Letter to Adam Sandler

Dear Adam a.k.a The Sand Man

I love The Honukkah Song! It’s seriously like one of my top 3 favorite songs. It goes, in no particular order, The Honukkah Song, Linger by The Cranberries, and Fuckin’ In The Butt by David Allen Coe. But seriously, Honukkah Song is the nipples. Like, the part where you start naming all the famous people that are Jewish? Love it. LOVE IT. How’d you think of that anyways? You’re so creative and funny. You must come up with so much wacky stuff. That’s probably why you are a famous movie star and everything. I mean, I’m not technically Jewish or whatever but you seriously make it look like so much fun. So jeal. Thanks for everything.

Love,

Pud D.

How to Make Your Band Successful

So you’re in a band and you’re looking for something to make your group stand out to venues, radio DJs, record companies, and hot ass fucksluts ready to drop trou and do the slip-slip-squirt in the alleyway next to your parents’ apartment. I know, I know. I been there, kid. Shit, I’m still there in a lot of ways. I know how you feel and I’m here to help. I’ve had plenty of experience in this field over the years with all my bands: Houis Louise and the Nouveaus, Buster Himen, Dickey Salt and the Dick Salt All-Stars, The Mermen with Salty Dicks, Shrunken Salty Slug Dick, Pumpkintits Horrorhouse, Moose Cock, and Oasis. Here’s a few little suggestions to help you hit it big.

1) Get a cool band name. This is a must. The name provides the first impression. First impressions are EV-ER-Y-thing.  It can make or break that shit. Here’s a tip: don’t name your band “The Something.” And when I said “Something” right then, I did not literally mean “Something.” I just meant like, whatever you put in there. Not like “The Whatever”, you know what I mean. The point is, you could insert anything in there and it still won’t work. And I’m not referring to “The Anything.” You know what, never mind. You’re making this way more complicated than it has to be. All I’m saying is that band names which are nouns preceded by the article adjective “the” just don’t work. It’s a proven fact. Never have, never will. If you’re band falls into this category get ready for a life of gaining weight, working at Guitar City, and DJing middle school dances. If you’re looking for an eye-poppin’ badass name, I suggest using the Gerund Phrase Technique (GPT). It’s simple and easy to use. A gerund phrase will begin with a gerund, an ing word, and might include other modifiers and/or objects. Gerund phrases always function as nouns, so they will be subjects, subject compliments, objects in the sentence, or in this case a band name. I suggest something vague, morbid, or ironic and as always, alliteration is Tittyville, U.S.A. Read these examples to give you an idea:

Fisting the Dragon Pussy

Snorkeling in Sand

Bowling for Soup

Cock-Gagging for Cocaine

Smelling The Pit

Making Satan a Sandwich

Wearing My Dad’s Face

Pretty good right? Right. Prepositional phrases usually work pretty well too….This just in, I just found out on the Google.com that there is a band named “The Gerunds.” I’m sure they think they are being very cute and clever, but this doesn’t count as GPT. At All. I’m not sure who they are or where they are from but I will guarantee you this: The Gerunds will never amount to a god damn pile of mother fucking peanuts. You hear me?!  I am willing to bet two of my hard-earned twenty dollar bills that not one member of The Gerunds would even know how to get it up for one of these dirty truck sluts.

2) Get a girl in the band. This has proven successful for musicians such as No Doubt, Talking Heads, Fleetwood Mac, Ray Stevens, The White Stripes,

Not really sure which one the girl was. The one on the left?This ambiguity makes for maximum appeal.

The Cranberries, Smashing Pumpkins, and Prince. Some supple fox will really improve your band’s appeal. Cuz you see, sexual predators listen to music too. This is a highly untapped demographic ripe for the plucking, shucking, and/or ear fucking. Just don’t be surprised if you get a lot of balding men slushing around under their trench coats in darkened corners. Here’s the one real problem with adding a girl to the mix: girls aren’t very good at music. On occasion you may find one that can sing okay but those are rare. Like, rarer than a meteor shower. I mean, how many times does a Wynona or a Dusty “Beaver” Springfield come around? Once every meteor shower, that’s how many times. A good solution to this problem is to let the girl play bass or tambourine. These “instruments” require very little talent and as long as those tits are perky and as long as she ain’t no plumper, it doesn’t matter what the fuck she is doing. You definitely don’t want her to play guitar. Girls are too busy going to the mall, eating ice cream, and having their periods to learn the chords and scales necessary to play guitar. Also, be careful not to have too many girls in the band or the band will be awful. I strongly suggest no more than one. Two maybe, if it is necessary to have a tambourine and a bass.

3) Unplug the bass. Nobody is paying attention to anything the bass is doing. Save yourself the electricity. Why run up your girlfriend’s parents’ bill? Plus bassists are typically thickheaded dickheads. Thick, dick, heads. Furthermore, bass is hardly a real instrument. It’s just a low guitar with 4 strings (Or +5 strings if the bassist is particularly pretentious). It’s like, if you don’t want to take the time to learn the chords and play guitar, then get the fuck off everybody else’s coattails and get the fuck out of the band, you piece. of. shit. The only reason to even have a bass in the band is if you’ve got some girl that isn’t good enough to play anything else.

4) Shoot heroin into your eyeball. There’s lots of blood vessels in your eyeball. And it will make you’re music better.

5) Have a few hits then two words: Go Country, ya’ll. Take that sound that your fans have grown to know and love and add a lil’ twang to it. Start singing about small town America, cold beer, creek beds, and what it’s like to be in love. Sing about your truck. Sing about your mama. Pull out your Alabama Black Snake and show it to a relative. Then sing a song about it. Wear a cowboy hat. Put on some all white jeans and a plaid shirt. Throw up on yourself in the parking lot of the ‘Dega Superspeedway. Strum an acoustic guitar. Make a music video that is just shots of nature and you making out with a pretty blonde wearing cut off jean shorts in the woods. If the pretty blonde just happens to be your bassist then it’s a win-win. My advice: do a duet with Shania Twain. People will flip. Make a music video for it, and see if you can get Shania to eat out the bass player. Preferably in the woods, or somewhere in nature. I’m telling you, everything gets better when you gone country. Look at them boots!

My First Suicide Note

The following is a copy of my first suicide note from April 24, 2007. That was a really dark time in my life, 2007, like Omar from The Wire dark. But my analyst, Dr. Werner Lipschwitz says that it would be good for me to share my experience. Ya know, for catharsis. And since it’s the holiday season it seemed fitting.

Dear Cruel Cunt World,

When are the Cranberries going to come out with another fucking album already?!? Seriously. I get it, you’re on hiatus and want to pursue side projects. That’s fine. I’m sure that’s some great stuff or whatever but don’t neglect the fans that made you who you are. Fans like me. Jerry from Printing is also into “The Sauce.” Give us the real stuff: The Cranberries. Zombie. Linger. All the hits. Shit’s so awesome.

I mean, it’s 2007. They have cameras on phones now.Let’s get that new-new Cran-Cran. Fa really doe. Gotsta has it.

God. Fuck it. I can’t do this anymore. The Cranberries are never going to make a new album. I’m going to off myself. I’m going to off myself so fucking hard.

Love,

Pudding Dickenson

Obviously this suicide attempt was unsuccessful. But, not to fret, because it wouldn’t be my last. Heck, I eat a bottle of my gandmother’s prescription painkillers that she had for her bad knee every time they leave pickles on my chicken sammich from the Chik-Fil-A, when I said clear as day “if there are any goddamn pickles on my motherfucking chicken sammy, I will cut your fucking dick off, shove it in my mouth,  and then put a loaded shotgun to my forehead.”

Lipschwitz was right on the money. That felt pretty good.