Pride month is almost over, and you might be wondering how I celebrated these past few weeks. Well, I did what any great ally should do, all month I’ve been calling my gay cousin just my cousin. I love my gay cousin—sorry, my cousin—Jeremy. He came out a few years ago as bisexual. But we all know that’s just a one-way track to getting a train run on you in a truck stop bathroom. He asked if we could go on a cruise, and I told him no-sir-ee! You can’t be doing that in front of the kids! He then shook his head and took my sister on a Regent Seven Seas cruise through the Scandinavian Alps.
You’re asking if I am the only one in our family who calls him “gay cousin” instead of just Jeremy? No, not at all. It’s me, Uncle Lou who has that cool sticker on his car with a snake on a yellow flag and Grandpa Johnson who thinks we should ‘bring back redlining.’ I have to remind him that while it might not be around anymore it’s always with us in spirit.
But hey, pride is beautiful! Love is love. I could go on and on with slogans I’ve seen on t-shirts at Target. It’s the holiest month of the year. Get it? Because glory hole? Like the Troye Sivan song? How do I know who Troye Sivan is? Don’t ask me questions. My kids like to play his songs. He can actually dance so well. Plus hey. I don’t see color. In those logos. Seriously, why did none of those companies do that this year? You guys didn’t? That’s honestly homophobic. And that’s on period, yas queen! Did I use that right?
Hey, little victories, and little changes in habit, they’re all progress. I mean, that’s what my gay cousin always says. I took the kids to pride this year, and they had a lot of fun. The town is called Boystown, that’s so clever! There was a lot going on in the parade that my kids had never seen before so I did have to answer a lot of questions. Like “What is Deloitte?” and “What is Lockheed Martin?” This year, I learned that at the end of the day, my cousin and I, we’re not so different after all. We both go through the back door, if you know what I’m saying. You know what I’m saying? I’m saying that I’m cheating on my wife so I need to make sure she doesn’t catch me. Love is love, am I right?
Trump falsely claimed that migrants crossing the border are responsible for the murders of every American citizen. The former president then claimed he had been murdered at least 3 or 4 times by “a mental patient from Mexico” but was brought back to life by reciting the Pledge of Allegiance to St. Peter while standing at the Pearly Gates.
When asked how he would tackle inflation President Biden told a long rambling story about how he fully restored the V-8 engine on his 1932 Ford only using original parts. He claimed he has participated in at least 300 drag races and won every time. He would then treat his friends to root beers at the soda fountain. The story turned somber when he reminisced about how his best friend Slick was killed in a drag race against a rival street gang known as The Dirty Birds.
Trump asserted that he personally moderated discussions between Jerry Only and Glenn Danzig that allowed the two to finally play together again. “Both these men, great men, big muscles, not as big as mine though, they love me. I met with them. We made a deal, I’m the best at deals.”
The president repeatedly claimed that American bombs only explode people who hold impure thoughts. “If you don’t want to be blown up by an American bomb then just close your eyes, think of how much Jesus loves you, and you will be, um, uh, you will be, Medicare.”
While many people tuned in to see how heated it would get between the candidates, even more people tuned in to witness the sultry kiss that signals the end of presidential debates. However, viewers were left disappointed when the kiss lacked passion, with many political analysts describing it as wooden and incredibly dry.
When America was founded in 1776 nobody could have predicted it would grow to the greatest superpower in the world. Now, just under 250 years later it’s very clear that this great experiment is over. The phrase “How do I move out of this country?” was Googled so much after the debate that it caused multiple Google servers to self-destruct.
There are no bad Dead Milkmen albums. Actually I take that back – there is this one and maybe the next one on this list, but I’ll figure that out once I get to it. The point is that “Stoney’s Extra Stout (Pig)” just does not feel like anyone involved in its creation had any investment in its content and certainly didn’t enjoy working on it. But hey, for a band as prolific as Dead Milkmen, it’s probably acceptable to have one stinker on the roster. Now, let’s move on to the next one to see how it holds up.
No, never mind. This one’s bad too. In the band’s defense, it’s gotta be tough to come back 15 years later without your outstanding bass player ( R.I.P Dave Blood) and knock it out of the park on the first swing. So we’re gonna give this one a pass for quality, but all of you should probably give it a pass for listening.
“Metaphysical Graffiti” is a letdown for sure. After a string of A+ albums the band was bound to fumble at some point, and that point is this one. It follows the same path as many previous efforts but just doesn’t do it very well, sort of like being drunk on a camping trip and trying to find your way back to the tent after throwing up in the communal cooler. That’s the feeling of this whole record – a bad job cooler puke.
“Not Richard, But Dick” feels predominantly uninspired. It’s far from the worst the Dead Milkmen ever gave us but overall feels like the band were never able to make the record stand out in any way. Though the energy of a Dead Milkmen record is present, the normally satirical vision of the band is not. In other words, much like the record’s title it insists you call it by a name though it’s your natural inclination not to.
“Pretty Music For Pretty People” (or “PM For the PP” as we’ve just decided to start calling it) is a decent, if mostly forgettable record, so much so that we’re willing to bet that more than a few of you are only just now learning that it exists. But “PM For the PP” still does a fine job of taking the tried and true Dead Milkmen formula for writing satirical lyrics overtop of “what the fuck is this shit?” instrumentation to make for a relatively enjoyable listening experience which you will near-immediately put out of your mind.
Okay, so right around this point in the ranking is where we start to get some really great albums that seem to be far too low in the list for how good they are until you step back and consider that this band has just made a lot of really great records and that this in no way takes away from the quality and staying power of the ones ranked slightly lower and that if this record has some sort of special meaning to you then just remember that this is not a personal affront it’s just how we decided to rank them and you know fucking what just go ahead and reorder the next four or five however the fuck you would prefer for all we care cause it doesn’t change a goddamn thing. Anyways, “Eat Your Paisley”: pretty damn good record.
This is one of those records that, the first time you hear it, doesn’t feel like it makes a strong impression. But then you listen to it again… and again… and again… and again, and for some reason you can’t quite figure out why but it just keeps drawing you back in. And one day you just realize it’s your new favorite record and you kind of just have to accept that fact. Maybe it’s because this is a Joe Jack-heavy record or maybe it’s the more traditionally focused songwriting but “Soul Rotation” is a highly underrated Dead Milkmen album.
“Big Lizard In My Backyard” is an apt title for this record as the metaphor we’d most closely associate with it is that of the “big fish in a small pond.” The album shows great promise in the band’s songwriting capabilities and their drive to hone a unique voice, but so much of the record still lingers in the confines of three-chord punk rock structure. In other words, it’s impressive at a glance but the band doesn’t really hit their stride until that lizard busts the fuck outta that backyard.
No Dead Milkmen albums are great because they give you exactly what you expect from them. If you want to see how those albums fare we’d recommend scrolling back up to, oh, let’s say 9th place and be reminded of what we said about those. “Bucky Fellini” is certainly not what you would have expected from the band at the time, but that is a major part of why it makes you want to keep listening. With the inclusion of a Daniel Johnston cover and the satirically depressing yet catchy “Watching Scotty Die” this album more than deserves to be in the number 3 spot.
Maybe it’s because it’s fresh in our minds or maybe it’s the fistful of adderall we took after lunch but we absolutely love this record. Not as though we needed proof that the Dead Milkmen could still write a remarkably well crafted, satirically interesting and yet still danceable record in their later years, but all the same we have the artifact now regardless. “Quaker City Quiet Pills” blends some of the best elements of every era of Milkmen with a few new hooks thrown in for good measure.
It took the band a few years but they finally hit their apex with “Beelzebubba.” The exact right combination between snooty and intellectual, between thrashing punk chords and delicately written songs. Fuck, “Punk Rock Girl” is so good that you willingly bothered to learn things about the city of Philadelphia to enjoy it more. That’s a record with staying power. If you’re a fan of the Dead Milkmen but haven’t listened to them in a while, go back and put this record from front to back. We can pretty much guarantee you won’t skip a second of this album after you’ve started it.