I Eat Cannibals: Part 5

Without knowing how bad it would be, Mrs. Curmudgeon and I watched the following video:

Mrs. Curmudgeon clicked the link on her iPad. It was some sort of 1980’s BBC dance show with “live” “music”. I put “live” in quotes because it may or may not have been taped. I put “music” in quotes because, while it technically qualified as “music”, I consider it a form of torture.

Five women with the kind of hair that put holes in the ozone layer were “dancing”. We all know 1980’s women’s hair styles did not stand the test of time, but these were exceptional. If you strapped Marge Simpson and Peg Bundy to an exploding can of Aqua Net you’d get this look.

The choreography, meant to be sexy, misfired badly. It was less burlesque and more an implication that all five women were in heat.

The costumes were beyond terrible. I can only assume a stage hand sprayed the ladies with glue and dropped them off the roof into a dumpster filled with randomly cut polygons of thick vinyl scraps. All in garish neon colors. If a seamstress actually sewed the visual cacophony they were wearing then there’s a seamstress that created a sin against nature.

Perhaps the scraps were artfully arranged to look bad. Sort of a caveman motif. If Pebbles Flintstone took up meth and became a hooker… Nah! That still doesn’t explain neon vinyl.

Then they began singing… this made it worse.

I think the phrase “I eat cannibals” is clever. Similar to “I rob pirates”. Alas the underlying lyrics were a complete waste of a good hook. They sought to commingle cannibalistic consumption with sexual domination. This might have been interesting the first time a teenager screamed “bite me” to a rival in a street fight but since then it’s been pathetic.

They kept singing. It kept getting worse. Clever, it was not.

I glanced at Mrs. Curmudgeon and was suddenly afraid. She (like most of humanity) has better taste than me. This abomination, which was annoying me, was drilling into her cerebral cortex and taking a dump there.

Her brow furrowed. She began to frown. Like most men, I don’t want my wife annoyed; if only in the interest if domestic tranquility.

I tried to break the tension.

“They’re like some sort of proto-Spice Girls?” I hinted.

Honestly, I know nothing about the Spice Girls except they were a cluster (five?) of women who strutted around stage reciting lyrics. For whatever reason, people didn’t hate the Spice Girls. Perhaps I was watching the wrecked heap of bicycle parts tossed behind the Wright Brother’s garage? Was this the primordial goo from which emerged the flying jalopy that became the Spice Girls?

I needn’t mention that among the women strutting around the stage, the number playing instruments was… zero. Because, of course they couldn’t play instruments. Unless you’re Pavarotti (or his equivalent) you ought have an instrument in hand before they let you on stage. I  don’t care if it’s a kazoo, you ought to play an instrument or you’re just doing karaoke!

Mrs. Curmudgeon continued to glare at the screen. She has an impressive glare. I expected her iPad to burst into flames. I had to break the tension somehow:

“The 1980’s… Jesus what went wrong?” I mumbled.

Nope. Concentrated waves of distaste were radiating from Mrs. Curmudgeon. And I’d done nothing to dispel it. She was watching the music video equivalent of my 1980’s nemesis (the craptacular AMC Gremlin) and I could sense her blood pressure rising.

It kept going and going. The three and a half minute song was taking an eternity. Mrs. Curmudgeon was gritting her teeth. Can music be so bad that it gives you a stroke?

I tried one last time to break the tension. “At least they aren’t using an auto-tuner?”

The show started to wind up and Mrs. Curmudgeon shouted at the screen.

“THIS. IS. A. MESS!”

I couldn’t disagree.

Then it was over. She gently set the iPad down, as if resisting the urge to hurl it at the wall.

When she turned to me the glare was still there. “You… you suggested this.” She gesticulated vaguely at the iPad; as if a single wave could encompass the enormity of bad taste that I’d unleashed on the household.

“It did indeed suck.” I agreed, lamely.

“Your punishment, for suggesting the worst music video in history, is to bring me another drink.” She held out a glass. (We’d been bingewatching Venture Bros and drinking. She’d fetched the last round of mixed drinks. After what we’d seen, a stiff belt was definitely in order.)

“Absolutely!” Glad to get off so lightly, I scampered to the liquor cabinet.

How could three and a half minutes of “entertainment” turn out so tasteless? There had to be cameramen, choreographers, sound mixers, stage hands, etc… Couldn’t one of them have stopped it? Surely they knew it was a trainwreck. One of them should have said “This is not going well. We should stop this disaster before it hits the airwaves. Better to burn down the studio, fake our own deaths, and move to Antigua than commit this to electronic memory.” But no. The miracle of the internet had preserved an abomination of the 1980’s and heartlessly deposited a steaming heap of it in our living room.

“Make it a double!” Mrs. Curmudgeon was shouting from the other room.

Reflecting on the video we’d just watched, I filled her glass (and mine) to the rim. I returned with three bottles of liquor in hand. We needed it.

The 1980’s… what went wrong? Beware. There was a group called Toto Coleo and the internet preserves what they have wrought. Let’s never speak never of this again.

About AdaptiveCurmudgeon

Adaptive Curmudgeon is handsome, brave, and wise.
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14 Responses to I Eat Cannibals: Part 5

  1. Mark Matis says:

    So what you’re now admitting is that this whole Cannabis thing was a setup by the squirrels?

  2. Mark Matis says:

    Are these women playing enough instruments for you:

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSphxkTLIoQ

    I realize the tune is almost a dirge, but…

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      Nice. I love me some Orange Blossom Special!

      • Mark Matis says:

        Well then, how about some a capella:

        • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

          Ugh, it grates on you doesn’t it? However, it did inspire an idea so hideous it must be done. I think the world needs a heavy metal cover of The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Ham it up; maybe drop it an octave, add kettle drums, and definitely turn the base to eleven. Is Dethklok available?

        • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

          OMG, do NOT search for such a thing on YouTube. There’s some real shitty music out there!

  3. Anonymous says:

    You’re an evil twisted individual. Do you know that? Not only did you post that once, you posted it twice. And I watched it. Twice. To the end. Lord help me
    You did get off easy only having to bring the Mrs a drink.

    The other night we had some friends over and started trying to see who could come up with the worst video. This one won:
    https://youtu.be/RvN3hOSZV4w
    Come on! click it! You know you want to. Its a door that must be opened. Once opened though you can never un-open it.
    ummmm enjoy?

  4. Fritz says:

    I loved the ’80’s. Really didn’t see mullets out in the country. As for this song “I eat cannibals”.
    You can’t polish a turd. (well, technically you could but who the fuck would want to?)
    leaperman

  5. fritz says:

    This song sucks…but man..the women.
    nom nom nom.
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f-RJE6e5kSY

    The age of leg socks, leotards and the womens’ genital strut!
    and the hair.
    Can’t forget the hair.
    I actually like that hair.

  6. p2 says:

    Unfortunately, I spent almost the entire 80’s stationed in the UK. I remember that, and way too many more, blasting out of video screen jukeboxes in pubs all across East Anglia. There was no escape. I’d venture a guess the clip (I didn’t watch it…. I have the nightmares, thank you very much) is from a wildly popular weekly BBC program called Top of the Pops…. My significant other during those years was a Brit who lived and died by what was featured each week. I hated when she drove…. my ears stil hurt.

    • AdaptiveCurmudgeon says:

      Yes it was Top of the Pops and boy did it suck. About the same time America had Solid Gold with Andy Gibb and Marilyn McCoo (I thought McCoo was hot). Sometimes the show had various dipshits from the street lip syncing songs; very regrettable. Other times it had a bunch of dancers in tights writhing around doing something you might call yoga/interpretive dance. They were well built ladies and so that was awesome as far as I was concerned. Compared to the one view of Top of the Pops I’ve endured… it was high art. Of course, that’s my memory and we’ve already established I had (have?) bad taste. So who knows?

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