NEW YORK — Local Parole Officer Janet Williams admitted she was in a state of disbelief while cataloging the “dumbest fucking tattoos” of hardcore music scene members, thick-necked sources report.
“I’ve seen a lot of tattoos in my 30 years as a PO, but dealing with these guys has been eye-opening. Each one is covered, with most of their oldest tattoos on their necks. Who gets their first tattoo on their neck? And these gang names—they’re all just initials. It’s so confusing,” said a flustered Williams. “Today alone, I noted six crossed baseball bats, a pit bull head, a black stallion, a whiffle ball, a ski mask riddled with bullet holes, 17 brass knuckles, a black-and-white figure on a cross, a Raggedy Ann Doll and nine shamrocks. And that’s all on one guy. One of his tattoos said, ‘Fuck Adam P.’ I asked him who Adam P. was, and he had no idea what I was talking about.”
While Williams may find this phenomenon surprising, local scene elder Robby ‘Curb’ Kowalski notes the importance of tattoos in the hardcore scene.
“Heyo, listen up. When I was coming up, if you wanted to be in the scene, you had to get a tattoo that implied you’d hurt someone. None of this meaningful trash about ‘representing your mom’s battle with cancer’ you see on the tattoo shows—just a tattoo that says you’ll beat a head in. Or that you’re an antiracist into unity. Either is cool,” said Kowalski while practicing his roundhouse kicks by the high school. “Of course, that was before the scene went to shit seven years ago. I got my first tattoo, a bloody switchblade when I was seven from a guy in a Lower East Side squat. Kids today are probably too busy listening to Turnstile on Spotify to get 40-year-old band logos tattooed on their faces. Sad state of affairs.”
Dr. Marjorie Abernathy, a Sociology Professor at Williamsburg Community College, thinks this is a non-issue.
“I know that hardcore guys look scary, but their tattoos are more like a peacock’s fanciful tail—if peacocks gathered in large groups, acted tough all the time, and lived in their mom’s basements,” said Dr. Abernathy. “Identifying markers like tattoos have been part of all tribes since the beginning of time. Throughout history, people without these markers are considered posers, and you can’t let that shit in the scene.”
Officer Williams was unavailable for further comment as she was being reminded of the struggle and the streets.
Nothing brought Aunt Beru more satisfaction than sucking down a nicotine tube with one hand while pleasuring Uncle Owen with her other. Her search history is all smoking-related porn and cigarette erotica. Of course this led to tragic consequences (often blamed on Imperial stormtroopers), but real ones know what was going on with Aunt Beru. If you look closely at the charred ruins, there’s clearly a carton of Parliaments.
That’s no moon. That’s Boss Nass’s butthole. The word “ass” is in his name, after all. Nothing too unique or out of the ordinary here, it’s just that Boss Nass has the most leg-shattering orgasms with a bit of assplay. You know how floppy and loose his jowls are when speaking? As above, so below. He puts on a big show as the leader of the Gungans, but firm anal punishment will have Boss Nass wriggling with pleasure in no time. For most employees that want to resign, fingerbanging Boss Nass’s sloppy bootyhole bussy until he squeezes your knuckle off is the only way out of that underwater kingdom.
Want that whip? Want to be gagged? Need the full zipper leather gimp suit? Darth Vader has you covered with his closet of delights. What a sassy queen, vamping it up for his own staff. Get ready for tight, fine leather, used only once per “session,” as Lord Vader calls it. Beneath that chest plate are nipple rings, plus Death Star-themed clamps to excite the Lord while you toggle the whip handle base, inserted into him like that famous Robert Mapplethorpe photograph.
This one should be fairly obvious. Chewbacca even has his own fur suit, which makes him incredibly sweaty when he dons his ultraviolet fox costume. Let this Wookie run his hirsute fingers down the nape of your neck, circle various orifices, bring you to absolute wonder. Plus you can watch furry content together while cuddling in his matted, gruff chest.
R2 loves watching, in the corner, quietly beeping away. Plus, he has amazing filming capabilities. Sexy surveillance. You can sleep with R2’s wife, and he will send you the footage to be projected in miniature, anytime you want. For an android, R2-D2 is particularly non-possessive. He encourages his partner to explore their sexual freedom, only if he can delight in the stories later and store them into his personal perverted memory bank.
Lando will text you about meeting up with a waterfall of flirty emojis, only to cancel at the last minute and try to reschedule. Meanwhile he’s stroking himself, knowing how upset you are by his erotic disloyalty. He’s snitched on friends, reported folks for parking illegally, and has “situationships” all across the universe (several in Cloud City itself), all for a deeply held betrayal kink. Just ask him about Han, or don’t – Lando will instantly get off just thinking about it.
Before wandering around spouting out “I have spoken,” Kuiil was known for flashing and exhibitionism. He’s banned from most public pools. A preference for nude beaches or colonies is fine, but walking about open-air markets of Tatooine without pants (Kuiil’s former favorite pastime) might not work for everyone else. This is often why he’s alone, suntanning his asshole in blissful solitude and letting it all hang out on the warm desert rocks.
Let’s just say it: this Space Slug will glug. He’s a giver, not a taker. He’s want you as a starfish, affixed to the mattress. While an oral fixation may be welcome, occupational hazards arise when considering size disparities. It’s a risk when the entire mouth risks possible swallowing a partner whole, but the “X” in Exogorth is there for a reason – this worm gives infamously 100% solid sloppy toppy mouth action. He might be busy defending his moon craters, but he’s never too busy for third base. In fact, he lives there.
The trauma of learning that your father was trying to kill you may fuse the brain circuitry in certain impressionable minds. Now, he seeks out ‘zaddy’ figures to dominate and pound his vulnerable, supple body. Sure, Luke has seen a double sunset, but he’ll be experiencing double penetration after finally jumping on Scruff. The only thing Luke has a “bad feeling about” is the prospect of not meeting hot horny single silver foxes in his area.
This arms dealer and smuggler, constantly muttering while expertly piloting, is secretly one of the most sexual deviants among the Rebel forces. He loves pain: on himself, on others, implied in the world, any amount of unpleasantness leaves Nien Nunb’s nutsack empty. Behind that vest? A ball-gag for all occasions, handcuffs ready to go. Get ready for punishment from Nien Nunb, and being late only makes it worse. Nien Nunb is your master now.
You nasty, Sebulba. How far those arms reach? Enough for two reacharounds in separate bedrooms, plus keeping those feet busy pleasuring folks on the couch. Everyone’s favorite sex party guest. When not podracing, Sebulba be fucking. Entire families, at once. It’s a common fact that in most Gen-Z friend groups, Sebulba has had sex with at least two people.
Nute Gunray is a stunner in leggings. Get him in some fine lacy lingerie, and you have one hot Neimoidian on your hands. Once you get him out of that giant hat and into something more “comfortable,” Nute’s personality shines. He’s a tender lover, with a preference for gentle caressing under, over and in-between the lace. Something has to take his mind off the Trade Federation!
Who’s that secretly snapping photos from afar? Using his binoculars to spy on tanned Tattooine tootsies? Why it’s Darth Maul, of course, climbing every height to get a better view of lady feet. His OnlyFans subscription list is all foot content, which he scrolls in between defending the empire. If you like the patterns on his face, wait until you see how beautiful his feet are – it’s like an erotic rorschach test.
Before blowing up in the Death Star, Grand Moff Tarkin observed Lord Vader choke plenty of colleagues from afar, watching while rock hard. As such, he loves watching the act of gagging. He especially loves fingers shoved down his throat, feeling the acidic bile creep up before planting a wet kiss on his lover’s body. The sound of gagging alone will force Moff into a need to find a nearby unoccupied bathroom stall for release.
Ears are often cited as one of the most erogenous zones. Before you nibble or gently breathe your warm galactic breath in Lobot’s ears, you must remove his headset, no easy feat. It’s like removing a chastity belt. Caress the indents left in Lobot’s skull and go to town on his often-protected, rarely-seen ears; he will finish in his pants from ear play alone.
Often an afterthought in the ‘Star Wars’ series, Wedge knows his place and likes it. In fact, he loves it. In all seriousness, he gets off on it. Call him a worthless piece of shit. He may be one of the most talented pilots, miraculously surviving cheek by jowl beside protagonists and legacy characters, but he prefers to remain in the shadows and experience merciless mockery. Don’t feel bad, he can only get it up with such afterthought consideration. Somewhere a well-paid dominatrix is slapping him right now, telling him that he’s trash. He’s over the moon with joy.
Ephant Mon wants you to straddle that husk of a mug, from his gaping maw to his beady eyes. Ride and grind that nose while giggling away, someone has to keep the mercenary company. Once it’s his turn to sit on your face, make sure you have a Morse code-style password to bang on the floor so he doesn’t suffocate you. And yes, he will want to be cuddled after, but as the “little spoon” so good luck figuring that one out.
Let your flesh sizzle and your nipples zing as Palpatine charges bolts of delicious electricity through your mammal husk. “We’re made of electricity, after all. Stardust and electricity,” Palpatine spouts and waxes poetic at bars (the same line he uses on everyone) only to bring home tipsy strangers and throw lightning bolts at them. Between the seatless electric chair and cattle prods, Palpatine has an entire closet for an evening sure to leave you with Lichtenberg scars.
Scents, sniffs, smells, pungent aromas, sweats – it all gets Tessek stirring. Tessek whinnies in delight anytime he enters an olfactory-tingling atmosphere, turned on by the stank of alien movement. Lift your armpits and let his appendages (each with the ability to sniff) crawl around your body. Because of this turn-on, Tessek also doesn’t shower, staying constantly aroused but often solitary due to the off-putting stench.
Wicket is notoriously down for age play. He loves to prostrate himself upon a log like a naughty Ewok schoolboy, waiting for the big bad Ewok cougar teacher to give him a lesson. It goes deep, too. Wicket proudly wears a diaper around the Ewok colony, cradling his milk bottle and claiming to be “everyone’s favorite sexy baby of the woods.” The only reason Wicket was enthusiastic about C-3PO was because he was looking for a new zaddy. Wicket’s dating apps reveal that he is looking to be “punished” by an Ewok DILF or MILF. Wicket doesn’t discriminate.
For such a gross-looking rat creature, Salacious Crumb is a total prude. He will exclusively sleep with virgins, yielding his bedroom antics to limited nights – very few are taking his offer up to “show how lovemakin’ works.” Any roleplay with him involves virginity, too. Beggars can’t be choosers, ya nerf-herder. Also you’re in Jabba’s Palace, you think anyone there is a virgin?
All those years wielding a lightsaber has birthed an attraction to hot metal. As such, Mace is obsessed with having piping hot metal pressed against his body while blindfolded. Preference is for fast temperature switches, such as an ice-pack immediately applied. Even looking at a thermostat will tighten that Mace Windu bulge, leading to awkward bending and crossed legs at Jedi High Council meetings.
Sometimes, even an Admiral needs to hear that they’re a “good boy.” Admiral Akbar prefers “soft BDSM,” with positive reinforcing language. With a highly stressful job and poor familial support network, his sexual release in the bedroom is doubled when he’s told that he’s just doing a good job. Be careful with insincere compliments, though, otherwise you’ll hear, “It’s a trap!”
This is the ultimate conundrum: IG-88 loves seeing sexual partners surrounded by water, but is unable to be surrounded by water himself. He’s an android, afterall. What is forbidden becomes desired. This is known as “sploshing,” attraction to immersion in wet substances. Unfortunately any exposure to moisture would make him junk, but that doesn’t stop his quiet perverted beeping by the seashore.
Being frozen in that carbonite changed Han. He loved the feeling of being pressed against cool slabs. Now, Han can remain solo in bed and climax without any other stimulus besides cold cubes rubbed around his chest. Ring a large whiskey glass square of frozen ice around Han Solo’s magnificent hair and tanned nipples. You’ll send Han into hyperdrive.
We like weird shit as much as the next guy who used to be into hardcore but has somehow lived past the age of 40. But “Gold & Grey” leans a little too hard into the experimental aspect for our taste, and even the kookiest of arrangements can’t hide the fact that the production is awful. Rarely does a layman like ourselves notice stuff like “compression,” but the audio quality of “Gold & Grey” is so crispy that it completely neuters the sprawling compositions Baroness is trying to utilize. This sounds like it’s blowing out the speakers of a 2005 Honda Accord but you’re listening on $500 Bose headphones. Oh well.
This is the entry that will get our home address leaked on the Baroness subreddit. “Purple” wins a lot of popularity contests, and while that is by no means undeserved, there are simply other albums that accomplish a similar sonic goal as this album, but better. We don’t deny that “Shock Me” is an all-time banger, though. That’s your go-to soundtrack for running a crane through your ex’s front door.
The band’s most recent release “STONE” is often considered their “return to form” after the mild mess of “Gold & Grey.” That’s an accurate assessment. “STONE” brings back a kinder, heavier Baroness, complete with some truly top-notch fucking shredding from guitarist Gina Gleason, who also provides backing vocals that somehow match Baizley’s intensity. We genuinely don’t know how she’s doing both of those at the same time when they play live.
Our ranking of “Red Album” just above the halfway mark will likely anger early fans who think they’ve never outdone this album, but also anger newer fans who prefer their more highly-polished works. However, “Red Album” is everything you both want and expect from a metal debut. It’s raw, angry, occasionally super moody, and, importantly, fucking loud. But the only reason this isn’t higher is that somewhat predictably, the record loses steam in the middle third. That’s a rookie mistake we can overlook in exchange for skullcrushers like “Isak.”
Utterly massive double album “Yellow & Green” represents Baroness at their most introspective and emotional. This is the gold medal winning work for soul-crushing lyricism, though–Baizley made us cry with nautical metaphors for drug addiction on “March to the Sea,” and more directly on that topic on “Take My Bones Way” (their most-streamed track on Spotify). Put many of these songs on your “Sad Bangers” playlist.
Baroness’ second album is, pun intended, the blueprint for the rest of their career. Everything they’ve done since has been deviations from the core sound of “Blue Record.” Acoustic interludes between utter ragers? Check. Dual harmonizing guitar leads and shitloads of tom drums? Check. Baizley putting his entire ass into the most emotive and powerful vocals you’ll find this side of the Mason-Dixon line? Check. “Blue” is “Red” that upgraded from a studio apartment to a respectable two-bed, before slowly moving to the suburbs by “Purple.” Pay your respects to the classics with tracks like “A Horse Called Golgotha, “Jake Leg,” and “Swollen and Halo” in particular.
