A collection of five short stories. Find it in hip record stores that have a small fiction section with Bukowski, Kerouac, Burroughs, Palahniuk, and Rollins.
Everything is covered, from how to draw vampires to evil children to human-animal hybrids and demon girls. Helpful lessons on eyes, expressions, and hands.
The articles appear year-by-year, and you feel like you’ve gone back in time while you read them, as if you’re experiencing the Beatles phenomenon first-hand.
Joe writes about how the culture, SST Records, and the people who fueled it hammered at being the real full-on thing, not a negatively-defined counter-culture.
Small-change artist, signed to major label in post-alternate rock feeding frenzy, suffers growing pains as she realizes just how major record labels work.
A lot of its 79 minutes discuss Last Exit to Brooklyn. His fourth novel, Requiem for a Dream, is almost as well-known, thanks to Darren Aronofsky’s 2000 film.
350 pages of LP by LP, song by song, riff by riff, word by word attention to the band that created heavy. All the players, singers, the midgets; all of it.
Much has been written and filmed about the ’80s and ’90s hair metal flash, most of which falls somewhere between tongue-in-cheek and downright mocking in tone.
Nina is exactly the novel you’d expect the singer of the Dwarves to write. The comic flair we’ve come to expect is not as dominant as I would’ve liked.
One of the stranger to books to’ve ever graced my coffee table. Who writes down their deepest, darkest secret, then mails it to someone to put in a book?
Something to keep in a high traffic area so you can pull it out at a party or when you’re drunk with friends for some gut laughs and quality boob ogling.
A league formed by the city parks and recreation office in L.A. and each team is populated in large part by casualties of the L.A. music and film industries.
By the great Peter Bagge, this is a helluva book with 336 pages of black and white humor. The complete Buddy Bradley stories from Bagge’s Hate comics Vol. 1.
I enjoyed the last two pages: A story he wrote for his niece when she was upset about moving. It hilarious and better by far than the rest of the book.
Legend of Zelda with ass-kicking Japanation at it’s best. The art is very pleasing to the eye: Boxy, sharp angles, a video game without the pixilation.
Simple, black and white, blocky, boxy and art deco, with all the factories, wheels, and cogs for a backdrop. The story is slow at first, worth your time.
This is Edward Gorey and Shel Silverstein after they finish off a handle of Jack and double-team Mother Goose, the sick fucks. Juvenile, silly, and I like it.
The set up is similar to Garfield, except instead of a dog, it’s a bear, and instead of being stupid, it’s quite smart. And Looshkin is WAY more fucked up.
I thought the “cute little dead girl” gig would run out, but 12 issues deep, it’s still just as witty, innocent, raunchy, and chalk fulla potty-mouthed humor.
Different stories by different authors based on the Disney attraction, The Haunted Mansion. It sounds pretty lame, but don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it.