MONDO EXTRAS
A, um, big thanks to Sars for recording this puppy for me while I lived a life of debauchery and sin on the streets of the naked city. And a big thanks to Laura for actually watching this entire atrocity with me. The Lord sure blessed you with an iron stomach.
Hyde from That 70s Show forgot to put his sunglasses on, which is unfortunate, because sunglasses could potentially have masked his identity. And anonymity is key when you star in crap like this. Why do you think porn stars wear wigs and make-up? Anyway, Hyde is riding wild and free, and he is on the phone with a nagging girlfriend. Seems the Metallica concert went late because the band came back for three encores and then Buck's car crapped out. Buck? Oh, that guy cursing out his car in the back of the shot. Hyde's friend is "Dr." Dave Malucci in a fright wig and early-nineties grunge wear, but he is easily identifiable because he has the same stumped-and-stoned look he always has on his face when he does rounds on ER. Dr. Dave is operating on his car with the same panache and grace he exhibits in the halls of County General: he's kicking the car, sending the sparks flying, bad-mouthing Hyde's girlfriend, making "pussy-whipped" hand gestures, and generally not doing anything useful. He's a charmer. Hyde is arguing with the girl about the fact that he's late. She's having none of it and hangs up on him. Hyde is distressed, but Dr. Dave is there to make him feel better. Or worse, depending on whether drinking and driving is supposed to make you feel better or just make you feel pathetic. Dr. Dave tells Hyde that he's better off without her, because she was a nag who "has him by the short and curlies." And that, folks, is a delightful mental image. Hyde rolls his eyes and asks him when the last time was that he had a girlfriend. Dr. Dave says he had three last weekend. Snort chortle gurgle. Good one there, "Dr." Dave. No, really, how old are you? Moron. Hyde laughs, but stops when his thought process finally catches up with his big old yapper -- hey, wait, no, my girlfriend's different, er, was different. No, Dr. Dave says, we're different. We're rockers. Who stood in line for Who tickets for two days? Who slept with so-and-so for backstage passes to the Black Crowes? Who quit their jobs to see all the OzzFest shows last summer? Who? You guessed it: Chuck and Buck, Idiots Incorporated. Freaking losers. It's like those people -- okay, not people, it was guys. I would bet my Manolos that the only people who did it were male. Oh, right, I haven't said what "it" was yet. It was guys who quit their jobs and slept on the street in order to be first in the theater for Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. Do you think any girls did that? I really doubt it. And I bet that the second those guys walked out of the theater, they realized that they were idiots. And I bet even these idiots had the same experience after quitting their jobs and traveling the country with OzzFest. Well, Hyde, anyway; Dr. Dave is pretty dim. Well, back to our story. Dr. Dave is trying to convince Hyde that they are cool and different and chicks really dig them. And if chicks don't dig them, well, they always have tunes. Hyde pulls out an AC/DC disc and is about to put it in the player when he drops it. Both he and Dr. Dave bend down and rifle around on the passenger-seat floor to pick it up. And, kids, just in case you didn't realize this before, if you are driving, it usually pays to have someone keep their eyes on the road. The Idiots learn this lesson the hard way by running headlong into a telephone pole. Too bad, so sad.
The Idiots stumble out of the car, battered and bruised. They want more beer, 'cause if you can't see a doctor, you may as well have a Budweiser. Right? Yes, kids, beer is the best thing for blunt head trauma. Now you know! Hyde and Dr. Dave head for the club felicitously located across the street from the scene of the accident. As it turns out, the club is hosting a seventies retro night complete with the disco tunes and the disco hair and the disco attitude. Our charming friends immediately begin badmouthing the décor, the music, and the denizens. They're getting dirty looks left and right and the bartender is steadfastly ignoring them. I don't blame him. I wouldn't serve those buffoons either. Dr. Dave decides to find a phone to call a tow truck, but he wants Hyde to buy him a beer if he can ever get the bartender's attention. Hyde is having none of that. He points out that because of Dr. Dave his girlfriend dumped him, he was involved in a car accident, and now he's stuck in an all-night disco, and on top of that he wants him to pay for the beer? Uh-uh. Dr. Dave throws down some cash and heads to find a phone. The phone is, of course, broken. But help is on its way in the form of a blonde chick in a light blue jumpsuit and sparkly eyeshadow. She asks him if it's his first time there. He rolls his eyes and is about to sputter, "Uh duh," when he notices that the girl is really cute. He accepts her offer of assistance and strolls off with her. Back at the bar, the dance floor fills up with people recreating the fine moves of the Village People, and a guy in a white flare-legged suit offers to buy Hyde a drink. Hyde looks suspicious, like the guy is hitting on him or something, but out of desperation for a cold one he accepts the offer. Dr. Dave and the girl are exploring the bathroom. Dr. Dave is eyeing the scenery and makes the astute observation that with some decent tunes it would be an all-right party. The girl makes some stupid comment to match his about dancing being like sex without the commitment. But, wait, weren't the seventies all about sex without commitment? Whatever. They start kissing. On the other side of the club, Hyde is bemoaning his bad taste in friends, and the man in the white suit is spewing some pop psychology at Hyde's head. He's telling Hyde that even though Dr. Dave was his best friend, they may have grown apart. Hyde must have changed, or rather, evolved. He needs to expand his horizons. He needs to try new things. New things like dancing with two girls in short shorts to the sweet sounds of "Der Kommissar." You know, I never realized that song was disco. It's more early eighties, isn't it? I recognize that there is kind of a blurry line separating eighties dance classics from late-seventies disco hits, but there is certainly a distinction. And I think ATF's "Der Kommissar" is early eighties. ["I agree -- and a quick search on the Internet reveals that the After The Fire version came out in '82. Nice research, VH1." -- Sars] Anyway. Hyde is out on the dance floor, tentatively raising a finger in the air and nervously shuffling his feet. The girls, or more specifically, their cleavage, are distracting him enough that he doesn't seem to be minding the music.
Back in the bathroom, the girl in the light-blue jumpsuit is straddling Dr. Dave. Um, eww. Eww because someone's making out with Dr. Dave, and ewww because they're making out in the bathroom. Who wants to make out in a bathroom at a club? I mean, who besides a teenager wants to make out in a bathroom in a club? Really, Dr. Dave, how old are you? So the girl's hand is moving up Dr. Dave's shirt, but she stops short when she uncovers his Scorpions tattoo. He must have paid the $12.50 to be in the Scorpions Secret Society and Booster Club. Dr. Dave shakes his head in disbelief and asks her how she can be a "Scorps" fan one day and disco skeeze the next. Instead of slapping his jerk-ass face, she smiles, kisses him, and tells him it's not so bad, and that it's only worse if you fight it. Dr. Dave wants to know what he isn't supposed to fight, but before she can answer, he happens to glance over the girl's shoulder and notices a whole passel of people peering at them over the wall-stall. He makes like a drum and beats it out of the bathroom. Serves you right for making out in a wall-stall, chump.
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