WORST MONDAYS: with King Khan
At JUICEBOX HQ, we’ve never really had a case of the Mondays because we don’t have real-people jobs. But for those feeling a bit garfield this A.M., feel free to wallow in other people’s most hated things. Every Monday!
King Khan is one of those self-made rock ‘n’ roll legends that makes you realize why playing loud music and making up fake names is totally kick-ass. He’s from Montreal, lives in Germany, and is probably cooler than you.
Khan started causing a ruckus in the mid-’90s with Montrealers Spaceshits, back when he was using the name Blacksnake and working the low-end as a bass player. Then he moved to Europe, re-christened himself King Khan, and started playing with some dude who’s been in Stevie Wonder’s backing band.
After joining back up with fellow Spaceshitter Mark Sultan, the two graced the cover of every cool magazine you know as the King Khan & BBQ Show. While kicking it with BBQ around the world as a stripped-down garage-rock duo, Khan still found time to exercise his way more bombastic demons with the Shrines, a 12-piece music-thing that basically defies genre stereotyping.
Now he’s preparing to release The Supreme Genius of King Khan and the Shrines this Tuesday on Vice Records, before going on tour and totally blowing your mind for life.
I worked for a company called Mr. Grasshead. It was a Chia Pet rip-off made out of nylon stockings stuffed with sawdust and grass seeds. I had to stuff these things and then make a funny face on them. I would come home and have sawdust everywhere, even up my nose. Usually I could make, like, 30 in one hour, but I got stoned with a friend at lunch once and I only managed to make two in one hour. My boss sent me home early and the last thing she said to me as I was leaving was, “Don’t smoke so much next time!” In retrospect she was quite nice. It was Mr.Grasshead that I hated. I had one in my room for years and mushrooms started growing out of it.
I got a very wide mohawk haircut at a friends house when I was in grade nine, and when my mom picked me up from his house she beat me up in the car while she was driving home. She is normally not a violent person, but she thought I must’ve been on drugs to want a haircut like that and went ape shit.
Gothic Ska or Skothic… Actually, worse than that is definitely ICP.
I took my date for dinner and dancing, but when we got back to my place I was feeling weird and couldn’t breathe so well, so I turned in. About twenty minutes later, a friend of mine bursts into my room and tells me that my date had to go to the hospital ’cause she was having some allergic reaction to something we ate at dinner. I thought I must be having the same thing so I went to the same hospital and it turned out that my lung had collapsed. So after the date we both ended up at the hospital… Me with a collapsed lung and her with an allergic reaction to PIZZA?!?! I am really happy we didn’t try to have sex after dinner, since it might have scarred us for life or maybe even killed us. The rest of what happened to me in the hospital is equally entertaining but falls under the “best injury” question. [Ed.’s note: come back on Friday to find out just what further lung-collapsing entertainment Khan has in store…]
Worst way to die
Watching the film Zardoz starring Sean Connery as Burt Reynolds.