It’s been a strange month. First, the Zimmerman verdict. Oof.
Then the Rolling Stone cover-controversy,
an inane beef trumped up by sanctimonious crazies and hypocritical corporations
across the country. Then milk shoots out of several million British tits as the
royal baby emerges from the semi-royal vajayjay. Meanwhile, our man Dennis Fucking
Farina sails off into the Great Beyond, a mere two days after I watch him rape
and torture a bunch of teenage girls with incandescent thespian Billy Zane in the
1989 TV-movie tour-de-force, The Hillside
Stranglers. (Dick Crenna, of Rambo
and The Flamingo Kid fame, stars as
the drunken cop who takes them down while banging a potential witness on the
side. Highly recommended.) Of course, our old friend Varg Vikernes was also
hauled out of bed in his orange undies by the French police this month,
arrested for terrorism alongside his pregnant wife. They’re released in less
than 36 hours.
If we consulted the stars, I’m sure we would discover that
these events are inherently linked. Something in Zimmerman’s astrological chart
probably says that it’s okay for him to be on the cover of every newspaper in
the country but it’s fucking unforgivable to put the Chechen bomber kid on the
cover of Rolling Stone. Similarly,
something in Farina’s chart probably dictated that he had to buy out in order
for the royal baby to buy in. It’s like the end of The Big Lebowski: Donnie dies, but Maude and the Dude have a little
Lebowski on the way. Or something like that.
So how does our boy Varg fit into the cosmic picture? The terrorism
seems like an obvious link, if you discount the fact that the police seemed
satisfied that Varg and his wife aren’t actually terrorists. Could it be the
racism? The Zimmerman trial was nothing if not racially charged, and Varg is a
notorious bigot. But no—I’m pretty sure that’s not it, either. I’m almost positive it was the orange undies.
Varg went out of his way to mention them in his three-part
blog post after the arrest. In fact, he dedicated an entire awesome paragraph
to his orange undies: “Sorry to digress, but sometimes when you buy underwear
you get three underpants in one package, and for some reason at least one of
these are always in some horrible colour, and of course I was wearing such a
pair of underpants on Thuesday [sic] morning. A pair of strikingly orange
underpants. Having been repeatedly dragged out into the street or prison
hallways or similar in my underwear before, by the Norwegian police or prison
guards, I thought to myself that this was going to repeat itself and I would be
photographed with my little belly, my thin hair, my tanned arms in great
contrast to my pale body and — wearing horribly orange underpants. (Everybody
would believe that I was actually Dutch…)”
Varg’s undies are paramount to tying the events of this past
month together. And not just because they serve as surrogate for the orange
jumpsuit that Zimmerman was mysteriously not
wearing at his bond hearing, unlike just about every other defendant in
recent Floridian bond-hearing history. The primary reason is this: I was
wearing orange undies—and nothing else—when I was watching The Hillside Stranglers on TV and definitely not eating cookies and
smoking weed two nights before Dennis Farina died. And I was wearing them for
the same reason that Varg was wearing them when he was arrested: There’s always
that one horrible color in the three-pack. You gotta wear ’em sometime. Especially
when something big is about to happen.
This bullshit originally appeared in the October 2013 issue of Decibel magazine.
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