Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Maybe Literally Unbelievable is unbelievable for a reason

Literally Unbelievable, the recently launched single-serving Tumblr that basically aggregates all of your gullible family members' Facebook reactions to Onion stories as if they were real is the new thing we're all going to love for the next week or three, because looking at other people being stupid in order to feel better about ourselves is, like break dancing and tagging, one of the original three elements of the internet.

Haha, those rubes in flyover country, right? Always falling for the fake news. Not so much. One thing I like like about the blog is that it shows that being a retarded dork is still politically neutral. Like in this example:

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Dad of the year award

And that's why I don't want to have kids. Because the rest of your life is dedicated to not dropping your daughter on the ground so you can catch a baseball. That's a metaphor.

Dreams really do come true. KREAYSHAWN gets paid UPDATE

*UPDATE* This shit is real, a contact at Sony just confirmed.

From the "no shit they did" and "what took so long, bitches?" file comes this report that just goes to show that if you work hard enough, and you dream big enough, anything can come true. Looks like ya girl-uns and PTSOTL house band Kreayshawn finally has that paper she's been rapping about all these ~~years~~ months she's spent grinding in the biz.

All it takes it one viral hit to hit paydirt. Just ask Oakland-native . The indie female rapper’s song “Gucci Gucci” went from youtube hit to hipster sensation in just a few months, sparking a bidding war with multiple labels. Today, insiders tell Miss Info that Kreayshawn has signed with Sony for over a million dollars. Will she live up to the hype? And if the music cant sell enough to justify the upfront payoff, does she have the presence to make the 360 degrees of shows and merchandise worthwhile? MissInfo

BallerStatus points out that some are skeptical of the reports.

However, as of press time, an official announcement had not been released, and the rapper, herself, seems to be denying it.

"How can I get signed? I'm pregnant with twins!" she wrote on Twitter ().

Complex reports on the greatest news I've heard all day. "For now, we're going to take her with a grain a salt. It's more than likely all part of her brilliant marketing plan."

Thanks to Harlen for the good look.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

FOREVER YOUNG

Young people, probably not so young any more. via dr.regor

Robert Foster from Platform doesn't feel that young anymore. I'd like to say it gets better. I'm not going to say that, but I'd like to. Here he writes about trying to keep the dream alive.

FOREVER YOUNG

Hi! I’m 28 years old and I’ve got my shit together, more or less. I make money and I pay bills and I’ve got a decent future set up doing what I want to do, like everyone who’s even vaguely happy at 28.

It was touch and go for a while, sure, but I’m pleased all that shit’s underway now, I’m also really very pleased I’ve managed to eek out my adolescence for an extra eight years after it ended. I make jokes and show people cool stuff with my bezt budz for a living, I wear a different stoops punk t shirt every day, I buy sneakers like they’re going out of style (they never will) and I’m never bored. How have I done it? Well, the dole helped for a while, I met a lot of other feckless dreamers at art school, and getting sailor tattoos all over me has put paid to any chance of a career in accountancy, but it’s mainly because -like Newton and Oasis said- I’m standing on the shoulders of giants.

You see, there are trailblazers in the field of permanent adolescence that I’ve admired for years. Sure, there’s dropouts, deluded idiots and video shop employees in every suburban town, but I’m not interested in them (unless I need to buy weed when I’m at my parents’ house), I’m interested in the guys who’ve really made a success of themselves and left their mark without losing their sense of humour, their easy vybz or their imaginations.

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At long last a new Salad Fingers has arrived

There hasn't been a new episode of in years, which is great because I've finally been able to start sleeping normally again. Suppose that's over for a while now.

Catch up on the older installments here.

"The feeling of rust against my salad fingers is almost orgasmic."

Friday, May 27, 2011

White guilt and ethnic/racial pride

via

For some reason I made the really worthwhile decision to engage in a discussion about race and white guilt on a comment thread on the internet here.

Being proud of your race, no matter [what] it is, or your city, or your country, is ridiculous. I understand using it as coping mechanism to deal with the fact that you’ve been shit on by other races/countries, etc… though. Doing it while white is still worse. Sorry, we’ll just have to deal with that...I’ll just go ahead and guess that my very sincere belief in white privilege is unlikely to be a popular one around here. A person in power whining about how they don’t get to play the victim role is a very ugly thing to witness.

A colleague of mine, who wanted to remain nameless, but let's say he's an Italian American guy, didn't exactly agree. The following is our 100% engaging, and really TLDR political discussion that will certainly end the question of white privilege once and for all.

GUY: Yeah Luke, "being proud of being white is worse." White people SUCK SHIT. Seriously though, what is it about our race where we feel the need to extinguish ourselves. No other race has this trait. You don't hear Japanese or blacks saying, "We need to be ashamed of ourselves. We need to be overrun and out-populated, we blow."

LUKE: I think being proud of being anything that you didn't do yourself is stupid, be it black or white or Japanese or whatever. I do, however, understand the impulse to over-exaggerate your minority identity if it's something people have traditionally been made to feel ashamed of or alienated by, or fucking dead because of what they are. Gay pride, for example.

By the way, are you sure there is no such thing as the Japenese version of white guilt? They've done some pretty oppressive, colonialist military shit in their day. I imagine there's a dude sitting over there right now like me who thinks his nationalist dad is a prick for being so proud of his country.

You think we shouldn't be ashamed of things we had nothing to do with, like why should I feel bad about my white slave owning great great grandparents? That's a valid point. But then why should I be proud of my country-building great great grandparents who made America what it is then? I didn't have anything to do with that either.

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Stop snitching. Or maybe start

via meddygarnet

So, uh, am I supposed to alert the internet detectives about this sort of thing or what? Fuck it, they probably monitor this shit anyway so let's just assume we're good.

Stat Counter: PTSOTL

xxxx, Idaho, United States

IP Address: xxxxx
Search Referral: #5
Visit Page: PTSOTL: STABBING LITTLE KIDS’ MOUTHS — JUST FUCKING UP THEIR MOUTHS

Nohow less. Nohow worse. Nohow naught. Nohow on.

The sun shone, having no alternative, on the nothing new.

All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

Let me go to hell, that's all I ask, and go on cursing them there, and them look down and hear me, that might take some of the shine off their bliss.

To contrive a little kingdom, in the midst of the universal muck, then shit on it, ah that was me all over.

I have always been amazed at my contemporaries’ lack of finesse, I whose soul writhed from morning to night, in the mere quest of itself.

Pozzo: (suddenly furious). Have you not done tormenting me with your accursed time! It's abominable! When! When! One day, is that not enough for you, one day he went dumb, one day I went blind, one day we'll go deaf, one day we were born, one day we shall die, the same day, the same second, is that not enough for you? (Calmer.) They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

Thursday, May 26, 2011

I think my thesaurus might be racist

via ruscca

Main Entry:	languish
Part of Speech:	verb
Definition:	droop; become dull, listless
Synonyms:	be disregarded, be neglected, brood, conk out, decline, desire, despond, deteriorate, die on vine, dwindle, ebb, fade, fag, fag out, fail, faint, fizzle out, flag, go soft, go to pieces, grieve, hanker, hunger, knock out, long, pine, repine, rot, sicken, sigh, snivel, sorrow, suffer, tucker, waste, waste away, weaken, wilt, wither, yearn
Antonyms:	flourish, grow, improve, strengthen

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Advice from Whitman, Franklin, Cobain, Rand and other homosexual fascists

My boy Walt has contributed some funny stuff to the List over the past few months, like this and this and this and this, but my favorite was the one where he digs up lesser known quotes from historical figures. You can see more on his blog, which I just stole these from without asking, because he's on his honeymoon right now, and what the fuck is he going to do about it? They don't have the internet wherever it is married people go off to die like a wounded dog under the porch anyway.

More from Walt Whitman, Ben Franklin, Kurt Cobain, Ayn Rand and other homosexual fascists after the jump and at Walter VS Himself.

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Taco fight! Taco fight!

I have a Google search set up for the keywords "taco" + "fight" + "motherfuckers getting dropped", so I'm not sure how this donnybrook at Tacos Del Rio slipped through my all-seeing douche eye, but thankfully fellow scumbag, and OG PTSOTL shit-talker Dave Wedge sorted me out.

"I know you love a good fight video and this one may be the best I've seen," he said. "Yah dood, there are some boots being laid to grills in this one. Best part is the dude who starts it all gets his comeuppance, so much so that he is wobbly-legged and has to be helped out after the tsunami of violence is inflicted on his skullage."

Oh good, I love it when shit-stirrers get their shit done stirred themselves.

What else, Dave?

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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Sidewalk Patio Dining

via

Finally nice out, so here we go again with this shit. Point your face at this seasonal PTSOTL classic from the hate vault.

Well isn't this just lovely? It's like an idyllic little picnic! You remember those picnics we used to have? Where we'd spread out the blanket by the trash heap of exhaust blown cigarette butts and dog shit? Then we'd mainline delivery truck fumes straight into our lungs and listen to red knuckled rush hour commuters lean into the horn for forty five minutes while trying to choke down a 30 dollar halibut?

You ceviche eating motherfuckers need to take that shit inside. You're taking up the 4 inches of sidewalk space left over from the parade of dogs, baby strollers, bike riders and carnival freaks that already have dibs on ruining my trip down the city sidewalk.

You know they have a name for people who eat outside already, right? They're called hobos. And guess what, they don't eat there because it's quaint. And they aren't paying $12 plus tip for a glass of rose either. But hey, enjoy the sun I guess. Nice day for a soot sandwich anyway.

Vagina Couch

Vagina Couch 2: the vagina that eats YOU

Kind of wanted to keep the notice about my book release up top all day, but then my buddy Cornelius Nasty Traps III pointed this plush vagina in my face, so obviously this takes precedence.

For Sale - beautiful pink "vagina couch" that I made in art school [EDITOR'S NOTE: No shit? Art school student made this?] and no longer have space for. The couch is large: measures 5' 3" long, 3' 3" wide at the middle, and stands 2' 3" tall (and is heavy like a couch). [EN: Just like my ex-wife's pussy! hahalol]

The pics are from my portfolio and are several years old; as a result, the couch has some scuffmarks and stains around the bottom from being moved, [IBID] but otherwise is in excellent shape. A professional upholsterer helped me build the couch, so it is also functional and durable as a piece of furniture. The couch must be picked up in Mendocino, a 3-hour drive north of SF. I am asking for $600 and a loving home! Call Willow at [deleted] or reply to posting. Craigs List

More pics after the jump.

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Come to my book release party tonight in Boston

Come to my thing tonight ^^^^

Here's a few pages from the book to whet your drinking boner.

What is a dive bar?

A dive bar is a series of contradictions. It's usually an objectively bad bar in terms of service, product, and décor, but it's also the best bar you know. It's a place where you might recognize all the regulars, but one where you can drink in piece and blend into the scenery without anyone casting judgment.

A dive bar can simultaneously be the regular haunt of college-age kids getting their first taste of the drinking world as well as the old-timers who've spent fifty years in the same stool. It's a bar colored by the demographics of the neighborhood it's in, particularly in the still relatively segregated but rapidly gentrifying parts of Boston, but also a place where certain time-honored traditions hold fast. A dive is a bar where literally anything and everything can happen on any given night, but more often than not the predictable patterns of inertia rule.

Over the course of the past year I spent researching this book (getting drunk, in other words), I found roughly 120 different bars that fit that description. We've had to omit some of them for space, but an equal number of them have closed since I began. That's a pattern that doesn't seem likely to change any time soon as real estate prices continue to climb, and many of the people who built these bars, either literally, or through their decades-long patronage, die off or are priced out of the neighborhoods. I wouldn't be surprised if a few more included here have gone under while this book goes to print. That's emblematic of the biggest contradiction that a dive embodies: it's a bar that has somehow withstood the test of time, but isn't long for the changing world.

A few bar excerpts after the jump:

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Monday, May 23, 2011

Tennessee Ain’t Gay (Also: Don’t Say Gay)

Tyler Littwin, who blogs at , and plays in the fine indie rock band , thinks Tennessee is wicked fucking gay. Not in that way though. Shit, you know what I mean. He explains why below:

Let’s consider the sanctity of marriage through the lens of Republican heterosexuals. These righteous warriors have long practiced what they’ve preached: some hot, monogamous, man-on-biblically-devoted-woman action. Like Republican Congressman Bob Barr (Georgia) who introduced the Defense of Marriage Act. He was deeply concerned that, “the flames of hedonism, the flames of narcissism, the flames of self-centered morality are licking at the very foundation of our society, the family unit.” He was also concerned with licking whip cream off of hookers. Which is what he did. At his inauguration party. This was probably a shocking revelation to his current wife but not his previous two… to whom he owed mountains of child support. So, you know.

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Goddamnit. Tom Brady Tom Brady's down a waterslide

photos via Splash News Online

As you'll know if you've been reading this blog for a while, or reading the blog that comes out of my mouth IRL whenever I talk in the fall and winter, there are only a few things in the world I care about vis a vis a meaningful life experience. The first is the New England Patriots. The second is Tom Brady playing for the New England Patriots. The rest of them are, like, Wes Welker and various other New England Patriots. After a few empty spots on the list (just in case) eventually I get around to family and friends, and, of course, my deep abiding faith in god in country. But primarily all that matters is how any of those things influence the success of the New England Patriots.

For those of you that don't follow football, first of all, that's weird. But even aimless souls like yourselves still probably know who Tom Brady is.

Because we're giant, spoiled babies in New England, and the Patriots haven't gone to the Super Bowl in something like four entire years, and because sports fans are all misogynist homophobes, we credit every swishing, fashionable thing our super model husband quarterback does with his wife Giselle for making the team suck ass. (Best record in the regular season last year, but still).

Like this photo up here of our man squealing with glee as he rushes down a waterslide that must be all of fifteen feet long. Good god man. There had better be something pretty exciting waiting for you down at the end of that slide.

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Saturday, May 21, 2011

Rum and witches and ghosts and farms and old-timey stuff and fog

Ghost Ship 2: Ship vs. House

Went on a little day trip today to the north shore of Mass. to visit a rum distillery in Ipswich. It's called Privateer, and it's got a pretty cool story behind it. Rum, as you probably don't remember, . Bad ass by the name of Andrew Cabot, back in the Revolutionary era, had a fleet of ships that fucked with the British, who promptly got their shit took. Homeboy also smuggled molasses into the country which they brought from the Caribbean sugar-growing countries and was subsequently distilled into spirits in Mass. Rum and other manufactured goods from here were then brought to Africa where, woops, they were traded for slaves to take back to the Caribbean to harvest the sugar crops. Side note, apparently the ships that were used in this triangular trading system, like the one in the picture up there that ghosts 100% live on and probably followed me home from, were so top-heavy that they couldn't make the journey back across the ocean empty, so they filled them up with cobblestones when they'd come back from England, which is why cities like Boston and Philly have cobblestone streets that look cute but are shit to drive on.

via what it looked like back in the day right before invisible pirates snatched up your crops

After the jump, farms, fog, buildings, bands, other weird shit.

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Blogging without stealing is much easier than you think (or is it?)

Brian Stauffer for the WSJ

I wrote this piece today in the Wall Street Journal about trying to be a more ethical blogger in terms of copyrights. Have I already failed to live up to my advice? Hard to say, but yes, yes I have.

Information wants to be free. At least that appears to be the sentiment among bloggers, the majority of whom subscribe to a what's-mine-is-yours-and-what's-yours-is-mine policy (but mostly the latter part). By this point, the blogoverse has become a lot like what Picasso supposedly said about inspiration: A good artist copies, but a great artist steals.

Of course, back in his day you couldn't exactly right click on a canvas in a gallery and drag it over onto your bedroom wall, so what did he know?

Whether or not information should be free is a different matter altogether. On popular blogging platforms like Tumblr, the point is moot. For the bloggers who use these sites, the exchange of copyrighted material and intellectual property—other people's photographs, music, lists of all the amazing things you ate for lunch—isn't just an aspect of the form, it's practically the entire business model.

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Hip hop is awful, except when it's not

via Denver Westword

The following is a 100% fascinating and edifying conversation between hip-hop expert and legendary Worcester, MA emcee Kid Nice aka Mint E. Fresh and me, Jake Zavracky, regarding bad rappers:

Jake Zavracky: I'm in a diner and they're playing the Red Hot Chili Peppers's cover of "Rollercoaster of Love."¹ Is Anthony Kiedis' rap in this the worst of all time?

Mint E. Fresh: Yes, actually, it is. Worse than the guy from Faith No More or MC Scat Cat. What an offensive group of people.

Jake Zavracky: Personally I love Mike Patton.

Mint E. Fresh: Not as a rapper you don't.

Jake Zavracky: That's probably true. What about the rap in Michael Jackson's "Black or White"

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You've got to put that down someplace it's gonna stay forever now

"There's no more touching it after this."

Good lesson about the circle of life for a kid there I suppose. Here's another, sort of related lesson for the parents involved: maybe put the fucking camera down and take the carcass out of your little girl's paws? I know you're creating some highly bloggable content here, which is a worthwhile goal of course, but kind of feel like maybe the health of this little girl is more important? /nohomo.

The more I think about it there is no way these are the girl's actual parents. Parents don't even let their kids play with a jar of peanut butter now, never mind newly-rotting flesh.

What is going on here because it's blowing my mind.

Why does the woman get pissed off at Sean at like 1:20? And why does she blaze out of there in her car? SOMETHING IS WEIRD, and I don't just mean the fact that a 6 (?) year old girl is fondling a piece of maggot meat while adults look on for lulz. Obviously some heavy hippie damage involved in this household, since no one in the world has ever used the word "respect" as a full sentence other than blazed out crackers like these.

Also: the point where he coaches her to turn to the camera to say goodbye. Remember that moment forever.

UPDATE: Thought a little more about how most of the helicopter parents we have running around the world nowadays would literally die of shock if their kid did this, then read some of their reactions online, and now I'm team weird family. Weird parent the shit out of that weird kid.

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Friday, May 20, 2011

We're all dead. We're all dead. We're all gonna die. (Even heroes like this)

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Macho Man Randy Savage is dead. Here's hoping you're coming off the top rope with a big elbow to Jesus's beard right now, brother. You taught me how to be a man (vis a vis steroids, waxing, beard-power), and I'll never forget that I shed a tear when you married the lovely Miss Elisabeth in the ring (because that's the day I realized I was a huge fucking dork.)

Confront your mortality with this shitty song I truly and sincerely love and will be listening to all day.

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Thursday, May 19, 2011

The moment we've all been waiting for: the return of KREAYSHAWN

Oh shit you guys. I don't even care if the world ends this weekend like it's definitely probably going to, because at least we got one last joint from ya girl Kreayshawn on the way out. It's the little pleasures I'll be thinking of as the fire rains down. Plus lyrics like these.

"I'm rolling up my catnip and shitting in your litter."

"Bitch you aint no barbie, I see you work at Arby's."

"I got the swag and it's pumping out my ovaries."

Maybe we deserve to be obliterated come to think of it. We had a good run. SWAG OUT GOD AND SHIT.

Botox Mom made that shit up, somehow looks worse

Woops, so, uh... remember the woman who was injecting botox into her 8 year old daughter's 8 year old daughter face from a couple internet days ago? Just kidding, she said today. I just pretended to be the worst mother in the world for a couple hundo. No biggie.

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Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The most heartbreaking photos you'll see all day

AP via NY Post

Devastated Li-Wan sat sobbing on a window ledge 80ft up in Changchun, eastern China, just hours after partner Wang Lu called off the big day.

But as she jumped off the ledge to certain death, local care worker Guo Zhongfan managed to catch her and hold her dangling by the neck above the sheer drop. NY Post

These pictures are haunting me. Something so sad and beautiful at once about them. Only thing more tragic than this I've seen in a while are the comments on the NY Post I piece took them from. (Any everything about the NY Post in general). Like this one from playful rogue : "uggg those shoes don't go with that dress at all."

Oops, this one kind of made me laugh though:

Wow.. all I can say is GOD IS GOOD!

they don't have God in China.

This guy throws metaphoric glitter like a girl

Woof. This video is pretty great all around, but the part where the Gingrich aid turns tries to give the glitter-tosser (can I say that?) a lecture is suuuuper creepy. Is it just me or does that sort of Christian talk always sound like it's got an implied homoerotic subtext.

"So goes you, so goes the rotting of our country."

Woh, woh buddy, we just met. Take it slow.

At a book signing in Minneapolis, recently declared the hippest and gayest city in America, I greeted 2012 GOP presidential contender and former House Speaker Newt Gingrich with a shower of rainbow glitter.

"Feel the Rainbow!" I shouted. Gingrich was conducting the book signing as part of The Minnesota Family Council & Institute Annual Dinner 2011 celebration. The MFC has been an instrumental mover of a marriage inequality amendment that would enshrine discrimination in Minnesota's state constitution.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Goddamned hero police escort loud person straight to no-train jail

Why didn't I think of calling 911 on these two brat fucking kids who wouldn't stop bitching the entire train ride I was on the other day? Perp walk off the train would've taught them a lesson. Instead I just groaned in a really passive aggressive style that made the people around me start thinking I was the problem. From the Huffington Post

An Amtrak train made an unexpected stop Sunday, as a woman was escorted off for speaking loudly on her cell phone.

Lakeysha Beard, 39, was charged with disorderly conduct after she wouldn't stop talking on the 16-hour trip from Oakland, California, to Salem, Oregon. The train was stopped short of its destination.

Train operators called police due to passenger complaints, the San Francisco Chronicle reports. Beard's car was designated a "quiet car."

Beard told Portland's KATU News that she felt "disrespected" by the incident.

And by incident she meant life in general.

Microwaving fish in the office kitchen

Even the cubicles in Brazil are hottt. Stupid sexy Brazil.

Here's this news from AOL, which I'm going to repost big chunks of here because who is going to stop me, the internet police? (Thanks to Emperor Porkchop for the boner, and the headline, which alleviated it.)

"In a decision that can only be described as touchy," [VAGINA TOUCHY HE MEANS] "...a Brazilian judge has reportedly ruled that a 36-year-old female accountant can legally masturbate at work and watch porn on her work computer."

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The single worst song you'll hear all month represents the end of music

Somebody watch the rest of this video from and tell me if that headline is true or not. I had to bail once I heard what sounded like Super Mario arguing with his mom about why it's unfair she won't drive him to the mall to fight dragons. Do you have any idea how giant this band is going to be/ probably is already? Let's see, how many tweens out there do you think love guttural demon screaming, video game sounds, fake hardcore, shitty drumming and entry level AZN emo twinks with multi-colored hair?

UPDATE: Shit, I knew I shouldn't have gone back to listen more. I kind of like this now. And that's why you don't try heroin even once, kids.

UPDATE 2: Should have figured Sergeant D at Metal Sucks would've been on point with this shit. My man there is like a police dog who works for the Music Crimes Investigation Unit.

Running for the Bus (repost Mondays)

Just not feeling it today. Lot of talk about buses lately, so here's another one from the PTSOTL archives, which I'm pretty sure most of you don't even realize exist. Same rules from this old bit still apply.

Back in high school I played on a football team that went 0-40 over the course of my tenure. Incidentally that's where I developed my approach toward life in general: no matter how hard you want something, you will never ever succeed, but girls will still probably want to bone you either way, so call it even. I also had the manager at my old gym ask me to start wearing underwear from now on because she had a few complaints my balls were hanging out the sides of my shorts when I was doing leg lifts. Fucking prudes. Not like I was working out in a mosque. Anyway, the point is I have some pretty extensive experience when it comes to associating strenuous exercise with crippling shame.

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Monday, May 16, 2011

Traveling to a strange and mysterious land

As we learned yesterday, I made a quick trip down to New York City for a work thing/schmoozing opportunity/drinking orgy at the Manhattan Cocktail Classic, which is kind of like the CMJ of bartenders I guess, but either more or less lame than that sounds. Kind of feel like I let you guys down though vis a vis photoblogging and/or also Tweeting every single mundane detail of my trip though on account of drinking and/or phone batteries dying, which reminds me it's probably a good idea every time you go down to NYC to just send out a blanket text to everyone who lives there you are inevitably not going to meet up with that says "Sorry dude, drunk and phone battery died" just to save you the trouble of having to do it later.

Go look at the world through my boring eyes after the jump.

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Saturday, May 14, 2011

In which an old tries to make sense of an OFWGKTA show

be careful up there you guys via Luke's ass cam

This was published in the Phoenix yesterday. Go read them bitches on the daily.

I was trying to explain to a fellow “old person” just what it is about ODD FUTURE, aka OFWGKTA, the sprawling collective of ADHD-generation horror-core/skateboard rappers that's making “the kids” around the world lose their collective pubescent shit before their show last night at the Paradise. No, no, you don't get it, I said. They're legitimately crazy.

What, they stage dive a lot?

Well, OK, when you put it that way, that doesn't sound like such a big deal. But they, like, shout lyrics like “Kill people burn shit fuck school” and “Fuck the police” while they're blunted out of their minds, and yell really loud on stage and wave towels around.

In other words it's Insane Clown Posse for teenagers who pretend like they're going to fight people on their skateboard instead of the ones who cry in the mirror about their budding man boobs.

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Friday, May 13, 2011

Good news! Batman is real

Bad news? He sucks at fighting. Look, I know this isn't the real Batman, but there's still something supremely depressing about watching the Dark Knight get served up by a guy in shorts. This guy is the worst super villain ever, by the way. What's his super power, bumming out little kids?

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Where's the beef? White people bands need to fight more, be less shitty

Come on you guys via

Aside from being a solid bro and all around good guy to give a high five too, Evan Kenney plays in a band called Bodega Girls. He thinks bands should fight with each other more these days. Here's why:

Hey, remember hip-hop beefs? Of course you don’t. You are too busy shoveling out $30 for a ticket to a band that sounds like The Lemonheads when The Lemonheads are playing down the street for $7. But I digress, this article is not about my distaste for the 90’s revival, this is about beefs.

Usually, after I have had about four to seven Brandy Alexander’s at the local American Legion, I come home and try and start beefs with bands on Twitter. The art of “the beef” is lost on us Caucasians. Being a honky-ass-cracker, my beefs involve dissing band names and comparing their records to romantic comedies starring Jennifer Anniston, rather than being about banging their girlfriends or stealing money from Damon Dash. White people peaked with the Axel Rose vs. Vince Neil beef back in 19something something, but those two chodes didn’t even end up fighting, so that was a pretty fruitless beef.

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Bacon as a thing is still a thing

via

Via Craft: comes the tastiest work of art you'll see all day, unless you work in a museum made of pies, which is the best job I've ever heard of. brb, gonna go bake a pie real quick.

I fucked it up. Pies are hard. So, yeah, that work of art up there. "I wonder if Van Gogh liked bacon," they ask. "Regardless, here's a recreation of his famous Starry Night painting, rendered in pork"

mmmmmmhmmmm, rendered in pork.

Actually, not really though. Bacon is OK and everything, but let's not turn it into a whole thing. D Jean Mustard put bacon OTL way back when the List was still a thing that we put things we didn't like on. Remember that? Kind of weird. Another example is that bacon thing I just mentioned one second ago, just in case you only read every other sentence of blog posts like I do.

What do you think this particular piece says about the traditions of folk art?
Or, like, the fetishization of food in American culture and our indifference to great works of art?
Are we only capable of consuming art, literally, via our bacon sized mouth holes?

Resident bacon-as-a-thing hater D Jean Mustard follows up with some thoughts on bacon:

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The Ethical Scumbag

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