Satanic Christmas

"The dyslexic devil worshiper sold his soul to Santa."*

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I've been waiting ten fucking months to post this. It was about time.

And, honestly... I can't possibly think of a better way to sum up my year.

I don't know if I'll post anything before New Year's Eve, but, if I don't, I'll just tell you right now that I wish you a happy New Year – or, at least, I wish that your next year will be slightly less fucked up than the last one – and I hope Santa brings you as many dinosaurs as he possibly can.

Sometimes the thing you need most comes in the least expected form.

To me, this was it.

Have a Satanic Christmas you all... no blasphemy indended ;)



Of course, if this doesn't seem Satanic enough, you can always turn up the Cherrytree factor.



Creepy, heh?

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Oh, and happy, happy, happy, happy birthday to Lemmy Kilmister – I don't give a fuck if I'm one day late.

After all, celebrating Lemmy's birthday is what all this Christmas thing is all about, right? ;)

Stay well, mate. Rock and roll needs you.

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...and whatever gets you though the (holy) night.

*Credit on the joke goes to 99.9 KISW The Rock Of Seattle and their #BadJokeFriday.

'Happy Holidays from Depeche Mode'

Depeche Mode's official Christmas postcard for 2013. Do I even have to say anything at all? I think not :'D

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I wrote to Benjamin Ebel about a week ago suggesting him to reuse this concept for Tokio Hotel, but I think he was too busy searching the whole internet in hopes to find the hipsterest Christmas greeting available (PS. mission accomplished) to listen to my selfless advice, so, in the end, he just wrote a standard three-sentence 'Merry Christmas' message in their name... without even photoshopping a picture to go with it! Ah... what happened to the good old days, when we got a brand new Photoshop creation EVERY DAY? Gone! They're gone - just like Neon Dogs' future. 

The poor guy(s) overworked themselves to death in the first half of 2013, but there's no problem, because, once again, I've generously volunteered to do the work for them. So, here's my Tokio Hotel Christmas postcard for 2013, 100% free from Photoshop - just like Benjamin Ebel likes it! ;)

Now that's what I call Christmas Spirit! :D

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PS. Christmas Eve wasn't as bad as I expected... pretty much as always. Thanks to the good old music in my Christmas playlist for helping me get through yet another Christmas dinner. And the good thing is now I can go stress-free for almost a week. No planning; no cleaning - just the usual stuff... 

...or perhaps not?

68 Jahre Rock & Roll

"I was born Ian Fraser Kilmister on Christmas Eve, 1945, some five weeks premature, with beautiful golden hair which, to the delight of my quirky mother, fell out five days later. No fingernails, no eyebrows, and I was bright red. My earliest memory is shouting: at what and for what reason, I don't know. Probably a tantrum, or I may have been rehearsing. I was always an early starter.

My father was not pleased. I suppose you could say me and my father didn't hit it off - he left three months later. Perhaps it was the hair falling out; perhaps he thought I was already taking after him.

My father had been a padre in the RAF during the war, and my mother was a very pretty young librarian with no idea of the duplicity of the clergy - I mean, you teach people that the Messiah was the offspring of a vagabond's wife (who is a virgin) and a ghost? And this is a basis for a worldwide religion? I'm not so sure. I figured if Joseph believed that one, he deserved to sleep in stables!"

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"Talking of two two-faced bastards - my band, Motörhead, got nominated for a Grammy in 1991. The music industry doing us yet another favour, you know. So I got on the plane in Los Angeles - New York's a long walk. I had a pint of Jack Daniels in my pocket: I always find it helps with the sobering up. As we taxied elegantly out on to the sun-drenched tarmac, I took a sip and mused pleasantly on this and that.

A voice: 'Give me taht bottle!'

I looked up; a stewardess with concrete hair and a mouth like an asshole repeated herself, as history will - 'Give me that bottle!'

Well, I don't know what you might have done, honoured reader, but the fucking thing was bought and paid for. No chance. I volunteered this information. The reply: 'If you don't give me that bottle, I shall put you off the plane!'

This was becoming interesting; we were about fifth in the queue for take-off, were already late, and this bonehead bitch was going to take us out of the line for one pint of Jack Daniels?

'Fair enough,' I said. 'Put my ass off this fucking plane right now,' or words to that effect. And can you believe it, the stupid cretin did it! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! She made all those people late and miss their connections in New York, all for a pint of the amber pick-me-up ...So what? Fuck her! And the horse she rode in on! Come to think of it, perhaps she was the horse she rode in on! I got another flight an hour and a half later.

It was an inauspicious start to the festivities, and it carried on like it began. When we got to the fabled Radio City (Home of the Stars!), everyone was dressed in hired penguin tuxedos, trying to look as much as possible like the motherfuckers who were stealing their money! I don't wear tuxes - I don't think it's really me, you know? And I don't think the ushers liked the Iron Cross.

Anyway, having been nominated for a Grammy for our first album for Sony, I had foolishly entertained the idea that the company might be pleased. I don't think they even noticed! I have still, to this day, not been lucky enough to gaze, enthralled, upon the splendour that is Tommy Mottola - that night he was probably too busy chasing Mariah Carey around her dressing room. I'm not an overly ambitious man: 'Hello' or just 'Glad to have you aboard' or even 'Hey, dude' would have sufficed. Nothing. Nada. Fuck all. So I went to Sire's party. Better. Got laid.

So fuck 'em. And the horse they rode in on!"

♠

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Lemmy Kilmister - 68 years of rock & roll and counting.

Happy birthday to the one and only God of Rock & Roll! :D

Guten Morgen, Zimmer!

Good morning, room! :)

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Less than a week left for Christmas, and I'm anything but thrilled. Right now, all I can think about is that we have a Christmas dinner to organize, and an epic amount of cleaning to do. If I was disciplined enough, I would have probably already started cleaning one thing a day, but I just CAN'T do that, so, in the end, I think we'll have the typical last-minute-cleaning frenzy. It's a family tradition of sorts ;)

As it's already been happening for the last five or six years of my life, I don't really feel like Christmas is coming. I've never been a fan of Christmas, as a concept. I sort of liked it, back when I was a kid, because I could skip school for two weeks, and because everything was covered in pretty lights. But I guess that's the kind of Christmas magic that fades as you grow old. 

We don't even have our Christmas decorations out yet, and, with the fierce gang of kittens we have at home this year, I'm afraid to even think about how we're going to stop them from tearing our Christmas lights and toy Christmas tree to pieces... but I guess we'll think about that later.

The only thing that reminds me of how threateningly near Christmas is is my festive blak & gold nail polish. I'm wearing it this week, as a rehearsal. It blows my mind to thing that, in just another week, 2013 will be over. Was it a good year? Hell, no! But it was certainly better than 2012, and that's already something. 

Anyway, it's still too early for this sort of year-end analysis...

The thing is I'm still dreading my family Christmas dinner, and that's pretty much it.

At least, I hope that we won't be touching the subject of Catalan politics, because the last thing I want is to spend my evening arguing with Catalan nationalists. But, then again, I don't even know if my aunt & co. are still in that league or not, so we'll just see what happens.

The good thing is I'll get to listen to my specially curated Christmas playlist: five hours of awesome music (NO TRADITIONAL or cheesy Christmas songs included) I associate with my concept of what a magical Christmas atmosphere should be. I'll try to keep my mind focused on that, as I prepare myself to get done with another year. 

There's still a lot of work to do, so I have to get going.

Good night, readers. Try not to dream of Simon Cowell's terrifying man-boobs ;)

*Song included in my Christmas playlist*