blown by “My Little Brother”.

As fourth on the list of TFGJTVOAL, you may think this isn’t as good as the other 3.  WRONG!  This ranking was merely a ruse because they are all the number one best, and I just had to break them down so your mind didn’t get blown from so much amazingness at one time.

This video holds a special place in my heart for an innumberable number of reasons.  First, Jan sings in French.  I don’t know about you, but she sounds so authentic, Marion Cotillard will probably win another Oscar for lipsyncing to her songs in a lavishly detailed biopic.  Second, this song has so much pep, and I fucking love pep.  Third, denim upon denim upon denim!!  Fourth, I can always get behind a good shopping montage.  Fifth, far and away the best line in the song is “Don’t you wanna take a cruise trip?” Let’s break this line down, shall we?

Jan is urging her brother to get out of bed and get going, why?  She wants to convince him to go on a cruise trip.  This line comes out of nowhere, like a Great White Shark lurking in the deep of the ocean.  The song is akin to swimming in the ocean (or maybe paddleboarding if you’re a douche), minding your own business, everything calm and tranquil, and then getting your lower extremities torn asunder from your body.  It comes out of nowhere, and it makes no sense.  And yet, for some reason you’re not too angry, because it’s only natural that sharks eat humans, as it is only natural that Jan wants to go on a cruise trip with her brother.  In Chicago.  In the middle of winter.

Also, I would like to call your attention to how Jan futher emphasizes said “cruise trip” by standing next to the water and violently jerking her thumb behind her to indicate said “cruise trip” vessel.  Subtle.

This is one of those rare songs that have moments that make no sense, yet at the same time make perfect sense.  Kind of like Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”.  No, EXACTLY like Shaggy’s “It Wasn’t Me”!

So on that note, have fun with this song.  It makes no sense, but since when does lack of sense preclude having a good time?  That’s right: never.

Ok, I just realized that “wanna take a cruise trip” might be a euphemism for something.  I’m leaning towards “incest”, but I’m just spitballing here.

Tomorrow marks the last day of our Top 5 Greatest Jan Terri Videos Of All Time.  But never fear, for Jan Terri shall forever live on in our hearts, in our minds, and in our nightmares dreams

For Whom the (Baby Blues) Tolls

This is the third in a weeklong homage to one of the greatest musicians of the modern era.  Please don’t look for any other videos other than the ones I’ve posted, or else it will ruin the surprise.

So, to recap, you’ve witnessed the wonder Jan Terri has birthed unto the world in “Losing You” and “Get Down Goblin”.  I hate to keep adding to songs I’m probably making you buy on iTunes because they’re so freaking catchy, but what do I care?  Genius knows no price….

Speaking of genius, I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that the titles of these posts are loosely connected to another great artist of the 20th century.  I always feel that genius attracts genius, so one way to underscore the impact Jan Terri has had on popular music today is to tie her in with the artist that had such an impact on stories about…stuff: Ernest Hemingway.  While he died (something Jan, fortunately, hasn’t done yet), his work has remained timeless, just as Jan’s work will.

And that provides a nice transition into the third spot on the TFGJTVOAL list: ‘Baby Blues’.  This is Jan Terri’s Country/Bar period, kind of like Hemingway’s Drinking/Communism period.  The wonderful atmosphere of the bar and the existence of her friends shows that Jan, deep down, is just a person.  Who likes to have fun.  And sing. With just the cutest speech impediment!

This video shows of two things Jan really loves: the color blue, and mustaches.  Between shots of her wooing a sexy cowboy with her contagious smirk and seagulls floating on the ocean (so poetic), you get the sensation that in fact YOU are falling in love with the cowboy!  Such is the power of Jan Terri.

I also would like to take this moment to rant against the sexified music videos of this era.  All this humping and grinding in music videos (especially with floor-like objects) is just too much.  Bring me the days chaste hand-holding, chaste dancing, and chaste eye-fucking, and I’ll be a happy man.

Now, excuse me while I go get my eyes surgically altered in a misguided attempt to woo Jan Terri.  In a meantime, enjoy these ‘Baby Blues’

Join me tomorrow as I explore the depths of the human soul drifting along an interconnected network of relationships while trying to maintain some semblance of morality and integrity.

Just kidding.  It’s gonna be more Jan Terri.  And it’s gonna be wonderful.

The (Goblin) Also Rises

This is the second in a weeklong homage to one of the greatest musicians of the modern era.  Please don’t look for any other videos other than the ones I’ve posted, or else it will ruin the surprise.

As I’m sure you know by now, my heart is open, like an open book, open to the wonder that is Jan Terri.  Hopefully, yours is no longer closed.  If so, don’t worry!  We’ve got four (4!) more days to change your mind emphatically in favor of the genius of Jan Terri.

This second is classic vintage Terri, and ranks #2 on the TFGJTVOAT (Top Five Greatest Jan Terri Videos Of All Time. Duh!) scale.  Are you the type of person that doesn’t think there are enough Halloween themed songs out in the musicsphere?!  Are you a goblin conniseur?!  Do you like to dance?!  If you answered “yes” to any of these questions (or if you answered “no”, but still want to see where this is going) then you will love, I mean LOVE, ‘Get Down Goblin’.

This is one of the all-time greatest Halloween-themed songs, right up there with ‘Monster Mash’ and ‘Believe’ by Cher (surprising, I know).  Any song that starts off with a haunting organ solo and flickering black and white shots only portends greatness.  While Ms. Terri tears it up in the song with her fervor and passion and astoudingly audible voice, the real treat of this video is provided by the back-up choir.  These three Muses pull triple duty as women of the night who croon the catchy chorus, “Get down goblin/get down goblin/get down”, and provide some impeccable choreography that will leave you trying to practice it at home.  Obviously Beyonce has seen this video, and was no doubt inspired by the sheer inventiveness and ferocity that these chorus girls bring.

Again, I find myself rambling on when you’re not even reading what I have to say!  All you want is to see the video!  Golly, sometimes I can be so pedantic, but who isn’t when they’re talking about their inspiration?!

Again, enjoy

I sure hope we’re not “losing you” tomorrow as we continue to “get down” with Jan Terri!  Join us!