Still, though. Would you be convinced that it’s really all that great from the fast-talking announcer and the P.O. Box? It’s probably just my post-’net jaded eyes, because it’s not like this sort of thing popped up on the tube very frequently back then. “OMG!! Metal on TV!! Hells yeah!!”

Three things about this week’s clip:
1. A very young Courtney Love, back when her biggest claim to fame was a role in Sid & Nancy. Before Curt, before Hole, before the whole kinderwhore broken-doll persona. Note the second outfit change – how she must have relished getting close enough to Madonna to pelt her with cosmetics and crash that interview with Kurt Loder. (Which sounds like a fun idea for the next YouTube Tuesday.)

2. Robbie Nevill trying to solve her problems, upping the surreal factor. Hell, the mere presence of Robbie Nevill ups the surreal factor. And now I am going to have “C’est La Vie” stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

3. The perpetually glamorous Debbie Harry!!!

Lots of screaming, interrupting, provocative questions that don’t go anywhere, and general sound and fury is pretty much the standard stuff of reality TV as we know it today. Back in the late 80’s, however, The Morton Downey Jr. Show was pretty raw stuff, flipping the let’s-all-understand-each-other talk show format of Oprah and Donohue over into a howling, barking arena of belligerent frothing. Lots of noise, lots of yelling, nobody’s mind is changed by the end of the show, but sometimes pretty entertaining with the right guests.

This is the rock’n'roll episode – Joey Ramone!!!!!! – featuring Scott Ian, Ace Frehley, the Cycle Sluts from Hell, Circus of Power, Megaforce Records, and some vein-popping old-guard rock critics ostensibly put there to be mocked and dismissed. I honestly don’t even know what the hell this episode is about, other than “Rock’n'Roll,” because topics quickly descend into shouting matches as soon as they come up. But it’s choice craptastic television, and even better for the fiercely flaunted east coast ripped-jeans-and-fluffy-hair metal fashion sense of 1989. Above is the first clip, see the sidebar for the rest of the episode.

If you grew up during the 90’s – or, hell, were doing anything at all during the 90’s – you probably have Aerosmith firmly ensconced in the richly deserved Crazy-Crying-Amazing pop-metal powerballad bucket. Or, if you’re more generous, you remember them fondly for “Sweet Emotion,” or that duet with RUN-D.M.C. You probably don’t recall the 20 seconds in 1981 where Steven Tyler swapped his scarves for a leather jacket, greaser hair, and a lead pipe. (Although in the true style of Lead Singer Syndrome, he dances with the lead pipe more than doing anything interesting with it.) It’s a swaggery little tune that does very nicely on a summer booze-and-badasses playlist, and the audio effects on the lightning are the perfect cheddar icing.

And I would personally love to see a revival of the deathpunk cocktail-lounge maneater aesthetic. These two look like they would be lurking around in the seedier corners of Desperately Seeking Susan. I *covet* those bloomers on the right.

Filmed in 1981, “Into the Labyrinth” was one of Eye’s four miniseries, and perhaps the best known because of the cool black robes, the trips into the labyrinth, and that infamously bitchy catchphrase. This show chronicled the power struggle between a pair of time-traveling magick-flingers, Rothgo and Belor. Rothgo enlists the aid of three schoolchildren who free him from a giant styrofoam rock, sending them into various eras to find his past selves and capture the Nidus – which can only be seen in a mirror’s reflection – to restore his power from the evil clutches of Belor.

You just *know* the guy playing Rothgo has done some serious Shakespeare time, and Belor has a fabulous deep witchy Eva O laugh when she’s not raiding the Stevie Nicks discount bin. There’s a lot to like in this show: the cave sets, the sudden explosions of lightning and thunder when somebody gets pissed off, the fabulously low-budget way the magicians look when they’re flying, the dark fantasy caterwauling of the theme music, and, amid all of this, some pretty good performances. It wasn’t long before “Rothgo? Ha-ha! I am Rothgo!” made its way into our repertoire of in-jokes.

The Nidus has since gone on to open a YouTube account and upload not just all the eps from the first season, but surprise surprise, there’s also a second and third season. Enjoy!

I am exhausted and this post is going up way late today, so the hell with anything coherent, here’s Dinah Cancer belting out “Wax.”

I’m not a big fan of the “discomfort humor” that’s gotten so popular in comedies today, but Carol Burnett is one of those actresses who’s really, really good at blowing her stack in an awesomely hilarious way. Here, she’s a perpetually smashed flapper who somehow wound up in charge of an orphanage, belting out her torment at romantic frustration and her dingy-but-still-trying bedroom and the endless taunts from little girls, little girls, all while consoling herself with a small ocean of bathtub gin. I have no doubt that some stressed-out parent, somewhere out there, has adopted this song as their anthem.

Bonus video from the same flick: Tim Curry’s sleaze let loose in a Depression-era kids’ movie! And note Bernadette Peters’ fabulous dress.

For those who have come to Gorey within the past ten years, and don’t have memories of running to the TV set every time PBS aired “Mystery” (hosted by Vincent Price!), here’s his work brought to life as a fabulously grim little animation.

That is all for today, as I have tickets to the Daily Show and really need to get the hell out of here, and for those who are celebrating, have a wonderful Imbolc.

From the era of In Ekstasy, 1985! Dave wastes about a third of the interview on her hair extensions (half an hour? ah, she’s using the glue method) when I wish they went more into her hippie tendencies and UFO sightings, but damn, *that* is how to rock snakeskin spandex.

From i-D Magazine, somewhere in 1981.

But, cute pic, huh? (And I’m really looking forward to reading Sharon’s autobiography.)

From RIP Magazine, December 1986.