Wednesday, September 29, 2010


Once a year every white person with dreadlocks, metal sculpture "artist", art car enthusiast, new-age rapist, and socially desperate Gen X'er whose still pathetically driven to experience their own Woodstock, gather in the desert to take drugs, share venereal diseases, and misinterpret glow stick dancing to a Blue Man Group style performance of Tubular Bells for spirituality. Ultimately they will simply just become covered in dust, stink like a corpse, and commit the biggest crime against nature in the western United States. This gathering is known as Burning Man and it's a cancer that keeps growing bigger every year in the already cancerous state of Nevada. It's time to start finding ways to fight back against the hordes of Burners as they plot terrible art installations and recruit younger generations into their sandy orgy of false purpose. Whether it's by destroying their Burner cred or ending their misspent lives this edition of Weapons Wednesday is all about Burning Man.

The roadside bomb made famous in Iraq gets a Burning Man makeover. Decorated in shiny mosaic tiles in patterns of Burner style artwork this IED shines brightly in the desert sun. Attracted by shiny objects and Southwestern style artwork, the driver of that rusty metal polluting VW will have his drug-addled mind blown permanently and the world will have to suffer one less shitty metal fish car parked on a Berkeley side street 355 days out of the year.

To remove the filth of the Burner is to remove all credibility in their social circle. Nothing says "cop" to the Burner like someone who smells like soap. The shower will not only clean the Playa dust from their matted hair it will socially isolate them and therefore ruin the very reason they went to Burning Man in the first place, to feel like they belong somewhere. Which, of course, they don't.

Hacky Sacking is the official sport of Burners. It requires the player to be so absolutely high that they don't actually realize what they're doing. They got plenty of practice doing just that during their short scholastic career at UCSC majoring in underwater basket weaving and shirtless acoustic guitar playing. Toss this explosive sack into the air and watch them eagerly form a circle, take off their Tevas, and kick a little bean bag around. Only this time their sacking session will end in a fiery tie-died explosion of blood and hemp jewelry.

Remember that dirty white hippie kid in college? You know the one, dreadlocks, no shoes in class, strong interest in blown glass. That kid was what's called a "Trustafarian". A strange manifestation of white guilt, the suburban millionaires child that rejects his family's fortunes, in appearance anyways, and tries to convince the world they're just some free-wheelin' new age flower child with not a care in the world for material things. Well, that guy graduated somehow and since he doesn't have any need for a job he has dedicated his life making steam punk jewelry at Burning Man. A bank statement is all you need to expose this bong-rippin' reprobate to his peers. His cred will be shot, his image as a new bohemian forever ruined, and it won't be long before the dreads get shaved, a navy suit gets donned, and he starts working at his father's firm.

Friday, September 24, 2010



No one like being reminded of things they can't do or have. So it's no surprise that #4 on her Top 10 list is W.A.S.P.'s ballad about tender love making, Animal (Fuck Like A Beast). After having invented the internet, Al would spend countless hours alone in the computer room waxing solid to pics of Japanese people doing things to each other that Tip had once described as, "A negligent waste of good milk". One to always let her jealousy guide her, every time Al would throw his W.A.S.P. mixtape into the Ford Taurus Tips would resent Black Lawless singing about what she secretly wanted Al to do to her. Most of the time he would just lay on top of her and achieve orgasm without actually moving. Blackie represented to reckless abandon she desired in the bedroom. He also represented the kind of person she identified with being a white anglo-saxon protestant, which is of course what the band's name stands for.

Sunday, September 19, 2010


First ever Sexy Sunday for the ladies. This guy has undoubtedly slept with a multitude of women.

Thursday, September 16, 2010


Tipper's crusade against witchcraft led her over Candy Mountain and into the chocolate forest where Sheena Easton lived in her candy house. Unable to resist the lure of her sugar walls, Tipsy woke up in an oven without any clothes on and a head full of guilt laden fantasy. She vowed to never let that happen again. So when Sheena released the single, Sugar Walls, on her 1984 album A Private Heaven, Tipski suffered an erotic lesbian flashback which recalled that night in Sheena's dark forest where she had a forbidden tryst betwixt the sticky sweetness of Sheena's sugar walls. That memory caused a cold climate in her marriage even Al couldn't change and ultimately led to their divorce.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010


The road trip is an American tradition. Friends and family taking to the open roads of our beautiful country to experience the fabric of America firsthand, bond with their fellow countrymen, and seek self-discovery in the mirror that is Americana. Well, just like Jack Kerouac, that dream is dead. Now the once majestic highways of our nation are littered with meth-fueled truckers, teenage prostitutes, murderers, and "burners". This week Weapons Wednesday takes a closer look at the once great American activity that celebrated freedom but has now devolved into a nightmare voyage through the wasteland that is the United States of America.

BUMDARTHOBOSMOKE. Anytime you pick up a hobo hitchhiker they immediately ask one of two questions, "Can I see your dick?" or "Can I get a smoke?". Sometimes you spend so much time on the road alone your decision making takes a bad turn and you pick up a tramp because you think it might be one of those friendly Steinbeck novel type scamps that will smell like a campfire and play the harmonica or have some weed at the very least and hey, he just wants to see it, right? But soon enough the reality of your actions takes form and you feel the weight of hitchhiker remorse. A remorse easily remedied with the Bum-Dart Hobo Smoke! Their first drag will be their last as a tiny, concealed poison dart will shoot from the filter into the back of their throat thus ending their miserable existence after which you can just simply push their dirty corpse right out of the passenger seat.

CHILDREN. Nothing kills the fun of a road trip faster than a child. Little backseat goblins that cry, complain, smell, and kick your seat. The worst part is, you can't hit them, you can think about it all you want but you can't actually wrap your hands around their chubby little necks and demand satisfaction. This invisible force-field of modern social boundaries protects children from getting what Dad used to be able to do while still keeping one hand on the wheel. Now the term "I'll give you something to cry about" doesn't mean they'll get the lashing they deserve, it means you're going to pop in the DVD of Homeward Bound in their personal backseat DVD player and listen to them sniffle into their cheetos about a cat that can't swim.

TRUCKSTOPHOTDOG. It might not kill you that day, or that month, or even that year...but it will kill you. It will sit in your stomach like a meaty cancer while other foods are digested around it. A deadly combination of indiscernible animal parts, bad science, and even worse karma, the truck stop hot dog is strictly for people that hate themselves. A popular food for post-rest stop encounters that begin with a toe-tap in a bathroom stall and end with some guy in an Animal Control uniform pulling his polyester slacks up from around his ankles while you fumble for your shirt.

Welcome back Loren. Glad you made it safely through the wasteland.

Sunday, September 5, 2010


Tipper's Top 10 returns with Tip's fav Crue song Bastard, from the album Shout At The Devil. Clearly jealous of Vince Neil's hair, the Tipster accused the Crue of backmasking the phrase "Jesus is Satan" over the opening track. An accusation that would lead to a Dan Brown style investigative suspense thriller where Tom Hanks would dig up a hole in the floor of the green room at the Whiskey a Go-Go only to discover some lipstick, a studded codpiece, the drummer from Def Leppard's arm, and a stack of autographed head shots of Mick Mars no one wanted.


Wednesday, September 1, 2010


In 1984 Tipper Gore and some other really cool people got together and released their top 10 fav songs of all time. They named their club the PMRC and quickly threw a party and invited all their fav artists to come and speak. The result was an epic bash where everyone had an awesome time and decided to put cool stickers on CD's so kids would know whats cool and whats not.

Tipper's Top 10 opens with Prince's Darling Nikki from Purple Rain.

Over time we'll update Tipper's Top 10 with the other tracks so you can make your own mix CD of all these hits and throw your own sticker party!