I suppose all that’s safe to say about the Mentors anymore is that, like jenkem, they are 1) malodorous, and 2) not for everyone. Jenkem, in case you’re not up-to-speed on your cutting edge homemade intoxicants, is a hair-raising, brain-baking inhalant made by fermenting human waste (numbers one and two) in a glass jug in the sun and catching the fumes in an attached balloon. The few chucklefucks, who have the proper paucity of brain cells to actually undertake huffing said fumes, get most of those same neurons vaporized in a psychotic flurry of hallucinations and a numbing, drooling dementia that allegedly can go on for days. And just in case you’re prone to believing that Homo Sapiens have just now reached a point in their evolution where they’ve realized that they can get a killer buzz off of the stuff that comes out of their own nether regions—for free!— it might interest you to know that many jenkem huffers report dramatic out-of-body experiences in which they float like a jellyfish up to the astral plane, where they meet long-dead relatives and tell them about what’s happened on Earth since they died. For example, they might tell them about the recent infestation of our pop culture by things like rampant reality TV shows, around-the-clock Britney "news" coverage, and the proliferation of the (i)Pod People. But I digress.
Also similar to the Mentors, jenkem is believed to be the real deal by some and a crock of shit by others. (Sorry for the pun.) But while jenkem might be just urban legend, the Mentors are now simply legendary. And if you’ve ever heard them and / or heard anything about them, you probably already have an opinion about them. Which means that pretty much no one—pro-Mentors or anti-Mentors—will be surprised by what is found in gratuitous abundance in the "music videos" collected together on El Duce Vita. Put pig-simple, this is Men Behaving Very Badly, the graduate level course. In other words, it is a white trash man-beast bacchanalia, a testicular fantasy land dreamt to life by rutting, beer-bellied slobs in executioner’s hoods. Visually, it is a feast of perverted monkeyshines where various jams and salsas and syrups from Sickie Wifebeater’s Mom’s refrigerator transmogrify into bodily things like ejaculate, menstrual blood, and the stuff they make jenkem out of. Summed up, it is a juvenile acting out of El Duce’s most infamous lyrical coprolalia. Now, before you are too quick to condemn it as low-brow, outsider art, let me remind you that Mozart himself was fond of composing ditties laced with scatological humor and, in fact, once wrote a song called "Lick Out My Asshole." I’m not making that up. And if an ultra-respectable, powdered-wig-wearing highbrow like Mozart was capable of such tawdry indulgences, maybe we all need to cut the Mentors a bit more slack. Besides, I’ll be damned if songs like "Peeping Tom" and "Sandwich of Love" aren’t catchy little numbers that can get the toes of even the most uptight Tipper-wannabe a-tappin’.
Yeah, it’s schlocky and can be easily perceived as degrading to women, but it’s really nothing more than an Itchy & Scratchy cartoon for grown-ups, whatever those are. So loosen up your morality girdles, kick back, and enjoy this smörgåsbord of utter tastelessness. There’s nudity! There’s heavy metal! There’s the late Eldon Hoke, the legendary King of the Smut Hoboes! Yep, it’s pretty much all here: bad dancing, crummy lip-syncing, cheesy special effects, and laughable ‘80s-style video camera work. With some bonus live stuff thrown in, to boot. A genuine slobberknocker of depravity, one sure to elicit both hoots of hilarity and teeth-gnashing consternation in spades. If there ever was another rock’n’roll DVD that serves as a better excuse to suck down a balloon-full of jenkem, I’d like to see it. –Aphid Peewit (MVD Visual, PO Box 280, Oaks, PA 19456, www.mvdvisual.com)