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Wednesday, November 21, 2007

HAPPY THANKSGIVING FROM THE VAULT OF BUNCHENESS!!!

Some words of holiday advice:

1. You can survive your fucking annoying family. And if they piss you off too much, just remember that one day they will be dead.

2. Don't drink and drive, 'cause that shit's for amateurs and assholes. Stay at home to tie one on; why do you think Thanksgiving's an all-day festival of football, parades, movies, dog shows and marathons of classic TV reruns? It's a dazzling cathode ray cornucopia of stuff to keep the wasted off the streets and at home, puking, fucking and fighting right where they belong.

3. When seeing your old high school pals for what's probably the one time you'll see them all year, do not comment on how fat and/or old they look. That shit goes two ways, bunky...

4. If you must go to church during the holiday, make sure to go as hungover and reeking of booze as possible, that way next year they'll think twice before forcing you out of bed and into a place choked with incense and festooned with pictures of Jesus looking at your ass.

5. If your family gathering has a kiddie table, make sure to sit there and serve as a bad example to the next generation. Tell age-acceptable off-color jokes and stories. Teach the kids the lyrics to "The Diarrhea Song" and have them sing it loudly halfway through the meal. Introduce them to "pull my finger." In short, do your part to ensure your status as the fave older relative from the start; that way the kids won't feel so awkward in later years when they need somebody to take them to get an abortion or bail them out of jail without their parents being any the wiser. And believe me, they will pay back your "cool relative" kindness somewhere down the line.

6. Always, ALWAYS eat the turkey's tail. It's the perfect amount of dark meat, fat, and skin in one concentrated morsel and if slathered with the right amount of gravy it's a thing of joy forever (well, at least until it's digested and re-manifests itself as the next morning's enormous post-Turkey Day turd).

7. The true bombardment of Christmas-themed TV commercials commences right around Thanksgiving, so feel free to let loose with the Ribald Songbird action and desecrate the classic Yuletide tunes that have already been corrupted for TV adverts, only make them super dirty with usages of words like "cocksucker," "shit," and "pussy fart." Since you're gonna hear them a million times between now and the new year anyway, you may as well have some fun with them.

8. If you have to suffer through the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade — the Thanksgiving moment I dread most — don't try to be an asshole and bring to your aging parents' attention the fact that it's nothing more than a saccharine, three-hour commercial. They like it for the marching bands, big-assed balloons, and celebs lip-synching, and do not give a fuck about it's true purpose, so let them have their fun. And you can always have something to look forward to, namely the hope that the guy playing Santa at the end of the show will either be drunk or have a visible hard-on.

9. If you're staying at your parents' house with a significant other, try to remain as silent as possible if having sex under your folks' roof. I don't know why, but the idea of their kids having sex, even us grownup kids, seriously fucks with the heads of our progenitors. Then again, maybe you should fuck like monkeys on crack while at home...Aah, what the hell? Make 'em remember how it's done! And if they bitch about it, remind them of all the times they nagged you for grandkids and ask them if they forgot where said grandkids come from. That'll shut the geezers up in no time.

10. If the friends and loved ones you miss most can't be there this year, think of them fondly and rest assured that they're probably every bit as miserable as you are.

And with that, Happy Thanksgiving, and may the pecans in grandma's cookies actually be pecans and not roaches. (She doesn't see that well anymore, you know.)

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

SOUND & FURY: LIFT THE CURSE (2007) by Freya

Freya: yet another death metal allusion to the Aesir.

There’s really not much to say about this one since it’s a fairly standard entry in the glutted death metal genre, but it’s worth a listen for those in the know as it features “Lilith,” a song that sounds like an outtake from the Sword’s excellent AGE OF WINTERS (2006), and the album’s title track that’s nothing more than a bald-faced ripoff of Gwar’s 1990 classic “Salaminizer.” I defy you to play “Lift The Curse” and not be able to sing the Gwar lyrics in almost exact sync to the music since the two songs sound almost exactly the same. Having a musical influence is one thing, and this may not be a case of conscious plagiarism, but come on, fer fucksake…

And the icing on this questionable cake is what must surely be the worst cover of Black Sabbath’s seminal “War Pigs” ever recorded, Exhibit A in the case against the inappropriate use of Cookie Monster vocals (Cannibal Corpse's cover of Sabath's "Zero the Hero" coming a close second). It’s so beyond the pale that the listener almost has no choice but to picture the beloved blue Muppet in a pair of leather bell-bottoms, croaking into a microphone while flanked by Tommy Iommi and Geezer Butler, and I don’t know about you, but I find that image hilarious. That said, it’s so bad that it transcends its own awfulness to become an object of fascination for the old school metal junkie, unbelievably becoming a must-have for collectors of novelty metal.

Monday, November 19, 2007

IT'S A VALID QUESTION

The artist who lives around the corner from me strikes again:


This kind of thing never fails to liven up my walk to the subway in the morning.

3 DEV ADAM (1973)

There are those who say it's a toss-up between the Japanese and the Italians for being masters of the celluloid ripoff, but I strongly disagree. That title goes hands-down to the Turkish film industry, purveyors of some of the most shameless and potentially-illegal films ever released, such as ripoffs of STAR WARS, STAR TREK and SUPERMAN, in which they took the actual effects footage from the real productions without a hint of permission and cast local "talent" in the famiiar roles of Chewbacca, Mr. Spock, and other beloved heroes. So how could I not want to see a film that not only features Spider-Man as a bad guy, but also has an opening scene in which he orders his henchmen to murder a woman who's been buried up to her neck on a sandy beach by shoving the whirling propellor of an outboard motor into her face, an act that showers blood onto the legs of some of the smiling onlookers?

Yes, kiddies, it's 3 DEV ADAM (loosely translated as "Three Mighty Men"), a film that would more honestly be entitled COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT: THE MOVIE, featuring as it does the aforementioned Spider-Man, a bargain Basement Captain America, and even some guy as Mexico's most famous wrestler/superhero, El Santo.

When the evil Spider-Man's counterfeiting activities careen out of control, the police of Istanbul outsource and bring in Captain America (with girlfriend Julia, but minus shield) and El Santo to sort the shit out. That's basically what passes for a plot here, since the action swiftly becomes ludicrous and incomprehensible despite the presence of subtitles. No bullshit, I have no idea as to what most of the plot particulars are; one moment you have Captain America rescuing his girlfriend by shoving his hands through a cardboard wall at exactly the right location for strangling a crook and kicking bargain basement ass, and then the shot jarringly cuts to an unrelated scene of some random old man talking to some unidentified guys in suits. ??? It's totally incoherent amateur hour filmmaking, and as such it's quite entertaining and will give you a newfound respect for Ed Wood's body of work, although you may have to watch it in chunks because after about ten minutes of watching 3 DEV ADAM your brain will cry out for a rest. I mean, just look at this shit:

Spider-Man oversees a gruesome murder while decked out in an outfit that doesn't even pass muster as longjohns.

El Santo and Captain America, both looking like they're in sore need of a serious dump.

Thrill (or not) to the blistering hero versus villain action!

Gaze in wonder at Spider-Man's awesome mask!

It's obviously a huge, steaming pile, but how could I not add it to my collection? And, unlike another horrible festival of copyright infringement, namely the Filipino ALYAS BATMAN EN ROBIN (1993), 3 DEV ADAM certainly isn't boring.

ALYAS BATMAN EN ROBIN: actually worse than all three of the new STAR WARS movies combined.

TRUST YER BUNCHE!!!

THIS IS ENGLAND (2006)

My man Thomas Turgoose as Shaun, the anti-McLovin.

At the urging of my man in Eastbourne, Chris Weston, I checked out Shane Meadows's THIS IS ENGLAND, and now I strongly urge you to see it for yourself.

The partly-aoutobographical story takes place in England during the summer of 1983 and follows twelve-year-old Shaun (Thomas Turgoose), a miserable loner whose father was killed the previous year in the ongoing Falklands conflict. Living alone with his shockingly brain-dead mother, Shaun is mercilessly bullied by the older and larger kids at his school, and on the last day before the summer holidays he gets into a fight with an older kid who tormented him over his dad's death, and on the way home he ends up befriended by a gang of local skinheads. The skins are a far cry from the sterotypical neo-Nazis we've come to expect, and in no time flat Shaun looks to them for guidance and acceptance, swiftly adopting the suedehead haircut and braces & boots fashion uniform that mark him as part of the tribe. These older role models are actually quite a nice bunch of kids, and during his early days with them Shaun finds a happiness not felt since before his father's death, even landing the cute and sweet "Smell" (Rosamund Hanson, looking like a cross between a marmoset and a rummage sale) as his overage girlfriend.

But a spanner is thrown into the works when Combo (Stephen Graham), a thirty-two-year-old skin and former leader of the band, returns after a three-and-a-half year prison term, now filled with nationalistic fervor and a mission to turn his younger comrades into racist, Paki-bashing thugs for the National Front. When given a choice of following Combo, most of the skins opt out with no hard feelings, but Shaun stays, seduced by Combo's words about the pointlessness of the war in the Falklands. Thanks to his bitterness over his dad's death, Shaun is a perfect tabula rasa on which Combo can engrave his hateful leanings, and Shaun devolves into a pint-sized hate-monger, willingly accompanying Combo and his mates on missions of defacement and general shakedowns of the local Pakistani population. With the seriously unstable Combo as his new father figure, it's only a matter of time until things spin out of control and Shaun must make up his own mind as to exactly who, and what, he wants to be.

One of the things that always fascinated me about the original British skinhead youth movement was how it was formed with a heavy influence of black culture, especially when it came to the music they listened to. The inner city lower working class skins had a lot in common with their Jamaican immigrant neighbors and they knew it, the two existing together fairly well. But then the British white supremacists came along, and many of the disenfranchised youth turned to them in search of something to believe in, spawning the Nazi skinhead, a group that exists to this day and is still exploited by their much smarter political role models and leaders. THIS IS ENGLAND deals with this in no uncertain terms, and before Combo returned there was even a black skinhead in Shaun's group of friends, a dapper lad named Milky (Andrew Shim), but despite Combo's kind and respectful treatment of him, Milky leaves rather than deal with Combo's rabid and, when considering Milky, contradictory nationalism. As the story progresses we learn much about Combo and what made him what he is, but the most revealing and tragic revalations about him come implicitly rather than explicitly during a moment of bonding with Milky while the two are stoned off their asses; it's an old-school skinhead love-fest until Combo loses control, an act that galvanizes Shaun's reality check and makes the viewer want to personally foot the bill for Combo's much-needed regimen of anger management and psychotherapy.

The film is stocked with wall-to-wall terrific performances, and Thomas Turgoose's turn as Shaun is utterly natural and believable, our hearts breaking as we see him transform from a sad little boy into a vicious, hate-filled follower. And his relationship with Smell is in no way sleazy or offensive; the scene in which they share a kiss in the backyard shed is pretty torrid and would never fly in an American film, but it's clear that when it comes to sex Shaun is pretty clear-heaed and wouldn't do anything he wasn't ready for, so his explorations with Smell remain within the PG-13 realm. Smell even goes so far as to tell Shaun that she'd never force him into anything he wasn't comfortable with, and is relieved to find that his opting out of sucking her tits had nothing to do with him not liking her, but was just due to him pacing his experiences with this kind and wonderful girl who he thinks is "lovely." It's really very sweet, and I was glad to see it handled with such good taste.

Stephen Graham's Combo is one of the more memorable antagonists in recent cinema, and despite his horrendous attitudes, he's too well-shaded to be considered an outright villain. I really can't say any more without giving away a major plot point regarding him, so I'll just stop right here.

Stephen Graham as Combo.

Bottom line, THIS IS ENGLAND is an excellent and involving film that, according to my friends in the UK, is an unflinchingly accurate depiction of a specific element of the country's youth back in the bleak days of the early 1980's. It has moments of great charm, but it's also pretty much a downer from frame one, so keep that in mind before renting it thinking it my be the British cousin of a John Hughes teener flick, because it sure as shit ain't that. And whatever you do, keep the subtitles on; I'm good with British accents, but the dialogue in this film was quite regional, and the subtitles helped immensely. TRUST YER BUNCHE!!!

Sunday, November 18, 2007

'GATOR BAIT (1974)

No, that isn't Ben Affleck in drag.

I can’t believe it took me as long as it did to finally see the 1974 exploitation classic ‘GATOR BAIT, and I have to say I’m more than a little surprised by what it had to offer. The film’s rep rests squarely on the shoulders of its star, ill-fated Titian-tressed beauty Claudia Jennings, a former Playmate of the Year whose body of work lead her to being dubbed the “queen of the B’s,” and after sitting through one of her grindhouse epics it’s doubtful that she’d fade from the viewer’s memory any time soon.

Claudia Jennings: can you say "Yowza?"

‘GATOR BAIT is a post-DELIVERANCE backwoods revenge pic that takes place deep in an unnamed bayou, a forbidding environment best avoided by those who don’t know its ways, and utterly at home in this seemingly limitless swamp is Desiree Thibodeau (Jennings), a barefoot Cajun trapper — in the skimpiest of outfits, including a pair of Daisy Dukes that pretty much doesn’t have an ass, and a potato sack blouse that allows occasional glimpses of her mouth-watering ninnies —who poaches the local wildlife to provide for herself and her younger brother and sister. Desiree’s activities are illegal but overlooked by the local sheriff who doesn’t care because her family has hunted the swamp for generations, so he figures she’s got the right by virtue of ancestral territory. Unfortunately his moron of a son, apparently the town’s only other cop, has other ideas, and along with a slow-witted hillbilly pal he lays in wait to catch Desiree in the act and offer her a choice of going to jail or fucking him and his buddy. The would-be sexual extortion goes terribly wrong, however, as Desiree eludes her pursuers after lobbing a bag full of poisonous snakes onto their swamp boat; as the stupid cop shoots at the snakes, he blows holes into the boat’s hull, and shoots his homeboy in the head. Panicking, he returns to town and claims Desiree killed his friend, so the sheriff rounds up the dead guy’s outrageously inbred redneck relatives and sets off into the deep swamp to apprehend Desiree. Operating under the false impression that the poacher is a murderess, the rednecks can’t wait to get their hands on her, both to hand out their own brand of justice and get a piece of her “coon-ass.” (The Cajuns in the film are derogatorily referred to as “Coonies.")

That’s the setup, and from there viewers are taken deep into a swamp virtually untouched by man and made witness to a game of cat and mouse so overmatched that it’s like what would happen if a bunch of great white hunters had the incalculable stupidity to fuck with Tarzan on his own turf. Desiree may not have the jungle lord’s near-superhuman capabilities, but she’s plenty smart and knows her way through the bayou like it was the back of her own assless shorty-shorts, so it’s just a matter of time until she’s done killing those assholes one by one.

During the course of all of this we learn a lot about Desiree’s antagonists and swiftly realize just how vile and sleazy they are. The patriarch of the redneck family has a love/hate relationship with his sons, all of whom are at least mildly retarded or just plain mentally ill, and even disciplines the perpetually-horniest of his brood with a bullwhip when he catches the lad attempting to fuck his own very willing sister in the mud near where she was hanging the laundry. (Dad wasn’t all that pissed off about the boy wanting a piece of sis, but was seriously irked at the possibility of the voluptuous girl getting knocked up and squeezing out another dimwit.) The other redneck son holds a personal grudge against Desiree for having had the gall to cut off his balls years earlier when he tried and failed to rape her, and now wanders about with his sawed-off double-barreled shotgun serving as an ever-rigid and potent surrogate penis. And even the sheriff has a big secret: twelve years previous he’d had an affair with Desiree’s mom and “accidentally” murdered her father, a bit of information used by the rednecks as blackmail fodder, guaranteeing that their own illegal shenanigans go unchecked.

With all of this mishegoss going on there’s plenty of bad taste to go around, and once the hunt for Desiree gets underway things go from very bad to that much worse when, after searching for her home for days, the inbred posse locates the place just after our heroine has left on a three day hunting trip. The bad guys stage a home invasion that begins with them abusing Desiree’s tongueless little brother, and her nubile jailbait sister ends up in the lusty hands of the sheriff’s son and the two inbred brothers. As the two uncastrated men hold down the poor girl during the preamble to a gang rape, one of them tells the nutless wonder with the shotgun that he’s going to show him “how a real man does it;” that remark sends the castrato over the frustrated edge, so he throws his brother off of Desiree’s sister, stuffs his shotgun between her legs, and unloads both barrels, retorting “Is that manly enough fer ya?” The girl expires almost immediately, and the misogyny factor goes through the roof. No bullshit, when that bit of business happened I actually exclaimed “Oh my God!!!” and I’m pretty hard to shock. It’s not graphically depicted, but the idea alone really gets to you.

The odd thing about it is that such horrors were once commonplace in exploitation films, and yet, despite the many ultra-violent movies I’ve sat through over the decades, I still find myself jarred by such material. I can handle all manner of cinematic carnage, but the idea of some innocent girl — or any girl at all, for that matter — taking a shotgun blast to the cooter is a bit beyond the pale, so keep that bit in mind before sitting down to watch ‘GATOR BAIT with your girlfriend.

Which brings me to the oft-cited sentiment that ‘GATOR BAIT is one of many exploitation flicks held to be a feminist statement. Lemme tell ya, buddy, the makers of this film simply set out make a movie about a scantily clad hottie who kicks ass on the people who fucked with her and her family, but I strongly doubt that capital F feminism was intentionally involved in the creative process. Think about it: you have fine-ass Claudia Jennings, a woman for whom the wearing of clothing should have been a capital offense, traipsing about the fen in gear that shows off her priapism-inducing assets for all they’re worth, despite the fact that such gear is in no way conducive to the rigors of marshland hunting and trapping.

Desiree is not so much a feminist role model as she is a fantasy wild woman/jungle girl updated and transplanted to a sweltering southern bayou, and as a lifelong fan of such characters I have no problem with that. But don’t hand me that feminist over-analysis horseshit; Desiree’s a forest spirit fantasy made flesh — hell, she even looks like an anthropomorphic fox — and to say otherwise is a tad disingenuous.

Other than the surprisingly taut story, the true surprise about ‘GATOR BAIT is that considering its R rating and the presence of Jennings, the star doesn’t get naked at any point in the movie. Sure, we get tantalizing glimpses of her good stuff, but the requisite nudity for this type of flick falls to her nymphet sister who innocently strips out of her already-revealing shift and bathes in the river. That somewhat disappointed me because I’d seen provocative shots of Claudia Jennings in her Daisy Dukes and unbuttoned sleeveless shirt for over three decades, and expected the film to deliver what the ad campaign couldn’t.

But I wasn’t terribly pissed because she looked great throughout the movie, and sometimes titillation is better than in-your-face nekkidness, and the movie kind of reminded me of pinup art or Al Capp’s Wolf Gal.

Bottom line, ‘GATOR BAIT is definitely worth checking out, and is a lot better film than you’d expect from the “hicksploitation” genre, capably holding it’s own alongside the real heavy hitters of its ilk, namely DELIVERANCE and SOUTHERN COMFORT. It’s solid, down-home, grimy sleaze, and as such it works just fine. TRUST YER BUNCHE!!!

Friday, November 16, 2007

HYPNO-LOVEBUNCHE: OBEY YOUR MASTER!


"LoveBunche" gestures hypnotically.

YOU ARE UNABLE TO RESIST! GIVE YOURSELF TO LOVEBUNCHE! KICK DOWN THE DOOR TO THE VAULT OF BUNCHENESS AND PRESENT YOUR FINE, NEKKID SELF FOR MY NAUGHTY MINISTRATIONS! WRITHE YOUR YEARNING LOINS UNABASHEDLY UPON MY SMILING FACE! COME ON! YA KNOW YA WANNA!!! BOOGEDYBOOGEDYBOOGEDYBOOOOOOOO!!!

(My pal, Handjobbo the Amazing, taught me this hypnotic technique and claims it'll get me more pussy than a litter box, so what the hey? Face it, you're probably dripping like a broken fridge right now, just from having read it. Oh, yeah...)

OBNOXIOUS GEEK QUESTION OF THE WEEK: REGARDING CLAIRE BENNETT

Okay, here's where things get into that stupid realm that geeks know all too well, namely over-analyzing the logistics of super-powers. If you're a fan of all things superheroic, there's a good chance that you've stopped to ask questions like, "Does Superman ever give people cancer with his x-ray vision?" or "If Daredevil's senses are so accute, does he ever rip farts so toxic that they cause him to pass out?" You know, real grade school, puerile queries. That said, I have a question about Claire Bennett from HEROES, namely if she's all indestructible and shit, and can regenerate from any injury, does she have a hymen that keeps restoring itself like Prometheus' liver?


Claire Bennett: constantly born-again cherry?

Much like the popular geek question of the 1980's that wondered if She-Hulk's menstrual flow was green (it probably would be since we've seen that she and her incredible cousin bleed green), this one's another of the host of metahuman gynecological head-scratchers that it's up to the geek community to solve (I still have yet to get a satisfactory answer on whether Wonder Woman gets PMS despite basically being a golem). So what's your two cents? YOUTH WANTS TO KNOW!!!

Thursday, November 15, 2007

BIG APPLE CONVENTION THIS WEEKEND!!!

My last opportunity to have some serious fun before the holidays get started will be at this weekend's Big Apple convention, a place where I can snag cheap back issues of CREEPY and EERIE, see friends and colleagues from the comics biz — as well as attending the inevitable poset-convention drunkenness — and pick up 8 x 10 autographed glossies of various celebrities.

This time around my autograph hunting will be pretty limited, thanks to keeping an eye on my budget and the fact that the crop of celebs isn't all that hot. Probably the star who's going to be the most sought-after will be Hayden Panettiere, who plays the indestructible Claire Bennett on HEROES.


I guarantee you that nearly every fan boy and girl on the east coast will be there to slobber all over her, but as for me, I merely like her character on the show and will not be heartbroken if I can't get anywhere near her when the signing commences. My priority star autographs at this show would be Katey Sagall at the top of the list, a great comedic actor best known to couch potatoes as MARRIED...WITH CHILDREN's Peg Bundy,


and cylopean space pilot Leela from FUTURAMA.


Next up would be Suzi Plakson, last seen on EVERYBODY LOVES RAYMOND as Robert's harridan of an ex-wife Joanne, but Plakson holds a special place in the hearts of STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION fans for her all-too-brief stint as Worf's ill-fated mate, K'Ehleyr.


I aim to snag her autographed pic for myself and my philosophy professor pal Lanei, a huge NEXT GENERATION nut, so wish me luck on that one.

But the most absurd of my quarry would have to be Mason Reese, a 1970's pop culture oddity remembered only by those of us who were there for his Underwood Deviled Ham commercials, among others.


Yes, I willingly intend to spend cash on Mason Reese's autograph. I have now officially gone insane.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

SOUND & FURY: MY OWN ESSENTIAL MISFITS MIX

When I got in to work this morning I was still very much in Misfits mode after writing yesterday's review of WALK AMONG US, so I cranked up a "best of" CD that I put together for myself about eight years ago and it came to me as quite a shock that I no longer listen to full Misfits albums because pretty much everything I want to hear from them is on my homemade disc. It's entitled ESSENTIAL MISFITS, and in case you'd like to duplicate it for yourself, here's the playlist:

ESSENTIAL MISFITS

Halloween (best Halloween song ever)
We Bite (a song about werewolves, and not a self-description)
Earth A.D.
She (not to be confused with the song of the same title by the Damned, although I'd love to hear Dave Vanian sing this)
Static Age
TV Casualty (perhaps the only song in existence to reference the Sub-Mariner)
Some Kinda Hate (featuring the ultra-deep lyric "Well it's a whoooah-oh-oh-wha-oh, bay-beh/Whoooah-oh-oh-wha-oh/I said A-Whoa! A whoa-whoa, whoa-oh-oh")
Last Caress
Hybrid Moments (I have no fucking clue what that title means, so don't ask)
We Are 138 (see above)
Teenagers From Mars
Come Back ("Come back little raven, and bite my face." What the fuck???)
Hollywood Babylon
Attitude (featuring the classic line "Inside your feeble brain there's probably a whore/if you don't shut yer mouth yer gonna feel the floor")
Bullet (having something to do with the Kennedy assassination and the apparently life-restoring properties of Glenn Danzig's semen)
Where Eagles Dare (for some reason the Misfits recorded this one a bunch of times, so choose the version you like best)
Ghoul's Night Out
Die, Die My Darling
Children In Heat
Angelfuck (the first Misfits song I ever heard, and I've been a fan ever since. As near as I can figure out, this is from the point of view of a guy rescuing a wasted female friend from some sort of THE ACCUSED-style scenario, but considering how ambiguous some Misfits tunes are I'm probably talking out of my ass)
American Nightmare (Too bad Elvis never got to cover this one, 'cause it's letter perfect for him)
Devilock
Death Comes Ripping
Green Hell
20 Eyes
I Turned Into A Martian
All Hell Breaks Loose
Vampira
Nike A Go Go (it's about tactical nuclear missiles, not sneakers)
Hatebreeders
Mommy, Can I go Out and Kill Tonight? (Live)
Skulls
Astro Zombies (this one cries out for music video accompaniment culled from every alien invasion movie ever made)
Demonomania (incredibly short and equally idiotic, in this one Danzig reveals that his "father was a wolf" and his "mother was a whore," so I guess he's supposed to be that kid from THE OMEN)

TRUST YER BUNCHE when I say all of this fits on one CD; Misfits songs tend to explode with much power and brief duration, but that short burst is such sweet bliss...