EPISODE153 - Hot-Damn, Psi*Run and Indie+

You know what? It's time for a little shake-up. It's time for the Earth to move. Tonight we pull the choks out and get something new off the ground. SPACKLE TIME! What's Spackle Time? It's new! Tonight we're talking a little Psi*Run, which I'll be running a game of after the show in the afterparty Hangout, as well as why I'm prepping for an online convention, indie+! But we wouldn't leave you in the lurch, there'll be Trailer Trash, with the wonderful array of incisive media criticism you expect from us. Which is, er ... (a lot?)

sabradell: G/D Talkshoe will not fricking let me call in again

sabradell: I turned off my firewalls, have a good connection and do not have Skype or anything running

sabradell: pro

sabradell: Talkshoe pro

sabradell: LOL


EPISODE152 - Things Are Going Off, One Way Or Another

This weeks the beez return to their hives and they'll be telling you about how runny the honey is while you're watching. There is a pronounced absence of dick. Sometimes you'll just get A LOT better after taking something for your headache. And if there's time, there'll be random acts of kindness. That and Trailer Trash which opens tonight with one of our favourite things on Earth and an actress from one of the best movies tonight. Catch us live or listen after the fact on!

Semiapies: Maybe a 2:1 would be better than 1:1.

Semiapies: (For this drink.)

Semiapies: I am muted?

TakeiG: thank you

The Big Leneski: Oooohh mmmmyyy ~


EPISODE151 - Put a Little Love in Your Mouth, Mummy!

It'll be funky tonight. You'll get up into our horns and we'll get all funky in your mouth, like any good show should! It's a three-way, three-way tonight! We know more than what bears do in the wood. And you'll get a real mouthful right at the end of the News Cycle. Plus you'll get a good, solid chunk of the best and brightest Trailer Trash in the business. Bring your friends, bring your enemies, bring your need for a good time and we'll stick it to you!

Koolguy: hey

Koolguy: eating a lot of food, so i'm muting myself

Koolguy: i always have fun on this or logans cal

Koolguy: commence primary ignition

The SquidLord:

Koolguy: spooky ass song but i like it

The SquidLord: Here Come the Mummies - Single Double Triple

Koolguy: nice my friend

The Big Leneski: so 70s!

Koolguy: 70s we're the time

Koolguy: lots of similar music and fun times

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

Koolguy: yeah it was epic

The Big Leneski: +Operation BSU

The Big Leneski: 724 444 7444

The Big Leneski: call ID 33899

Koolguy: i like funky...

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski: witty comment!

Logan*: only thing I can say is "Squid, FUNK you"

Sarry: for some reason I now have the theatrical version of Thriller video playing in my head.

blissful_kaos: I am just sticking with being in the chat tonight. woo

Sarry: first time

Sarry: Hahahahahahaaa hey alexander

blissful_kaos: Because I don't want to forget not to hit mute and get on a good rant.

Koolguy: uh, yah

Logan*: and you are missing my wonderous intro.....the show is not the same without introing me

Koolguy: nope

blissful_kaos: I need to get to texas to make him feel better.

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

Sarry: I normally have work etc when this is there a way to call in free Im wondering lol....should i try the talkshoe live pro one?

Koolguy: im lookin forward to that

Koolguy: very damn dead

blissful_kaos: xlite sucks as far as I can tell.

The Big Leneski:

blissful_kaos: Blink is awesome.

Sarry: or move to the USA? LOL


Logan*: page 7

Sarry: Or you can move here!

Koolguy: lord what?

blissful_kaos: Me and Pie...


Koolguy: thats better

blissful_kaos: All up in the living room.

Koolguy: i'd love hearin that

Koolguy: OH YEH!

Koolguy: i love this

Sarry: brb

Koolguy: favorite show type

The SquidLord:

The SquidLord:

Koolguy: sex can do that if done long enough

Koolguy: nope, definitely not

Sarry: gee the format of talkshoe pro is way different

blissful_kaos: blink is better for talking on air... and talkshoe pro sucks. :)

Sarry: didnt want to waste time right now but I will look later :-)

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:


The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

Sarry: I aactually saw it originally here for news in australia where i am

Koolguy: british and australian women, my type and a half

Sarry: Hahaha thats what Alex tells me!

blissful_kaos: now, we're all scared of alex's junk.


The SquidLord:

The SquidLord:

Sarry: try this

The SquidLord:

Koolguy: viewing it ina few

The Big Leneski:

Koolguy: what a band

Logan*: So is it FAZZ?

The Big Leneski:

Koolguy: sex stunt man, wowo

Sarry: pmsl at the youtube vid

The Big Leneski:

Sarry: of here come mummies...

Sarry: wonder how much toilet paper they use to wrap themselves?

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

Koolguy: heh

Koolguy: woa, nice

Koolguy: no sense, looks seductive

Koolguy: i like this

The Big Leneski:

The Big Leneski:

The SquidLord:

Koolguy: wtf!

The Big Leneski:

Sarry: scale of +1 to what? lol!

The Big Leneski:

blissful_kaos: Our rating system is -5 to +5

blissful_kaos: Of how much we want to see it...

John Carter: Something Wicked This Way Comes

The Big Leneski: garble

Sarry: ahhh the audio is breaking on me!! :-((

The SquidLord: Is TalkShoe hating us?

Logan*: major garble

John Carter: I duidn't mean to

The SquidLord: Hmmm, TS is thrashing.

Logan*: better

The Big Leneski: yup I dropped it was so bad

Logan*: it is gone again

The Big Leneski: still trashing on my end.

blissful_kaos: Yuck.

Sarry: oh it wasnt just me then? I was blaming AUSTRALIA! lol

blissful_kaos: I'll translate what Alex is saying.

blissful_kaos: He's bitching.

The SquidLord: Bzzz-robot-hmmmm.

John Carter: thank you MegaTron

The Big Leneski: close it.

blissful_kaos: Loudly.

blissful_kaos: Yeah, we still can't hear you.

John Carter: back!

The Big Leneski:

x0xPiex0x: gone again

John Carter: oh wait

blissful_kaos: At least it's the end of the show.

Sarry: gone again

blissful_kaos: It wouldn't even let me mute myself.

blissful_kaos: Talkshoe is fucked.

The SquidLord: Sigh.

The SquidLord: I see I'll be doing a hard edit.

The Big Leneski: stick a fork in us

John Carter: end of line...

The SquidLord: I think we're done here, folks. Le sigh.


Here Come the Mummies Certainly Came, and Funked Us Good

It's exactly what it says on the tin.
It's like Broadway, but ... not.
We're an odd bunch here at Operation BSU. We do crazy things like pretend that we're journalists just to get in to places for free, and then ... actually report on them. Like good journalists. Which is kind of obscene, if you stop to think about it. Citizen journalism? In this day and age? What crap!

A couple of weeks ago, I was shambling along the streets of Athens, GA, home of fine musical acts like REM and Man or Astroman, and I wandered within line of sight in front of the newly reopened and remodeled Georgia Theater. What to my wondering eyes should appear but the upcoming playbills! Not just any playbills, but hidden among the piles was a thin green flimsy promising the near-immediate appearance of Here Come the Mummies!

I turned to my faithful schmooze-master and PR coordinator, The Big Leneski, and I said, "Holy shit, Here Come the Mummies!"

Whereupon he dove to the concrete in a three-point combat stance and said, "Where? Where?" while fumbling for the butt of his non-extant crossbow or M-16. I think maybe we've been playing a lot of zombie games and the mention of the undead, well, it was swift and concerning.

"No, dumbass. On the upcoming shows! Here Come the Mummies! They're great! Imagine a bunch of guys who dress like mummies, get up on stage, then throw down the rockingest hard jazz you've ever heard, all the while cracking mummy sex jokes! They're awesome!"

The lights are right for a par-tay.
I'm not too proud to say there were some speculative looks. Not all my ideas are guaranteed winners. Some are awesome, some are ... niche. Deeply niche. Like hidden behind the real books and underneath your pile of animal fetish porn niche. But this is a good crew. They tend to let my personal foibles go in favour of the big news and, besides, if I was this enthused about a band, how bad could it be?

Right? Right? Beuller?

Right. I'm brilliant and in possession of the best taste of any producer / editor / news coordinator ever. I'm writing this, so I get to craft the backstory. If I've learned nothing else from my years of watching CNN, MSNBC and Fox, I've learned that!

David Prime, The Big Leneski,
and the SquidLord lurk in
Taste of India.
Fast-forward to Thursday, June 14th. It's a fairly quiet day in Athens, GA. The sun is shining (a little too brightly for the solar-adverse). The birds are chirruping. No one I know that actually lives in town is around. So we, being proper journalists, take the opportunity to start drinking. As I've said before, one of the best things about journalism is that no one expects you to do it sober. A little early afternoon aperitif, and by that I mean holy-shit-that-is-strong German Chocolate Cake shots, really gets the blood pumping. Especially on an empty stomach.

We're real journalists, damnit! This proves it! All I lack is the little brown hat with the "PRESS' tag on it.

I'll get me one of those hats, my pretty. Just you wait and see.

Once you're good and soused, it's poor form not to go get some of the finest food that lies within the city you've been fulminating within, and for that we hit my favourite old stand-by, Taste of India. This is a place full of curries and tandoori and that most holy of foods, kema naan, but for my entree I order one thing: tandoori steak.
Blasphemy! Delicious, wonderful blasphemy.

Tandoori steak. Is there a word for how inchoately blasphemous I am? I must be pretty horrific since I almost successfully asked the waitress out to dinner.

Eventually, it was time to go settle in to the Theater and check out the seating arrangements. The rebuild of the interior was nice indeed. The entry goes right by a smallish bar. You walk forward and down to the floor level, which is roughly the size of the 40 Watt a few blocks away, though about 30% wider ... but the stairs winding up the side attract your attention, and your eye travels up, up, up, noting along the way the three tiers of further rail-side / table seating, where all the adults sit. At the very tip-top ...

... There is another bar.

Take into account that this is a venue which is now known for having a bar on the roof and throwing $2 roof parties, and you can see what this really is. The Holy Grail for journalists.

Up on the rooftop, click click click.
Three bars, elevated seating for those who might be a tad short, and what's that I see? Gigantic fans? Let me do a few quick volume-energy computations and -- there. Right there. That's where we'll be sitting for the show. Air moves there. I need moving air badly.

But not too badly yet. We've come in right after the doors open, stumbling down from the bar on the roof (thank Hades for elevators). The place is ... surprisingly empty. A scattering of upper-middle class couples, a minor fistfull of college kids kicking around with no place better to go on a Thursday night until school is back in session. Us.

It's a strange crowd, especially for a college town in the off-season.

Then that happened.

This is where we start pointing out things that got liveblogged from the concert itself, which you can catch a great amount of over on the Operation BSU Google Plus page, where its all been neatly placed in the posting feed.

Mummies Alive! And funking you up.
I want to contextualize this properly for you. Here Come the Mummies started off the show by starting to play outside the theater, jamming hardcore as they came up through the crowd, and leaped up on stage to essentially play for the next two hours solid. Solid. These poor bastards just don't take a break. Ever. I have seriously maintained after the concert that they are not, in fact, dressed as mummies. Those are just multiple layers of towels they use to absorb the sweat that would otherwise pour out and wash away the crowd.

The brass section knows no fear.

Pretty much like that. For two hours.

"Why would you think we're into bondage, anyway?"
I'd be a liar if I told you that this show did not rock beyond rock, like Mum-Ra the Everliving. Look over here at the two girls dressed as mummies. Those are the bartenders. How much has a band got to ooze with pure, gelignite awesome to get the bar staff to jump in with that kind of excitement? That's a miracle! A Christmas miracle! Except it happened in June and I didn't get to unwrap any presents.


If I were a proper music journalist, I'd already have an entire set list, probably stolen straight off the stage at the end of the set and meticulously noted upon with multiple colours deliberately working out every what and wherefore of each individual song and how the light board guy must've programmed the macros, and what brand of foot pad the lead singer used purely from the shape of his foot prints in the dripping sweat of the front row.

I'm not that kind of journalist. I have video!

Here is a thing that happened. The Mummies have a song called "Let Your Freak Flag Fly." Simple enough, right? Only their stage show involves bringing out two massive flags marked "FREAK," going all colour-guard on our asses, then handing one to another mummy on a tricycle that proceeds to ride all around the stage, waving his freak flag high.

I realize that sounds unbelievable, so here's more footage from a live show out in California.

The freak flag was well and truly flown.

Which was rather a theme of the night. If you've already gone out there, digging around, looking for Here Comes the Mummies videos and music, you know that there's a strong thread of -- I can't say "alternate sexuality" in good conscience. Maybe "omni-sexuality." The Mummies are sexual beings. They want to stick it in anywhere it'll fit, and if that takes a little stretching or maybe some consensual cutting, that's fine too. What I'm saying is that there are a lot of overtly sexual events that are positively commonplace on stage.

For instance, someone might strap on a cowbell attached to a belt (or, more specifically, a "cowbelt") then run out on stage, thrusting their hips in rhythm and asking the crowd who wants a little more gong in their thing or on their dong.

Everyone wants more gong for their dong!
And we have a volunteer from the audience.
That, friends, is a thing that happened. The Mummies picked a guy from the front row -- one there with a fairly attractive tall-woman in tight leather pants and platform shoes that made me almost able to touch her fuzzed-out hair from my lofty seat -- brought him on stage, then strapped a dong-gong cowbelt on him and let him play along.

No one doubts the power of a three-piece horn
section to funk your face off. The guy in front certainly
learned about it.
You've seen the video. You've seen the photos. Yes.

I've really been saving the best for last, in terms of "what the fuck did I just see?" quality.

I'll tell you right now, if you are of cowardly disposition, if you think you might be easily offended, if you have even an inkling that you could find a moment of horror by sharing my experiences, you'd probably best just sashay away to another blog, sweetie-pie, because I've been saving the awesome for awesome-place.

This is the awesome place. I'm not even joking, not a little bit.

Imagine you've been feasting on this panoply of wonder. Your face has been well and truly funked, in multiple positions as David Prime would have it. You are relaxing on a golden wave of that euphoria that a good concert evokes in all of us. You know, it's almost post-coital, except right before the post part.

You're feeling good, is what I'm saying.

And this man takes the stage.

"Freak flag? I'm wearing it!"
This man is Libido Kineval. He is a sexual stunt man. He is pointedly not the Unknown Stuntman, because I'm pretty damn sure he gets the girls nine-times-out-of-ten. He is flamboyant, he is powerful, he is a man that knows exactly what he wants.

And what he wants, er ...

... is apparently a sex couch, two inflatable sex dolls, and an inflatable goat, which he thrusts into, head-first, atop a giant skateboard. Seriously, go to the bit starting at 2:50 in the video above.

There are no words.

Careful, you'll get some funk on ya.
There are tonnes of words, actually, but none seem fitting so well as to note that was not the end of the show. There was a good thirty more minutes of sheer, balls-to-the-wall rocking out to be had, and we had it all. We ate it up. We gobbled down the throbbing cock of their horny sound and wiped off the mustache of funk before crying out for more. We rocked the funk out.

And after the show, even though they didn't have to, the Mummies hung around in the lobby and talked to the fans a while. Now one would have complained if, after a two hour long, hardcore, sweaty and breathy carnival of madness, if they had retired from the floor and hurried to stand in a forty-five minute shower. But there they were, pressing the flesh.

"Them! Kill all of them! The Leneski so commands!"

While the Leneski threatens, David Prime takes this opportunity to shit his pants in sheer terror.

It's a tongue-off. The woman in the back seems inordinately happy about this.
And this is why Operation BSU is your weekly show for sheer, mind-curdling horror. And pretty solid music.



Look, I know I have a reputation for covering the zombie apocalypse in progress in terrible detail, but tonight? No cannibalism. Terrorism? Not cannibalism. Teen Titans? Not cannibalism. Neo-Nazis? Not cannibalism. Not even the See to It's tonight involve cannibalism! Hurray! Trailer Trash is looking pretty sweet, too. You know you love that stuff. Bring EVERY SINGLE PERSON YOU KNOW. I promise we won't eat them.

(Sorry to disappoint certain of our fans, but an exposition character warned us that another show on rampant cannibalism would constitute a Cannibal Moon and probably trigger a zombie apocalypse.)

beezus: Hi - I don't have a voice1

beezus: That was easy for you to say!

Cranky Yank: Hi

beezus: How is "Semiapies" pronounced?

Koolguy: i will be on mute mostly, due to tired from playing Star wars old republic all day


EPISODE149 - What's eating you?

It's not every week that the world conspires to make the show for us, but between loyal viewers sending in their news spotting and our own endless scouring the depths of the news well, this week is going to be MASSIVE. Everywhere from Florida to Sweden, sweetmeats to bath salts. If it's the end of the world, then we know it and I feel fine. The best news in the world followed by Trailer Trash, tonight, worldwide. Come, dig in!

Nelal Hurcran: Okay, I need to actually take the time to set up my studio.

Katherine_Boone: I hope so!

Katherine_Boone: I muted it.

Nelal Hurcran: Give me a few minutes.

Nelal Hurcran: The phone just won't work anymore.

EPISODE148 - Zombies Leathered Up and Face Down

You know what I never seem to get enough of? Cannibalism. No, I'm not kidding. I'm not saying tonight is all about cannibalism, I'm just saying it's not illegal in Japan is what I'm saying. Also, fetal corpses, and putting genitals in your mouth. Also, the most addictive video game design known to man. Plus, Trailer Trash, which everyone on EARTH is compelled by. Tell your friends!

Koolguy: gonna dial in

Koolguy: hold on

NascentSelf: some stupid insect bit me

NascentSelf: damn him

Koolguy: sucks, i once got stung in the middle finger

EPISODE147 - We're Tenacious, We Like Fruit, and The Bee Hives Are Empty!

There is crazy here. I mean, tonnes of crazy. Endless fields. Tonight's news involves getting the Hell out of the US, we're Seeing To something that I can suck on all night long, The D is back pounding in our ears with their new album, I've seen a new Person of Interest, and there is the best damn entertainment edge you'll ever find, Trailer Trash.


Logan*: brb

The SquidLord: Our interstitial music of the moment:

The SquidLord:

The SquidLord: The Big Leneski, three semitones flat since '92.