The Hunches - Yes. No. Shut It. (In The Red, 2002)

Not exactly The Stooges of Mudhoney and Chris Farley from the film "Black Sheep." This is more like John Belushi starring in a "Blooz Brothers" prequel with Iggy Pop, as the two light stages on fire and play a set list composed entirely of toonz from Open Up And Bleed and the unmixed, Bowie-free Rough Power. Add some skronk and a refrigerator to keep soon-to-be-flung chocolate pudding cold (both gifts from Clevo's Electric Eels), and pretty faces doing the alligator will soon to go hell before being turned into handbags for a jive-talkin' Florence Henderson. Much more than a hunch -- Stiv Bators and Divine need Mrs. Brady's polyester lunch.

Northern Liberties - Erode And Disappear (Worldeater, 2003)

The bass 'n' tribal drumming of Killing Joke, the bleak undercurrent of Joy Division, the inspired "Whoa whoa!"-ing of Naked Raygun, the uneasiness of The Stranglers: Philly's Northern Liberties might be the double-naught's answer to Proletariat (Soma Holiday is one of the essential '80s HC albums). No guitar player within 50 miles of the Rocky statue, but the instrumentation jabs like Ivan Drago on an Everlast bag. Melodic touches from Adrian, however, absorb the repeated right hands to the face. Best round: the strapped glove of "Suction," which (vocally) waves a Pink Flag at Three Imaginary Boys in the squared circle.

Jimmy Dean Pre-Cooked Sausage Patties

Had me two sausage-and-cheese sandwiches on sourdough English muffins one fine morning. Washed 'em down with a tall glass of Luzianne iced tea. MMM MMM!!! I ate the same thing for din-din as well.

The Jimmy Deans continued my streak of six straight days eating sandwiches for dinner. Roast beef, ham, German bologna, chicken breast, turkey, and sausage -- YUM YUM!!! Put some of them crunchy Wahoos on the side, too. CHOMP!!!

Man, you can cook these Jimmy Deans in the microwave (110 seconds for 4 patties), and they'll taste nearly as good as from the skillet. Swift Premiums, while scrumptious, can't really duplicate the sizzled goodness from the hot spatula.

RATE-A-RECORD: DON JOHNSON VS. BRUCE WILLIS

Welcome to the first edition of "Rate-A-Record." Yeah, I know Dick Clark'd had this feature on "American Bandstand," but since he's a friend, Dick said it was OK to borrow the title for this column. Let's meet our first contestant. Originally from Rhode Island, he possesses the world's-largest collection of Bjork merchandise. Besides collecting, his other hobbies are competitive solitaire, light-contact kickboxing, and writing fake Judas Priest songs. Please give a nice round of applause for Brad CZR. Now Brad, the rules are fairly simple. After each song is played, give us a critique of what you heard. Ready? The first selection is "Heartbeat" by Epic recording artist Don Johnson.

Brad on "Heartbeat": "The thing I noticed initially were the overproduced backing tracks -- so slick, they make Debbie Gibson sound like Teengenerate. Vocals were nearly unbearable (imagine a post-rock Richard Marx singing Frank Sinatra, and you're almost there), with only harp strings providing minimal relief. The lyrics were of the pussywhipped, heart-on-your-sleeve, poodle-haired, no-offensive-terms, contemporary-music, ass-smooching variety ('Heartbeat/I'm looking for a heartbeat' -- repeat 443 times or until your larynx ceases operation). Give Johnson half-credit for being honest with his words, because this had absolutely no pulse. Perhaps what Don should be looking for instead is a new nose and mouth. He looks utterly ridiculous with that hole in the middle of his face."

A five-minute break is requested by Brad, and that gives us time to cue up the next track. "Respect Yourself" from Motown sensation Bruce Willis.

Brad on "Respect Yourself": "Now, this was more like it! Man, Bruce Willis?!? I used to roll dice with this motherfucker outside the Apollo Theater a long time ago. I'd wondered why he'd stopped hanging around Harlem, but I guess this answered my question. I knew the boy was destined for stardom, when he popped off a tune called 'Seagram's Golden Wine Cooler.' Shit, Bruce'd gotten hustled for $250 and a case of Richard's red, yet he started singing as if everything was A-OK. I'd thought that acapella performance had been a gem, but I was more amazed by this. Done up in the same soulful style as 'Seagram's,' but better. Amid the awesome power of the blaring horns and thumping bass, Bruce offered up this rhyme-of-reason to those would-be masochists: 'You cuss around women and you don't even know their name/Then you're dumb enough to think that it makes you the big fucking game.' This song had everything a great soul tune should -- beautiful brass section, fabulous female backup vocals, spectacular swearing, and the word 'ain't.' Can't wait to hear more from this cat! Yo Bruce, S'up man? Can isa borrows $250 from yous? Me parched wif thirst and isa dyin', jack! Please? Puh-leez? You no me ain't tryin' play yoose, cool..." Uh, thank you, Brad CZR.

Contestants not appearing on stage will receive: Not So Hot Pockets. From the makers of the original microwaveable pastry snack. Try our new Lamb and Limburger flavor. Whaddya gonna pick? Not So Hot Pockets. Michael Jordan Styling Mousse And Gel. Proven 23% more effective than Dark And Lovely. Works great on corn rows, too. Free steel-wire brush with every $30 Michael Jordan hair-care purchase.

Join us for another edition of "Rate-A-Record."

ECONOMIC FRANKENSTEIN

Checking on eBay for prices on Husker rarities and the like, I noticed that someone had paid $735 for the Necros' "Sex Drive" EP. Of course, it's an original, mint-condition pressing from Touch And Go. But would the guy have any less of a connection to the band, had he opted for a later pressing/bootleg?

Responding to my message-board posted interrogative was Matt Puke: "Agreed. The only record worth spending that much on is something you can sell for more later. With Napster, bootlegs, and re-issues, there's very little music that isn't available at a cheaper price. I'd have trouble paying over $10 for a re-issue or bootleg of any Necros recording. Is that EP a 12"? If so, I think I saw it in Indianapolis about five years ago for around $50. I guess I should have bought it and sold it to this geek!"

Doing some quick mental math, the total per song that "geek" paid was $183.75. "A handful of nickels used to keep the jukebox goin' all night long." (Toby Keith, 10-10-220) Back to the classroom, to hear those four Necros songs at a dive near you would loosen your pockets by 14,700 nickels.

"I'd hate to be that guy." (Terry Bradshaw, 10-10-220)

JOHN DALY JR. MAKES HISTORY IN NORFOLK, VA

After six unfruitful years on the Junior Putters of America (JPA) circuit, the son of a much-maligned professional golfer finally tasted victory, with a record-setting performance at the Janaf Invitational.

John Daly Jr. shot the round of his career during the first 18 holes; a blistering 7-under-par 29 achieved under less-than-ideal conditions. The course, which was moist due to the previous night's rainfall and littered with debris, played tougher than normal. Also contributing to the difficulty were strong winds (25-30 mph) that made routine putts seem like bunker plays.

No mulligans were necessary for the twelve-year-old whippersnapper, however, as he taught lessons in calmness and patience that the senior Daly has yet to learn. Said caddie The Square Root of Willis, who had become an infamous part of local golfing folklore after being arrested in 1993 for harassing Curtis Strange ("Whacha talkin' 'bout Curtis?"), "Whacha talkin' 'bout Daly?"

Not much, actually. The lone entrant in the Norfolk JPA stop was laconic throughout, quietly registering only two bogeys in follow-up rounds of 34 and 33, good for a 54-hole total of 96 (12-under-par).

Attempts to interview Daly at match's end proved that the golf ball does not fall far from the tee. One reporter's inquiry about course management was met with, "I managed it fine, just fucking fine. Where can I get a goddamn drink 'round here?"

Travel SCRABBLE Game Folio

With its interlocking tiles and lightly colored bonus squares, this is a cute version of the SCRABBLE Deluxe rotating board. Housed in a convenient zipper bag, the game's entire contents fold up quite nicely when space is at a premium. Unfortunately, it takes many tries for the board to snap properly in place. Also, the tiles sometimes refuse to fasten into squares and go airborne on these failed attempts. Such lack of obedience can lead to missing letters, which in turn spouts four-tiled expletives from the players. Serious competitors should spend the extra twelve dollars for the Deluxe. Still, if you wanna get your SCRABBLE fix while traveling, visiting the eye doctor, or having a hideous growth removed from an embarrassing body part, this scaled-down model will maintain your wordy prowess. But be sure to take a dictionary along for the ride. Wouldn't want you to go apeshit upon learning that RAGE can't be added to ROAD.