Mr McGregor, claims the car, which was a Mercedes S280, was delivered to the hotel's front door by a bellboy rather than a member of the security services, which was. As the movie prepares to premiere on Friday, the most famous Dominatrix in France has told Mail Online: 'It's a poorly written fairy-tale and much too soft – real. Job Interview Practice Test Why Do You Want This Job? Answer this job interview question to determine if you are prepared for a successful job interview. Gratis chatten, cammen en afspreken met vrouwen, stellen en mannen uit je eigen omgeving. Paydates toegestaan. Ook zonder registratie.

The Battered Suitcase Autumn 2. Vagabondage Press LLCThe Battered Suitcase Autumn 2. Published on Oct 1, 2.

Volume 4, Issue 2. The finale issue of The Battered Suitcase.

Diving,mic21, scuba diving, large diving shop in Japan, diving gear, foreign customer, Made in Japan product, store location, online shop.

The 5. 0 Most Drug- Addled Albums in Music History. RAMPANT MADNESS, cheap powder, and the whiskey river: below are the 5. The rules are simple: being merely eccentric while swathed in outlandish clothing fails to qualify. Having done an epic amount of street powder while getting handjobs in the groupie van is not enough. Hell, Steven Tyler claims to have spent $3 million on cocaine over the years, but would Aerosmith have sounded one iota different if they’d been straight edge?

It’s the same reason Mötley Crüe doesn’t warrant space on this list. Sure, they snorted live ants (actually, that was Ozzy) and mainlined Jack Daniel’s to stave off epic boredom, but their music would have been exactly the same steaming pile of hair regardless. No, to make this list, the music on a given album has to bleed chemical influence while also leaching a very specific brand of desperation and/or madness. The vocals, the rhythm, the melody–all have to be drenched in reverb, compression, and frighteningly altered states that could not have been recorded any other way. Except through a blind leap into the void. And sometimes madness itself is that chemical. Roll it, pour it, cook it, crush it, or just get stone- cold crazy; the needle will drop into the groove either way.

But excess is never enough. There also has to be undeniable beauty. And there is. Every single album on this list is a remarkable document, and warrants repeated listens over the course of a lifetime. Also, no reggae allowed. Skip Spence – Oar.

The place where this list had to start, essentially the Rosetta Stone for drug- induced madness, this is an archive of excess. Spence was a founding member of both Jefferson Airplane and Moby Grape, who spent months howling at the walls in Bellevue after epic runs of windowpane LSD. Just after his release he was cynically recorded, releasing Oar, which is a mix of shambling nonsense and haunting ballads, soul- baring and childish in turns. The despair is palpable. Watch The Smurfs: A Christmas Carol Online. This album has been passed around for years among giggling heads, serious collectors, and those in recovery looking for inspiration or something to truly fear. Everyone had a piece of Spence but Spence, who spent the rest of his life in one institution or another. Spacemen 3 – Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs To.

RAMPANT MADNESS, cheap powder, and the whiskey river: below are the 50 most debauched, sodden, and certifiable records in music history. The rules are simple: being. In Corinth, a dying town 15 miles from Pittsburg: One evening, a Japanese businessman, who wanted to tear down the closed iron mills to build an amusement park, is. Our film critics on blockbusters, independents and everything in between.

You’d have to figure when it’s spelled out so blatantly they’re probably pure- veined Mormons pulling off an elaborate inside joke. Nope. This fuzzed- out squeamish throb of an album begs for either Jesus or rehab in every other line, each of which is held uncomfortably long, the vocal equivalent of a mescaline freak staring at the wrinkles on their palm: have you ever noticed how your hand looks like a highway overpass? So what if the other songs often sound embarrassingly like all of the Velvet Underground compressed into one scorched spoon?

What matters is that each track smells like a week crashed in a Manchester apartment trying (and failing) to have sex with Jesus and Mary Chain groupies on a velour couch covered in cigarette burns and drool. David Bowie – Heroes. Station to Station would be the obvious choice from the Bowie discography, if only because even amongst his other slabs of space oddity and forced outrageousness, Station is notoriously hunkered in a blizzard of cocaine of the quality usually reserved for Bolivian generals and Du. Pont heiresses. It’s a landscape of head- shaved, locked- door madness in which a thin white duke might spend six months grinding his jaw, whispering epic gibberish into a cheap microphone. Each song sounds gargled and twitchy, run through a filter of back- of- the- throat gak. And yet the choice here is Heroes, if only because it was recorded in Berlin, where Bowie and Iggy went to clean up, trading powder for midgets and sex clubs and random Prussian decadence. There the high was a tantalizing memory, and the resultant album even more amazing for its utterly bloodless inflections.

Heroes is a nut- cutting, blue ice, deep Arctic void of an album. As well as totally brilliant. 4. Eddie Cochran – C’mon Everybody.

Is there any more powerful drug than unfocused teenage sexuality? Either through orgasm or chemical rush, Cochran’s raspy bass voice and “fuck ’em all” lyrics lit an intoxicating pyre under the first 5. Cochran’s filthy twang, which ruled the radio waves when panties were still pure, can be heard in nearly every rock band since, from Led Zeppelin to the White Stripes, decades of ready bobby- soxers mainlining shuffle rhythm to get their rocks off. Cochran died in a car crash at age 2. The Replacements – All Shook Down.

Widely hated by most Replacements fanatics, All Shook Down is a grim slog through the wreckage of the band that is austere and revealing in turns. It’s pre- rehab but post- realization, a dissipated reprieve where stock must be taken and hard decisions made. Paul Westerberg sounds nearly bereft, the money spent, the bottles broken, the giddy buzz ten years gone. The rest of the band is surly and indifferent in turns.

Founding guitarist Bob Stinson had already been “fired” for his erratic behavior and clumsy leads, left to deal (and die) with his addiction and mental illness alone—and the resultant karma is palpable. That said, the album is a slab of unwitting truth that has been more or less ignored since its release.

JJ Cale – Naturally. This album, released in 1. After Midnight,” which would be butchered a few years later by Eric Clapton–a fact Cale was completely unaware of until he heard his own song on the radio, transformed into a 7. Whether Cale continued to abuse white lines, or just sound like he did, this album is like a sunny afternoon in a hammock with a beautiful girl, a joint, and decades of easy living ahead. Cale’s signature laid back virtuosity is in evidence track- by- track. There’s a reason Neil Young called Cale and Jimi Hendrix the “best electric guitar players I ever heard.” And that reason is because Cale managed to make every single song he ever recorded sound like 2am in downtown Tulsa, standing outside a bar that serves free hot dogs.

Nick Drake – Pink Moon. The final studio album recorded by Drake, it is the only one of the three without a backing band, and the stripped- down quality of the songs palpably reflects his mental state at the time, one of harrowing depression. Drake overdosed on pills at age twenty- six, but left this album as a legacy, one mostly ignored at the time but now rightly regarded as brilliant– a collection of delicate and starkly personal statements that makes no concession to anything but simple expression and sheer despair. Miles Davis – Bitches Brew. Here Davis purposely and irrevocably destroys his legacy as Cool Birther and icon of be- bop by recording an incendiary slice of rock- tinged funk jazz, replete with upper register wah- trumpet, John Mc. Laughlin’s fusion licks, and enough pimp stroll overtones to soundtrack the entire output of Iceberg Slim.

The fact that Davis was aware that Jimi Hendrix was repeatedly dalliancing with his wife (the Funk/Diva legend Betty Davis) must have had an affect on the direction of his groove. Or maybe it was just the heroin. In any case, this is an absolute monster of an album, an unrepentant middle finger to jazz snobs, and a down- on- the- corner statement that throbs and wobbles and ultimately refuses to resolve itself in any context. It’s one of the most towering musical statements of the 2. This is Proust in eight sides, four albums, one vision. Jeff Simmons – Lucille Has Messed My Mind Up. Former member of the Mothers of Invention, Simmons left to go record a pair of albums for the Straight label, Lucille being anything but.

It sounds like every 1. Zap- boogie arrangements with plenty of guitar noodling to shore up the tweaked lyrics. Watch Letters From Baghdad Online Free 2016 here. This is the album I Dream of Jeannie would be humming to if she’d lived in a bong instead of a bottle.

Dead Boys – Young Loud and Snotty.