Imposter syndrome is a real thing and can prevent you from achieving your dreams, no matter how weird and stupid they are. Too many people have failed to realize their disgusting aims because they feel unsure if they’re really terrible enough.
If you have worries that your gross mustache is not sleazy enough for you to be a photographer whose “studio” is just their efficiency apartment, you’re in luck!
Take The Hard Times mustache quiz and figure out if your facial hair has what it takes to make people very uncomfortable while you pretend to adjust a lens!
Is your mustache way too obsessively over-groomed or is it disgustingly unkempt?
A qualifying mustache is either wheedled out into the finest of wax points or has barbecue chip fragments in it. Nothing in between.
Does your mustache obscure your tongue as you frequently and lingeringly lick your lips at your model?
Mustache length can vary from scumbag to scumbag, but the appropriate growth for someone going into a career entirely facilitated by Craigslist posts and promises that this will be great for a model’s resume must not exceed one-half of the upper lip.
Have you ever described your mustache as “a real party-stopper and a panty-dropper?”
Eww. Just move on to the next question. Jesus.
Are you John Waters?
While Mr. Waters is generally known best as a celebrated filmmaker and raconteur, his experience in conceptual photography-based art installments and the best mustache ever qualifies him for anything. We salute you, Mr. Waters.
Quick: is your mustache ironic, post-ironic, or post-modern?
Pretty much any of these descriptions applied to a mustache are sufficient to guarantee that you are a colossal dirtbag, and therefore basically Ansel Adams.
Does your mustache hide dark secrets which must never be known?
Truly, the facial hair one chooses to display to the word is a statement. But is that statement merely a facade, a smokescreen to disguise the terrible acts that you have performed and will continue to perform, regardless of what you tell yourself at night? If so, congratulations, you’re a photographer!
Devo’s 7th studio album was their first without drummer Alan “the human metronome” Myers, and folks, he dodged a bullet. The spud boys tried to get butts out to the dance floor with this bland techno-pop, but frankly I’d rather sign mine up to test rat traps on. Musically, this proves their de-evolution theory, though! Maybe that was the point?
The last album they released before calling it quits for the majority of the 90s. And, it was a well-earned respite, because these guys sound tired. One big redeeming aspect of this one was the Devo “uniform” for this era was straight-up leisure suits, and c’mon, that’s pretty funny.
Stuff you’ll find on “Shout”: the dinkiest synth trumpet sound you ever heard, Mark Mothersbaugh sounding like Sting sometimes for some reason, and a pretty solid Hendrix cover. Luckily, this sounds as though it’s likely what Paul Reubens heard and enjoyed enough to hire Mothersbaugh to score Pee-Wee’s Playhouse. Imagine if that position had gone to Hans Zimmer??!
Devo’s big comeback record doesn’t disappoint. A solid record that sincerely doesn’t sound at all like music made by dudes approaching their 70s. Hell, for all we know they ARE robots!
Now we’re talkin’! The follow up to their most popular album found them actively seeking to reject their newfound post “Whip It” fame and firmly digging their heels back into being uncool and proud of it. Also, it’s the one with the plastic pompadours.
Hell yeah. In a sea of bangers, gotta give a special shout-out to “Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA” for containing one of Bob Mothersbaugh’s career-best guitar solos. Heck, the same song’s even one of Mark’s best synth solos. Dang, should this be ranked higher??
A potentially controversial rank position, but I’m ready to defend myself. I’m talking physically, too. Even if it boiled down to fisticuffs, I think I’d be able to hold my own… we Devo freaks aren’t an especially buff bunch, but we do fight very dirty. Anyway, this album rules.
Between Whip It, Girl U Want, and the introduction of the now-iconic Energy Dome look, this album may be the “obvious” one… but bread is an obvious food, and it’s still absolutely delicious.
Any one of these songs could, and should, replace the Star Spangled Banner as our National Anthem.