Particular lolz to be had when a partner and art director of Mountain - the people responsible for this epic fashion disaster - responds.
"Three Wolf Moon" is sold out, and the Mountain has started printing up a fresh batch. It seems that the wolf theme was growing in popularity even before the Internet hipsters descended"
And this golden line: "Wolf shirts are super hot right now".
Browsing through Amazon this morning, I stumbled upon this fine piece of apparel - and it's user reviews.
Pros: Fits my girthy frame, has wolves on it, attracts women Cons: Only 3 wolves (could probably use a few more on the 'guns'), cannot see wolves when sitting with arms crossed, wolves would have been better if they glowed in the dark.
So if you're like us here at Milkcrate and you appreciate fine user reviews, wasting time and wolves click away and enjoy.
Its the time of the year where people congregate in pubs and lounge rooms around the world [mostly Europe but other pockets celebrate it too] and discuss the highs and lows of this years Eurovision. Each year the winning song is met with howls of protest and a song that didn't make it through the finals is cheered.
Its the time of year when your learn who your real friends are [the ones who love Eurovision] and make new friends as people you felt you have nothing in common with confess their dirty little Eurovision-love secret.
This year was the 53rd competition and it definitely hasn't run out of steam.
For english speaking viewers, BBC radio and television broadcaster Terry Wogan's commentary makes it more entertaining as he makes scathing but honest comments about costumes, hosts, and songs . Hell, he comments discouraging about everything! Bjorn Erichsen, director of Eurovision television, criticised Sir Terry Wogan stating "Wogan is a problem because he makes it ridiculous". I'm pretty sure Milkcrate readers will agree Eurovision contestants do do that by themselves with no help from Wogan!
Here in Australia people love it for the bizarre, but in Europe its a very serious contest. Each country whether or not they make it to the finals, get to vote up to 12 points to their favourites [their favourites usually being their neighbouring countries and the occasional 'Please dont attack and take over our country' vote.] So it comes as little surprise Russia usually makes it into the top 3 songs each year.
Each year it becomes more political due to this voting trend, and you can spot which country will vote for who from a mile away. Like block voting between the eastern, Balkan, Baltic and Nordic countries.
The United Kingdom rarely present a song worthy of winning [though Scooch's queerer than queer Air Hostess last year was pretty fantastic] but they will always be in the final, along with Germany, Spain and France as they finance the whole thing.
Being a non-European I don't understand how exactly it could be taken seriously. It's always full of drag queens, amazing stripping costume changes and very bizarre novelty songs.
I personally love the semi-finals. This is where the cracktastic gems are found. Deemed to be too ridiculous to be a contender for the winning song but are loved around the world as an underdog.
This year's semi-finals favourite was Ireland's "Irelande Douze Pointe" by Dustin The Turkey. Dustin, a hand puppet, mangles his way through a barely audible rant pleading for 12 points. One UK newspaper reported: "Strait-laced bosses at the European Broadcasting Union are checking the rules to see if Dustin can be BARRED. One highly placed source said: “A puppet on Eurovision would make a mockery of all that the contest stands for.”
Really? It certainly summed up Eurovision for me.
Milkcrate's picks were Spain's Baila el Chiki Chiki, (see right) with their Spanish middle-aged Elvis, Bosnia and Herzegovina's Pokušaj with their elderly brides and a washing line and Crotia's Romanca consisting of two elderly dementia-suffering rappers.
There was one song that was outstanding. Outstanding due to it being semi-serious yet amazing and looking like something that would be on the music channels in the english speaking world - Sebastien Tellier [and his golf cart and bearded ladies] with Divine
The song that did win was Dima Bilan with their song 'Believe'from Russia [surprise surprise!] . It had what seem to be the staple elements of a good Eurovision song - singer dressed in white, painful sincerity, a candle and at least one person rolling around on the floor [although it was missing a wind machine or some stripping]. It also had a violin player as well as an ice skater - that looked like Peter Tork from The Monkees - for no reason what so ever other than to take you're attention away from how boring the song was. Keep a look out for the terrifying Bob Downe-esque twist and smile at the camera from the skater.
The song that came third and SHOULD have won was a song called 'Secret Combination' by Kalomira from Greece. This presentation had a controversial shock in that the singer did not at all strip but but more clothes on!
It had the catchy chorus of:
My secret combination It 's a mystery for you Use your imagination I'm not easy but I'm true
and ended with the dazzling lyrics of:
An open book An open book Well I'm sorry I am not Sometimes I'm acting like a lady Sometimes woman, sometimes baby
So that's Eurovision over for another year. I cant wait for 2009's strangeness hosted in Russia.
Shoe manufacturer Converse, have announced a line of sneakers to commemorate the late Kurt Cobain -- fans of the 90's grunger will now be able to rock their very own morbid piece of footwear with the re-release of the Converse One Star, the very shoe Cobain was reported to be wearing when he shot himself in 1994.
The new One Star will feature a print of Cobain's signature next to the Converse Star logo, and gracing the inside of the shoe the words "Punk rock means freedom". Does it? How retro!
The shoes have been approved by Courtney Love & the Cobain estate and further details will be released by Converse in April.
A lot of you may have woken up on December the 1st and sighed in relief that November was over and you wouldn’t have to see a swarm of moustaches when you walked down your local high street.
But when you went to your local pub for a celebratory beer to celebrate the end of Movember, you saw that many fellow patrons had not picked up a razor.
You hoped that in January they would rid themselves of their upper lip (and sometimes, in horrible examples, lower lip fuzz) but no, they were still there, in all their patchy glory.
I am not against facial hair. It can make a man look distinguished and give him a look of old world class. What would Frank Zappa, Snidely Whiplash, Lemmy, John Waters, or Groucho Marx be with out their nose-nieghbours? What would have Salvador Dalí done without his waxy little artpiece? Would Fu Manchu be remembered if it weren’t for his catfish face? Hitler had a nifty little number, although he managed to make that particular style go crashing out of fashion.
I wouldn’t be so disgusted with the common mans facial hair if they used styling product. There’s a whole world of waxes out there to keep it looking stunning so why is all we see on the streets are ‘baby's first pornstache’ and out-of-control12 o'clock shadows?
Who wouldn’t want to grow a hairy pet on their upper lip that requires a snood to keep it in place at night-time so it didn’t elope with your hamster when you had you eyes closed?
If you want to prove you have generous ball sacks, gentleman PLEASE attempt more than a Flavour-Saver and some embarrassing fuzz. The size of your 'stache proves the potency of your swimmers. So gentlemen, go for the handlebar! How else are women to know you're virile?
Don’t be half arsed - grow a full ‘tache that proves you’ve finished with puberty!
And the good news is, if you’re an un-cultured bore, all you have to do is fondle the ends of your hairybeast and everyone will think you’re pondering the great mysteries of human existence instead of trying to remember if the pizza shop on the corner is open at 3am.
There's a new world sensation. No, it's not a mock designer paint splattered shirt, no, it's not pink polo tops with a white tie, and no, it's not tucking your shirt into your pants.
It's the gun holster.
They aren't just for cops any more they are for fashion police as well. The line has been drawn, either you are a bad-ass or you're a bad-ass possibly concealing a gun. It brings a whole new meaning to "is that a gun in your holster or are you just pleased to see me?"
Another fashion must is a man purse, other wise known as a murse. They aren't just for old ladies any more… Sexier than a backpack, but not as stiff as a briefcase, the murse is essential for the man on the go.
The holster and murse combo completely wipes out any need for unattractive bum bags or those messenger bags made of shitty acrylic (with the mobile phone compartment! The style never stops!).
It's all in the leather, and it's got to be black. Don't just stop with a belt, who can resist a black leather strap? Accompany your holster and murse with a wrist strap -- it screams 'I can't leave my sexcapades at home'. Girls go crazy for it.
Murses are excellent carry-alls, suitable for anything from your fifth bottle of gin to your battered copy of FHM. However, it might be too bulky for everyday wear. This is where the holster comes in.
The holster is compact, but good for multitasking. If you're going out light you can slip your mobile in there, a small tube of lubricant and a condom and you're set for wild casual sex in the alley. It's a call and response team in itself .
Or for the casual day out, put your money clip, keys and mobile in. Once you're armed with a holster, no-one is ever going to steal anything from you again. And who's going to question a man that looks like an undercover cop? Didn't get your ticket for the tram? Sorted.
You want to mean business with the holster so a t-shirt will not cut it. It best to wear the holster over a dry-clean only shirt and a silk tie. If you wear the murse with this there is no need for a tie bar as the murse straps the tie in. You don't want your tie flailing about upsetting your controlled look.
It's all about the control: secretly women like a man who'll take control. And nothing says control like a man who looks like he's packing a gun.