The Career of Sleazy Hudson is a putrid, pathetic spectacle in the history of late twentieth century suburban American bathos. It just shows what happens when children who are handed all the benefits of prosperity, peace, and modern science on a silver platter, and asked to give back little in return. No one should be suprised when the product of all of this is a few cassettes worth of obscene ditties, testaments to the banality of the life they reflect.
In 1981, seventh-grader Donny Krawley found himself alive at the wheel, but unpopular and with a small penis. In the pecking order of Arumbine Junior High, he did not count. But rather than pick up a gun, he picked up a microphone and began blurting words into it while an innocuous Police record droned on in the background. "I've got to be a Spleen! I've got to be a spleen!" he screamed, adding more emphasis with every repetition.
He brought this tape to school where he gave it to a girl named Patty Padgetov, who listened to it with great pleasure, and let her sister, Kendreequa, and her mother hear it. They all got really veklempt about it. So, it was distributed to others, and the career of Sleazy Hudson was born.
In the ensuing months, a wave of teen hysteria overcame the student body of Arumbine Junior High School, as they hung on every word Sleazy said. On subsequent releases, including "Hudson II", and "Sleazy Hudson 123!", Sleazy tackled issues such as sex education in the schools, Andey Rooney, lost shoelaces, and pubic lice. Sleazy set off a whirlwind of activity in the winter of 81/82. He could not limit his expressions to music, so "Spleens of Tomorrow" was issued to the public of Arumbine Junior High. It was a probing post-modern literary-sociological and philosophical meditation that changed lives, broke hearts, and grooved asses. "SPLEEN" magazine was started, and although it only lasted for three issues, it was a hotbed of info, details and just plain filth surrounding the provocative figure of Sleazy Hudson. Live performances ensued, no doubt corrupting the pre-pubesecent children that attended them. Indeed , Arumbine Junior High became a hotbed of cultural activity as imitators sprang up allover, including "The Born Losers" (aka Stephin Foglebaum) and "Cleedo Jack" (aka John Wary). Sleazy had ROCKED their worlds.
Then, just as the world seemed to belong to Sleazy, tragedy struck. Sleazy was rushed to Anne Arundel medical center and pronounced dead on the night of June 12, 1982. An autopsy revealed a system loaded with metamucil, kerosene fumes, steroids and hair relaxer. He'd been missing for weeks. One week later, at the Beal funeral home in Bowie, Maryland, as mourners passed by the coffin, giving their last respects, Sleazy rose, burst out of the coffin, and grabbed the funeral director, who was standing nearby, by the neck and screamed "THIS FUNERAL IS OVER!! YOUR WIFE WAS HOT LAST NIGHT, AND SO WAS YOUR DOG!!!" Sleazy ran through the viewing room with a pacifier in his mouth, he was using it to clean his teeth.
This news was all supressed by the local media, police cheif, and Mr. Krawley's family, and life went on. Little Donny Krawley was put on restriction: no TV and no Sugar for a week.
As an eighth grader, Donny got into more trouble. He spoke disrespectfully to English Teacher Joan Stodd. He made up filthy songs about her which the entire class was repeating by the end of the year. Little Donny's parents realized they needed to take stronger action, so they sent little Donny away to a school called The Catholic Academy for Spiritual Purity in Beltsville, MD. With big red welts on his ass that night, he knew why they called it "Beltsville."
The product of this experience was not little hymns to Jesus, but
"Muscle of Love." A screeching, horrific tirade of anquish and
pleasure, it shocked the students of Crofton Junior High into a
fevered frenzy, and is reported to have caused at least 3 unwed
pregnancies that year. Sleazy had showed 
new "maturity" musically
by playing his own instruments, but he resisted those who said,
"why do you still sing over records?" Sleazy knew the hip-hop,
sampling age was coming, and he kept on cranking out his own
"rap" on existence, juice, and hotness.
Within months a follow-up album, "Muscular Behavior" was released, featuring a guest appearance by little Donny's sister, Amandrika, who composes a spoken word piece and screams "BRAZIERE!!" repeatedly in the avant-garde composition "Hickey Jamboree." "Recussi Annie", a reworking of "Maniac" from THE SOUNDTRACK OF FLASHDANCE, was pitched to the masses, who gobbled it up like Diet Pepsi, while the more serious listeners were taken in by "Drug-Influenced Song" -which featured sleazy on TV set, fan, and hair dryer.
In the meantime, Sleazy became attracted to the teachings of Dr. Ernest G. Wilson, whose California-based PANAXIS cult had attracted many followers including Tom Cruise, John Travolta, and Toppy Smelly . Sleazy was receiving regular literature from Mr. Wilson and spending huge amounts of money on long-distance telephone calls in "personal psychic counseling sessions" with him. He began building strange contraptions with parts purchased from Radio Shack, claiming that he was "communicating with other life-forms in ways that few could really appreciate."
On Nov. 1, 1984, Mr. James Fawcet-Majors of Jones Intercable in Gambrills, MD recieved the following letter:
Mr. Fawcet-Majors:
I am hooking up my instruments to your cable wire to
broadcast to the universe. I am not asking your permission,
I am telling you. You and your diabolical corporate death
machines will support my messages, and this tiny support
may be the only good deed you have to tell about on
Judgement Day. The forces of the Honorable Ernest G.
Wilson and the PANAXIS Holy Order of Salvation will NOT
BE STOPPED. Any attempt to stop this will result in
ETERNAL DAMNATION IN HELL. Get ready to shit your guts
out for the Lord.
Love,
Sleazy.
It was around this time that Sleazy began using massive doses of Metamucil on an hourly basis . He claimed that taking large amounts of it produced "heightened spirtual awareness" and clarified the connection between "the spleen, the ass, and eternity." He began telling people around him that the devil was trying to poison his spleen, and that the spleen may not be the best part of the human body after all. This was shocking, because Sleazy had long beleived that the Spleen had special powers of thought, intuition, and sexual excitement. "If it was a choice between my brain, penis and spleen, no doubt, the brain and penis would have to go" Sleazy once said.
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On the Left, we've got a piece of drooling fan adulation circa 1984, begging Sleazy for more Life-giving Sounds, Above, we've got Sleazy's "suicide tape," I Must Not Think About Spleens, one of the last surviving copies, presently locked up in a vault at an unspecified location. |
1984's "I Must Not Think About Spleens" was a troubling work. Opening with a Medley of Gospel songs, it soon degenerated into suicidal ruminations, ending with a staged suicide, and a fictional report of Sleazy's death. Soon after, he announced his "retirement."
Later that year, Sleazy reported having a nightmare in which he was repeatedly sodomized by Ernest G. Wilson in his "Broadcasting workshop." While these were only dreams, Sleazy was convinced that they revealed a deeper truth about the PANAXIS movement. He said "it's clear that they want docile, submissive followers, that the more Metamucil you take, the looser your ass gets for Ernest." Sleazy saw a connection between Wilson's movement, Governer Jerry Brown, and then-President Ronald Reagan. "It's clear they're all into the same thing. California feel-good fascism." Deeply influenced by Jello Biafra, Sleazy went back into the studio and recorded "Attention K-Mart Shoppers."
It was a brutal, political attack. Sleazy spewed venom at Reagan, Thatcher, and Chernyenko (then premier of the Soviet Union), picturing them engaged in acts of prurient degradation. He dispensed with the niceties of composing little songs for his listeners so they could say "oh that's so talented." He put on the music of the Day, the music of the People: Prince, the Dead Kennedys, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Ray Parker Jr. and just screamed over it. This was for real.
Sleay's new political conciousness horrified the ruling class, which was not about to hear this kind of thing broadcast on the air. Jones Intercable pulled the plug on Sleazy's cable project, and he struck back with two thrilling casette singles in the summer of '85: "Movin On Up(theme from the Jeffersons)" and "A Blind Man's Penis(scratch-up)".
"Movin on up" backed with a remake of "Hit the Road, Jack" was Sleazy's attempt at saying: look, AmeriKKKKKKKKa, this is what YOU created. Black Nationalist types say "The Jeffersons" represents a poor image of African-Americans as bufoons, but Sleazy said "NO! George, Louise and Florence (especially Florence) are here to ram a hot poker up the greasy pink ass of White Pig AMERIKKKKKKA and make it vomit up the vital felch it stole from the oppressed. " That's what Sleazy Said.
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Sleazy's 1985 Single "Movin On Up" told the truth to a mindless, dazed Amerikkka. That same year, John Trubee's "A Blind Man's Penis" spilled its zany plastinia on all of our bemises, right after Debbie's dog died in our long-distance dedication. And now, into an uptempo number.... |
Shortly after recording "Movin' on Up", Sleazy had a religious experience after listening to John Trubee's indie-novelty single "A Blind Man's Penis." He saw Christ, and he rushed back into the studio. "A Blind Man's Penis (Scratch-up)" heated up the Summer of 85 with its electronic hip-hop beats, turn-table scratching, analog "sampling" , and Sleazy's rapping, all in tribute to Trubee's masterpiece.
Sleazy became entranced by Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska album. He felt its bleakness was appropriate to the Reagan-era, but felt the ruling class didn't need sincere little folk songs, even if they were sincere little folk songs about murder and death. They needed corrosive foolishness, boobs blown up like inner tubes, a pretty mess on their dress, rude defecation on their brand new Oriental rug -and-cantcha-just-vacuum-it-up. So sleazy served it up. Armed a-la Springsteen with just an acoustic guitar and his voice, he turned on the tape recorder and let it rip. "Hamilton's Junkyard", "Dead Pig" and "Throbbin' Babe" were the outcome of this. Sleazy planned to record more, but the demands of bourgeois indoctrination sucked up his energy and he forgot about it. A dirty little cassette smudged with grease in a desk drawer was all there was to show until almost a year later when it surfaced in a bootleg version. People just went wild. They begged to be serenaded, brutalized, harranged, and whipped with a dog chain by Sleazy. Sleazy's live performances of "Throbbin' Babe", especially, were met with hysterical applause, offers of free drugs, and cries of "messiah!!"
So, to satsify his public, Sleazy re-entered the studio and recorded the rest of "Hamilton's Junkyard," including the classic "I saw Your Mama Smokin' Cocaine." The boobulations continued as Sleazy's live performances became legendary. His career was sent to new heights, and yet there he was, dragging a mop across the slime and scum-infested floor of the George Schultz Country Club in a vacant middle-class DC suburb for money. The coming 10-year anniversary of Elvis's death caused Sleazy to have a convulsion on the floor, rolling in the filth, chanting to Elvis, John Trubee, Jimmy Swaggart, whose sermons often moved Sleazy to tears on Sunday mornings (and to Stealing his mother's credit cards to send thousands of dollars to his ministry), and other Spirits of the underworld. And so, back into the studio to get it all down on tape.
Sleazy arrived days later with "The Night that Elvis Died," a sad, multi-layered song about his experience of the death of Elvis, with Sleazy on piano, recalling his precocious sexual childhood memories of the Summer of '77, culminating in an orgiastic sound-collage of moans, groans and spirit-channelings of Elvis. Sleazy's audience was shocked. They knew they'd finally found what they'd been seeking all their lives: a sense of meaning and spiritual engagement with a higher power. Demands for live performances followed, and Sleazy did not disapoint. In fact, he performed several new songs composed in the fit of productivity surrouding his "Elvis" experience.
One of these songs bears special comment. It was called "Mrs. Gxxxx" (names have been removed to protect the unborn.) It was composed of fragments of neighbor-gossip and Sleazy's wild imagination, telling the story of a woman living in a "Levittown ghetto." It produced such onanistic pleasure in audiences that diapers had to be provided for several. However, some from Sleazy's hometown claimed that this charectarization was clearly that of a woman they knew, and felt that this woman's name had been blasphemned by this song. They formed a militant organization called Citizens to Avenge Disrespect towards Ms. Gxxx. They organized boycotts, and Sleazy recieved several death threats written in fake "chinese" letters.
The demands of bourgeois indoctrination were looming for little Donny Krawley, though. His mother and father said to him, "You're not gonna do anything with your life making these filthy little ditties on casettes!! You must recieve a degree from a Univeristy. Then you can go out and really whip peoples asses!!" And thus little Donny was sent off to New Jersey, to be sucked up into the bowels of the educational brainwashing apparatus.
In that hell hole, he was instructed to view humans as dots on a supply and demand curve, as "costs of production." He was carted off by the custodians of the social-welfare machine to receive "pscyhological counseling" at the "Health Center". There, he was pumped up full of drugs and told to be happy. He had lots of musical ideas that had to be thrown out due the demands that he become a good servant of the Bourgeois Order. One was an album "Songs about Infantile Sexuality" modelled musically on Big Black's "Songs about Fxxking," released that same year. It was to contain 13 songs based on Freud's speculations, including "Oedipal Conflict Blues," "Anal Stage," "I'm not gonna go in the Toilet No Matter What," "Penis Envy Strut," and "Anaclitic Love."
None of this was to happen, but during one of Sleazy's brief escapes from captivity, the remaining "Elvis"-related material, including "Mrs. Gxxx" was recorded and unveiled to an audience of groupies late one night in the back of a car in a little filth-box movie theater in Laurel, Maryland.
Performances in Maryland and New Jersey made crowds just hurt themeselves in pleasure. Sleazy kept scriblling down songs, including "Vacuum Bag" a song about a felch-like sexual practice, deemed too provocative for release, as well as "Little Jeannie," a parody of Elton John's song of the same name about the sexual mentoring of a 4 year old girl, written without Bourgeois moral biases. Other titles included "My Baby Loves me with a Botulistic Love," "Ruhollah!!"(to comemorate the death in 1989 of the Ayatollah Khomeini,) and "Epi-Nation"(about the use of Depilatory devices,) "Penis Enlargement Surgery on Demand," "Yogurt Enema," and "Wilding!"(about the Central-Park jogger rape.) However, these were stopped from being recorded by the bureaucratic death-machine that watches over us all, whether we realize it or not.
The details have never been sorted out, but at some point in late 1990, Sleazy apparently disapeared. The University authorities in New Jersey issued a false diploma because they were glad to be rid of him and his antics. He was found sometime in May 1991 in a sewage drain in Patterson, NJ, covered in feces and vomit, muttering incoherently. He was rushed to the hospital, and again, his system was found flooded with Metamucil, as well as Ivory Soap, and "Tormaline 99", a designer drug.
Shortly after, Sleazy was living in a plush half-way house in New Brunswick, NJ, drenched in marijuana smoke, expensive furniture, and spleen-concussions. It was then that Sleazy composed a mystical symphony called "Lesbopubic Lordymama," a tribute to the Goddess of Death and Destruction and an avant-garde jazz tour-de-force. However, the tapes and notes to it were destroyed in a police drug-raid on the premises, and Sleazy has claimed it's just too sacred to re-write or even mention again. He also composed a musical version of the poem "Reaching Out and Getting Dissed" by poet Bobby Joe.
After losing his job at Wendy's, his federal grant, and being kicked off food stamps, he was sent to his parents home in Kkkrafton, MD, where he lived the Slacker Experience for many years to come. Attempts at recreating "Lesbopubic Lordymama" failed miserably, especially with his mother screaming "What's Wrong with you? What a these wierd noises coming out of your room? You're 25 years old!!! " He also comosed a suite of songs for a planned album called "Mrs. Jones's Stump": a set of 12 songs, every single one about amputee fetishism. Sleazy was not appreciated for his ability to create useless objects of pleasure, he had to become "useful" i.e. serve the interests of the Bourgeois class by producing tools, processes, and services with which it could more effectively administrate the mass of brown-skinned people on the planet who toil in misery so you can have an exciting array of merchandise to choose from each and every day.
With the dead weight of Bourgeois professional training sapping his energy, Sleazy felt the blood being sucked from his veins, and he was determined to strike back. He assembled 10 slacker poems together, including the infamous "Vacuum Bag." "This Old Floor," (based on a "Top Job" TV jingle then in heavy rotation -"this old floor has seen some livin.."), was another one which described in detail all of the things that could be done on a floor. "Down in Pomona" was inspired by an article he once read about barely pubescent girls in the early 70's parading down Sunset Strip in bikinis. "Easy Rider," about a sad attempt at political hegemony in California by a Sleaze-ball small businessman, and "Debbie," a fictional look into the sordid life of a drug-addicted, destitute, career-in-shambles Debbie Gibson. Sleazy was planning to record these songs, but rumors that "the New Sleazy Hudson album" was going to feature "a live in-studio homicide," or at least "a live in-studio rape" were purely the product of some overimaginative, deeply troubled young people rotting in the suburban wilds of Maryland somewhere. Perhaps they planned take some homeless man off the street and do this themselves, or maybe they just wanted to hit a cab driver over the head and drive his cab to Ocean City and P A R T Y. We'll never know.
It was at this time that Sleazy was exposed to the urban folk-wisdom of Rena Pugh, Sr. Sleazy was called to produce some tapes of her ramblings by Stephin Foglebaum, Glen Burnie Ambulance chaser, political consultant, pig-greaser, polygamist, herbal practicioner, and entertainment svengali. Her ramblings were racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, and insensitive to the nomadic vegan string-collecting mud-submersion childbirth community but Sleazy understood that these were the internalized oppression of a proletarian woman who had fought in the fields for her meals.
Sleazy's life continued in a daze of redundancy, and he began searching for answers. One day after scouting out Concert Halls to play in College Park, MD, he stopped at MADAM FLORA's miserable little shack by the side of the road on US Route 1. He was looking for some psychic advice. However, the door was locked and no one was home. Sleazy was about to turn to his car, when a fat little Salvadoran woman came rushing out of the driveway yelling, "Madam Flora, that bitch!! Don't give a penny to that putita!!! Come to my curerria!!" Sleazy was led two blocks down to "an aluminum siding box on Rhode Island Avenue." There, he was introduced to things that would change his life. His body was covered in a herbal mud-paste. His flesh was burned and cut, He was fed drugs that made him hallucinate. His spleen was purified. "Xtipil te bendiga".
Sleazy walked out of Zanahoria's orifice rejuvinated and ready to ram a red hot poker up the pimply pink ass of the bubonic death machine that munches on the flesh of little children and excretes it out as corporate profits. Sleazy
remembered a little story Zanahoria told him about sugar cane
plantations in El Salvador, when he got his idea. "The Kids
Who Died for $$$$ugar" was born. With a rented drum machine,
and an old guitar, sleazy set up the studio in the same room
that "That Night that Elvis Died" was recorded, and screamed,
chortled, moaned and bitched into the microphone about the
corrosive ectoplasmic slime that drenched Amerikkka, as he laid down wave after wave of assaultive sonic attack, topped off with
a devastating kazoo solo that told the truth without words.
But it didn't stop there. "Emmanuel," a musical trancription of Rena Pugh Sr.s story about "working 12 queers" in a hair salon in DC, was included, as was Sleazy's devastating portrayal of suburban decadence, "Fallopia's Song."
Upon release, the public just didn't know what to do with themselves about it. They vibrated, pulsated and throbbed as never before. Some people loved it so much they said it sucked shit, but that "it's really what's in these days, you know - spoken word with music." Who were these people trying to fool? Their brains had been rotted out years ago by an endless diet of Phil Collins and Gloria Estefan, light upbeat sounds for the office. They hear Jewel, and they think, "my god, this is ART!!". A new version of "This Old Floor" was recorded, as well as a new one called "The Homosexual, Pro-Abort New Age Agenda" inspired by the takeover of local top-40 station WAVA by a right-wing Christian cabal that prattles endlessly about "values" while the real movers and shakers smirk at their naivete, all the while happy that they do their duty to keep the populace feeling guilty, submissive and orderly. Granny Pugh would never have gone for THAT.
This was going to be part of a larger project called "Gold, Slaves, Pussy and Parking," Sleazy's magnum Opus on Amerikkka, which included new numbers like "The Power Pig," "Quiet Time with Honey," "Radiclibs" and others. But the bourgeois power machine had other ideas. It sent Sleazy off to work long hours in Legal Document Sweatshops in Washington DC, knowing after the mind-numbing effect of carpal tunnel syndrome-inducing, jammed in a little room like a veal calf-with no ventilation paper cut labor, Sleazy would not be able to anything dangerous to the interests of the ruling class.And thus, "Gold Slaves Pussy and Parking" was aborted.
But Sleazy kept plotting to make the promise of "The Kids Who died for Sugar" come true. It was a day sometime in 1996 when sleazy was taken to the town of Pasadena, MD by the Manager Of Sev. He was told not to look around because it might disturb him. But of course Sleazy Saw. And really, the town of Pasadena was no worse than the George Shultz Country Club or Hollywood, MD, where Sleazy was taken to Zanahorias basement and whipped senseless. But he was told, "this is filthy Pasadena." And Sleazy replied with the words of Rena Pugh, Sr. "And the water is gonna burn my ass, I suppose?" And so, he and Managerofsev went into the corporate dungeon of AnyKmart,USA, and bought a carton of AnyCigarettes, went home and felt the filth of existence. "It's not pasadena, Managerofsev," Sleazy said, "its life."
And so sleazy went home and penned "Pasadena." Sleazy was just about to set up his studio, when a phone call from Sleazy's Corporate Slavelabor Coordination Agent distracted him. He was told to report to work somewhere in the bowels of Prince Georges County, MD. What ocurred afterwards is not quite clear, but Sleazy swears that he was kidnapped by CIA agents. "You are now going to serve us." they said. He was sent to a re-education center not far from Madam Flora's bugged front of a Fortune Telling parlor. He was trained in skills they thought he should have, and sent to work for the Military Industrial Complex.
Without a doubt, the hard labor for the Complex took its toll on Sleazy. But the Complex foolishly paid Sleazy wages that were above and beyond the bare minimun needed to reproduce Sleazy's labor power, and what did he do with it? He went out and bought some new equipment to broadcast to the universe, create enticing exotic rhythms, to vibrate wildly with pleasure, in ways that the Complex MegadeathCorporation's mandatory piss-in-a-cup Drug Test could not detect. He was ready to tell the world about the Revellation at Pasadena, and to get everyone to feel the Non-Stop Pulsating Power of the HOTBOX. The Complex's huge bureaucratic apparatus could not detect the workings of a little drone in its bowels, but the message was one day to reach the world.