Nov 18, 2005 12:00 AM

Nasty cheerleaders, race riots and indie-rock wussies

Starting on a somber note for a change, we here at WHAD would like to bid a heartbroken farewell to the one and only Eddie Guerrero. Indisputably one of the finest wrestlers of his generation, not to mention a terrifically talented comic actor, Eddie was also a true gentleman, a kind, sweet, humble and generous person that Michael was proud to call his friend. Our love and sympathy go out to his wonderful family. Do your part for 'em and buy the book.

And on that rather sad note, it's back to our regularly scheduled Bollocks . . .

This is what happens when you spend six weeks around Taylor Hawkins. Now they have to be taken out back and shot.

Neo-Brecht/Weill theatricality? Check. Profane razor strop wit? Check. Irreverent misanthropy? Check. Scathing socio-cultural critiques? Check. Acid sweet indiepop songcraft? Check. Meet the first Great band of 2006, the fabulously unfashionable, unfashionably fabulous Indelicates. If WHAD were a band, we'd like to think we'd sound something like this. Though probably not nearly as good.

First Kurt, now Morning Sedition. Tell Danny "You can't talk! You weren't invited to speak!" Goldberg that you're mad as hell and not going to take it anymore.

So when exactly did Dave Foley's dad get the Celebrity Poker Showdown gig?

Y'know, the French race riots won't seem real to us until Adam Gopnik writes a stultifyingly boring 4,000-word story about 'em . . . Dunno about you people, but we still haven't made up our minds about reading "Indecision."

Michael's lived by the Watchtower for years, but he's never seen a JW that looked like this . . . It's so very, very wrong, but you gotta admit: good name for a bar.

An Alan Ball series based on a series of Southern vampire romance novels? It'll suck so bad, it'll send Anne Rice to Jebus! On a tangential-but-still-related note, we could have told you that Jarhead would be crap ages ago.

The 34 Austin Musicians in the Buff calendar is for a very good cause, but couldn't we just pay $12 not to see the Flatlanders naked? To say nothing of Shawn Colvin.

Longtime WHAD readers have circled February 13th on the calendar: The long-awaited new Bitter Springs album That Sentimental Slush hits stores, and the annual Julian Cope tour starts. See you all in Cambridge!

A video game with no welcome screens! Genius.

Foreman, Schmoreman. We were skeptical, but That '70s Show's handling of the Charlie character was brilliant. We can still do without Donna, who truly serves no purpose now, but, truth is, we'll keep watching until Red and Kitty leave.

John Buccigross's latest tortured Sportscenter construction: "What Conor Oberst is to Bright Eyes, Patrice Bergeron is to the Boston Bruins." Frankly, we don't get the analogy. Bergeron isn't at all overrated . . . Speaking of sports, how 'bout those Nittany Lions? Haven't been able to say that in a while . . . And do we understand this correctly? Two Carolina Panthers cheerleaders got caught having sex with Terrell Owens?

Thursday, on a very special Smallville: Clark jerks off while thinking about Lois.

Not sure which is more disgusting, the concept of Peach Skoal or 35 cats pissing.

Which sounds better: Erica Durance Cohen or Erica Durance Krugman ? Readers, you decide.

So now we know: Joss Whedon is a much better actor than Quentin Tarantino, though he's clearly just as big a dork. (Incidentally, we don't know what was up with the rat either).

Before there was an Ass Ponys, Chuck Cleaver was in Gomez (no, not the British band). Now he's one-fourth of Wussy, a band that also showcases frontwoman Lisa Walker, who adds a woozy melodic rush to Cleaver's trademark whine and stick-in-the-eye lyrics. The new album is Funeral Dress.

BTW, be on the lookout for Jason's new band, Goetta.

More old dudes: the new Saints album is damn fine punk rock, though truth be told, we were equally fond of their jangly phase on TVT. And what's Marty Wilson-Piper from the Church doing in the band? And where's Ed Kuepper? (Which is to say, we don't expect him to be in the Saints, but what about his own stuff?).

Sarah Silverman is fuckin' funny, but we still say Courtney is the greatest female stand-up of all time.

And finally . . . it's been a while since we printed . . . that's right . . . you know you love them . . .

READER LETTERS

AutumnSWebb writes: you guys suck!!! blatant rip off of buddyhead, and you're not even funny, you're probably both fat and gay

Yup, that's right. Buddyhead is to Well Hung At Dawn as Deadspin is to Can't Stop the Bleeding. Or do we have that backwards?

Stephan writes: I discovered the new Gap ad with Morissette on my bus stop shelter this morning. Well, Thank You India! . . . and, oh yes, Taiwan, Tailand, Indonesia, Marocco, Costa Rica . . . Sorry, didn't know who to send this silly joke to.

Your check for seven cents is in the mail.

Chris from Austin writes: Chk-chk-chk, but I'm betting you already knew that. I'll leave you with a joke: Bob Pollard, Shane MacGowan and Paul Westerberg walk into a bar.

Fourteen cents for that one!

Kevin from Tarrytown writes: You guys make me laugh. Just curious, in order from most to least, who would you enjoy punching in the face: Bono, Elijah Wood, the guy from the Killers, Dick Cheney, Jim Rome, the guy that looks like Bruce Campbell from that other shitty band that fights with the Killers, Bryant Gumbel, Bill O'Reilly, Oprah, Chris Martin, Jonathan Safron Foer and Jimmy Fallon. I realize this will be difficult, but if you reply I'll be your best friend.

1. Cheney
2. O'Reilly
3. Bono
4. Kevin from Tarrytown.

John writes: bull shit assman. They pay you for facile one liners?

Yes.

E-mail Well Hung

[NOTE: The above are the opinions of Cohen and Krugman, and not necessarily those of the editors of Rolling Stone.]

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