Jan 11, 2006 at 12:00 am

With a wink and a finger pistol, Hit Singles is back, ready for more accusations of slander and the occasional retraction. As usual, we’ll be calling out some assholes around town, poking fun at others and raising a shaky-handed libation to the praiseworthy. Or not.

Chub Bizarre

First, we’re far too scrawny to jiggle our best man-tit and beer-gut in salute of everyone’s fave D12 tub, Bizarre. But we would if we could. Why? ’Cause Bizarre dropped a whopping 9 pounds on this week’s episode of VH1’s Celebrity Fit Club. That’s right, the round, brown rapper is down to a svelte 312 pounds. We hardly recognized dude on our TV screen, and alongside one-time power-pouter Kelly LeBrock, Bizarre looked positively ravishing. What’s more, it appears the trainers on said show even got Bizarre to complete a full sit-up! No shit. Ouch! So, no more army-sized servings of Kentucky Fried Chicken dinners for Biz on D12 riders, natch.

Time for matching suits?

Holy Fire manager Ryan Sult reports that his boys have signed with Militia Group, a Vagrant Records for the 21st century that features a roster full of earnest young men with impeccable taste in T-shirts. The Orange County-based imprint will issue Holy Fire’s In the Name of the World EP nationally in February, with a full-length to follow. Hit Singles looks forward to Holy Fire action figures in the aisles at Hot Topic, as well as Sean Hoen’s guest spot on the OC, where he will seduce Marissa to the slithery, stylish indie rock sounds of “Lift Off Message.”

Super Bowl MILFs unite!

One of earth’s greatest all-mom bands, the Mydols, celebrates with heady aplomb the ghastly glit and low-rent attraction of Super Sunday on a new single called “Thank God for the Super Bowl.” And just in time. According to the band’s press release, the brand-new ditty is a united sigh of relief from wives, mothers and girlfriends around the breast of this land, for they do not have to think about mundane issues like equality, love and respect. No, for this one near biblical day of manlihood, they need only to have to focus on how they can best serve the hairy gorillas that have placed their feet on their grandmother’s antique coffee table.” We couldn’t have said it better ourselves, as we believe the universe is indeed female. And the tune? Why it’s a sparkly, groove-spank of Bowl-defiant irony that upholds the honor of miffed, sports-as-culture haters everywhere. Who can lose with a line like, “I don’t need directions ’cause I know where to stick the party dip”?

Go to for your copy of the CD single, or see the band Saturday, Jan. 14, at the 2500 Club, 2506 Park Ave., Detroit; 313-962-9077.

Got blow?

Get your stinkin’ entries in for the venerated Metro Times Blowout, because to participate in the 200-plus band, four-day revel (March 1-4) you must get your shit in by Friday, Jan. 20. If you are a band or artist, go to for details.

By the way, to the bands who sent in the dashboard Jesus and the three-headed (?!) dildo — we thank you, kindly.

Slap back

MT contributor and notorious shut-in Jeffrey Morgan has been penning his weekly 300-word wit and pith Media Blackout column in these pages for more than a year. Besides angry screeds and occasional blow jobs Morgan has received in the form of letters, he’s not gotten much recognition. Until now, anyway. The venerated music “crit” gadfly-of-sorts Web site bestowed Morgan’s column with a Superior Scribing Award for his work in 2005.

You’ll note that it was Lester Bangs at Creem magazine who gave Morgan his start back in the halcyon days of rock criticism.

Needs it like a ....

Kudos to Obie Trice and his gal for continuing to draw breath after a mysterious car shooting on the West Side that saw Trice take a bullet to the head. The bullet’s still there, but Trice’s OK.

Not Real World

Rumors still fly about a Royal Oak Real World. They remain unsubstantiated; Viacom Chairman Sumner Redstone didn’t return Hit Singles’ calls. But if MTV does airdrop a gaggle of glittering and privileged archetypes into one of those bogus new “lofts” in downtown Royal Oak, it’ll be hilarious to witness the whimper, whine and madness unfold. What’s the over/under on Woody’s becoming the cast’s hangout? That place is like a bush-league Hooters crashing into a frat party, anyway. Real World casts always need a job too. ... Fire Millen?

It crawled from the bins

If you’re still bored, dig this Web site we found whilst picking our noses: It’s run by a Detroit-born German record collector named Darin J. Harvey whose Dennis Coffey fetish is perceptible; his Coffey-related vinyl collection is scary. He’s got Paul Parrish’s Forest of My Mind Music Factory record, done in ’68 at Tera Shirma studios, which we’ve been scouring local and national bins for.

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