Bands of Gold

Well hello there pretty babies, didja miss me? In the weeks since we last spoke, I’ve gotten back from Kenya only to get on a plane for Jersey three days later. MY DAD IS MARRIED, Y’ALL!

OFFICIALLY OFF THE MARKET FOREVER!

But fear not my lovelies, your ol’ pal Cribsy hasn’t forgotten you, and in celebration of the band getting back together, AKA me writing nonsense for people who love to loaf, I’ve decided to take you down a lonely road where we belong. Like a drifter you were born to loaf alone (or on the can.) I’ve made up my mind, we’re wasting much more time so here I goooo again. Enjoy!

I’m in a bit of a love coma. Between witnessing sheer bliss in my father and NEW STEPMOM’S eyes, Kitty being ALL-BETTER/over cancer, and some GREAT things happening in Kenya, I’m in a let’s all love one another and be grateful for each other kinda haze. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been away from news feeds and cable news networks; though, full disclosure: I’ve had to do a lot of explaining American politics and attitudes to literally every person from another country that I’ve encountered abroad.

The truth of the matter is, we have WAY more in common with our fellow Americans than not. Sure, we’re being sold a tale of division and hatred from Anderson the Friendly Ghost and the Fox Force 5 Fembots; In reality we’re pretty much the same. We all love to chuck our shoes the moment we get home, hate the taste of rosemary, and for the most part, everyone enjoys some sort of music. Even your Pepaw, who starches his wranglers and has coffee every morning with his old man crew, will get down with some Patsy Cline and/or Frank Sinatra.  Music truly is the universal language, and nowhere will you find more devoted fans than the world of Christian Music, and METAL.

Like Americans, Metal Rock bands and Christian Bands have a lot in common; both have rabid fanbases who often pledge to exclusively listen to their specific genre, both involve musical notes, (or at least a ham-fisted version of grasping at them,) and perhaps most importantly, both have TERRIBLE stylists/PR teams. Finally, something we can all laugh at, uncomfortable band photos!!!!!

Let’s take a look and celebrate the best of the worst.

First Up is a “Metal Band” Promo photo that knows how to rock a pea gravel wall:

Coming to a defunct mall wall near you!

Not to be outdone, Neil Grant Vosburgh walled it up AND matched!

God’s Best Roy Orbison Impersonator.

These guys still play Gino’s pizzeria every Wednesday:

They prefer you tip them in Aquanet.

Shut it down everyone, I’ve found your NEW DREAM JOB TITLE! KARATIST PREACHER!

That’s so metal!

Hair is very important in music, no matter what you play:

TO THE WIGSHOP!

The higher the hair…

…the closer to GOD!

While this next HARD ROCK band calls themselves Manowar, it’s abundantly clear that they should have named themselves, “Smugglin’ Plumz.”

With a side of hairy cleavage.

In my tireless research, I found a ton of puppet stuff; which is to say, many children were terrified…

Starts with not that creepy:

Uncle Les and Aunt Nancy seem nice, while I don’t approve of Randy’s fashion choices, I’ll let it slide.

But here our little Randy is growing bolder by the moment, and now commands squads of tow-headed children. Creepy factor multiplied exponentially:

 

The D is for dipwad.

I have a feeling we’ve all known an Uncle “D” (not what it sounds like!) Maybe he was your cousin, practicing the same parlor magic trick at every family event. Perhaps he was the neighbor who fancied himself a standup comedian that pretended to be telling a story, when in reality he was just trying out his “material.” Regardless, Uncle “D” made us all exercise restraint and offer up polite fake-laughs of bemusement, because let’s face it, no one wants to see a grown man cry.

Moving on, the whole puppet thing starts to get super weird:

Ummm…

Even these Metal Dweebs went to the Puppet well, though some would say they Mastered it (that was for you, funnyman neighbor!)

Okay, okay, I think it’s time to come up with a new metaphor. Enough with the puppetry!

Questionable choices.

Continuing, this train of nonsense ROLLS ON!

Rock? This Dude plays Roll n Roll.

 

You bet,”Satan is Real,” her name is Phyllis and she’s Rick’s (the guy on the left) ex-wife.

Props to the art department for giving Satan buckteeth and a heavy dose of DURRR.

 

You know what they say about Karma…

Karma Chamelon is a B*tch.

Fashion choices can say alot about your act, take these liars for example; They call themselves “Country Church,” but those dashing lotharios and turtlenecks say one thing:

CITY SLICKERS!

Pretty sure this dude is just showing off, I mean there’s no way he can play Bon Jovi covers on BOTH sweet axes at the same time!

Double the showboating.

The hotline to Heaven used to be corded, but it’s been upgraded as technology evolves:

 

In closing, heretics from rock n roll Valhalla, combine with the LORD OF LORDS to ROCK FOR THE KING! If these two genres can somehow find a way to make it work, surely the world today can get it together.

Crossover!

Now let’s get out there and kick monday in the plums, go GET IT GURL!

(For Babsie G. and G$)

 

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