Testicle Tuesday...All-Time top 20

An impromptu roast on a Monday night

As yours truly returns to mid-season form I thought the time would be appropriate to roast a few friends. Buckle up…

Duditz…what can we say about Duditz…bitch is ugly. He looks like the spawn of Gollum and Rosie O’Donnell. He’s the only Buddhist gnome in history. Now I’m not calling him short but traveling with him would be a breeze as he fits in most overhead compartments. Then there’s his many beer binges…he walks around aimlessly when he’s drunk, it’s like watching a windup Hellen Keller doll. Duditz is so mellow I saw his boss walk up and kick him in the balls…he fell asleep. When you die you’re gonna be reincarnated as a sloth. Then there’s his pasty complexion and newly shorn head…I guess the Holocaust survivor motif is alive and well.

Speaking of ugly and bald, hello PB. Dude looks like a young Jason Voorhees on a BAD hair day. Hey PB, comb your scalp over, it’ll look fuller. Last time he got sex was the Clinton administration. Call him Moses because when he shows up the girls part like the Red Sea. PB is a bit of a nerd…he masturbates to a picture of William Shatner. He thinks clip-on sunglasses are cool.

JAP, you freakin’ bastard. The guy has bigger boobs than Pamela Anderson, he makes her look like Paris Hilton. I saw JAP run once and had an uncontrollable urge to iron all the clothes in my closet, last time I saw skin bounce like that was the opening credits of Bay Watch.

Swanny, do you own a clock? Swanny was always a tender lover though, he always spat on his pecker before insertion. He was also conscientious enough to walk through the field and tag the sheep that kick. You should have seen the look in his eye when I got him those gloves with the Velcro palms. Once when we went to a Wyoming sheep ranch the owner was showing us around…we came upon a dewey little sheep with its head stuck in the fence bleeting pitifully, “Bah, bah.” The rancher pulled out his love rod and stuck it in the sheep’s mouth. Swanny said, “Can I get some?” “Sure” the rancher replied. Swanny then walked around stuck his head in the fence and went, “Bah, bah.”

Ekim, where you at. Oh there, I can hear your shirt. This guy’s wardrobe is so loud it comes with its own generator. But it matches his voice…Ekim’s voice is so loud when he speaks a herd of elk by Grand Junction say, “Dear Christ, what the fuck was that?” Ekim is a staunch liberal, he has a picture of Al Gore and Howard Dean in his wallet. He thinks Ted Kennedy makes sense. His secret fantasy is to cover Hillary Clinton in honey and lick it off.

Roberto’s here. He was the first Hispanic I ever knew who was gainfully employed. But Roberto is a heckuva nice guy, he shaves PB’s back twice a week. Roberto is hairy too, like Cheech hooked up with Jamie Farr.

Emi, you little tart. First thing I noticed about Emi were her enormous tits, I couldn’t help it, they entered the room five minutes before she did. When she lays on her back they pierce the troposphere. Last time her husband climbed those things he needed a Sherpa. They’re so big you’d need a gondola to reach the peak. Rumor has it she has an insatiable sexual appetite…her husband has a protein deficiency…they’ve been married two weeks. Then there’s her Catholic faith…the only organized religion where Michael Jackson is eligible for canonization as a saint. What’s it like to enter the confessional booth and say, “You first?”

I’m not saying I’m anything but pathetic…I’m a quadriplegic double amputee with an abnormally small penis who remains single and lives with his mother. My life’s a fucking festival. Last time I had sex was papa Bush’s administration and mullets were still ok. Last time I saw my own dick Britney Spears still wore underwear. Last time I had a date Kirk Cobain still had a face. I failed the bar exam more times than JFK Jr.

Truly though, you guys are the best. You’ve been a constant in my life for half a decade. I kid because I love. Take care guys.

*raises his glass to the sky*

The movies to see before you die

I've seen several publications do these lists, so I thought I'd throw in my two cents on the movies that make us proud to be part of the collective known as man kind...

Crime/mystery…
The Usual Suspects, The Godfather II, Casino, Goodfellas, Se7en, Snatch, Scarface

Action…
Blade, Die Hard, Road Warrior, Heat, 300, all three Bourne movies

War…
Apocalypse Now, Saving Private Ryan, Full Metal Jacket, Platoon, All Quiet on the Western Front (1933), Glory

Drama…
Schindler’s List, Das Boot, Crash, Say Anything, Gladiator, Stand By Me, Philadelphia, Finding Neverland

Sci-fi…
Aliens, original Star Wars Trilogy, Alien 3, Stargate

Horror…
The Exorcist, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, 28 Days Later, Wrong Turn, The Shining

Western…
Pale Rider, Tombstone, The Unforgiven

Foreign…
Zatoichi, Brotherhood of the Wolf, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Hero, Heaven and Earth, Yellow River

Comedy…
Young Frankenstein, History of the World, The Holy Grail, Kingpin

All of these movies represent those few moments when the stars and planets align to usher in something truly great. I've been witness to very few instances where perfection was achieved and these movies constitute the bulk of those experiences.

*Update...

Here's the Stupidly Forgotten list, movies I should have NEVER ommitted...
All three Lord of the Rings movies (thanks Waterboy), The Killing Fields, Fandango, The Departed, Clerks, A Clockwork Orange

Yeah, whatever

This straight from the category of SHUT THE FUCK UP!

**Update: I'll respond to this tripe later.

Back and in full effect...

Yes, yours truly, your Shrubalicious host, has been writing feverishly in a vain attempt to pen my literary opus, my contribution to the fantasy genre. Here's a lil' snippet of my teeny tiney lil' story/book. Please, critique at will, the comment link is there for a reason.

At last the Exile reached the citadel of Tair, the last resting place of the ancient Grundian kings. Legend said the Aquafer of Iya, the water that breathed life into this world was protected by The Citadel. It was here that the kings of yore were entombed in the hopes that the cistern would resurrect the beloved founders and stewards of earliest Grundig. And it was here the Exile brought the body of his brother Barabas.
The Exile had explored the Citadel on numerous occasions in his youth for it was his father who had been entrusted the guardianship of this hallowed place. So revered was Tair’s Citadel none dared live within its walls and few ventured through the imposing iron gates. A sect of ancient priests was charged with guarding this holy sepulcher to which they built Cadus a Iya, Castle of Iya. The fortress was built at the summit of Mount Tair, the mountain that overlooked the Citadel from the east. The castle could only be reached by a narrow stair, dubbed Iada i Iena, the Walk to Heaven. Climbing this ancient stair was for many a deeply religious experience. The priests would make the trek down then back up the Iada to symbolize the journey from mortality to the afterlife. As a child the Exile and his family had lived in the castle and these stairs were a place of wonder and a place to frolic for the boys. Even Barabas had bounded up and down the stair with youthful exuberance and it was in this valley and the Citadel that he told his twin brother he wanted to be buried.
And the Exile meant to abide by his brother’s wish. Even after Barabas had ravaged his former native land, after the damage and pain he had inflicted upon the Exile and all of Grundig, even after his malevolence had wreaked untold devastation on all who crossed his path, the Exile still meant to bury him in his boyhood playground. When the twins were children they often explored the Citadel, admiring the tombs of the ancients, running through darkened hallways, and forever using this sacred place as an endless playground. Oft times the priests would chase them, informing them that the kings’ resting place was not to be disturbed. But the priests also knew these two had indomitable wills, and truth be told, they suspected the kings rather enjoyed the magical laughter of the two.
The Exile’s wagon stopped at the gate. No one had opened the Citadel in over a thousand years and the gates were rusty with disrepair. The Exile used his medallion, the one he had inherited from his father, to unlock the massive mechanism at the gate’s center. With a loud metallic snap the gate unlocked itself, shuttered and groaned, and finally raised up into the rampart that surrounded it. Dust and dirt billowed from the open gateway washing the Exile in granulated muck. This cloud was greeted by fits of coughing from the Exile and the fervent attempt to shoo away the dust. To no avail as sediment settled in the Exile’s eyes, mouth, and nose.
After the cloud cleared the Exile, with great attentiveness, cleared the dust and dirt from Barabas’ face and clothes. This gesture finally drove the Exile mad with grief. There before him lay the last of his family of old. The site of the brother who, even in his wickedness, had exuded strength and vitality now lying utterly void of life deeply disturbed the normally reserved elven warrior and filled his heart with sadness. And it was in this moment, when Barabas’ face was not contorted with anger and hatred, that his beauty shown through. And it was this face on which the tears of the Exile now fell. Even the death of his parents and beloved wife had not affected him so; even his daughters’ weddings did not elicit such naked emotion. These were things he took with legendary stoicism. The Exile’s hand drifted unconsciously to his sword hilt. How easy it would be to cut the head from this monster and destroy him once and for all. His body would burst into flame as his mortal coil would eviscerate. But he purged this thought from his head, how he did so love his brother.
After the Exile collected his emotions he grabbed the reigns of the draft horse and led it and the wagon through the gate.
Across a huge courtyard the Exile led his burden, across to the outer cloister of the Citadel. The outer door opened with a groan and blackness assaulted the senses. This blackness had not been disturbed in millennia and did not suffer daylight easily. Sunlight illuminated barely three feet of the cold stone floor and the darkness was seemingly impenetrable. The Exile removed his sword from its sheath. Green flame would have to guide the way. Dagotai glowed green for a brief moment, then intense flames licked the blade, illuminating almost the entire entry. Even this pitch black could not withstand magic.

Testicle Tuesday...the triumphant return

This week's TT was inspired by Waterboy (not the movie you heretics). And let's just say Moore is better...


First up is a woman who has stayed at or near the top of the pantheon of hotness for over 20 years...I give you the incomperable and timeless Demi Moore...


Mandy Moore is half Demi's age but is second to none when it comes to natural beauty...


Julianne Moore is a tasty red head and a four-time Oscar nominee...


Or next uber wench has been steaming up the music scene for nearly ten years...Alicia Beth Moore, better known by the singularly sassy Pink...


Any of you pervs have any ideas for future TT installments, let me know, otherwise STFU if you have any criticism of my discriminating eye for feminine perfection.

Patton Oswalt at his finest

Give it a while to load.

A golfer after my own heart

Screw Tiger Woods, gimme Maurice Flitcroft.

Prelude to a Tuesday

Since I've vowed anew to resurect Testicle Tuesday, due largely to popular demand, I thought I'd throw out a cyber suggestion box as to whom or what theme y'all would like to grace the coveted TT spot. So just throw in your two cents via the comments and I'll peruse your pearls of wisdom and decide upon TT fodder.

Of mirrors & me

Sorry y'all, feeling a bit mopey. This spiel hit my brain so I had to exorcise the demon within.

Aside from my mother’s quadrant there are no mirrors in my house.

You are probably asking yourself, “Why?”

The answer is simple…I don’t like my reflection.

The reason I abhor my own image being shown back to me is two fold. One, the broken body that now houses my soul is such a departure from how I used to feel. That youthful exuberance has not left, only grown stronger. The trappings of youth adorn my psyche but my fairly dependent condition prevents most of the simple acts that made me young…riding a bike, roller blading, snowball fights, our annual pop-bottle rocket war, walking a flight of steps to get to a girl’s apartment, all these acts made me whole, made me feel true joy. Second, that joy died when I broke my neck. I’ve not felt truly happy in 17 years, and it is that unhappy visage that I shirk, spurning it like one would a rotten banana.

So how do I know true joy again? I don’t know.

When I was 19 I hardly respected anything or anyone. This attitude doomed me to a certain extent. Girls sensed it, my friends sensed it, so did my numerous bosses, my grandparents, my family, and most painfully of all, my mother. This irreverence cost me dearly. Because most of all I had no appreciation for my own mortality. Big mistake. This mistake and foolhardy attitude would eventually cost me my independence & freedom. I constantly threw others and myself into harm’s way seemingly with little to no regard for personal or societal safety. I drove drunk, I got in fights, I stole, I slept around, and I generally spat in the faces of those that cared for me. Dumbass.

Nothing is quite as tragic as lost youth. An even greater tragedy is youth squandered. Because of my idiocy, I missed out on what should’ve been the best and worst times of my life—the age between 19 & 25. This is the stage in life when we typically discover binge drinking, road trips, and fraternity life, among other time honored American traditions. During these years we’re also developing life tracks, job possibilities, and hopefully finding the one person who will share the rest of our lives with us. With the exception of the binge drinking and a fraternity membership (Sigma Chi all the way…In Hoc), I never got a chance to fully experience this period of self-discovery. I spent most of this time in & out of hospitals and rehabbing my broken body and damaged psyche.

I’m still working on the later. I cry myself to sleep more often than I’m comfortable with. I immerse myself into fantasy worlds and recollections of what was or what could’ve been. I find this easier than dealing with reality and the day-to-day bullshit.

My everyday existence is peppered with constant fear and misgiving. I question nearly every decision too critically. I’m constantly afraid of being alone for the rest of my life. My own mortality is also an all-encompassing thought.

The only time when I’m not painfully aware of my condition is when I’m asleep. Maybe tonight I’ll have one of those dreams where I’m just riding my bike. Soon I will be going to bed. To sleep, per chance to dream. Dreams are an escape, the playground for the subconscious soul. Dreams are when we have the ability to fly, and the only times when I feel just like everyone else. Only then will I dare to gaze in a mirror again.

Happy Friday the 13th...

Ah yes, it’s Friday the 13th, and in my own unique fashion I celebrated this dreaded calendar date by walking under a ladder, breaking a mirror, letting a black cat cross my path, hung a horseshoe on the wall up side down, spilled some salt, opened an umbrella indoors, killed a ladybug, went sailing and shot an albatross (damn hard to do in Colorado…I’m not allowed in the Denver Zoo any longer), said “Candy Man” and “Bloody Mary” in front of a mirror, picked a three-leaf clover, and killed a spider.

So far nothing bad has happened…yet.

BWAHAHAHAHAHA (evil laugh)

Tomorrow I’ll deal with these horrible festering pustules that have suddenly risen all over my skin.

Halle-freakin'-luiah!!!

One of my wildest dreams just came true.

But first, a little background...

In my life there have been a few of those watershed moments; puberty and my subsequent discovery of frequent and fervent masturbation, getting a high speed Internet hookup to facilitate thusly, seeing Salma Hayek for the first time, and playing Halo for the first time.

So, as the years coursed slowly by and Halo 2 and Halo 3 were released for stand alone video game platforms, Microsoft, in thier infinite fucking wisdom, witheld the release of Halo 2 for the PC until recently. But as the gods would cruely dictate Halo 2 was a Vista only game. Now an enterprising lot has introduced a patch that makes H2 playable on Windows XP.

Now the wait begins for the $50 ticket price to fall, then it'll be on you Covenent beeyatches!

Damn it's hot

Gonna be 100 tomorrow here in Denver.

What a long strange trip it's been...

This spiel will make you weep and laugh at the poetic irony that has befallen yours truly.

I just now got home from a little unexpected vacation. Where was his Shrubbiness taken pray tell? You guessed it, my favorite local hospital for treatment on an infected right leg. What did the battery of docs recommend…amputation. Woo hoo, I’m now but two arms away from becoming the dreaded Black Night. All you Monty Python fans are issuing a collective guffaw. Those who don’t get the reference just watch The Holy Grail.

Holy shit, now I’m feverishly scoping out my arms for the slightest blemish.

Just when I thought that I had heard every amputation joke contrived about having one leg I now must acclimate to two stump humor.

Now, my top ten moments from my most recent hospital stay…

10. Three hours in the ER waiting room followed by eight hours in my trauma room then followed by a bumpy ride to my cozy room on the ward where the welcome site of IV dilauded on tap filled me with warm fuzziness.

9. Watching the booty on every damn nurse in the ER…that is one collection of fine women.

8. The look on the anesthesiologists face when I quipped right before my latest amputation, “You got anything stronger dude?”

7. The look on my orthopedist’s face when I quipped right after my surgery, “Are my arms still attached?”

6. Everything about rapping with Al. The guy is a national treasure.

5. Watching the looks on the nurses’ faces as I planned a party to celebrate my amputation that featured turkey legs, chicken drumsticks, and frog legs. Alas, no one delivers frog legs.

4. Arguing for three straight days with the residents that my oral pain meds were about as effective as cleaning up a radio active landfill with oven mits…the shit didn’t work. At one point I was literally crying in front of a doctor who showed all the compassion of Ed Gein over a pot of soup.

3. Finally getting my necessary IV pain meds…God love those chemists.

2. Watching shitty television with that stupid little speaker by your head.

1. Getting the fuck out of that place…two out of the last three visits resulted in a limb getting lopped off, so you’ll understand if I bid your facility a not-so-fond fairwell.

Oh the damnable misery and a few shout outs

Well kids, your Shrubbiness just did ANOTHER stint in the hospital. And as fate would have it my other leg was infected. Oh how the gods can be cruel, capricious bastards.

So, ‘tis my desire to write as much as I can on this here blog so as to assuage my fear of losing another limb. Writing is and can be a much needed diversion as well as therapeutic cyber salve to my wounded psyche and beaten body.’

Thank you one and all for your loyalty and well wishes.

Billiam the Conqueror has been a stalwart and true friend throughout. Your words gave me more comfort than you know. Thanks friend.

Emi, you little tart. I miss your unabashed goofiness. Here’s hoping your upcoming nuptials are a truly joyous event. And yes, we shall reconvene the troops for more hijinx and hilarity.

Waterboy, few have been as supportive for as long as you my friend.

PB, your unflinching nerdness is one of the few absolutes in my life. You along with Duditz, Mikey, Greg, and the rest have been treasured compadres for years. Don’t go a changin’.

Later kids!

i'mmmmmmm back

Hello my children. You’re probably wondering just where the hell yours truly has been the last month. Last time I posted anything was the Imus spiel. Don Imus? Who the hell is he? Never heard of him.

On wit da show, beeyatches!

Oh, about my protracted absence. Seems the chronic infections in my left leg got a wee bit serious, so serious my body went septic. In less than three weeks the infection in my foot had literally destroyed the bones of my lower leg, necessitating a below the knee amputation of my left leg. Shit if the pain was not unbearable. But the dilauded helped.

So now my middle name is Eileen. Get it? Bwahahahaha, I’m too clever.

And now a shout out to some well deserving folks.

First, to the all knowing Booty Man. We’ve been friends since 1990 and I never knew what a good leaning post you were until the shock of amputation hit me. You were there, every damn day, whether I was coherent or looped out of my tree, and I for one am grateful. Thank you. You made a shitty situation bearable, even if was just that wry smile or a genuine inquiry into my state.

Dr. T. Your no-holds-barred approach to bedside manner was just the jolt I needed. You are the best doctor I’ve ever seen, truly. Smarts, charm, wit, intelligence all wrapped in a squishy sweet outer shell. Thank you for your tenacity and determination that I, above all, get better. You don’t hear this enough…you’re a great doctor and even better person.

Dr. Mengela, the Amputator. You were a silver haired treasure. Your smile was infectious and your kind manner befit a man of your character. You were straight with me always when only the straight shit was appropriate. Thanks.

And Al. Nuff said.

On Don Imus...

Now that Don Imus’ career has mercifully drawn to a close we can step back, take a deep breath, and put our two cents in on this sordid affair.

“Nappy headed hos” was the now infamous infraction which led to a week of consternation and the sacking of one of the most popular radio personalities of the last thirty years. Now I don’t pretend to know or understand why the cranky, unfunny Imus was such an icon nor do I care. The guy was, in my opinion, a no-talent hack with the gift for gab. If not for his incomprehensible rise to stardom Imus would be a two-fifths-of-whiskey-a-day alcoholic trolling the bars for his beloved “nappy headed hos”. Guaranteed.

But since the gods smiled upon his crusty ass we had to witness with morbid fascination his stunning lack of judgment as he issued one of the most inflammatory comments in the history of the mass media. Then we had to watch as the river of self-righteous indignation flooded the landscape. Al “I have no idea who Tawanna Brawley is” Sharpeton, Jesse “Hymietown” Jackson, Essence Magazine, conservative radio host Mike Gallagher, Bill O’Reilly, and a whole host of others from across the political spectrum have denounced, distanced themselves from, or have flat out called for Imus’ head on a pike. All the while people like Ann Coulter, Pat Buchanan, Bill Maher, Howard Fineman, and Tom Oliphant have stood in support of the now unemployed barnacle. This is hardly one of those liberal vs. conservative dust ups we’ve grown ever so fond of.

So from whence does this controversy draw its energy? Simple, the First Amendment. That’s right, that little proviso in he Bill Of Rights that guaranteed the people freedom of speech and religion, the very same Amendment that causes simultaneous fear, revulsion, and unbridled inspiration is the foundation of this debate. Is it just coincidence our founding fathers put this tenet at the top of rights ordained by our creator? I think not.

It comes as no surprise that Al Sharpeton and Jessie Jackson have been the most vociferous cogs in this mechanism of controversy, as is their want. But seldom do so few with so little credibility hold sway over so many. The inglorious track record of these two charlatans leads one to take their vapid verbal spewing with an enormous grain of salt. Had these two not interjected themselves in countless debates, oft times being proved embarrassingly wrong, then those of us with an ounce of sense might actually take them seriously. It’s like the whole feminist deification of Margaret Sanger, she of the eugenic and racist schools of thought. Then the supporters of Sanger, Sharpeton, Jackson, et al. will eventually say, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.” Sure, but do you want to base your day or ideology on a jacked up time piece. Hell no!!!

The clarion call for Imus’ head is disturbing to me. Why, pray tell. Well, I'll tell you, I resent the hell out of the fact that so many in the public eye have anointed themselves the moral arbiter of this country and experts on what is permissible to say on the airwaves. To them I say, “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!” If I wanted your opinion about what traverses my ear canal I’d give it to you. Only the FCC can determine permissible content for broadcast, even though they’re a pack of simpering dunderheads too. The choice of what is or is not permissible media content is with the people, the great unwashed, who, in the opinions of many talking heads and politicos, are too dirt dumb to decide for themselves. Therein lay the problem with investing so much in those that occupy the bully pulpit, their arrogance in foisting their sense of right & wrong upon the people knows no bounds. Only someone who believes they to be superior would dream of crowning themselves as a national moral compass. And only someone with no respect for free debate and discourse, i.e. no respect for freedom of speech, would pull this crap.

Eureka! We’ve found the steamy underbelly of this downtrodden beast. At the heart of the soul of EVERY talking head, politician, or media darling who voices their desire to be a moral divining rod, be they liberal or conservative, is an inherent disdain for the Constitution and the will of the people. This cabal, O’Reilly, Sharpeton, Jackson, & Co. would just as soon crap on your head and wipe their ass with the Constitution before admitting their compass arrow floats around more than those they hold in such contempt.

For it is you and I they hate…and fear.

Now, I would never contend that Imus’ remarks were anything less than ignorant drivel, and anything more than callous and stupid and unfunny. But his job shouldn’t be in jeopardy because he has no control over his mouth. Look at a few historical parallels from the entertainment and media industry…N.W.A., the hugely influential rap group waxed poetic about slingin’ dope and jockin’ hos, Gunz N Roses were routinely derisive of women in their music, Chris Rock is one of the most caustic and funny comedians ever, Sam Kinnison lampooned Christ’s crucifixion and mocked the starving in Ethiopia. The list goes on & on, 2Pac, Snoop, Ice Cube, Eminem, Robin Williams, Eddie Murphy, Rodney Dangerfield, Dane Cook, Carlos Mencia, and Bill Maher were all guilty of saying shit that was far more divisive than anything Don Imus said, yet they’re still gainfully and gleefully employed.

Why, I ask, has Don Imus suddenly been singled out as the worst America has to offer? Yes he did drag a group of unwitting young women into the spotlight for reasons other than their improbable run in the women’s NCAA Basketball Tournament. Yes his apologies were hardly genuine. And yes he eventually lashed out at those who stood in condemnation of his actions. But in an industry teeming with egomaniacal dipshits who literally make their fortune by saying ANYTHING that pops into their head it seems the height of hypocrisy that Don Imus is now the poster child for what gets you fired.

In closing (freakin’ finally!) let me say this…if you truly believe Imus should have been fired then I call you a coward. Why? Because you sit in fear of the First Amendment and the freedom of speech it guarantees. Why else would you want to squelch an admittedly horrible utterance? The First Amendment gives us all the right to freely engage in debate, be us racist assholes or enlightened minds. But those of you who would squash such openness have no appreciation for the fact if Imus’ speech is taboo then yours will follow suit…in the blink of an eye.

Testicle Tuesday...Rachel McAdams

Rarely do I reserve a coveted TT post for just one beauty. But Rachel McAdams is so incontrovertably gorgeous she more than warrants her very own TT post. She sprang into our eyes in the movie Mean Girls and recently starred in the semi-decent thriller Red Eye. I defy any man to look into those eyes and see those dimples and not be dumbstruck.

Top albums of the last twenty years

Thanks PB for the inspiration for my latest list. This is in my estimation the top twenty albums/CD’s of the last twenty years. This music is what binds our society together, especially if cranked up to a righteous volume. So step closer to enlightenment my children.

20. Portishead-Dummy (1994)-a trippy jaunt down a psychedelic road describes the seminal recording by a largely underrated band.
19. Miles Davis-Doo Bop (1992)-produced and released posthumously following Miles’ death in 1991 Doo Bop fuses smooth and frenetic jazz with cool hip hop flavor. This album is a shining example of rap/jazz fusion
18. De La Soul-3 Feet High And Rising (1989)-This strange yet catchy album stretches between the absurd and sublime. De La Soul, along with Public Enemy, were pioneering masters of sampling and sound bytes.
17. Chevelle-Wonder What’s Next (2002)-this CD went largely unnoticed outside alternative and metal circles. Too bad because this is a great record.
16. The Strokes-Is This It (2001)-this album was on Rolling Stone magazine’s top 500 albums of all time. That’s high praise indeed.
15. The Fray-How To Save A Life (2005)-hailing from Denver The Fray's debut CD was the most downloaded album on iTunes in 2006. Fans got a taste with the release of the hit single Cable Car in 2005 but it would be over a year before the LP was made available. Believe me, it was well worth the wait.
14. Red Hot Chili Peppers-Blood Sugar Sex Magik (1992)-what can you say about one of the most commercially successful albums of the 90’s? Not much except to say that their mixing of funk, blues, hard rock, and metal is flawless
13. Faith No More-The Real Thing (1989)-More than any act of the last twenty years Faith No More is vastly underrated, especially when one considers the fact this group was the first and most influential rock/rap/funk group of all time.
12. Socialburn-Where Are You (2003)-at first this CD sounds like a blatant Nirvana rip off but once you explore the whole CD what unwinds is a sound more inspired by acoustic bluesiness and striking grinding guitar riffs. A truly underrated effort.
11. Jane’s Addiction-Ritual De Lo Habitual (1990)-this album was a sonic upheaval to those fortunate enough to brave the waters of RDLH. From the foot stomping Been Caught Steeling to the melodic dirge/riot of Three Days, Jane’s Addiction leaves it all at the table, stripped bare for your enjoyment.
10. The Samples (1989)-this gorgeous soundscape by Boulder’s own The Samples was a mainstay on college campuses nation wide. This is an absolutely beautiful recording.
9. George S. Clinton-Greatest Funkin’ Hits (1996)-the only compilation on the list is a must for any purveyors of 70’s funk music. The Godfather of funk is and was a hugely influential artist. Plus this cat is unreal live.
8. A Perfect Circle-Mer De Moms (2000)-this CD features one amazing song after another. The tone of the songs skips from the smoothness of 3 Libras & Orestas to the fervent and in you face Judith. This CD runs the gamut of emotion with seamless brilliance.
7. Rage Against The Machine -RATM (1992)-Zac De La Roca is the driving force behind this fiercely angry and antagonistic CD. Every song has great beat and De La Roca’s vocals are perfect.
6. Tie Ministry-Psalm 69 (1992)-anyone who’s ever seen Al Jourgenson & Co. live will tell you nobody thunders on stage at the start of a set like Ministry. Psalm 69 was the apex of this band’s commercial and critical success with hits like Jesus Built My Hot Rod and Psalm 69. Nine Inch Nails-Pretty Hate Machine (1989)-Trent Reznor is the creative genius behind unbelievably strong album. He played all the instruments and mixed it as well as belting out the vocals. This album is as mesmerizing as it is innovatively brilliant.
5. Sublime (1996)-the most enigmatic band of the 90’s Sublime blazed a trail through the sky with one of the most imitated sounds of their era until their lead singer died an untimely death.. Only Nirvana was more idolized and mimicked.
4. tie Pearl Jam-Ten (1990)-seemingly everyone’s CD collection includes this once in a generation type album. On the Lollapalooza 2 tour Pearl Jam was not a known entity and played second fiddle to the Chili Peppers, Ice Cube, and Ministry. Then came Jeremy, then this record shot through the stratosphere. Nirvana-Nevermind (1991)-quite possibly one of the most influential albums in music history, Nevermind stood as an anthem for the under thirty crowd. The tortured soul that was Kurt Cobain was immediately dubbed this generation’s John Lennon. While that contention is far fetched there’s no doubting the shudder the music world felt upon Nirvana’s arrival and all-too-soon departure.
3. N.W.A.-Straight Outta Compton (1988)-next to the old school Sugar Hill Gang and Run D.M.C., N.W.A. is the most influential rap group ever. This album is a scathing indictment of life in the rough American inner city and is the zenith of gangster rap, a term literally invented to describe this groundbreaking record.
2. Metallica-The Black Album (1991) And Justice For All (1988)-I couldn’t decide between these two CD’s so I included them both. No band on earth plays with the raw furry of Metallica. Seeing these guys live is akin to a religious experience.
1. The Killers-Hot Fuss (2004)-quite simply the best alternative album since Nirvana’s Nevermind and Pearl Jam’s Ten and maybe, just maybe, the best alternative record ever. There is not a bad song on this CD. Hot Fuss is the current gold standard by which all alternative and rock records are judged.

Ahhhhhh, the spirit of Easter