Aftermath considers himself a reasonably tolerant sort of fellow - you pretty much have to be to do this job. And we know for a fact we have a sense of humor, and a pretty off-color sense of humor at that, because it's gotten us in hot water more than once.
Which is why no one was more surprised than we were that our reaction to Friday's Puscifer show at Jones Hall went from "What the hell?" to "Seriously?" to "This is bullshit" in record time. We can't remember the last time we actually walked out of a show, but given the sophomoric material and utter contempt for his audience exuded by Puscifer ringleader Maynard James Keenan, Friday we didn't walk out soon enough.
It was easy enough to understand what Keenan & Co. were going for: an old-timey Hee Haw-style revue that was like Johnny & June Carter Cash from their variety-show days run through an issue of Hustler. Wigs and costumes from Nashville's '70s wardrobe graveyard paired with lots of jokes about boners, butt sex and big titties.
Which would have been fine, if more than one or two of them had been funny ("our family tree looks like a Spirograph"), and if the whole thing hadn't come across as holier-than-thou Hollywood types looking down their noses at us backwoods, inbred Southerners with trailer-trash stereotypes even the Blue Collar Comedy Tour alumni know were stale and passé a decade ago.