The bros over at FishyTunes sent over this video they made.  "We'd seen all of the Internet buzz and read all of the bloggers' reviews and opinions about Kitty Pryde, but we wanted to see what real people in real life thought of her music," they wrote in an email. "We grabbed a camera and headed downtown to play her songs to strangers. We brought along a unicorn. Here's what happened." 

I like the idea, although not sure Eugene, OR necessarily counts as neutral territory for finding your 'average' man on the street. Check out the video below. 

In what should come as a surprise to no one in the world, except maybe 6 month old babies who can read, amazingly, but haven't yet fully grasped the meaning of all the words, it turns out that there's a racist streak running through the Boston Police Department. In the current issue of Pax Centurion, which, is it me or does Latin always sound a little racist to begin with?, the newsletter for the Boston Police Patrolmen's Association, the good boys in blue engage in a bit of, what's the word, racism, homophobia, xenophobia, and whatever the phobia is called when you're afraid of college students who want to effect a positive change on the economic system in the country. Being an old conservative douche, I guess, but that doesn't really roll of the tongue so easily. 

Yesterday on Bullett I was writing about "Six Pack", the new video from Gifted But Twisted, which you can go watch here but probably shouldn't to be honest as it's the new worst song of all time of the day of the week. "Who can even tell what’s supposed to be a joke and what’s supposed to be real anymore?" I asked. "Entertainment has brutalized us all."

Kind of wish I had held off with that whole thing until today when I came across this deluge of brain diarrhea "TH3R3S R3ALLY NO 1 LYKE ME " (h/t JTTS), because it's everything I said about the "Six Pack" video and more. The video, by I don't even know, some girl on the internet?, is an unending parade of tits, of both the figurative and literal variety, with naked chicks bathing in blood in the bathtub and eating pizza, booty-dancing on a hotel bed, and tripping fucking balls. It's like the Rob Zombie version of a blogg-rap mushroom trip. The weird thing is, the beat is kind of nice, but there's really no salvaging the nasal-whine-rap. Wait, is this what someone like Lil Debbie sounds like to old squares? Shit. I see where you guys are coming from now with all the shade. But this isn't like that. It's not one of those, LOL, is this bad or good I can't tell, type of joints, this is more like, I don't want to do this anymore. Watch it below.

 

 

Last year we posted about the Outdoor Co-ed Topless Pulp Fiction Appreciation Society, a group that was getting mad internet shine because of, well, durr. Here's what we said wait why am I using the editorial we all of a sudden? New pictures from the group below. NSFW. 

Everyone should follow their dreams, their weird, weird dreams. Like this fellow, a Michael Jackson impersonator I interviewed for Bullett today.

It’s hard to believe it’s been three years since the untimely death of Michael Jackson, something none of us ever saw coming and that we will all forever be moderately saddened by whenever someone writes an article about it around the anniversary of his death. Well all choose to morn in different ways, however. Some of us internalize the pain, others express themselves outwardly with tears, while others write snarky jokes on the internet.Yet another option is to consider the passing of an icon as inspiration to carry on his legacy. That’s what Carlo Riley is doing. The 29 year old Denver resident, and one of the biggest Michael Jackson fans in the world, has been working as a Michael Jackson impersonator, or tribute artist rather (there is a difference), for about six years now.

What does that job actually entail? We asked Riley, who’s in the process of putting together a tour later this year called Forever Dangerous, to explain his journey, from meeting the man himself, to posing for David LaChapelle...more

I reviewed the Passion Pit show in today's Globe. We hate it when our city's bands become successful, I guess you might say.

This is an old one, but Jerry Sandusky getting convicted and all of your subsequently hilarious rape jokes made me want to repost it as a reminder. It's funny because he's a man, you see.

I'm not saying that every dude that ever got arrested for anything doesn't deserve to be locked away for as long these hippie activist judges will let us get away with, but making jokes about their sexual torture seems maybe a tad distasteful. Could just be me. I'm sort of what you might call a decent human being.

Arvind Dilawar got a look inside the abandoned, post-apocalyptic-looking Governors Island and took some great pictures. Check out more from him on his site here and his last couple posts on PTSOTL here.

Half a mile from Manhattan’s southern coast, Governors Island has lain as an oasis free of the rampant private development that characterizes most of New York City. Its open fields and panoramic views have been preserved largely due to the island’s history as a military post. It belonged to the U.S. Army until 1966, when it was given to the Coast Guard, who held onto it for another 30 years. In 2001, the upper half of the island was entrusted to the National Parks Service to preserve its two historic forts. In 2003, the rest of the island was given to the people of New York.

Today, Governors Island serves as a public park and summer reprieve for New Yorkers, though much of the lower half is still restricted to the public due to the area’s decommissioned buildings, which are slated for demolition. Many of these buildings were constructed by the Coast Guard for its 3,500 servicemembers and families who were stationed on the island, and have stood in neglect for the last 16 years. During that time, roofs have collapsed, plants have coursed through and seagulls have taken over. Here are a few photographs of the place before it’s all razed.

I got nothing original for you guys today, so here's links to my stuff on Bullett this week which you should consider checking out all the time anyway! 

New version of "Summertime"!

There are a few ways you can tell when summer really begins. It’s the day you get in one of the biggest fights of the year with your s.o. while trying to cram the goddamn air conditioner into the goddamn window; people start complaining about the heat on Twitter; and you hear “Summertime” by DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince bumping out of someone’s car as you walk down the street. All three things happened at once for me today, except the latter came in the form of a new version of “Summertime,” from My Name is Moses. ... more

I wrote this a long while back, but since everyone's talking about stealing music online this week because of this NPR piece from a young person who doesn't buy music, much like you probably, and this well-written response from David Lowery, I thought I'd repost it. Not because it's good, or because I even think you should bother reading it, but because I was too lazy to write anything new today.  Everything that needed to be said is in that Lowery piece anyway. Good day.

"No, it's cool, cause if I download a movie online and I like it, I'll buy the DVD. Plus music and movies are too expensive, and most of them are crap anyway."

Oh word? Hey, here's an idea. Go into a restaurant, eat your meal, then if you like it, pay for it. Otherwise just peace out and kick the chef in the nuts on the way out the door. Same thing.

You know what I do when I can't afford something I kind of want? I don't get it. Woh. I know, pretty weird, right? Call me crazy, but I'm old school like that.

I'm not even writing this blog post, I just have a macro plug-in/Google alert/pre-set/drum trigger effect that goes off every time Kitty Pryde is on the internet that feeds directly into this live stream/RS feed/news reader/blog reader/web-site. I did, however write the words that appeared on this internet page here, many of which were words formed in the brain of/spoken through the mouth of/broadcast through the cell phone in the hands of one miss Kitty Pryde. Check out a clip/cut/excerpt/teaser/preview of my interview/chat/bull-session/catch-up with her for Bullett, then watch the new video for her song "Orion's Belt" featuring Riff Raff below. 

Here's all the things I wrote this week! Can't wait to revisit them all again. Join me won't you? Fine, but you don't have to be a dick about it. Bon Iver shoes, RHCPs surprise us all, cocktail nerd cocktails, drinking with yr dad, dancing to David Bowie, trying to bring the art scene together or whatever, some mediocre bar, a famous and famously not so great band, and an unfamous and should be famously known band + more below. 

Jake Zavracky writes songs and complains about things real nice like. He previously wrote  , and Deconstructing the 8tz: Huey Lewis and the News and a study in obliviousness. He doesn't like this new Absolut vodka ad very much.

If you identify with any aspect of Absolut’s new ad campaign, which features robotic greyhounds racing around a barren desert while a group of what appear to be modern day Hitler youth in costume masks look on, you are not my type of person.  Aside from Absolute, more on which in a minute, there are several items that I have noticed, as a bartender, are ordered exclusively by assholes. The most notable of these is Heineken. I have never sold a person a Heineken without spending the rest of the night trying to avoid any further interaction or even eye contact with that person. Anyone who would spend more money to drink a shitty beer that, in the rare case it isn't skunked, tastes like it has been strained through a discarded feminine napkin is not my type of person.

 

Mandy, aka Manderson, aka a newly single person, aka a total loser because of that apparently?, is getting lots of advice about how to deal with being single -- most of it is dumb.

 

Some people love to proclaim how stellar it is to be single, whether it's because they love fucking everything that breathes, or they have amazing careers that make them a bajillion dollars and/or eat up every second of their time, or they're total narcissists who think no one will ever reach their level of rad. Whatever. Good for them, the lucky bastards. I say, however: fuck that noise. Here's why.

1. Casual sex is overrated.

Kinda like a ride at an amusement park: Fun for the ten seconds where you got the adrenaline rush and the flushed cheeks, but all you've got to show for yourself is a funny smell and messy hair -- and really, is putting yourself at risk for a wide range of infections and ruined clothing worth the price of admission? Serious question. Also, isn't the lovey-dovey post-coital snuggling (rare for a casual hook-up) half the fun? No? Just me? OK. This could be one of those "grass is greener" things.

Hallie Engel decided to move to Qatar on a whim. It's not as weird there as you might imagine. Pretty weird, but, you know, it could be a lot worse is all she's saying. 

 

Doha, the capital of Qatar, is the end of the line. Bordered by the Persian Gulf and Saudi Arabia, it’s not a swinging hotspot. However, it’s also pretty far from what people imagine it to be; women are allowed to drive, no one is legally required to wear a headscarf and they don’t chop off limbs as punishment for theft or anything like that. It’s not the most enlightened place either, but it is tax-free and most jobs, like my gig as a telephone operator, come with free housing. This is a shot of a local souq- a traditional Arab marketplace.

Oh hi it's another in my ongoing series called "Luke's Rejected Mcsweeney's bits." As you might imagine, I've had quite a few.

[Related: Common words and concepts that have been tainted for me by internet porn.]

Less Powerful Jedis

Darth Mall

Ma$e Windu

Aunt Karen

Theon Greyjoy

Darth Scion

Sriracha Aioli

Trumpet Solo

drunken Mark Hamill just horsing around in the garage for old time's sake

Obi “wan” Kenobi

Elliott Sith

 

UPDATE:

HOUSTON (AP) — A retired Houston-area firefighter was convicted of murder Wednesday for gunning down his unarmed neighbor during a dispute over a noisy house party, with jurors rejecting his argument that he was within his rights under Texas' version of a stand-your-ground law.

This news of a murder trial going on today in Texas about a man who STOOD HIS GROUND is another tragic story about a wasted life, a man gunned down over some bullshit. In a dispute over noise levels coming from a party, Raul Rodriguez shot elementary school teacher Kelly Danaher to death two years ago. ("Why are you pointing out that he was a school teacher? Stop trying to paint the guy as a saint." - some conservative dickhead.) 

There's nothing funny about another pointless murder, but let's try to find something anyway, namely how people seem to think that they can talk their way out of a crime by yelling their way through their misunderstanding of the law, as if you can kill someone, then call "Not it!" while touching your nose and you're covered. It's like asking a prostitute or a drug dealer if they're a cop before you do business. I mean, go for it, but I don't think that's how the law works.

I've been doing some daily blogging for BULLETT lately, so, if for some weird reason, you don't have enough of my corny jokes and biting social commentary pushed into your face enough already, go check out that site on the regular. Here are a few:

George W. Bush Was Hideously Impaled on ‘Game of Thrones’

Although George R.R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire series is far too sprawling to be distilled to one point, if it’s anything, it’s this: war is hell. Also: war is stupid. Really, really stupid. The HBO adaption, known to people as Game of Thrones, has done a good job this season of illustrating how the royalty, far removed from the ravages of battle, are largely unaware of the horrors the people go through to serve their ideological, religious, or political gamesmanship. Most oblivious of all, perhaps, is the boy-king Joffrey, thrust into the role of ruler without any qualifications, or any real understanding of how governing works, constantly trying to project a fierce, powerful image of himself throughout the world, no matter how many lives must be lost along the way to do so. On a completely unrelated note, here’s an image of George W. Bush’s head on a spike outside the castle walls of King’s Landing...more

Remember that whole bacon thing we were all so into the past few years? Bacon infused bourbon, bacon tattoos, pants made out of bacon we were walking around in all the time on streets paved with cured meat? That was weird. The hot bacon accessory trend has finally sluiced its way downward to the nation's fast food chains, (which, if we're being honest, were really ahead of the whole bacon game via cramming the stuff into every hypothetical meat pocket imaginable,) with the announcement of this week's new bacon sundae from Burger King. As the AP report points out, this is all part of an industry-wide trend to combine as many fattening ingredients as possible into one fist-sized ball of momentary joy (which is incidentally how I usually refer to my sex life), like Taco Bell's Doritos shells. 

Hey, it could be a lot worse:

 

Hate it or loathe it, there’s no getting away from it – dubstep has reached critical mass on both sides of the Atlantic. Along with tumblr-wave slut-core rap (via Luke) and hazy waif-pop it’s been impossible to turn on the television, get online or discuss music without dubstep coming up, even if it’s only for someone to tell you how much they hate it. But dubstep isn’t just dumb party music. Honestly. You probably haven’t been losing sleep wondering where dubstep came from but I’m gonna tell you anyway.

To understand dubstep, you need to understand grime (ie, UK electronic hip-hop). To understand grime, you need to understand how the UK reinterpreted US house and garage into speed garage and 2-step garage. And to understand 2 step and speed garage you need to understand “”, a song by Roy Davis Jr which came out in the autumn of 1996.

Say what you will about the internet, but we know a winner when we see one. Like this designer Chadwick Dillon, who runs the Etsy shop SOFworks, and is the genius behind the armored knight hoodie that you are probably coveting already as you read this. You're not alone, it turns out. So many people responded to the design that Etsy temporarily disabled the messaging system on his shop yesterday.

In the meanwhile, all we can do is dream about all the adventures we might have in a hoodie like this:

As you probably know, I spend a lot of time for my "real job" talking to bartenders about the super important artistry of putting one thing in a glass next to another. Most of those people work in respectable cocktail bars where you can expect patrons to be on their best behavior most of the time. Our surly bartending corespondent Lizzie Havoc, however, isn't always so lucky (via working in Allston bars frequented by poor young hipsers and bros).  She writes in with this handy guide to being a douche at her bar. or follow her .

“It’s so easy”, your 9-5 eyes say, filled with pity for us poor barkeeps. We couldn’t possibly have chosen this life, this sad night owl existence of making drinks and never really getting ahead, but we did. We choose it because underneath all the muck and grime, we’re a family. We are forever united over that sad look in your cubicle ridden-early-to-rise eyes, and we live for this shit, because when we look back, we confidently know that we are in fact, on the winning side. 

There's a weird sort of sound optical illusion -- wait, soundular illusion? Aural illusion probably -- going on in my apartment lately whereby it's hard to pinpoint where things going on outside of the house, a team of wiener kids shouting their dumb kid words all hours into the night last night, for example, are actually coming from. So when I heard all the bird noises all over the place this morning, I figured it was just another case of that. Birds outside, echoes, science etc. Then something jumped on my head. It was this little nerd above. "What the fuck!?" I said (squealed), literally, which is an embarrassing thing to say out loud if you haven't tried it in a while. BIRD ATTACK. It was like something out of that Hitchcock movie, "Pyscho", because I had my skeleton mother's bathrobe on at the time but that's a whole other thing. 

Here's the new collaboration between Kreashawn, Grimes, Blood Diamonds, and Lady Tragik called L$D, a sentence I would have liked to have ended with an exclamation point under better circumstances. I can totally relate to this song because sometimes over the years when I feel like the subject matter I'm writing about is ridiculous/boring/embarrassing, I'll turn in something I'm not necessarily proud of and hope no one notices I didn't work that hard on it, and what do you know, they usually run it anyway. 

I barely even wanted to post this video it's so disappointing based on the potential arithmetic of the collab, but then again I didn't chose my job as the metro Boston area's number one man on the Kreayshawn beat, it chose me. Work is work as they say. 


Video below.

Everyone still hates Nickelback. We're talking about this again this week because a nice fellow by the name of Josh Gross from the Boise Weekly in Idaho penned a humorous piece about the band to preview their date in town that week, and everyone has been sharing it all over the internet. SCOOP: NICKELBACK IS BAD. I kind of thought his preview was good fun, if not necessarily original, because god knows how soul-crushingly bleak it is trying to write arts and entertainment filler for a newspaper, and by god I mean me, another person who has had his job. But since there's nothing more I like than to yell at people about how what they think is funny isn't funny, it gives me a TIMELY NEWS HOOK to repost this old favorite about how boring making fun of Nickelback is below.

This post from DJ On and On at Jump the Turnstyle is hilarious. Well, not the racist parts, but the writing I mean. Sadly, based on stories I've heard from my friends with mixed-race children (wait, is that what I'm supposed to call them?) this type of thing isn't all that uncommon. Reposted with permission from here.

I want to thank the good caucasian citizens of Boston for turning my 4 year old son into a racially hyper-sensitive basket case.

Every Friday, my mother, a strong white woman raised in the streets of Chelsea, picks up my alleged son from his Vietnamese run pre-school in Fields Corner. She usually brings him to the movies or the Children’s Museum  for a few hours, then delivers him to me for the weekend.

I was spazzing out over this song just like the rest of you regular folks ever since I heard it, myself, but all of the internetting all over the place was starting to sour me on it. This mashup of "Call Me Maybe" with "Semi-Charmed Life" by something called Chambaland, however, (via) has renewed my interest. Not just in the song, but in everything. Want to live. Feel like I can go on now. Want to see the world. Want to make a difference. Feel like I am some-body. Sun is shining. Spiders aren't hatching eggs in my brain cavity while I sleep anymore. The world is beautiful. Flowers drifting in the breeze. No mutant cave-hogs plotting to lunch on my leg bones.  Video after the thing.

Going to be honest here, and maybe this is dereliction of duty or something and I"m in danger of getting bumped down a rank in the music writing army, but could not possibly care less about that band Beach House. Surprising, because for a hot minute I was, like many of us, all about the washed-out/chillwave/dream-pop/keyboard-babe-core/? thing they had going on. There were just soooo many other groups doing the exact same thing at the time, I just never really remembered to come back around and pay attention to them. The conclusion to this story, like so many other stories that I tell, is that I'm an asshole and I don't know what I'm talking about. This new video for their song "Lazuli" is gorgeous and tripp and makes me want to fall in love in slow motion. Props for the Ghostbusters references in the video as well.

Watch the video plus more from Ariel Pink, Andre Obin + Bearstronaut below.

I've been writing for Bullett, a really handsome magazine and website out of New York lately. I wrote a feature the other day on how to not be an asshole when you're asking for bartender's choice at the bar. Here's my second piece. It's about how you should quit your dreams. That's kind of the subject of all my work I guess. Excerpt here, then follow the link to read the rest.

Being in a band blows. Odds are, if you’re reading this site, you can attest to that firsthand, whether it’s through your own years spent toughing it out in a van with four guys whose faces you dreamed of smashing in daily before crashing on some loser fan’s cat-shit apartment floor, or by watching someone else you care about flush their youth down the aspirational toilet on some misguided belief in their own special brand of bullshit. So now you’re in your thirties, you didn’t have the blessed fortune to die young and beautiful and famous like you’d always dreamed, but you’ve still got this one particular skill, (and most likely no others that anyone is willing to pay you to do), so what now? You give up the dream, that’s what. You sell out, and you join a cover band and start getting paid. That’s what my friend did, who’s making a decent living playing guitar in a steady-working cover band. Being someone who watched his own delusions of musical grandeur go up in smoke, or up in nose rather, hearing that there’s musical life after utter failure was kind of inspiring. I asked him what it’s like “gigging” in a cover band. Consider it a glimpse into the days to come, young indie rocker, from the ghost of band bro future. more

OH SHIT I FORGOT TO INCLUDE THIS QUESTION AND ANSWER IN THE THING, AND IT'S PROBABLY THE MOST CRUCIAL ONE. SEE BELOW: 

LOL AT THESE NYC TOURISTS. "EXCUSE ME, CAN YOU TELL ME HOW TO GET TO SPACE FROM HERE?"

Paris Hilton is a DJ now you guys. She's making her debut at the Pop Music Festival in Sao Paulo, Brazil later this month. Apparently that's the most hilarious thing in the world to my pool of DJ and electronic music fan friends online. Not to call out anyone in particular, I've just seen way too many variations on this meme. 

But wait, why is it funny again? Is it because she's a girl? Partly. Is it because she's an 'attractive' girl? Yes, also that. Is it because she's a meandering dilettante? Well I've certainly never heard of anyone trying their big boy DJ pants on for size on a whim. All the DJs I know came out of the womb dragging a crate of vinyl.

Basically, if I'm getting the jist of this amazing joke it's that some rich kid who spends a lot of time in clubs -- and I'd like to see anyone in my circle who's spent more time in clubs that Paris Hilton come right the fuck forward -- and has enough money to buy the equipment wants to play records for people? FIRST TIME EVER.

There are three artists whose new videos I will keep blogging until the end of time because they represent everything that PTSOTL stands for: crass idiocy, the antithesis of any effort toward "authenticity", and devastatingly sexy blonde chicks who front like they're hard: Die Antwoord, Kreayshawn, and... shit, just two I guess. Let's say Kreayshawn twice then just to round it out.

GOOD NEWS YOU GUYS. I got a new phone, so the amazing photos I take of my amazing life are going to be slightly less mediocre than normal this time. Here's all the things I looked at in the world this week. I bet the words that go with the photos are going to just be the best thing ever. Like this for example: Here are some boats I looked at. I thought they were pretty, just bobbing around the marina there, all boatly. "Boat, boat," they whispered to me. Boats don't know how to talk, I thought. Not in English. "That's racist," they said.

 

Forget what I said about these photos being better than normal for a minute because I was so stunned by the appearance of this guy rolling by on his ten foot tall attention machine that I fumbled with the camera and almost fell over backwards into a centipede nest, which, I don't know why they even have those set up all over the place these days. You can't really tell here but the dude has dreads down to his ass meat, but I guess those didn't make him feel like a special enough of a snowflake? How bummed is his friend behind him, by the way? Got to be like the plain Jane at the club with the prettiest girl in the world all the time. "This sucks" that dude said, always in his brain all the time. Maybe you should chill out with people on regular-ass bikes more often if you want your boring old little tiny wheel to catch more shine pal. 

New music to listen to with your ears. Crush-wave, r&b, electropop, bloopy-bleeps and more.

I heard this song by the Fat Creeps on one of the last editions of Boston Accents on WFNX last night and it stayed in my head throughout the whole first half of the Celtics game, even when it looked like they were going to throw another one down the shitter. It's part surf rock, part lo-fi crush-gaze and 100% full of #9tz.  

 

Thomas, the inimitable hockey-person/conservative douche is in the news again this week for announcing he'll take a year off from hockey, writing on his Facebook page:

At the age of 38, I believe it is time to put my time and energies into those areas and relationships that I have neglected. That is why at this time I feel the most important thing I can do in my life is to reconnect with the three F's.
Friends, Family, and Faith.

It's a surprising move from the goalie, who likely had at least a few more years left in the tank. That comment about friends, family, and faith are pretty telling, and give me a good excuse to repost this piece I wrote a couple months back when there was a flap about Thomas skipping out on the team's visit to the White House.

It's times like these that I really wish I hadn't used up my allotment of Jodie Foster-meeting-the-aliens-in-Contact references over the years, because this wedding piece here is a brilliant, compressed-diamond of such overwhelming beauty that it defies words. I am humbled by it. I am hamstrung. I have nothing to add. I'm a joke hobo with an empty joke top hat whose lid flaps open like a soup can and whose joke pants keep falling down.  ( did a pretty job riffing on it though.) 

It's been quite a week for Platonic forms, with the most Thought Catalogy piece ever arriving the other day, and this really perfectly formed poop I just proffered to the gods, but now we've got the Most New York Timesian Wedding Announcement in the history of the New York Times, weddings, and announcements, not to mention, I suppose, this, the most PTSOTLian piece ever as well, in which I take something someone else pointed at on the internet, copy and paste parts of it here, add nothing of value, then wait for the accolades to roll in.  A few choice selections below from the wedding story of Michael Robinson and Alexandra Sage Mehta, whose parents were apparently a Dickensian literary device, but please go read the whole thing. 

Thought Catalog is putting up a good fight  for the WORST WEB-SITE ON THE INTERNET crown. This piece today Things You Should Know Before You Date a Writer might be the most Thought Catalogy piece I've ever read: 1) it adds nothing of substance to any discussion of anything, and 2) it's so solipsistic that it not only sucks its own dick, it swallows its own load, then bites its own dick off and eats it, digests it, forms it into a compact little dick-shaped turd, then eats the turd. Forever. Ouroboros of shit.

“I’m a writer, editor, poetess and photojournalist, who runs one of the top 100 LGBT blogs in the world" -- I mean, come on, I kind of want to give this person the benefit of the doubt that this is satire, but I just don't think it is. Also: the word poetess. I have the same reaction to that word that most people do for the words "moist panties." And for what it's worth, I'm the poetess in chief at one of the top 47 moist panties-themed Pinterest boards in New England, so now you can understand why so many people want to bang me. 

Let's take a closer look at the worst description of what it's like to be a writer I've ever read: 

Here are all of the things I saw on the internet and got bummed about/made jokes about this week. 

writes stories about things for us with his words. Check them out here. 

An awkward void filled the room. Stub swallowed a quarter-laugh before saying "You must have been going quite slowly, then?" His eyes flicked over to Diane’s momentarily. This glance between Diane and Stub was a small betrayal of me, but I understood. I would certainly be doing the same if I were in their position. Duckworth nodded, beatifically. His expression and bearing put me in mind of a saint about to be martyred. An activist about to be imprisoned by a corrupt administration. Accepting of his fate. Forgiving of those around him. Absolving them of blame for their pettiness. His eyes were almost closed. He licked his lips slowly before answering.