Hello and welcome to another sensational installment of… Last Rites Presents: Ask 2 Idiots!
As you may have guessed from the title, we are two wild and crazy idiots that are also BFFAEs. As we’ve told you, in ancient times, the “village idiot” was a well-respected figure that played an important role not only in day-to-day life, but also in Victorian and Elizabethan literature, particularly on the stage, where idiots often knew secrets that the audience and cast didn’t. That makes the idiot an overlooked and very important person—aka a mo’fuckin’ V.I.P. Because of this, we are proud of our idiot lineage! And if our impressive idiotness provokes a desire for fisticuffs vs. us, we would, of course, be thrilled to oblige.
Ask 2 Idiots offered me transformative advice. I owe them my life! ~ A fan
You might ask, “Why would two idiots be sitting around on the internet fielding questions in such an impressive manner, and what, pray tell, qualifies them to do so in the first place?” Unfortunately, that wasn’t one of the approved questions to be fielded by our two experts, so we still don’t have to answer. Suffice to say, we (Manny-O-War & Captain) are extremely handsome and extremely intelligent idiots who are deserving of accolades, trophies and praise because we have agreed to take time away from our busy red-carpet-gracing schedules to field your mildly interesting, and often downright annoying questions. Not all your questions, mind you—we’re idiots, not superhuman. We’ve picked the three most compelling Qs, and we’ll do it once a month from this day forward until the end of fucking time.
The rules: there are no rules, you idiots! We’ll give life advice, opinions on virtually anything, homework answers, and terrifying and/or sexy predictions for the future. We also specialize in gambling, lucky numbers and astrology. The sky is pretty much the limit. Just don’t ask us to wash your car, because the ensuing water fight in our jorts would probably cause your neighborhood to explode. Plus, your car sucks!
So, let’s get to it…
Our first question this month comes to us via Twitter. @OldManHotz done used the hashtag #Ask2Idiots and he dropped a doozy on us:
Spencer: Craft beer – Pretentious & ruining alcohol as we know it? Or the greatest thing to revolutionize getting fucked up since cocaine in the 80s?
Manny-O-War: Well, Spence (can I call you Spence?), “Craft beer” as you call it is about as anti-metal as you can get. So, I’m gonna go ahead and tell you that it’s ruining alcohol (at least in relation to us metalheads). First off, it’s heavy on the calories, often leading to excessive bloating and flatulence, which stinks up our indoor concert spaces and makes them a biohazard for anyone attending a show. Second, craft beer loves statistics, and as we all know, statistics are the devil, e.g. that stupid bitter content rating thing (known as IBUs). I don’t need my liquor to be trying to outsmart me. That’s why I stick to cheep bear (Miller High Life) and whiskey (Old Grand-dad Bonded) when I want to get the party started. And since you brought up cocaine, I can’t say I’ve ever indulged in the snowy goodness, but I can certainly let you know that I hate Wall Street and all finance-bros, from the beginning of time to now, which includes the 1980s. In conclusion, if you’re looking to sit around on your couch, without any friends, and post Instagram photos and win beer badges while stinking up your apartment, then craft beer is for you. If you want to be awesome and get all the attention from all of the people, then stick to real beer and cheap liquor.
Recommended Listening: Tankard – “Shit-Faced”
Captain: Craft beer is absolutely most certainly definitely 100% pretentious, but nothing on this horrid Earth could ever ruin alcohol as we know it. If that were the case, Zima would have drowned us all in its rancid backwash in the early 90s.
What does mystify me, however, is why so many people spend so much time finger-banging hops and describing barrel-aged stouts as having a “cerebral finish” when there are so many fine wines available for dainty sippings and pairings with sliders, artisanal hot pockets, or whatever the hell else you monsters cram into your blowers. A few examples:
1. Hello! Whitesnake 2008 Zinf? Just try to get me to say nuh-uh to a chalice of that nectar of the gods. I’ll even drape myself across the hood of Tawny Kitaen’s ’89 Fiero in order to get it; it’s just that good!
2. A nice dry Reign in Blood Cabernet Sauvignon? “Four hundred thousand sips to trryyyyyyyy!” And hopefully soon we’ll have a handy app available to help keep track of how many bottles we’ve slayed!
3. I don’t care what the hell Paul Giamatti thinks, come 10am, I’m dying for a glass of Blind Guardian’s Red Mirror Merlot. Fruit forward with an old cheese finish!
4. Friend, you haven’t lived until you’ve been groped in a hot tub at a greasy Napa Airbnb while quaffing Geoff Tate’s luxurious Insania red right from the bottle. Take hold of the flame and never, ever let go.
If you ask me, and you did, I would summarize thusly: Yes, craft beer is pretentious; no, it’s not ruining alcohol as we know it; cocaine is for wangs who vacation at Burning Man; and I generally prefer a pompous Malbec over the Hoggleboob Limited Barrel Preferred Smoked Trout Stout because I am a gentleman.
Recommended listening: Lord Vicar – “Birth of Wine”
Our second question comes to us from Paul Ravenwood of Green Elder and Twilight Fauna, the one and only hillbilly Appalachian that we let ’round these parts. Paul is apparently in the market for a homestead and oh boy does he have his priorities in the right place. Paul asks:
Paul: My #1 priority in buying a house is whether I’ll be able to pee in my front yard without upsetting anyone. What should my other priorities be?
Manny-O-War: Well, Mr. Ravenwood, as Jon Snow often says, in his thick accent, “Winter is Coming.” So, I’d like to remind you that, no matter how impressive it might be, I don’t recommend taking out your pecker in winter temperatures, not only because of shrinkage, but also because you could suffer any number of injuries. For starters, you could get hypothermia of the dick, or even worse, you could get a little pee on your zipper and then get your pecker stuck to your zipper, causing an unknown amount of pain and damage to your Charlie Browns. Now, moving on… It sounds like you’re a man who appreciates solitude. In that case, I would recommend finding a house that’s built into a hill (a great natural insulation, as well as camouflage) and surrounded by tall, mighty pines. This will provide plenty of isolation for whatever sordid activities you decide to engage in on your property, because, as every American knows, that’s your God-given right to do on your own piece of land. The government can’t just walk onto your property and take what’s yours. So, whether you’re boot-legging, canning last year’s abundant harvest, or cooking up a fresh pot (?) of meth, privacy reigns supreme. And hey, while we’re here, I’d like to take this opportunity to congratulate you on your wonderful position in life—you smell terrific!
Recommended Listening: The Band – “King Harvest”
Captain: Great question, Paul. I think the most important priorities to keep in mind when buying a new home involve mostly making sure that the engine and transmission are sound. Don’t be afraid to get over there and really give the tires a good kicking. I would highly advise telling the seller that you’d like to “take it for a test drive,” and then scoot over to a trusted mechanic who can check to make sure everything under the hood is sound. Remember, that engine block isn’t just going to keep you mobile when people come out to the curb and scream at you to get your free-loading ass away from their property, it’s going to have to get a pan hot enough to cook eggs. If storage space is an issue in the back-end or trunk of your new home, consider a small trailer & hitch addition that could provide additional room.
Best of luck! And welcome to the exciting world of being a homeowner!
Recommended listening: Gary Numan – “Cars”
Our last question (plus a super special BONUS question) comes to us from none other than @Shelby_Cobras, aka Shelby Lermo, a man who not only spends countless hours delivering sick riffs for Vastum, Ulthar and Extremity, but he also finds time to entertain literally millions of hundreds of people via the uncompromising Death Metal Dads variety show and the intensely abiding Illogical Contraption. Shelby inquires:
Shelby: Which fashion pairing do you find more apropos for a keyboard player: the top hat and cape sported by Stian Aarstad from Dimmu Borgir, or the human skull codpiece and cape ensemble Mortiis wore on the cover of The Stargate?
Manny-O-War: Unlike my idiot cohort, Captain, I’m gonna tell you something: a keyboard player that rocks a cod-piece is just asking to get his or her genitals electrocuted. Further, if your keys are at the appropriate height, then your codpiece just ends up obscured by your sick Nord Stage 3, Yamaha MOXF8 or Roland RD2000. Thus, because you want to tower over the fucking keys like the king of piano that you are, you rock a god damn top hat. And not some Abe Lincoln-looking shit, either. It’s gotta be weathered and coated with dust and maybe a spider web or two wouldn’t hurt. The point is, it has to look like it’s been on your head for a long time and you just got out of the fucking crypt of all crypts only to find this sick keyboard setup waiting for you on stage. As the crowd roars, and you roll your head back, hands in position over the alt-minor chord you’re about to drop, cape flapping in the stage fans and fog machine just before the beat drops, make sure that hat doesn’t fly off.
Recommended listening: Spinal Tap – “Sex Farm”
Captain: With the exception of King Diamond, who is nobly pardoned for any and all headwear and frilly-shirted iniquities, I have always felt top hats in metal are reserved for fucking losers. But it’s sort of hard not to feel the teensiest thrill when thinking back on Stian and the way he wooshed into that Dimmu photo shoot and crushed every ounce of troll-banger cred the rest of the lads managed to muster by showing up looking like a perverted vampire who gets off by sniffing bicycle seats.
But let’s be real… Stian’s Dimmu look couldn’t hold a haunted candle to the august drapery sported by Mortiis during the Stargate days. Prosthetics, a grim cod-piece and articulated wings? That’s the holy trifecta of goblin aristocracy, baby. In fact, Mortiis’ look was so convincing back then that one must wonder if it’s perhaps his current look that is his true disguise? Maybe in the privacy of his own home, Mortiis has to shift his dramatic beak to the left when he pounds Keystone Premium and binges on missed episodes of Chopped. Very clever, Mortiis. Deeeeeviously clever.
Recommended listening: Encoffination – “Elegant in their Funebrial Cloaks, Arisen”
Shelby: Are capes in metal tight or wack?
Manny-O-War: I’m gonna tell you a story. This one time I went to see Local Natives with my wife because she likes that wimpy shit. We were eating at a restaurant before the show and in walks some loser in a cape. I look at my wife and exclaim, loud enough for everyone to hear how hilarious I am, “Hey, get a load of Harry Potter over here!” Turns out, the guy I insulted was the very person I paid money to see that night. Boy did I have egg all over my face (and it was dinner, so I didn’t even order eggs). Now, the point is that this indie rock turd was rocking a cape while living on the wrong plane of existence. Had he been metal, I would have flashed the horns and winked at him. Why, you ask? Because capes are bad-fucking-ass, and when you’re soaring over the ruins of the castle that you reside in because society is too weak to contain you, you’re gonna want to rock a sick, black cape (preferably lined with velvet so you can wear it nude without getting scratched up) or you’re gonna look like a poser. Answer: TIGHT AF
Recommended listening: Krolok – “Count Von Krolok”
Captain: Look, I realize there are probably millions of people in the world who think capes are best left to the cosplay champs and Shakespeare-strokers out there, but I’ve always been a fan when they’re employed judiciously. Steve Tucker waltzing out on stage in a cape with a three inch collar? Probably a bad idea, unless he plans on sawing some dingbat in half to glorious applause. But a skeletal Count in some rickety, castley black metal project? A-positive! In fact, I am suspicious of all black metal that isn’t caped in some form or another. Capes offer an element of seclusion and mysticism, and they help obscure sacrificial daggers. Allow me to close with a well-known quote from Patrick Henry circa 1775: “I’d giveth my left nut for an exquisite cape or cloak to help conceal these arcane tinctures. Give me capes, or give me death!”
Recommended listening: Satyricon – “Dark Medieval Times”
Interested in submitting a question? Hit us up on Twitter using the hashtag #Ask2Idiots. Or you can shoot an electronic mission to contactlastrites at gee mail. We will make our selections using a sophisticated algorithm developed specifically for this feature that balances all the really important and cool factors that make great questions irresistible, so make it count. THANK YOU AND YOU’RE WELCOME for this life-changing and sage advice.