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.