PTSOTL: February 2011

Monday, February 28, 2011

Seattle reporter breaks up fight, is Batman

A reporter for KOMO-TV Seattle became a bit of a hero Sunday after breaking up a street fight on the Seattle waterfront.

Shomari Stone was just beginning to film a video when he looks over behind the cameraman and begins yelling, “Hey, hey, hey .. Whatcha all doing?"

Stone tells the cameraman “hey. get the video,” and as he turns around, he captures three guys fist fighting on a Seattle boardwalk; a fourth one lurks up shortly after the camera turns around.

At this point, one of the men is being held down while he gets pummeled, and that is when Stone decided to jump in. Seattle Examiner

Uhhh, good job? This video is pretty insane for a couple reasons, besides the obvious ones. Brings up a lot of questions too. What's going on with white boy's friends when he gets taken down? Have they seen too many superhero movies and think you're supposed to wait your turn to attack a dude one by one? Check out the little on the toes dance they're doing in a circle around the real action. Perhaps they're muggers who just don't have their heart in it.

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Music that doesn't blow: Gold Panda's Marriage gets the remix treatment

I think I posted about this record like 17 times on here last year, so apologies to everyone who's already hip to it, but the release of the remix EP for Gold Panda's stunning Marriage single featuring work from , Star Slinger and others is a good enough reason to big-up my man again. Check the stream and what I said about the record in the Phoenix a minute or three ago after the jump. Listen to this shit with your head off, with your head under water, or just with your head in its boring old regular spot, it's gonna get shifted either way.

Gold Panda: Marriage EP by Gold Panda

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Well, this is awkward: Ayn Rand was a deadbeat on government aid

You lazy bums looking for a free hand out all the time while the rest of us are hard at work, uh, blogging and building castles and shit, are ruining America. Just like Objectivist hero and Libertarian godhead Ayn Rand always said.

Except, woops, it seems that like every single other conservative baby who bases their entire political philosophy on the idea that they want to have a few extra thousand dollars at their disposal every year instead of letting it get into the hands of laggards, Rand was, what's the word? a fucking hypocrite.

Ever wonder why every single conservative you have ever met is a whiny, selfish cunt? Simple solution: it's because of Ayn Rand.

Nice try, dead beat. What happened there, got too old to work and needed a little help staying alive? Loser. I hope they have a good health care plan in Hell. I hear those lakes of boiling goat-demon shit can be a bitch to recover from.

From via VBS TV

Critics of Social Security and Medicare frequently invoke the words and ideals of author and philosopher Ayn Rand, one of the fiercest critics of federal insurance programs. But a little-known fact is that Ayn Rand herself collected Social Security. She may also have received Medicare benefits.

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Sunday, February 27, 2011

Glee: the Harry Potter of music

Even though I've still yet to see a single second of the television show Glee -- #humblebrag -- it has still managed to fart its way into my brain space through sheer pop culture saturation. It's essentially the Harry Potter of music; kids won't shut up about it, and adults won't shut up about how kids won't shut up about it. Plus, a lot of adults have put themselves through some serious contortionist justification logic as to why it's ok for them to be fans.

Whenever Glee features, like, the music of Britney Spears on a specific episode, or, I dunno, Bon Jovi, they probably did that one by now, right? It's like...meh. Let them have their fun. What do I care? But sometimes they trip over a real classic like truffle-sniffing hogs with an iTunes account, which can be a little more problematic. "She's Not There" by The Zombies, for example.

On the one hand you could use the Harry Potter-Oprah corollary and say "At least it's getting kids to read/ discover new music." But you also have to keep in mind that whatever version of a cover song you hear first is the one you are going to end up preferring. For life. So now we have a new generation of kids that think one of the greatest songs of all time sounds like this...

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WTF DOES AN ART CURATOR/WRITER DO ALL DAY?

Originally posted at Street Carnage

Every now and again I like to front like I know what I’m talking about when it comes to art, but really, who can ever tell what all these insane arts and crafts narcissists are getting up to. Actually, my friend here who works as an independent curator and arts magazine editor and writer can tell. Turns out there’s a surprising amount of cock-sucking going on.

That’s not that surprising come to think of it.

STREET CARNAGE: What is it that you do? What is the name for your job?

ART CURATOR/WRITER: I have a few titles, actually. I do several things, but they’re all art related. I do a lot of editing, I do a lot of blogging, I write for a handful of international art magazines. I also curate a few shows a year around the country.

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Saturday, February 26, 2011

This month's swag cheat sheet

As a blogger I'm legally obligated to throw some shine at Odd Future this month. Swag. So let's just get this over with. Everyone has a giant boner for this track's boner lately. It's called "Yonkers" from Odd Future's Tyler the Creator. Swag. Listen to it and shit.

Ok, now you're ready to bullshit with heads.

Next? Well, good news with this next video because it knocks off two hype-spotting homework assignments for you in one go in case you skipped that first one, and also answers a question that's probably been nagging at you for a while: "Who the fuck sings that 'I follow' song I hear everywhere now?"

It's Lykke Li, swag. Here's Tyler's "I Follow You" mix. Swag and shit. OK, can I go back to complaining about things now? Swag.

The field of pants science will never be the same again

those ducks are eating that dude's ass. lol. just kidding, it's only Winkers!

For years now I've been wondering how I can get people to look at my disgustingly fat American ass flaps as I chunk down the streets of suburbia. Now I know: paint duck mouths onto either cheek that look like they're quacking open and shut with every cheek wriggle of cellulite. What's the story behind this innovation? The company's website, as well-designed as their wares, explains:

Winkers is a privately owned business that specializes in decorating pants, usually jeans. We decorate pants in such a manner that they WINK as you walk. Your WINK is the crease between your buttock and the top of your leg.

Oh. Greatest invention ever? Hard to say for sure, but let's go with yes anyway. Plus, this is probably fake. It has to be, right? Actually, I don't know if that makes it better or worse if it is. On the plus side, it's nice to see us recycling one of our most abundant resources and putting it back into the market: ranch dressing-fueled ass meat.

Keep this in mind before you order yours:

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Friday, February 25, 2011

Cumming in a woman's drink doesn't mean she gave you a blow job

that's probably the face I'd make too

Here's a crazy idea: cumming in a woman's food or drink doesn't mean she gave you a blow job. Strange but true. Remember our man who dropped one in his co-workers yogurt last month? We've got another pervert in our midst it seems. One more and this is an official trend!

A Fullerton man has been found guilty of ejaculating into his female co-workers water bottle.

Michael Lallana, 32, was found guilty Thursday afternoon of assault and battery. Jurors also found true the allegation that he did it for sexual gratification.

Lallana admitted in a taped interview submitted to jurors that he ejaculated into an “attractive” co-worker’s water bottle because “her lips had touched it,” but told detectives he never thought she would drink it.... CBS

“It was the closest I could ever get to someone as good looking as that without tampering with my marriage or hurting anyone,” Lallana explained to the police, not entirely understanding the concept of hurting someone it seems.

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Breast milk ice cream exists

This story might be more appropriate for Luke's Ice Cream Blog, which I've been woefully negligent in maintaining lately (apologies to the six readers). But if I had to weigh its comparative merits under the headings of Ice Cream and Stupid, I'd say it works better in the latter, so here we are.

Friend of PTSOTL Tonie pointed this story at me, facewards, and, well, as one of the people on the street in this BBC video point out, "I think there's a bit of a yuck factor." Well said, nameless London person. I'd say more but I've got an esophagus and mouth full of stomach milk at the moment.

A restaurant in London's Covent Garden is serving a new range of ice cream, made with breast milk.

The dessert, called Baby Gaga, is churned with donations from London mother Victoria Hiley, and served with a rusk and an optional shot of Calpol or Bonjela.

I literally did not understand a single word in that sentence. Except for churned. I know what that means, but now I wish I didn't.

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Man gets 25 years for not liking South Park

think about it for a minute

South Park is essentially the comedy equivalent of a dry vagina. Wait, no, that's not it. Maybe the laughter receptors in my brain are the vagina, and South Park's jokes are the semi-hard penis, flaccidly humping me into boredom? I dunno, some sort of sex joke that blows people's minds.

Not according to my mate Robert Foster though, wot runs Platform innit, me favorite website wots demo I am way outside of. Big fan of South Park, inee.

I told him his taste is shite (probably explains why he runs a lot of PTSOTL material over there). Well, at least I don't like , he said. Touche, my friend. Touche. (He did, however, just throw a post up on his blog called Metalcore for Luke O'Neil, so we can probably still be friends.

Long story short, some asshole is going to jail for hating South Park. Here's what Robert had to say about it. Read the rest below... -- Luke

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Gordon Ramsey and the sound of your dreams being crushed

Do they have some sort of show where a hard-assed blogging champion comes into your shitty apartment and helps you streamline your internet joke writing set-up? Because I'd like to apply to be on that show if I can. Meanwhile we've got Kitchen Nightmares, a program in which the nation's most clueless blowhards do what they do best: embarrass themselves on the TV.

The show came to Boston recently to fuck with an Italian restaurant around the way called Davide. I interviewed one of the owners for AOL about what it's like to have your dreams crushed in front of millions of people. Go read it there. Or here after the jump. Or don't. I gotta go.

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Thursday, February 24, 2011

The worst invention in history

As the officially elected representative of the (mostly) heterosexual male community, I feel like I can safely speak for all of us when I say I hope this product is a failure, and the people behind it are punished for what they've done.

Ladies reinvent your existing wardrobe with Cleava...

The one and only Snap-To-Bra Cami!
...It looks like a shirt - It feels like freedom!

This whole foodie thing is getting out of control

Has anyone gone to check on Japan for a while? I think it might be time we gave those dudes a time out over there so they can think about their behavior. Or at the very least pass some sort of law that requires them to wear helmets and safety bars on their penises, because eventually they're going to hurt themselves.

No idea what this is from. Is it the set up to a porn, or a wacky romantic comedy? It could just be an example of an average televised cooking program. Now that I think about it though, this isn't really any different than the type of "swapping" videos I watch on Tube8.com -- it's just a different animal's hypothetical baby juice being passed back and forth.

(via The Daily What)

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

And you thought regular old tagging was lame

I'm sure this is how most taggers envision themselves when they're coloring outside the lines of life, man -- like punk rock ninjas pulling off some design school Spiderman shit. The truth is, we've always thought of you more like arts and crafts hobbyists with aggressive self promotional skills, kind of the art world equivalent of blogging, you might say.

Except now we can't even call you that anymore, because that group literally exists.

(Yoon S. Byun/ Globe Staff)

The Boston Globe reports on the new trend of "yarn bombing" today... “It’s street art with attitude,’’ says one member...

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Tuesday, February 22, 2011

What kind of dirt bike would Jesus jump?

To be honest I'm kind of full up on stupid for the day, what with pancake fights and talking to human beings out in the real world, so when PTSOTL bro-hammer Nancy Beefbombs sent me this link to Jump For Jesus I couldn't bring myself to watch the whole video. Then a funny thing happened: I watched it anyway. The Lord works in mysterious ways.

best headline ever.

"They provide entertainment for ministry events," Beefbombs told me. "Apparently the 'entertainment' is using God's limitless dinosaur juice (given to us as a gift) to blaze dirt bikes through a flaming curtain, all in the name of our Lord.

Sounds goofy, right? But instead of laughing at it, it just sort of depressed me. We are all so, so broken, and just looking for anything to make the pain go away. If crying about how Jesus taught you to accept Him into your life through the art of jumping dirt bikes into rings of fire, well then who am I to judge? You guys though, you're into that whole judging thing, so laugh away.

This video below gives you a taste, but you really have to follow the link and look at the ones they've got on the site. Jesus Christ.

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Drink like you've got wooden teeth

It's my man Gee Dub's real birthday today, so celebrate that shit like he would have: smoking dudes with a musket and pounding gallons of cider. Or something.

I tell you what Applejack is over here. Drink it. For America.

When Robert Laird founded the first commercial distillery in America back in 1780, it probably never occurred to him that we'd still be indebted to his initiative centuries later. The product of his efforts, Laird's Applejack, which his family had been producing privately for some 100 years prior, is a brandy made from fermented cider. To make it back then, they'd bury a barrel of cider in the frozen ground, then scrape off the ice that formed on top. Voila, old-timey drinking! MORE

STFU Parents will shrivel your ovaries

This just went up at Street Carnage. Go read it there.

Remember when you were a kid and your parents would have friends or family over and break out the old baby photos? “Here’s little Arvind pooping on the couch. Here’s little baby Gavin getting his first little baby boner. Look at that precious cutie Benjamin making his first Jew joke. Awww.” Embarrassing right?

Now imagine that a thousand or more people were looking at them and instead of it being some awkward Thanksgiving post-fart nap bonding ritual, it went on forever in front of everyone you know. That’s what it’s like being a kid now that mommy and daddy are on Facebook.

Parents have always been oblivious narcissists –- that’s pretty much the reason d’etre of parenthood in the first place -– but like everything else now, our awful behavior has mutated into something monstrous. Think about what makes a monster for a second. It’s a matter of scale. Normal sized mosquito? Not scary. 6-foot tall dude? Yawn. Multiply their size ten fold and you are fucking dead of a heart attack because the world is filled with Cthulhus fighting ogres. That’s a pretty good analogy for what’s going on over at , your new favorite blog for placenta pics, mommy talk, parents who write in the voice of their newborns on their very own Facebook pages and ripping your eyes out in shame.

I emailed B., the 28-year-old woman from Brooklyn (no shit?) who runs the blog to see what’s wrong with people.

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Bitch your pancakes look fine to me

via

Well, I guess no one wants to talk about how we're all going to die and the countless reminders of it that lurk around every corner, so how about a fight over syrup at a Denny's? That's basically the same concept, only stupider.

Fighting at Denny's is kind of totally hot right now, if you remember this amazing Halloween brawl from last year in Oakland.

This time the shit went down in Chicopee, MA, which is a city I've never been to despite living here most of my life. The decription from the original YouTube explains it all.

The fight began when the couple realized they had no maple syrup for your pancakes. Asked on the table when they could have some of them, because their pancakes not taste the same without maple syrup, and was one of the two girls answer "bitch, you look good to me pancakes!" And then all hell broke loose.

Explains it all poorly, but still. Watch the double fight card (two fights in one!) after the jump.

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Monday, February 21, 2011

Daily mortality reminder: Ghost Signs of Chicago

all images via

As I may have mentioned a couple dozen times, my guide to the dive bars of Boston is about to be published in April from the fine folks at IG Publishing. It's as much a fun guide to the best shit holes to drink piss-water in today next to old people as it is a sort of depressing eulogy for all of the disappearing independent businesses that have been, and are still being pushed out by gentrification and rising real estate prices.

One of the bars I spent time in is called the Bus Stop Pub. Inside there's a series of murals on the walls that are a dense grouping of caricatures painted one on top of the next. “Some are famous people. A lot of them are old regulars,” Devin the bartender told me.

“You can tell they're all pretty old if you get a look at their duds," he said. "Some come in still, but they're barely recognizable. It's been years since the artist who did them has come in, but from what I hear customers would drop him like ten or fifteen bucks and he'd have them up on the wall in twenty minutes. If you look over in the corner there are some sketches that he never got around to finishing.”

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America: we'll saw your head off and shoot your baby into a well

The protests going on around the world right now are pretty mind-blowing. At the risk of understatement, we're living through what could be one of the most important moments in global democracy in decades. And for every story of horror, of which there are far too many at the moment, there are heartening rejoinders, like this story about two Libyan colonels who refused orders to bomb their own people and peaced out to Malta. Although what does it say about our expectations for northern African politics that you're considered a hero for not blowing the shit out of your own people from a jet?

I was thinking about repressive regimes and the free flow of information and its role in these protests and the brutal government crack downs while looking through a couple of amazing series of North Korean anti-American propaganda, the first of which comes from Slightly Warped, and the second from the California Literary Review.

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Drinking in chain restaurants blows (or does it)

In my continuous quest to finish the job that my cursed Irish genes and fucked-up family began, I write about drinking for my day job. Night job I guess. Day/night job. This piece was published here today.

There are any number of reasons you might find yourself in a chain restaurant. Maybe you live in some horrible suburb and don't have many choices, or maybe you're visiting your family back home. Could be you've got, like, some disgusting stomach cramp fetish that can only be satisfied by cream sauce and chicken strips. Hey, do what you've got to do.

For the most part, the bars at these chains are no better than the food. They're usually way too bright, sticky with children's ketchup-paws, haunted by the mediocre souls who frequent them, and convoluted with weird deals: add bacon and cheese to that 22-ounce beer for $3.99!

It doesn't have to be like that though. And increasingly, more chains are taking cues from the better bars in the city, incorporating the ideals and the motivations, if not always the execution, of the craft-cocktail movement.

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Saturday, February 19, 2011

The gayest tattoo I have ever seen (literally)

via

Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD. Leviticus 19:28 - God, literally talking to some guy

No one ever said the religious or the homophobic (same thing actually), were renowned for their sense of irony, or their ability to read, so the greatest tattoo of all time probably shouldn't come as a surprise. And yet somehow they still manage to dream up new ways of giving us shame-based aneurysm boners over there in the dumb factory, don't they? Like homeboy over here, a proud god-fearing fellow no doubt. PTSOTL douche-detector Richard Bouchard pointed this guy at my face. He had this to say:

"Idiot here got Leviticus 18:22, which is the Bible verse that stupid people cite when they tell you that God hates fags, tattooed on his arm. If you didn't grow up in a fundamentalist Christian cult society like I did, you might not know that the book of Leviticus is just full of dumb rules that God supposedly told Moses to write down, but this is the only one that anybody pays attention to. Including my man here, because if he'd read a little more he'd realize that Leviticus 19:28 forbids tattoos. I guess God hates him now, too."

Posting pictures of hot chicks to increase your page views

I was reconsidering that bit I did about the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue the other day just now because of, you know, the journalism and such as, and long story short, like everything else I've ever looked at on the internet, my travels somehow led me to a site dedicated to science's one true significant achievement: chicks, man. Included on (NSFW I guess, you baby), I found what I will regularly be referring to for the next five to seven minutes, depending on a few outside factors, as the greatest photo of all time which I've posted above and you are probably still looking at instead of reading these words.

All of the pics on the site are via via via via via like ten other Tumblrs and via various fashion mags, so who knows who the fuck to give credit to. Let's just settle on ~~god~~ Xochiquetzal, who everyone knows is the Aztec goddess of fertility, beauty, female sexual power, protection of young mothers, pregnancy, childbirth, women's crafts and technology-based masturbation.

More pics after the jump. Because of boobs.

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Friday, February 18, 2011

I've wasted my life

Reality TV may well be the entertainment version of those handlebars they have in public shitters so old people don't fall into the toilet, but complaining about reality TV is for people who watch reality TV. You know why you don't see me talking too much about these shows on here? I don't know which ones are on. That's because I'm better than everyone else, sure, but also because it's pretty easy to ignore things that you don't like.Think of the hundreds of millions of people who don't read this site, for example.

Stories like this make feigning indifference a little harder to swallow though.

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Americans are working themselves to death

You ever find yourself thinking as you drag your lifeless husk of meat into the office every morning that no one appreciates you and there's no point to the whole charade? That they could prop up a dead body in your cubicle and it wouldn't make much of a noticeable difference? Yeah, well, it depends on how long they let it sit there apparently.

A 51 year old Los Angeles woman, who must have worked in the most congenial office ever, died at her desk this week, but that didn't stop her from burning the midnight oil and putting in one more day's work. "Though she died on Friday," Time reports, "she was unnoticed at her desk in the Department of Internal Services until Saturday. The county coroner is yet to determine the cause of death."

There is a silver lining to this brutal reminder of our daily slog through the hopeless void though: at least one poor sap isn't getting their money fucked with for a little while. "When she passed away, Wells, who worked in risk management, was performing an audit."

Death and taxes, dudes. Death and taxes.

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Shut 'er down, we had a good run

I have nothing to add here. I feel like making jokes in the face of this nuclear-level explosion of stupid would just be disrespectful, like talking shit about a corpse at a funeral. Just keep this story in mind next election cycle when we're one-upping eachother with indifference and talking about how it doesn't matter who we vote into power because they're all the same.

GOP Lawmaker Mike Beard Claims God Will Provide Unlimited Natural Resources

Mike Beard, a Republican state representative from Minnesota, recently argued that coal mining should resume in the Land of 10,000 Lakes, in part because he believes God has created an earth that will provide unlimited natural resources.

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Literally the worst piece of shit cover song I have ever heard in my life

Not sure how I missed this mess when it happened, but fate has a curious way of conspiring against our best wishes and now here we are and nothing will ever be the same again.

Yes, I know this sort of thing has been going on for decades now, where we have to hear the beloved songs of our youth stripped of everything that made them joyous and exuberant in the first place and turned into yet another watered-down bottle-service in the club soundtrack, but there's an important distinction here: they never did it to my shit before. None of the old disco or new wave covers that rappers routinely fart out into the world mattered to me, because who cared about the original in the first place? Someone else, that's who. I think I'm finally starting to understand why everyone hates music now.

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Sometimes a tequila dildo is just a tequila dildo

Our homegirl Jess is a bartender, so she comes across all sorts of interesting new spirits. Like this new tequila she's pretty excited about, no penis intended. Pun, that is. No pun intended. At the very least this looks like a pretty novel way to get drunk. -PTSOTL

According to the their website, Ricardo Gamarra, founder of AsomBroso tequila, "searched far and wide for a unique bottle that might equal the exquisite tequila he wanted to bring to market. When he came across a crystal decanter in an 18th century English castle, Ricardo was smitten and paid $2,200 for the antique.”

In other words, he paid $2,200 for a giant glass penis.

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Sometimes we like things: La Sera

So I guess we're really going to keep rolling with this fuzzed-out surf rock thing for a while now. That's fine with me. What's more romantic than riding a psychedelic time machine back to the days when your grandmother was getting groped on the beach?

The latest beauty to crawl up out of the best coast and into our hearts is La Sera. Watch the video for her Spectorian sixties girl group jam "Never Come Around" below, and see if you agree that getting mutilated on her torture table in the garage and, like, having your fucking head chopped off and stuck on the wall wouldn't be so bad as long as she was singing this song the whole time. Maybe it's just me.

SPILL ONE LAST ONE OUT FOR THE SPORTS ILLUSTRATED SWIMSUIT ISSUE

0216-brooklyn-decker-sports-illustrated-swimsuit-00-480x718

Posted at Street Carnage. That's my peoples.

Back in the pre-internet days, when dinosaurs still delivered the mail, dudes had to earn their erections. You’d spend hours trolling through the bushes out by where the big kids drank beer in the woods, hoping to find a mud-smeared half page from a seven-year-old issue of Oui. And for some strange reason no one has ever properly explained to me, you always did find one. What was that all about? I must have found a dozen pornos in the woods at one point or another. Weird fucking wood wankers running around Kingston, MA, at the time, I guess.

Looking at a pair of tits was hard work, is what I’m saying, but we made the best of it. Kids are spoiled now. If you haven’t seen a bukkake snuff film five minutes after you crawl out of your mother’s flesh fort, then you probably got delivered in some repressive society, like Saudi Arabia or Westchester, NY. If I could go back in time and tell 12-year-old me that someday you could look at the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue all day on the internet for free, young me would be like, “What’s the internet?” and “Are you my real dad?”

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Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Convenient for carrying tampons I guess

So this is a thing that exists. It's called the Shagadelic Purssy Clutch, which sounds like some sort of advanced stripper move from the 60's, but it's actually a purse that someone made with their own two hands that you can buy now with your own two hands for $115.

This clutch was handcrafted from vintage fabric, and looks innocent enough from the outside... Imagine her delight when she opens it up to reveal an anatomically correct vagina! Perfect for the bride-to-be/drag queen/pussy lover in your life.

Imagine her delight indeed. Sounds like you've got your next anniversary gift all planned out fellas.

More pics after the thing.

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Make your own coke at home

This American Life uncovered what may or may not be the top secret recipe for Coke this week which is probably really exciting news for 13 year old chemists with mean parents. I can't help but think there's something missing from that recipe though.

Fortunately PTSOTL has exclusively uncovered a step by step formula for recreating the sensation of what it was like to drink Coca Cola back in 1885, like the Pilgrims and your mom did.

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Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Music that somehow manages not to suck: Dom

Since I spend so much time here complaining about how everything sucks, I feel like it's only fair to let you know about the two or three times a month I manage to experience a slight facial quiver in the corners of my food hole region that most people might generally mistake for a smile. This record from Worcester, MA's Dom -- Big up Wormtown, kehd. That's where I went to college, by the way -- is pushing the pleasure center of my brain usually reserved for schadenfreude and scheming against my enemies (all of you people.)

This track Living In America is the jam spot in particular, but don't miss out on Bochicha either. As I say in my review in the Globe today (full review below the jump) "The record is an alternate universe timeline in which a teenage Kurt Cobain — whom band frontman Dom resembles in his neon dishevelment — had grown up on a steady diet of party rap and new wave, sometimes literally, as on the band’s recent remix collaboration with rapper Gucci Mane.'

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House votes to extend Patriot Act, 2+2=5

The House voted to extend a few of the most invasive measures of the Patriot Act today, which among other things that give bitchy liberals like me a brain boo-boo, means that unfortunately you're going to have to postpone that moody photography series about the creepy beauty of the undersides of your city's bridges yet again. Bad news for your Flickr page views I guess, but good news for liberty.

Whether or not you agree that the government law enforcement agencies should be able to decide without cause that American citizens deserve to be spied on without having to go through, you know, a judge, is up for reasonable people to debate, although I'm still sort of waiting for one of those reasonable people to appear. (It's gonna happen some day!)

Either way, I think everyone can come together and say this guy here is full of shit. Cognitively dissonate us in the face, congressman.

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Like PTSOTL on Facebook

Go like PTSOTL on that Facebook thing over there. Down a little bit. Ok, to the right. There it is. I don't know. There's stuff on the FB page I don't post here, shorter bits, and things not important enough to warrant an entire post. What else do you want me to say? You're already making this more awkward than it has to be.

Monday, February 14, 2011

WTF DOES A CHILD WELFARE CLAIMS ANALYST DO ALL DAY?

This case currently under investigation.

This was just posted at Street Carnage. Go read it there.

I’ve known this guy here for most of my life, but it never occurred to me to ask him about his job. We usually talk about sports and music pretty much exclusively, and besides, who can be bothered to listen to people’s stories? Reading them is a lot easier because you can’t close your friend’s mouth by hitting the little [x] button up on the corner of his face.

Wherever you stand politically (and on this site who can tell anymore what the hell is going on), we can all probably agree on one thing when it comes to children’s welfare: Kids are really fucking annoying.

STREET CARNAGE: So what do you do for work?

CHILD WELFARE CLAIMS ANALYST: I save orphans. I make sure they have enough money for food and clothing. No, I’m not Superman, I’m a Child Welfare Claims Analyst. Basically what that means is I read federal policy and figure out ways the state can be reimbursed and how much reimbursement they can get for the money they spend on the real freeloaders of society: kids without parents. So, you know, no astronaut, but probably in the top two or three most exciting jobs out there.

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Arcade Fire wins Grammy, Saves Indie Music, World

Congratulations you guys, indie is saved. Just when I was proclaiming it dead like a week ago, Arcade Fire comes along and makes all of our hard work watching TV with strangers whose one-liners we admire and worth it. This must be what that whole thing in Egypt felt like. SOCIAL MEDIA CAN CHANGE THE WORLD, even if changing the world means letting Canadian Springsteen harrumph out a few melodramatic accordion farts in front of rappers in tuxedos.

So, indie music? Saved. Kind of a Pyrrhic victory though. I'm glad the good guys won here, sure, but it's like in the occasional episode of Justice League when they'd let Aquaman save earth from mutant dolphins from space or whatever because Batman was on vacation. Uh, good work and all, but that's the guy you sent? Or to put it another way: "Them?"

P.S. Apologies to Kurt Cobain's skeleton and the 12 people who used to listen to my college radio show, but you can't fuck with that song my man Usher performed tonight.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

What do your tattoos mean?

They mean fuck you, that's what they mean.

I didn't really watch the video below because I could not give less of a fuck about graffiti. Let's see, there's Banksy, and uh, the other guy there, captain what's his face...um. But this quote that The Daily What highlighted really jumped out at me. “Graffiti is mostly designed just to look good from a moving vehicle… Not necessarily in the history books."

Think about it next time you're about to ask some poor sap what his tattoos mean. I don't know, dude, what does your shirt mean? This line of questioning always puts people on the defensive, like all of a sudden they're at a job interview. Are you like the head of creative at this bar? You considering me for a design gig at the firm? I didn't realize I was going to need to present an artist's statement when I stopped off for a beer tonight and flapped my arms around. Next time I'll wear a man burka if it makes you act less boring. Why not ask me about something less obvious, like whether or not it's cold enough for me today. It is, actually, thanks for asking.

Watch the video after the thing plus a bonus video of my new favorite sport that's totally not horses fighting.

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That's (reverse) racist: Chinese Cavemen vs. White American Penises

I was all set to call this article about an American actor who regularly portrays Whitey in Chinese films racist, but then I saw the picture at the top of the story and I got confused. Now I think it's Chinese being racist against themselves. Or their cavemen anyway. Wait, did China have cavemen? What country were cavemen from incidentally? Sort this shit out for us, NPR:

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Fireworks

I'm not casting judgment here, but 100% of people who like to shoot off fireworks are former animal torturers who didn't have a girlfriend until age 23. No offense to 60% of my guy friends.

via The Daily What

Repost Sundays: Cheap Toilet Paper

Don't get it twisted, a raw chafed anus is cool, if you're into that sort of thing. But I'm kind of a throwback, old school type with respect to scraping pulpy sand paper across my skin. How about stocking something a little more forgiving in the bathroom for me to use next time, like a gnarled tree branch or a fist full of wasps?

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Repost Sundays: Making Sure the Server Knows You Used to Work in a Restaurant, Therefore You Know How It Is

Way back in the day, before this site became a mediocre version of Gawker, the List used to be an actual List. Occasionally we take a look back into the vault. Because of lazy.

Making Sure the Server Knows You Used to Work in a Restaurant, Therefore You Know How It Is

Oh word? Thank you so much for the heads up. Let me just bring out the super secret menu that we only show to comrades who've been in the shit. The chef will probably be out in a second to say hi too. So glad you told me, by the way, because I was just about to dust your arugula with a fresh thatch of nose pubes. Close call.

What is this move here? You know that when you do this, especially while acting like an entitled four year old pussy who seems like she's never been in a restaurant, never mind worked in one, that it's the industry equivalent of saying "Some of my best friends are black, so..." then proceeding to drop some suburban grandmother eugenics lecture. It's like punching a dude in the face but saying "It's cool, bro, I have a face too." No one gives a shit. If you ever actually worked in a restaurant you'd know exactly what the server expects you to say (what you want) and how you should behave (like a reasonable adult who wants to exchange money for food). Now give me my 12% tip rounded down and let's just break this budding relationship off before both of us fall too deep in love.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Klansmen gonna Klan

As a journalist, how can you tell when you've got a decent controversial story on your hands? Well, one good sign is when this is one of the leading quotes in your piece:

"Seriously?" state NAACP president Derrick Johnson said when he was told about the [proposed license plate]. "Wow."

Actually, as far as I know, that's just like a stock quote they keep on hand like clip art and just paste it in any time anyone in Mississippi does anything. Although in this case it happens to be the appropriate reaction. From the Huffington Post:

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Harry Potter dubstep pole dance is making my pole dance, if you know what I mean (penis-wise)

My wand dance. I should have said making my wand dance. Goddammit Luke.

Shit, we're rolling? Oh, hello. If anyone had bothered to tell me that this whole Harry Potter deal had anything to do with smoking chicks in school girl skirts doing insane pole dance routines to dub step I might have gone back in time and erased my decades of reading quality literature so I could suffer through one of these piece of shit children's books with a straight face.

via Milk and Cookies

If we're being honest here though, and we usually aren't, this post was just an excuse for me to type the words Harry Potter, boner, and school girl together in one place like I've been meaning to for a while. I'm hoping to attract more of a fan fiction pervert demo this quarter. Any marketing expert will tell you that's where the real money is.

Not Funny Watch Episode 1

New feature here, pretty self explanatory really. It's a thing from the internet that's not funny at all. Today it's the Hipster Little Mermaid meme. 100,000 people looked at this today. ~~10,000 people~~ 11,000 people liked it. (The number went up 1,000 in the time it took me to write this.) But in their defense, she does have those glasses on. Haha, hipsters, is there anything they can't look down on? With their glasses.

Scroll through these and see if you crack a smile even once. Or ever again as long as you live.

Good day to you, and may god helps us all.

More hilarity ensues and after the jump --> See you in hell, comedy.

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Pages

Monday, February 28, 2011

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Winkers is a privately owned business that specializes in decorating pants, usually jeans. We decorate pants in such a manner that they WINK as you walk. Your WINK is the crease between your buttock and the top of your leg.

Friday, February 25, 2011

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Monday, February 21, 2011

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Ye shall not make any cuttings in your flesh for the dead, nor print any marks upon you: I am the LORD. Leviticus 19:28 - God, literally talking to some guy

Friday, February 18, 2011

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Monday, February 14, 2011

P.S. Apologies to Kurt Cobain's skeleton and the 12 people who used to listen to my college radio show, but you can't fuck with that song my man Usher performed tonight.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Thursday, February 10, 2011

The Ethical Scumbag

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