NASHVILLE, Tenn. — Gibson Brands Inc. announced plans to debut their new signature line of Flying V Jet Skis at the 2024 National Association of Music Merchants (NAMM) in order to compete with Yamaha, bewildered shareholders confirmed.
“We’re so excited to kick off our new line of artist-endorsed Flying V Jet Skis and Waverunners for fans of the legendary Gibson brand to add to their collection,” said Gibson President and CEO Cesar Gueikian as he tried stuffing a comically large bag of money into the back of his Porsche. “Just imagine blasting ‘Love Gun’ on the stereo while tearing up the lake by your timeshare with your brand new Ace Frehley signature gold top X-9746 model Flying V with a red tortoiseshell trim and cream binding along the footwells. For just $27,680, your rock and roll dreams can become a reality. This upcoming launch will be nothing short of iconic.”
Yamaha Motors CEO Yoshihiro Hidaka remains confident that Gibson will not be able to undermine Yamaha’s market share in the personal watercraft sector any time soon.
“Yamaha dominates every industry because we make reliable products at competitive price points. Maybe the folks at Gibson should figure out how to make a Les Paul that doesn’t snap off at the headstock before adding more midlife crisis fodder into the mix,” said Hidaka. “Didn’t they just come out of bankruptcy too? I don’t know what’s in their water coolers at HQ, but it sounds like it’s mostly Kool-Aid at this point.”
R&D specialist Buck Stamford commends Gibson for their brave and bold new venture but urges them to err with caution.
“Let’s be real here, nobody gives a shit about Slash anymore, so Gibson is right to try pushing their business into new and exciting verticals,” said Stamford as he paced through the Gibson showroom, shuddering at the five-figure price tag attached to the yet to be unveiled Wes Scantlin signature model “mudd-runner.” “But if they truly want to say ‘only a Gibson is good enough,’ it’s of paramount importance that they actually put out a solid product instead of just slapping their name on yet another poorly made pile of shit that only doctors and lawyers can afford.”
At press time, Gueikian was spotted drafting a cease-and-desist letter to a much smaller Jet Ski company.
STP’s second self-titled album is their second worst self-titled album, and their weakest altogether; we don’t make the rules. This LP starts our piece with sad news and is the first full-length record from the band without their late singer Scott Weiland, who also moonlit as the vocalist for Them Crooked Vultures. The X-Factor’s Jeff Gutt is an amazing “new” frontman, and this is NOT a joke. However, he had HUGE shoes to fill from both Weiland AND the late vocalist from Linkin Park, Chester Bennington, who sang for the band’s lone 2013 EP “High Rise”. Mr. Gutt can sing better than most, but he even knows that Weiland’s voice is paramount for STP. Gutt seems to take this in stride, and videos of him performing STP’s sonic catalog live do the songs almost as much justice as the original lineup’s finest hours.
Released just before the world shut down from the globally renowned/critically acclaimed cholera epidemic of 2020, Stone Temple Pilots’ eighth and newest studio album “Perdida” is definitely Jeff Gutt’s best one at the band’s helm, and that may sound like a freaking put on, but it truly isn’t a push off; he’s our prince and you’re our jesters. Released via the home of the best band of all time, The Rutles, Rhino Entertainment Company, “Perdida” is a solid ten-track LP from start to finish, and FAR from a loss… See what we did there? Hardcore STP fans and others just discovering the band need to check out the Japanese edition of this record as well, as it has three live acoustic renditions of three Weiland hits “Big Empty,” “Interstate Love Song,” and “Daughter.” In closing, Jeremy spoke in class today, and we fare(d) he well through the years.
Stone Temple Pilots’ first self-titled LP, which was their sixth album as a band, and last full-length to feature frontman Scott Weiland on lead vocals/megaphone, came out almost exactly nine years after their fifth album “Shangri-La Dee Da,” and proved to the world that there was still a surprising-to-some demand for the band, as the record debuted at number two on the Billboard 200… Not too shabby, stewards!! The band dared its fans to take a load off, care, and they did, as fast as they possibly could. Also, just after releasing a greatest hits album called “You’re Welcome,” STP told the world that they were done as a band in 2003, but got back together five years later, like all bands who break up except for the ones that don’t. Sadly, Weiland was fired in 2013, and even more tragically, he passed away in 2015.
We’re going to die on a hill right now: “Days Of The Week” is without question or hesitation one of Stone Temple Pilots’ best singles. We’re going to live on a mountain right now: “Shangri-La Dee Da” is without question or hesitation the band’s worst album name. It’s quite cliche to take influence from The Beatles, but some cliches are cliches because they are positive! This record is the band’s first of four to be released this century, and is by far their best from the aughts and beyond; the ‘90s were just better in every way for STP and everyone else on this planet. Also, both of the DeLeo brothers and drummer Eric Kretz absolutely shine like Collective Soul on this full-length!
“No. 4,” the band’s worst record of the ‘90s, is still much better than your best work ever… Even Sarah “Harvard Man” Michelle “Wife Of Former WWE Employee, Freddie Prinze Jr.” Gellar “Prinze” agrees, and Buffy is always right! If you had a chance to catch Stone Temple Pilots with Red Hot Chili Peppers and Fishbone for this album’s tour, and stayed the whole time, you definitely saw Angelo Moore and Anthony Kiedis. If not, you were likely watching Incubus open for 311 as “Drive” was about to infect your local grocery store, which is a trademark for Mom Rock. Anyway, despite the fact that “No. 4” contains a song called “Sex & Violence,” of which said derivative title appears on more albums than the word “the,” sour girls and sweet boys from all sides of the spectrum should and did appreciate this hard rocking and musically strident effort by STP.
Moving forward there are no “skip it” tracks in this piece but it must be stated and notarized: “Big Bang Baby” is without question the band’s best single on all of their albums, and possibly their best song/music video. If you disagree, and we know that you freaking morons will, we will send seven caged tigers to your domicile and/or your mother’s garage. That would be, wait for it, wait for it, a literal tumble in the rough! “Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop” might be one of the weirder album titles of the ‘90s, of which there were many, but its incredible songs counter said weirdness with, uh, weirdness in a good way! Critics, except us, are very stupid, and this album got a lot of unnecessary hate from “music” “journalists”. Whatever and ever amen, man. Press play, and get lost in this psychedelic fur.
Sorry this isn’t No.1, but it also isn’t literally No.4. Anyway, Stone Temple Pilots’ debut 1992 album “Core” completely and utterly rocked the world, and that is NOT an understatement, as said LP was certified EIGHT times platinum in America. Eight. Times. Platinum. That stat is unheard of these days in the age of the stream and short attention span. Still, haters like you will always have their say/way/spray, and STP managed to be labeled in an inferior publication as both the Best and Worst New Band. Make up your minds, weirdos! Although track three, “Wicked Garden,” is slightly better and that’s a non-opinion based fact, according to Wikipedia, the gospel of truth and Ruth, track nine, “Plush,” was the fourth most-played song of the ‘90s decade on mainstream rock radio. Try doing THAT, Candlebox!
These colors don’t run, and “Purple” wins this competition by a short margin… Mazel tov to Grimace/your great aunt’s mu’umu’u! “P” for “Purple” is “P” for “Perfect,” which makes sense given the fact that it came out in 1994, the best year outside of the 1960s for popular culture in the form of music, film, art, and television. “Purple” is a diverse/powerful listen, and proves that a sophomore doesn’t have to slump. Fun fact: Weezer’s “Blue Album” is not named such, but it is also based on a color, and it too came out in 1994. Fun addendum to said fact: The word “Purple” is not to be found on its album’s cover, but if you bought a new copy of the CD in the ‘90s, it was on a sticker. Yeah, we’re a stickler for accuracy.
So how do you choose where to have your destination wedding? Make sure it’s somewhere obscure enough that absolutely no one can get a direct flight. Choose somewhere scenic but not actually fun- you don’t want people getting a real vacation out of this. It’s YOUR wedding, and everyone’s experience should revolve around you. Make sure the destination is not a place any guest might actually want to go if given free will (which they don’t have here). And as a bonu, choose a place you have no personal connection to so everyone gets more confused as to why you chose it.
Picking a bad location is the first step, but raise the stakes by making every part of the trip a nightmare. Ensure that the nearest airport is so small that no one can get a direct flight, even if they can afford it. Then, choose a wedding venue nowhere near that airport so guests have to figure out public transportation, pay for an expensive cab, or rent a car where they have to drive on the scary side of the road.
Invite your most broke, underemployed friends. Twist the knife into their struggle. And if you start to suspect that they may pull the “I can’t afford it!” card, ask them to be in the wedding party. Then, they simply cannot refuse.
Conventional wisdom says that if you make guests travel far and wide, they don’t owe you a gift. But you’re not conventional. After the wedding, be sure to text everyone who didn’t give you a little extra and ask “Hey, I can’t seem to find a card from you. Did I lose it?” Then send them the link to your registry. They will lose sleep that night (and probably for the next few).
Fuck no. One, he’s vegan. Two, he’s way into drumming. Both would have you foraging for calorie deficits. Sure, he’s in good shape, and he’d probably outlast everyone in the woods somehow, but do you really want to spend your last two campfires debating the merits of Buddy Rich versus Dave Weckl versus . . . no.
Henley would try to write a breakup album about losing all his loved ones. He’d be constantly slowing you down, having totally forgotten about the one time he braved a dark desert highway with a cool wind in his hair. You’d want him to check out and leave.
Grohl would be on a rival gang, you just know it. Everything he says seems a little too sincere. Watch out for those teeth and those quarter-note flams. The guy can fight. He can foo-fight.
Rosie O. on the skins? Hell yeah. Battle-ready after a cush retirement in Malibu? Hell no.
The drummer for an early iteration of Steely Dan, Chase also survived the desert on horseback in “The Three Amigos. “But we know from that film he’d be stingy with the canteen.
Dolenz would be one of the few drummers who’d want to step up and lead the group. But everybody else would want Davy Jones.
Rick was so cool when you were eleven and he was thirteen playing drums in your parents’ basement. But he’d cry like a baby when the campfire went out and it was time to get a little shut-eye–as he did at your brother’s party in 1993.
Chad’s a lot bigger than Rick and a way better drummer. But he’d want everyone in the group to wear only one sock. And he’d eat your bean rations, which were supposed to last a year, in the first two days.
R.E.M.’s drummer would get tired of hiking around the country and bow out early. It’s okay to admit defeat when the world around you is burning.
There really isn’t much Justin would offer you, he wouldn’t be a good protector, he’s no good at growing food, but if there was a group of cannibals descending on you chances are he would be their first choice.
Lee would want to record the time you shot an old man by accident because you thought he was wielding an ax and not, as it was, a soaking-wet cardboard box. Put the camera away, Tommy.
Smith knows how to “journey,” and he wouldn’t stop believin’ even if you ran out of food. But he recently made a shift to jazz fusion. So no.
Ooh, what a tasty percussionist! Full of subtle knick-knacks like delicious high-hat rolls, Seuss-like temple blocks, and mystifying splash cymbals. He’d be the perfect accompaniment for your recon mission across uneven terrain. But when someone’s hacking at you with a makeshift ax, and he’s crescendoing a glorious, epic cymbal roll, it would be like, “No thanks.”
He’s A.I., right? He and his friends would be against you.
Lars would have you up early, jogging, meditating, and making plans to outfox the competition. Yes, you’d survive with flying colors, but who’d want that insufferable pseudo-philosophical voice in your ear as you do it? And is that a fucking wine aerator, Lars?
Stamos would be good in a cramped space with a lot of people. Just have everybody hide their guitars when you’re out cooking squirrels. This isn’t that kind of campfire, Uncle Jesse.
He’d do okay pillaging New England and the coastal states. Just don’t let him near Texas.
Fred would be a lot of fun for the first few weeks. He’d have you in stitches doing impressions of the gang you just ran into (killed). But then you’d get down to the last Coke, and he’d sort of want it all for himself, wouldn’t he? And he wouldn’t say it. But you’d feel bad asking to split it.
You’d be like, “Put that down! Pay attention! This is life or death!” But then you’d come to after a surprise attack and realize he’d saved your life, and you’d have to say thanks. Eh. No thanks.
The Cure’s drummer would thrill you and all the woodland creatures of western North Carolina (or is this eastern Tennessee?) with endless wind chimes. But all those chimes and stands are a lot to carry, and word is he doesn’t even like to talk about Robert Smith.
Con: The Kiss drummer would demand he reapply kitty-cat makeup for each battle.
George’s mom strikes fear into all with her ear-piercing shriek. Even though she’d absolutely do something that would warrant a ban, she’s at the bottom of this list because no one would dare to confront her.
Larry owns Monk’s Cafe (formerly Tom’s). He typically pops up when the gang is getting unruly. He’s basically a diner bouncer. He clearly understands the dos and don’ts of how to act in an establishment and is therefore unlikely to catch a ban.
This globetrotting manic-pixie-dream-yuppie would be so taken with the rustic surroundings and fiery passion of the legendary punk space, he’d be more likely to feature its aesthetic in a catalog than cause any problems. Besides, he’s the guy who brought the opium.
Every character in “Seinfeld” has a fatal flaw. All Poppie did was not wash his hands after using the bathroom and he peed on his friend’s couch. If peeing on your buddy’s couch was enough to get you blacklisted, the punk scene would cease to exist. Besides, I don’t think the CBGB bathroom sinks have worked since the ’80s. Poppie gets a pass.
While we never see Cousin Jeffrey, we sure hear about him. Jerry’s familial nemesis is a specter looming over Jerry’s fragile sense of self for the entire series. Not only would Cousin Jeffrey be welcome in the hallowed halls of CBGB, we bet he’d be managing the bar within weeks. Fucking Jeffrey.
Kel Varnsen, Jerry’s alter ego, is Jerry on his best behavior. Jerry basically needs to dissociate in order to act polite. Kel wouldn’t dare upset the social norms in an unfamiliar environment. However, there’s a small chance he’d catch a ban from associating with his friend Art Vandelay.
Jerry’s dentist and the second funniest joke writer in the Seinfeld universe (#1 being Kenny Bania, of course) is a pretty chill guy, but he does get way too into things. We could see him showing up in a pristine battle vest and a seven-colored tri-hawk. That poser would get tossed before he can say, “Good Riddance… is the real name of that Green Day song. See? I did my research!”
A stuffed shirt like Elaine’s boss Mr. Lippman wouldn’t exactly fit in with punks. However, he’d get one whiff of what was happening in that venue and he’d leave before anything bad happened. What he’d get a “whiff” of, for the record, is crust punks.
Dolores has a temper, but only when righteously offended so it might depend on the politics of the band on stage. On the other hand, she had the maturity to leave Jerry after some of his trademark foolishness so she’d be just as likely to leave a heated situation than risk a ban.
On a typical night, Bob Cobb is a polite bar patron with pristine show etiquette. However, if his band is playing, then The Maestro comes out. He’ll demand everyone get the fuck up front and even jump in the crowd to pull people towards the stage. Depending on the vibe, this behavior may be encouraged. But on the wrong night, The Maestro could receive a perma-ban from these hallowed, stickered halls.
Kramer’s snobby alter-ego would do his best to maintain class at all times, especially in such a brutish environment. However, he’s still Kramer so some combination of falling, flailing, or blurting something out may end in his removal from the club.
This virgin is anything but timid when it comes to letting people know how she feels. Plus, she sure held her grudge against Jerry for the entire series. This is not a sign of someone who can let shit go. In the wrong circumstances, the virgin is getting two giant Xs on her hands and shown the door.
Now this man has a temper but, once again, it’s primarily triggered by the fallout from interacting with the Seinfeld gang. Maybe there’s a pattern here. Either way, assuming Babu came to the club to see a band he liked, he’d be fine. But if he wound up there at the behest of Jerry in hopes of marketing his restaurant as “Authentic Punk-istani Cuisine,” he might see some “very bad men” around him and start crowdkilling.
This one’s simple. Is someone giving her perfect son a hard time? No? Then Mrs. S. is cool. If so? Then shit is going down.
Sure, when Elaine showed up to CBGB for a date with a band member, or the sound guy, or someone else with some clout in the room, she intended to have a romantic, thrilling New York night. But he’d eventually say something that offended her politics or triggered her general disgust of people, and then the whole room would hear about it. Whether or not she’s in the right will be overshadowed by her vigor and will likely end in a ban.
At some point in the early 2000s, smoking was banned from bars in the city. Mr. Game 6’s chainsmoking habit would quickly wear out its welcome in Bloomberg’s New York City. Sorry, Keith. You’re out.
As the cashier at Monk’s diner, Ruthie has dealt with some shit. Mostly from George. She’d maintain her composure until a riff got too brutal and she let out all her repressed rage on some poor unsuspecting motherfuckers in the pit. This may lead to a ban, once again depending on which band happened to be playing at the moment.
First off, Jackie would love this club. The whole place is an ambulance chaser’s dream. Hell, so are most punk bars. Jackie would get too excited and jump at the first opportunity to file a suit and he’d be shown the door for his troubles.
Ping would slip in the mosh pit and become the unwitting accomplice of Jackie Chiles’ attempted scam and receive a ban by association.
