I don't know what you do with someone who calls himself DJ Dog Dick.
I'm pretty sure you don't let him play with the YouTubes.
I'm double sure you don't let him team up with someone from "the Iowa City noise scene." I'd bet my life that whatever the melding of "the Iowa City noise scene" and DJ Dog Dick is (Dog Leather? Really?), it's not something people who have mastered fire and the wheel should call a supergroup.
WHEN YOU HAVE weirdness in the hands of someone like Frank Zappa or Captain Beefheart (peace be upon their souls), you might have something. When you have weirdness in the massively less talented hands of a former member of "the Iowa City noise scene" and someone who stage names himself after a male dog's junk, you just have one more laughable moment in the anticulture.
I am reminded of beatniks laying around half a century ago smoking dope and listening to Miles Davis, thinking they were the revolution, man. Only this lacks good music . . . and some "really good s***, maaaaaan," to destroy whatever part of the brain this knuckle-dragger crap might get stuck in.
Meantime, I'll have an Old Fashioned and some Tony Bennett on the jukebox. Quick.
P.S.: Nice T-shirt on some half-wit in that shot DJ Doggy Style (or whatever) tried to sneak in with a subliminal quick cut. Not.
Get a job. Take a bath. Find Jesus. Something.