Eye-tal Grease Balls

 Hello all, sorry about the lack of posting over the last week. The reason being, we've been busy doing lots and lots of things, although, none which are worthy of mentioning in a blog which comments on practically anything. You get it.

  A friend introduced us to a new sub-culture known as Guido's. Luckily they don't exist here in Britain, at least not in their pure form. The best way to describe this scathing species in British context would be Chritiano Ronaldo meets club hero, with an Italian ancestry.

 

  There's a brilliant article over at Encyclopedia Dramatica which basically sums them up in the most filthy way possible, "they display the outward appearance of an oven roasted over-inflated Miami clubfag due to orange spray tan and glow in the dark teeth". yep, geddon!

She Was Asking For It

Today I managed to stumble across what is probably the foulest video game ever made.
‘Custer’s Revenge’(released in 1982) tells the story of General Custer getting payback for the battle of Little Big Horn. He manages this incredible feat by dodging arrows for eight levels, the whole time completely naked and with a massive boner.
The game was banned in a few states in the USA and was condemned by almost everyone who came into contact with it. Critics also said the game played like shit and the graphics were poor even for an Atari game.

I probably need to mention that after Custer dodges all those arrows he finally gets his ultimate revenge... by raping a Native American woman. In the game’s defence most people probably never saw the end as it’s supposed to be really difficult, like the back of the box says; ‘she's not about to take it lying down, by George!’


Yep, Geddon!

Failbait!

  Yep, Geddon! has been at it again. Trawling the filthy streets of Brighton looking for the worst venues and events imaginable. Prepare for another cynical opinionated blow at Brighton's night life scene, fuck we don't know why we even bother, but we do.

 It was a nice Monday evening when we set out, not the warmest but warm enough to get by without a jacket. Well, for the first 40 minutes or so at least before we got caught in a shitstorm of rain, yep, in the middle of July. Please?

 Obviously, looking like drowned rats is not the best way to start an evening. However, it probably was the highlight of the evening. As we arrived at Life, we got in free which is always a plus. Although, it didn't take us long to realise why we got in for free.

 To put this as nicely as we can, it was shit. We understand that it was the launch night to a new event titled 'Jailbait' which had previously been at New Hero (one of Brighton's lowest venues), so we weren't exactly expecting much. We were on the other hand expecting a big crowd, naturally with a launch night surely? Wrong.

  It wasn't just the absence of people that made the night bad. The music was inconsistent, there were times where we'd be singing along to Dr. Dre, then there were times when we had to physically leave the room as a result of repugnant musical choices. The 'crowd' were an issue for us as well. The best way we can describe the very few of them that were there, would be this:

 Monday night's aren't the best in Brighton, in fact, before 'Jailbait' the only other option was 'Trash Monday' at Coalition, which, unless you're looking for a cluster-fuck of prepubescent college kids experimenting with legal highs and stinking like cat piss, we'd avoid at all costs.

  You have two options for Monday night clubbing in Brighton, both equally as lamentable as each other. Our advice, avoid Monday nights. Save your precious money you frugal shits and go somewhere decent later in the week. Although, if you do decide to head down, get very drunk before hand, that way you don't have to remember anything. Finally, yep, geddon!

"I liked them before they were cool."

 We've been to our fair share of 'Hipster' hideouts in our time, from 93 Feet East to Santa Monica beach, however, nothing has quite compared to 'The Jazz Place' (Brighton) on a Friday night.

 The night didn't start badly, in fact, sitting in a park drinking straight Bacardi on the rocks was more than satisfying for a broke Friday night. When it reached about midnight we decided to head to 'The Jazz Place', initially under the personal assumption that it would be, well, a Jazz bar? When we arrived, we were greeted by reasonable entrance fee's of £3 to £4. Despite the relative emptiness of the place, it wasn't too bad inside. We bought a drink, took a seat and then began to listen to what we can only describe as 'abhorrent' music.

 After the drinks were finished, we went out for a smoke. Around 30 minutes must have elapsed before we decided to head back down. As we re-entered the venue, we noticed something very different. It seemed that in the 30 minutes or so that we had been outside, dozens of Hipsters had infested the place like flies on shit. The shear stench of vegan food, B.O. (as a result of the incessant reluctance to remove their grandparents sweaters) and pretentiousness flooded the air. We couldn't stop laughing when our 'not-the-sharpest-tool-in-the-shed' friend told us that "we [were] in a gay bar" (which we weren't). In fact, it took a good while explaining to him that he was incorrect.

 As previously mentioned, we aren't alien to Hipster-ism, but there was something distinctly vile about these ones. Personally, we believe in Libertarian views, freedom of speech, expression and all the rest of that crap. Thus we condone what they do, we wouldn't question why they do it (mainly because we'd get some shit-heap of liberal green agenda for an answer) and we definitely wouldn't impose there decisions to look utterly ridiculous.

 Although, tt is near enough impossible not to be critical when one blogs about such a scathingly oxymoronic sub-culture. These are the kind of people which claim to be accepting of others, when in reality they look down at those who eat meat, vote mainstream and haven't bought everything they own from a fucking vintage shop.

 But, because we're such nice guys here at Yep, Geddon! we've decided to help those who actually want to fit in, we would advise the following for beys:

• Tight jeans, preferably ankle swingers, or if not, pin-rolled.
• Converse, vans, brogues, boat shoes or low-cut plimsoles with wooden soles (?).
• A baggy t-shirt is essential, go shopping with the intention to be an extra in 'The Wire'.
• Stupidly tight denim jacket (even in the summer heat).
• Big rimmed non-prescription glasses, think Clark Kent.
• A canvas summer bag, that's right beys, a handbag.
• Finally, an ironic mustache coupled with a messy bowl cut.

 And for birds:

• Look like a 1940's housewife, the less skin showing the better.

 And for those who don't want to fit in either avoid 'The Jazz Place' on a Friday night like the ebola, or head down with a .44 and do Brighton a massive favour.

 If you've managed to get this far (we personally would've stopped reading after the title), you deserve stripes. Unfortunately we can't dish them out, but, we can give you advice, and that is;

yep, geddon!