Whatever he's on...trademark it, patent it, and put it in the Library of Congress

MADISON, Wis. – A rural Wisconsin man apparently enraged by Bristol Palin's "Dancing with the Stars" routine blasted his television with a shotgun, leading to an all-night standoff with a SWAT team, investigators said.

Steven Cowan, 67, was arrested Tuesday morning after officers coaxed him out of his house in Vermont, a rural community near Madison. Cowan, who is accused of threatening his wife with the gun after destroying the television, appeared in a Madison courtroom Wednesday on a charge of second-degree reckless endangerment. His bail was set at $1,500.

Cowan's attorney at the hearing, Jonas Bednarek, declined to comment.

Cowan's wife, Janice Cowan, told investigators that her husband suffers from bipolar disorder and had threatened her life in the past.

According to court documents, Janice Cowan said her husband came home Monday from the bar and had a beer with dinner before they settled down to watch "Dancing with the Stars."

When Palin, the 20-year-old daughter of tea party favorite Sarah Palin, began her routine, Cowan jumped up and began swearing, saying something like "The (expletive) politics." His wife said he was upset that a political figure's daughter was dancing on TV even though he felt she didn't have talent.

Janice Cowan told investigators her husband left the living room and reappeared 20 minutes later with his shotgun, "raging" with his face bright red, and blasted the TV. She said he then pointed the gun at her and told her to go fetch his pistols, and threatened to kill himself if she brought anyone back. According to the criminal complaint, Steven Cowan's daughter recently took away his handguns for safekeeping. It did not elaborate.

"He scared the bejebees out of me," she told detectives.

Janice Cowan fled the home and went to an attorney's office, where she phoned police.

She told officers that about 15 years ago her husband had threatened her with a machete when he couldn't find some ammunition and has threatened to shoot one of their cows.

She added he was under stress because of financial reasons, saying a doctor helping him with his mental health problems had suggested he temporarily turn over control of properties he rents out to the family's attorney. Calls on Wednesday to a number listed as the Cowans' could not be connected.

The Internet has been abuzz in recent days about how Bristol Palin, who has consistently landed at the bottom of the judges' leaderboard, has been able to remain on the ABC show. Some have suggested that voters — particularly supporters of her mother — have been voting in blocs and manipulating the system.

Both Palins have denied any organized vote-getting tactics. Bristol Palin says voters support her despite lackluster performances because she started the show with no dancing experience.

Behold A Pale Whore - Memoirs by Spike

Damn! I dreamt that I woke up swimming in a pile of reds and black beauties! The reality of the situation is that I actually woke up face down in a pile of half-chewed cocktail wieners and Jager. I swear that's the last time I cruise the Craigslist "Missed Connections" section looking for the power twink with daddy issues that caught my eye on that fateful autumn morning. Trust me, sausage and anise flavored liquor is not the throat-gasm drip you think it is. But then again, I'm used to having beef franks lodged in the back of my throat....sometimes for pay but mostly for play.

So, lamenting my existence, I decided to slam some methaqualone. Next, I wept and rubbed some seed over my collection of old handbills. Good times, but then two stuck together flyers caught my eye. As I peeled away the 1978 Halloween Show advert for my former band PLO Handjob, I found this picture underneath.



It is a Pakistan Airlines advert from the same year. Bad taste? Even worse than reclaimed dumpster meat? Or just the government shoving a cold cock in your ear.

Teabaggers: No Nuts, Not My Problem.

I know what you're askin. What the hell drugs are these Teabaggers ass slammin? Try this experiment. Take grandpa's tumbler and fill it with of Ammonium Nitrate. Now add a AA battery and put it in the microwave and press cook. Now while you're watching your house go up in flames slam an Ether/409/PCP cocktail up your urethra. Feel the burn cause you got the Rand Paul fever.

Which brings me to my point, its time for me to update the list of things teabaggers hate. So far, after a quick glance at the LA XXpress, we've established that the Tea Party hates black people, mexicans, vegetables, craft brew, actual currency, facts, admitting that their teenage daughter is pregnant-barefoot-married to a mexican and or black man, filtering their chain e-mails for racist and furpie content, reality, any gun that isn't fully automatic, school, college, advanced degrees that you earn in college, fluoride, and now women.

Shit, I haven't seen that many middle aged white men attack a woman with a pixie cut since the great Mendocino Snuff Film Festival of '79. I mean fuck, The Earthquake never even got that much velocity on his ass hammer.



And now straight from a black balloon, I'm hearing the man responsible for the "teeth on the curb" thuggery wants an apology from the victim. That takes balls- And in a perfect world, those balls should be whacked off like el gordo swingin' away at his birthday pinata!

Chapter 34: Cover Art aka Page of Scribbled Shit n' Piss

Gather around young children, let Uncle Spike tell you about cover art. Cover Art can make or break you, and since your wayward junkie uncle has the attention span of a Tenderloin Hooker looking for a good time...here is the long and short of it...see kids that's a cliche but we'll save that for our "I'm a victimized gold card yuppie urban poet and I play no instruments" workshop.

Ok, hipster dipshit, I'm going to take two bands with the same name and point out the do's and don'ts.

Here is an example of shitty boner curdling artwork.



Lets see, a band who hails by Hammerhead because what is more extreme than a stupid re-tard looking shark that has a habit of being bludgeoned to death by happy dolphins. Ok, I see a dune buggy...because we can't exclude the douchebag motorcross market...I see a football helmet...because if there's one sport a band from England loves it is American Football. Fucking stupid but smart since surburban droids from Detroit are the only ones buying this, Faygo, and the Insane Clown Posse box set. Lastly, looking at this manly artwork, I've inferred that the title of the album should read, "Will To Survive...Violent Crenshaw Buttstabbing". Listen metaldicks, if you're going to be a band obsessed with death and war and drop tuning your instruments...I'm going to show you how its done.

If you're going to be metal then you better do it right asshole. Here is an example....



1. Name your band "Fucking" and your first album better be titled "Metal". Consider yourself a poser.

Moving on.....


Here is an example of good or indifferent artwork. Same name, different band. American, Fuck yeah!



Kids, notice the brain puzzling artwork on this EP. The redheaded stepchild with the old timey vacuum bulbs and B movie font makes you think...its a surf band...its a, its a garage band...its Perry Cuomo's Bastard Child...hmm, what the fuck is this band. Answer, hand over $55.99 to some anglophile on ebay and you'll find out its the best thing you've never heard. The artwork kinda sucks but who cares, at least it doesn't remind you of an ill-fated shower party.


Want some musics?
Lucid Media has a few albums up by this band. Noise Rock!
Hammerhead - Into the Vortex Lp
Hammerhead - Duh, The Big City Lp

Coke Nap Records Release - Give us your money!

"Quit your yammerin' you fucks, Spikes about to open his trench coat of goods and shower some sweet rain over your submissive cherry bottom! Last night, while I was dangling my good leg over the Santa Monica Pier after another fight with South Bay Mud, I said to myself, "Spike, LA needs an enema...a rock and roll filled colonic"! So Spike knew exactly where to find some talent on the quick, good ole 6th and Spring. Apparently, I showed up 5 minutes after 8 and the pigs had already shut my talent show down. So I did the next best thing, I knocked on some tents at 1st and Main and rustled out 3 fuckers assbumping gold flake and a part-time PowerDom out of the LAXXpress..."

Coke Nap Records Presents

Three Douches / Captain Jizzbeard Split EP




Side A - Three Douches
1. "Spike Anderson's Needle Supply"
2. "Docks After Dark"
3. "Smells like Pepperdine Dropouts"



Side B - Captain Jizzbeard
1. "Snuff Films & Wine Coolers"
2. "Sex President"


....But Spike, "where can I buy the slab, where can I score something that looks white..." Same place as always, out of some guys van in the Smell parking lot (usually guarded by a vagrant) or a flop house near you. Now fuck off Ne'er do Wells

Cash Grab of the Week - Iggy Pop Edition

Rock n Roll is dead! It withered up like a washed up geezer's scrotum - dried, shriveled, lifeless upon a heap of self tanner at a Tampa "Sun Club"! The point is that you have to remember the good times...like in '78 when, mid set, you had to deliver your girlfriend's baby in the dumpster behind CBGB's - you popped that sucker out and sold it fast. Shit, you were even back in time to hear the power get cut on Television's gig - spared shitty art punk wanking by the Rock Gods. Good times.



Or in '84 when you sold your Stones tickets for what you thought was a speedball and then the next day you woke up with dead hookers littered all over your Travel Lodge bathroom in Lancaster. At first you thought "shit, I should have just used my ticket to nod off in my bleacher seat, pay $20 dollars a beer, and watch that fuck Mick Jagger actually work for his scag and coke money by eating a mars bar out of a hooker's snatch." But then you remembered anything goes in Lancaster and realized that you made the right choice. Yep, Rock has given you, well,...great times!

Flash forward to 2010 and Jack Daniels is sponsoring its own music festival. Shit, I use that wash for sobering up and disinfecting lacerations from shank fights with Silverlake drag queens. Weak shit, hey fucko, yeah you! Spike is having his own music festival. Its called Fucko Festival, sponsored by Ether. Now that is a worthy sponsor, that shit will grab you by the balls man! Now, if I could only get insurance, preferably insurance online, I could make a go of this.

Another death knell - Hauled ass down to the Roxy the other day to dropkick the owner for not allowing my powerslop band, Beefgore, to play the battle of the bands and the youth were drinking light beer before the gig. When I was their age I was dropping straight grain and black beauties like mouth wash and tic tacs.

And now Iggy Pop is trying to sell us insurance. Ironic, since the amount of abuse he put on his kidneys would make Stevie Nick's nose blush. That alone would disqualify himself from actual insurance coverage.

The torment of selling out must have been soul crushing - the convo went something like this, "Well Mr. Pop its been 25 years since you were last relevant and your fans are too stupid to actually use a computer and/or too broke to have insurance so we are prepared to offer you some Lo-Carb Red Bull and a Snickers bar for your services and namesake" to which the reply was, "Where do I sign!"

Fuck, rock is DEAD - insured, bloated, smeared with peanut butter, and floating two inches deep next to a shopping cart in the LA river. The epitaph reads, "Just Ride! - brought to you by The Man."

One more thing, Fuck you Iggy!



Oh, and here is the flyer/evidence of the battle of the bands that my band was booted from. Beefgore, voted best LA powerslop band by the LA XXpress and LA Reader - remember the name.