Hot Hits With Hans # 3

Written by Hans Öffmeinbürger

Gutentag, mein reizvolle leute! It has been a busy few weeks in the music world since I last imparted my vast party knowledge upon you. Everybody has been asking me “Hans, what do you think of Michael Jackson dying?” and “Are you going to dedicate your next article to the King of Pop, who is now dead?” and “Did you once date Michael Jackson, who is now dead?” And I answer no, no and kind of, but that is really none of your business. If I wanted to waste precious words on a pale, skinny, drug addicted freak who was considered to be a developmentally retarded pervert on a good day, I could just have written about our entertainment editor, Peter File. I feel nothing but jealousy when I think of Michael Jackson, for if at 50 years of age I happen to shuffle off the turntables of life and out on to the eternal dance floor at the hands of an unscrupulous Hollywood doctor pumping a kaleidoscope of barbiturates into my veins, I will consider it to have been a good day, week, and life.

Anyway, here is the rest of the news that is musical.


Put Your Hans In Ze Air, Und Wave Them Around As Though You Are Unconcerned

Since the dawn of time, there have been particular traits and nuances that have set each musical genre apart from one another. Death metal has its growling vocals and bowel liquefying guitar riffs, French house has its funky bass and infectious party time grooves, whilst nu metal (Limp Bizkit et al) is identifiable by deftly substituting talent with whingeing misogyny. Of all musical idiosyncrasies though, hip hop possesses the most vast array of unique attributes. From gold ropes to 40oz bottles, the excessive party culture of hip hop is unmistakeable and entirely infectious to the maximum level.

This week, however, it emerged that one of the most sacred tenets of hip hop phraseology is under threat. Giving the keynote speech at the 28th Annual Hip Hop Symposium, rap pioneer Dr Dre voiced concerns that far too many artists nowadays are unwittingly commanding listeners to put their hands in the air and wave them around like they just don’t care.

“This shit has got to stop,” urged Dre. “We in the middle of a global recession, and there ain’t no way the brothers runnin’ the banks is gonna start lending to each other again if they all throwing they hands in the air like they just don’t care.”

Stopping short of blaming unscrupulous lyricism for the global financial crisis, Dre suggested temporarily shelving the iconic lyric, or at least amending it to better match the current climate.

“Think before you spit a verse. Ain’t no redundant factory worker that wants to hear about you poppin’ bottles of Dom in the spa with lingerie models. Don’t front. Be real. Be relevant. Put your hands in the sky, and wave them around like you want achievable fiscal policies to be applied.”


Adult Contemporary Christian Rock Now Targeting: Hearing Impaired Fatties

In yet another sickening report of musicians shunning the excessive hedonism synonymous with the industry and replacing it with socially responsible (and, surprise surprise – profitable) endeavours, a select few adult contemporary Christian rock groups have released their very own fitness DVDs.

Ambassadors of mediocrity, Creed, have released Beat Greed With Creed, which advocates the wearing of ill-fitting leather pants whilst dancing to Creed songs, the theory being that the monstrously fat consumer will be so distracted by the sweating and chaffing that they will forget all about food.

Nickleback have taken a more aerobic approach to reducing waist size with Blast Your Nicklefat Away With The Chad. Front man Chad Kroeger is fetching in a bright red and black two-piece as he delivers the introduction. “Hey there, I’m Nickleback’s Chad Kroeger. You know, some people think my moves in our music videos are just complex artistic extensions of my deep inner torment. Sure, they are, but they’re also a great way of staying in shape. Follow me as I show you how invisible chin ups and catching invisible insects can get you the rock hard abs you’ve always dreamed of. LET’S GO!”

The concept presumably relies upon the target audience being at such an advanced stage of obesity that the fat has entirely covered their ears, preventing them from hearing how awful the music is.

Gossip Blogger Attacked By Prehistoric Birds, Authorities Mildly Amused

In an incident that can only be described as a timely reminder that swift and brutal retribution from targets of internet gossip stalks us all, professional bottom feeder and occasional gossip blogger Perez Hilton has reportedly been attacked by a swarm of ill-tempered pterodactyls.

Following standard big fat moron protocol, at roughly 3:45am EST last Saturday, Hilton Twittered “I was assaulted by a group of pterodactyls with big nasty claws. I am bleeding. Please, I need to file a police report. No joke.” Although renowned for possessing the largest concentration of idiots in the Milky Way, the internet responded with a refreshing scepticism to claims that an assemblage of winged predators thought to have become extinct over 60 million years ago had returned to earth and were now targeting effeminate gossip bloggers.

In a bizarre twist, the Los Angeles Zoo issued a statement verifying Hilton’s claims, explaining that in a Jurassic Parkesque move to arrest dwindling patronage, they had hatched and bred a pack of the leathery beasts. In what the statement described as an unfortunate oversight, the pterodactyl enclosure was constructed without a roof, which zookeepers believe may have contributed to the escape of the creatures.

As top plastic surgeons attempt to repair the undoubtedly horrific facial disfiguration caused by the razor sharp talons of Hilton’s assailants, authorities are searching for a motive for the attack in between real police work. While not confirmed, Hilton allegedly penned a column a fortnight ago in which he outed members of the new pterodactyl enclosure as overweight closet transvestites, writing “let’s face it, they were losers 60 million years ago, and they’re losers now. The public want tyrannosauruses, not trannyosoreasses with outdated wardrobes and cellulite.”