damn grinderman, you scary

I remember overhearing this terrifying woman on the sidewalk outside a Nick Cave concert, blue/red lipsticked thin lipped lips sucking on a cigarette, telling anyone who would listen that she used to 'hang out with him back in England and in New York, and so-and-so and so-and-so, and they were all pals'.

She looked like an aging cracked-plastic version of a horny 60s housewife in a gaudy baby blue dress scooped way too low like a heaving sling under a stretched leathery d├ęcolletage.

"...and blah blah, and Nick was like this, and Nick was like that, blah blah..."

The really interesting thing was the way her wacky ping pong separate-direction eyeballs and every prematurely-deep wrinkle showing through the pancake all seemed to totally confirm her story - a skin-writ history of late nights doing GOD KNOWS WHAT crazy groupie shit with Nick Cave and his entourage.

Anyway, my point is, Nick Cave is kinda scary-awesome and it'd probably be really cool to hang out with him, except there's likely a point-of-no-return where you'd get hypnotized and the scary-crazy would take over you FOREVER.

Case in point: wtf is happening in this video for Grinderman? It's like Diane Arbus and the first Highlander film puked up and someone made a low-budget 50s drive-in horror with the mess.

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