Double-dose of Maxim entries today:
Your guide to the Hank Williamses of the world.
…and a quick profile of Mad Men’s Carolyn Jones, a.k.a. Cassandra Jean (Peggie’s friend’s girlfriend). Go read it. It makes fun of Tyra Banks, which is important work, lest we all become far too attracted to her to do any real work.
I really dig writing Background Check. It’s nice to scout people in the corners of pop culture and see what they’re up to.
Update: Since Maxim sunset this blog, I’m going to post the articles here. Frankly, I was diplomatic towards Hank Jr.
Which Hank Williams Said The Bad Thing – A Field Guide to Hank Williamses
By: Brendan McGinley
Musician Hank Williams is in a flap after calling the president Hitler without filing the necessary paperwork for a Godwin license. But which Hank Williams?
Hank Williamses are like Indiana Jones films–the odd-numbered ones are best, but they’re all worth watching. We’ve prepared a quick guide to the Hanks Williams you are likely to encounter in your wanderings.
HANK WILLIAMS, SR. If country music had a Bible, Hank Williams, Sr. would speak its first line of dialogue, and he’d say, “Let there be light.”
Local street musician Rufus Payne taught him blues guitar in exchange for food, which, uh…really isn’t a sound investment strategy. Payne later died in poverty.
The Hillbilly Shakespeare was a religious man, but had a lot of great nicknames that demanded he be fun at parties, like “Herk,” “Harm,” and “Skeets.” Medical conditions didn’t help. Because this was the old days, doctors prescribed him drugs that would have made Andy Dick flinch (of course, so would acting like a decent person). We’re talking drugs you can’t even get anymore. In the mid-century, physicians tossed morphine around like candy, especially when it came in actual candy form. Hank also drank too much, which is expected of people respectfully called “The Hillbilly Shakespeare.”
His discography is a little bit gospel with a lot of honkey and/or tonk. The Grand Ole Opry rejected him, because they didn’t yet realize Hank Williams was the divine avatar of country music. That or the Opry didn’t realize the reason for its own existence. They probably spent the ’40s thinking themselves a laundromat.
He died at 29, of, we kid you not, a literally broken heart. The coroner blamed ventricle trouble, but we suspect it’s because his woman done run out on him with his best friend and took the dog. His passing occurred at midnight of December 31st, 1952, so it’s entirely possible he fell between years.
Johnny Cash, a man who could not be killed by any force less powerful than love, nonetheless knelt before Williams, coining the song “The Night Hank Williams Came to Town.”
WHERE YOU ARE LIKELY TO SEE HIM:Tough to say. Heaven can’t keep up with him, and Hell can’t afford him. Mostly he lives on in his music.
HANK WILLIAMS, JR.
This is the Hank currently in the headlines for his comments on Fox & Friends, but best known for his work preparing Americans for any football situations that should arise.
Nicknamed Bocephus, he’s a more complex guy than his detractors would like to paint him. Sure, he released a song called “If the South Woulda Won,” (we’d…still have slavery?) but he’s a fellow with a lot of empathy for the working man, willing to put his money where his mouth is.
Musically trained by some of his father’s friends and admirers, a.k.a the titans of country and rock & roll, Bocephus didn’t find his own sound until he told his overbearing ma he was tired of being a Hank Sr. imitator. At that point he actually became much more his dad’s type of musician (for example, he carried on the family feud with drugs & alcohol). Only then did the multi-instrumental Jr. find his place in country music.
He’s known for his trademark hat, sunglasses, and beard, which downplay some disfigurement he suffered in a mountain-climbing accident. You know what that means? Hank Jr. fought a mountain to a draw.
WHERE YOU ARE LIKELY TO SEE HIM: Not on Monday Night Football, apparently. Playing any number of sold-out concerts and Republican fundraising rallies, though.
HANK WILLIAMS, III
Let’s be clear about one thing — Hank Williams, III does not care about your bullshit. The walking image of his grandfather with sleeve tattoos, Hank3 played in punk bands until destiny said “Come play country, son.” To which Hank replied, “Nah,” but destiny rejoindered, “No, seriously, play country or plunge into personal debt.”
Fans and industry types told him to cultivate the look and sound of original flavor Hank, but rather than coast on his grandpappy’s image, Hank the youngest decided to sear his own sound in your ears (which is, of course, the most Hank Sr. thing he could do). You see, there’s all kinds of ass to be kicked, and Hank’s got a pair of boots for each. You see him live, and somewhere in between the metalcore and the psychobilly, you realize there’s great country music playing.
As proof that he’s everywhere at once, he released four albums at once last month (okay, three albums, but one’s a two-disc double-title). The rest of the time he decries his own label, fights to keep the swears in his albums, and, being a Hank Williams, battles substance abuse. Hank3 is proof that there’s less distance than you’d think between true country and punk fucking rock.
WHERE YOU ARE LIKELY TO SEE HIM: Look around you. Are you rocking out? No? Then wait ten minutes. Hank’ll be by. Yessir, Hank’ll be by, by and by.
Brendan McGinley can’t help it.
And now to some extremely dated bloviating regarding Cassandra Jean Whitehead. If I’m recalling this rightly, she got a nice birthday kick out of it.
Background Check: Cassandra Jean
Posted Wednesday 10/05/2011 by Brendan McGinley
Filed under: TV , Cassandra Jean , Cassandra Whitehead girls , background check
There’s this show called America’s Next Top Model. I know! It sounds totally great. But it’s actually about snooty monsters watching beautiful women strut as they dispense vague criticisms like “Girl, you BROUGHT it, but you didn’t WORK it, even though you made it WORK.”
It’s like the real contest is between the judges to see who can level a woman’s self-esteem in the most arbitrary terms possible. The audience for this show is comprised entirely of our nation’s girlfriend’s single roommates. Some say it’s misogynist because it treats women like slabs of meat, but the real offense is it doesn’t show meat the respect it deserves. So even though it’s a program about a dozen stunning ladies, you’re better off staying away from it.
Cassandra Jean did just that. Since Hollywood never gazes upon a knockout without telling her to lose 10 lbs and dye her hair snowy blonde, the show gave this lovely Texan next door a cornmeal-yellow bob.
She didn’t like that so much, and when host Tyra Banks gave her a choice between losing even more hair or helping the judges spin a web from which no fly could escape, Cassandra chose Option C: screw this show.
She quit the contest and instead acted her way up from “murder victim” to “pretty girl” to “model.” So ha ha, show that has never actually made anyone a top model. The one person who lived out your constant advice to “Be real” and “Stay tru 2 urself” had the gumption to flip you off, and found more success playing possible lipstick lesbian Carolyn Jones on Mad Men. That series is set in an era when being a model meant looking good, not shaving your eyebrows and licking a domesticated macaque named “Sturmunddrang” that makes more money than you do.
Not that we wouldn’t be into that (assuming the macaque was also model-hot); we’re just saying get the basics down before you make things weird, fashion industry. See, fashion is like sex — men want both to be over as quickly as possible. Ho ho! No, we kid. It’s like sex because you can’t just throw your freaky business all out on the table at the start. Let folks get familiar with your charms before you shave a woman’s head for your own pleasure, that’s all we’re asking.
So we salute you, Cassandra Jean. You have the stone ovaries to stand up to some terrible people and be true to yourself, and that’s the sexiest thing anybody can do, model or not (in our case, definitely not). Also, you’re freaking gorgeous, which you may have noticed goes a long way with the fellows here at Maxim.
Brendan McGinley brings it, but never works it.