buy and die

what's french for masturbation? menage a moi.

lest you need a reminder

we wish you success!

if the arayan brotherhood or kkk were to produce a comic book, i wonder if their word balloons would have racist terms for sound effects? i.e., when some white supremacist hero punches a jew: "KIKE!" an italian: "WOP!" a latino: "SPIC!" a black: "NIG!" an asian: "CHINK!" etc.

"above it all" t-shirt slogans

YOUR SEXUALITY BORES ME
GAY? WHO CARES
TERRORISTS ARE BORING
SWINE FLU IS BORING
(boredom is always the best put down. to be threatened, scared, or offended is to let the other win. to be bored....to be bored, is to be victorious)

community

because nothing inspires ambition like the encouragement of antiquated gender roles

they shoot horses, don't they?

allowing diane rehms ("old shakey voice") to still host a radio program on npr is the equivalent of allowing a one-legged woman to compete in a bikini contest. put her out to pasture already! and i love how one of her substitute hosts, the dude, also has a (slight) speech impediment, somewhat slurring "ch" sounds. wtf is this- affirmative action for radio hosts with speech impediments?!?

funk for the butt, pathos for the heart

i am in awe of the stevie wonder song "i wish"--it's incredible how he managed to marry a fond, heartsick nostalgia about a carefree, delinquent childhood with that massive freakin' dance funk groove that defies anyone with a pulse to sit still. it communicates to my heart and my ass in equal measure, and my head, too, since i'm bothering to write about it. a triumph of communication. stevie, you're a genius!

if you don't have it, download it!

click me

let's have fun with song titles, shall we?

i left my spleen in san francisco
wishing and hoping and prognosticating
me and you and a white supremacist named boo
under the boardwalk, smokin' a spliff
dweezil's ripped my flesh
cletus in furs

so, knowing that both james joyce and mozart enjoyed scatalogical humour, i propose the following title revisions:

portrait of the fartist as a young man
the magic chute

heady matters

lite beer=water with a yeast infection

worst intro to any written comminque. ever.

"if you already follow me on twitter..."

dude. just don't, okay?

burning man boys gone wild

sublimely strange

space nuts

creepifying

jac mac and rad boy

if you're of a certain age, and grew up watching night flight on usa network in the mid-80s, you might remember this

cute-like-a-puppy award of the week goes to...

this guy

musicals i'd like to see

hello, dali!
guys and dowels
hello, dalai!
appalachian silent spring
oklahoma (federal building)!
the rocky honor picture show
little shop of torahs

OR follies (aka, Great Balls of Fire)

sigh

the fight over terry's rouge soon reached epic proportions

spot the smart car

license to (get) ill

furnace of child love

self-improvement goals for the clinically insane

problems of the problemless

- man, lately i've been putting waaay too much pasta sauce on my spaghetti.
- and then, get this! he says we have to take the 9:15 flight to maui instead of the 7:45 one!
- kinda bummed. really wasn't expecting the inheritance to be parceled out five-figure monthly amounts instead of being given all at once.
- i've tried everything, but nothing seems to help. no matter what i do, my skin is still smooth and flawless.
- i dunno what to do. they gave me at 10% salary increase and yearly bonus at work, but the bitch of it is, i didn't earn it.
- so there i was, setup for a boss head shot with my sniper rifle, when i got kicked from the friggin' server!
- all this freaking lint in my belly button...i wish i had an outtie.
- switching from the porsche to the lexus has me feeling somewhat emasculated, robbed of my virility
-itunes shuffle has totally got me down...15,000 songs on my ipod and the same dozen tunes keep showing up in every shuffle session i start; this shit sucks

today's slogan

"wet with quimsauce"

evocative things

a faint AM radio signal and the crackle of static

Titles that take no prisoners

from http://awfullibrarybooks.wordpress.com/

why does a certain type of liberal define or associate "authentic" as being that which isn't american? to hear them compare their travels to foreign countries (always emphasizing that they stayed like "an entire month" or some such, and befriended some natives, the better to distance themselves from the ugly moniker of "tourist"), and of course they insist on pronouncing the country names in the regional dialect. they'd not do that when describing their visit to, say, ohio, or someplace. this is totally fodder for the "stuff white people like" blog, and has likely been covered there already. do any of them ever realize how comic this is?

Don't

Dear Hipsters,

Authenticity is overrated. You are not fascinating. And if you have made the decision to get married, you need to acknowledge that you are doing one of the most boring things that humankind has ever invented. Sure, it provides security, validation, and status. But it does not make you unique. It makes you exactly the same as 111 million other households in the United States (about 49% as of 2005).

There is nothing inherently wrong with conformity, hipster. It is wrong, however, to assume that the choices you make about your wedding ceremony and reception will somehow obscure your decision to join the herd. No amount of micro-brew, handmade corsages bought from Etsy, or paper lanterns that match the groom's socks will make up for it. You had just as well send the jadite servingware back. That band you're hiring that plays Little River Band covers? I will not be able to stifle my laughter as you attempt sincerity during your first dance to "Reminiscing". Just a warning.

My advice to you is to give up. Hoist that white flag in your surrender to societal norms. Solute the American flag the next time you pass it by. You are doing your part to make our country strong economically. That's awesome, right? Go ahead and get the Yuengling. It's good and much less expensive. Trade in your mango kiwi fruit wedding tart for some yummy white tiered thing that even your great Aunt Tilda can eat without breaking out in hives. And that wedding song? Would it hurt you to dance to something to which you actually like? That you will make you smile in your heart for the years to come?

Yours truly,
I Zimbra

whenever i see the endorsement "a film you can't afford to miss," i feel it's a pretty safe bet that i should do just that, unless i'm in the mood for an earnest, self-important social critique (which happens to be slightly south of never).

t-shirts i'd like to see

front: a headshot of actor klaus kinski, back: the phrase "let the love in"

nobody likes a smartass

i wonder if the people (nearly always white men above the age of 40) who ride those recumbent bikes are the annoying contrarian, know-it-all types i would expect them to be, brimming with self-satisfaction, convinced that they deviate from the norm, travel the road less taken, and are in general superior to those faceless masses traveling by car.

these are the types of guys who are just plain irritating at parties or in most conversations...eager to point out logical fallacies, revise possibly incorrect assumptions from historians or other experts, and unaware that for all their self-perceived smarts, they just come across as smug and annoying (said guys also tend to be the types of people who'll talk at you while chewing their food, which is always a drag to have to witness).

also, i wonder if people who drive those really really small cars and have 40MPG as their license plate evince the same level of smug satisfaction? no way i'd drive those toys on the major interstates.

FAILS

peaches=bellhooks+jenna jameson

strangerous-- to be strange enough to seem possibly dangerous; a "people edge away from you on public transport, at parties, etc." level of oddity

curses

fuckee turdballs!
ballsucking fuckbag!
lunking fucking crushdog!
rotten dinking shatfuck!
shitbagging cutfuck!
dewlsucking fuckmonkey cockkike!
shitfucking dickfag!
janky cumsquat!
simping niggerkike fuckwad!
jesus fuck!

guntelfunking shagdog!
christmas on a crotch!
crymiminy!
dogsucking spoogerip!

jimmy crapped corn, but i don't care

if life is but a dream

might as well make it a wet one.

on an unrelated note, i enjoy watching white indie rockers try to dance...they do a kinda arrhythmic yo la tengo indie shuffle

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VpwdsgmVFiQ&feature=channel

engrish...in pictures

and somewhere in china, a butterfry fraps its rings

Taking stock of the strewn sheets, open cereal boxes, and cigarette ashes on the floor, Morganthal thought, "Zooey. She drops in and out of my life like a narcoleptic at a dance marathon. Fits and starts."

famous quotes that are full of it

"There are no second acts in American life." F. Scott Fitzgerald
Tell that to John Travolta.

"No one owns life, but anyone who can pick up a frying pan owns death. William Burroughs
Anyone who can stick it in or welcome it in owns life.

Humming along with Neko Case, Link Wray, and the Flat Duo Jets while in orbit over Ganymede, a half-day past Jupiter. What could be finer?

multi-level fail

christ, let us count the ways...

what's up with the word "frottage" anyhow? sounds more to do with the maintaining of large sculpted plants than with what it truly describes.

Grimacing as he swallowed his first bite of turkey rueben sandwich, Morganthal thought to himself, "This sandwich tastes like hallitosis smells."

"Wangles!"

...is my version of "Gosh-a-rooties!"
Which is someone else's version of "Jeepers!"
Which is Beaver's version of "Leapin' Lizards!"
Which is Annie's version of "Great Scott!"
Which is Batman's version "Sha-ZAM!"
Which is Gomer's version of "By the power of Grayskull!"
Which is He Man's version of "WhatchutawkinboutWillis?"
Which is Arnold's version of "Dynomite!"
Which is JJ's version of "Well, I never!"
Which is some society lady's version of "Gag me with a spoon!"
Which is some valley girl's version of "Shiver me timbers!"
Which is Popeye's version of "

the enema of my enemy is my friend

oh to be in fayetteville about now, corralling llamas with an argentinian guacho, eating hastily prepared meat under a rusted water tower.

speaking of typos, i made an amusing one last week: "gathering results" as "fathering resluts"
as in regarding sluts; sluts revised; recidivist sluts; or sluts, revisited?

if, as henry ford suggests, history is bunk, i think more of us should attempt to be historical revisionists, but should do so in an absurd way. if history is bunk, we might as well make it funky bunk!

oh to be god's breathmint, ripe for a divine suck

PIMP=party in my pants

there's a party in my pants, and you're invited
there's sumpthin' funky in my monkey, and you're gonna peel my banana
there's a tornado in this trailer park, and it's gonna blow you away
seeing you makes my assets all distressed


gurl, i gots ta be the secretary of your interior

chutzpah

if i ever have a kid...

gonna name it "Ut" and teach it a pretend alphabet. It's certain to love going to school like nobody's business. and oh grist for the mill of their running with scissors-esque memoir some 35 years later!

rock and roll commandments

#1: thou shalt not use a synthesizer to mimic a horn section
#2: thou shalt not include a faux-rastafarian rap during the break of a hybrid rock/reggae song
#3: thou shalt not mix the drums and bass and the guitars and vocals into diametrically opposing channels
#4: thou shalt not put drum machines and british musicians in the same room
#5: thou shalt not give white undergraduates 4-tracks
#6 thou shalt not include a harmonica solo in a protest song if thou canst not play said instrument

there are 2 kinds of men in this world

those who freeze up when a stranger is standing beside them at the adjacent urinal in a public bathroom, and those who let the piss flow freely.

tangentially, there's that tension when both men have yet to piss, with the thought "i wonder if he'll wonder why the fuck i'm standing here if i'm not pissing" possibly occupying both of their minds.

the validation of snark

what, we don't get enough snark in pop culture or in daily hipster life as it is? the journalistic establishment has gotta start putting it into news magazines and newspapers as well? the writer of this piece cannot be older than 35. note the "us vs. them" attitude with regard to the oh-so ironic and self aware creative class vs. the heathens from the utah hinterlands, who evidently don't know how to recognize music that one isn't supposed to sincerely like in a non-ironic way. i guess it makes sense though for mainstream journalism to adopt the tone of a younger generation in their writing, in an attempt to remain relevant. meh.

who knew that the original reece's peanut butter cups commercial ("you got your peanut butter in my chocolate...two great tastes that go great together") is actually a corporate endorsement of asian philosophy? yin and yang, writ small on the tv screen

and then there's the hopeless, existentialist cycle of sisyphean futility that engulfs both george jetson and fred flinstone at the end of their respective cartoons, during the credits. georgie on that endless exercise conveyor belt and freddy forever knocking on the wooden door of his stone house, which the cat has locked him out of. did the creators of these shows really feel such being and nothingness so acutely?

tsk tsk

naughty naughty

food slogans i'd like to popularize

"cheese: it's what the doctor ordered"
"corn: nothing less than the best"
"make tonight a wonderful night; make tonight a brisket night"
"bacon: the rockstar of meat"
"broccoli: you know you want it"
"herring: the possibilities are endless"
"chicken: the duct tape of meats"
"polenta: it mean no harm"
"brussel sprouts: now, more than ever, you need their help"
"asparagus: for when enjoyment's not a factor"
"chitlins: you wanted authenticity, so shut up and eat"
"chicken: the nobel-prize winning meat"
"haggis: chin up lad, you're almost finished"
"oatmeal: david bowie eats it- why don't you?"
"sweet breads: because everyone appreciates a euphemism"
"olives: they came in peace"
"chicken: the macgyver of meats"

ha ha ha

schadenfreude doesn't get much sweeter than this:

Joe the Multi-Faceted Hat-Wearer puts on his "Writin' Hat" to sign autographs last night at a Borders in DC, where "about 11 people wandered into the rows of seats set up hopefully in the basement" who he addressed "from behind a lectern and with a microphone … that seemed unnecessarily formal."

Never have I longed to be in DC so much as reading about this splendid event:

The only heat generated by Joe's appearance last night came when a young man named Jabari Zakiya recounted great moments in American racism (slavery, annihilation of Native Americans, segregation, etc.) and asked Wurzelbacher if the "hegemony" of the white man in America is "doomed" now that five states and the District of Columbia have majority minority populations.

Joe replied that he believes "our American heritage is being torn apart" by flag burners, critics of the military, and those who mock Christian values. He expressed his admiration for patriotic immigrants, and said he dislikes terms like African American and Asian American ("We're all Americans," he said). For some reason, he concluded by saying, "America has always been a kick-butt, take-names kind of country."

Wow.

The event was scheduled to last three hours, but ended after 55 minutes, with Joe having sold a total of five books.

never has an item of clothing been so accurately named as uggs boots. ugh, indeed.

this week's strangerous

i propose that we change the phrase "captains of industry" to "asshats of industry"

what's up with the new trend of beards on hipsters? don't these 25-35 year old dudes realize they look as much like jim henson or grizzly adams as bonnie prince billy or whomever else they're emulating? well, maybe that's the point.

i much prefer approaching red traffic lights to green ones...red can only change to green, whereas green at least 50% of the time will change to red, making me wait out the full cycle.

my mission, my only mission, is to restore the hurdy gurdy to its rightful status as the reigning instrument in club music

cake fail

today's example of linguistic prejudice

so, if we have the word blind for being unable to see, dumb for being unable to speak, and deaf for being unable to hear, what word describes being unable to smell, or to taste? definately a hierarchy of importance going on here.

oh, the pathos of it all! it's hard not to imagine the writer of this piece and the entire editorial staff ridiculing these women after the fact, journalistic objectivity be damned. i call this a "pile on piece."

my upcoming summer reading list

eggs: the impossible dream
susan's guide to the wasteland
gilding the goiter: the tony buckwith story
a kind, just wind: the sweet, ethical smell of vegan farts
traipsing 'cross town with a lobster named stu
lolas i have known
freestyle biscuiteering, the ugandan way
me and you and a shut-in named drew
the ins and outs of intercourse

Glory!

-had my name legally changed to "the artist formerly known as dandy hotpants"
-developed a wicked case of guitar nipple shortly after recovering from cello scrotum
-wore my hair as in bygone days of yore
-bought a german shepperd and named him "final solution"

the best of intentions

the most unintentionally funny results

most entertaining

http://quotation-marks.blogspot.com/#1

wish i'd thought of that for a blog idea- unneccessary quotes=unintended euphemism=mild laffs

i can't imagine what led the makers of these signs to think they needed quotations

video games i'd like to see

microsoft virtual dentist simulator, or just as good, virtual gynecologist
microsoft virtual horse whisperer

america's salvation army (basically, dress up as santa and ring a bell for a few hours, complete with simulated rain, snow, and public apathy)

sadistic sarge's pyscho bootcamp for wii (be great if this were bundled with the wii, so little kids on christmas could have an insanely abusive virtual drill sergeant calling them maggot while bellowing a series of increasingly difficult training commands. use prestige points to unlock easter eggs and hidden features like abusive hazing rituals and voiceover taunts! beat the game by fragging sarge with live fire when his back is turned!). the deluxe edition would come with a backpack full of rocks for kids to carry, the better to simulate those gruelling, kit-laden training walks.

and maybe chamber music hero, to cash in on guitar hero. choose from an exciting array of classical instruments- viola, violin, cello, etc. pitch, vibrato, tone, intonation, accents, etc. all modeled in excruitating detail. to make it even more punishing, the designers hired the most gifted professional virtuosos to record the parts, and to appear in game as themselves, where they deliver arch and devasting critiques to sloppy players. nothing screams pressure like not wanting to let mitzuri, marta agerich, yo yo ma, or daniel barenboim down during rehearsal!

or another variation: sackbutt hero. take the most arcane, irrelevent instruments to contemporary culture. basically, market early music ensembles to 360, ps3, and wii owners. learn such favorites as "the dance of the ill-fitting shoe"! or even better for the wii, theremin hero.

and for the title alone, i'm gonna have to include "kibbutz and bitch," a mediation simulator set on a jewish kibbutz in israel. players assume the roles of various kibbutz dwellers who must overcome an increasingly difficult series of disagreements over farming strategies, chore completions, provision allotment, defense against the odd palestianian rocket attack, etc.

today, at the YMCA, i misread the door labelled "family changing room" as "family changeling room." ha. that would be funny, a specific room set aside at the Y for families and their respective changelings. talk about inclusiveness for the differently abled.

i'd love to know how to hack people's cell ring tones. imagine the fun. replacing said tones with racial slurs, curses, dirty talk, burp or fart sounds. then call them when they're in a crowded elevator, a work meeting, church, etc. such fun. if pervasive enough, it'd likely kill off the custom ring tone industry, since people would be so worried about embarassing ring tones that they would likely start using just vibrate (which would be a blessing, anyway).


on a related note, it'd be cool to also hack the annoying MS Word helper, that goofy paper clip icon that pops unbidden into view, offering suggestions. I'd love to hack it to get it to say really abusive things like "I see you're working on a letter. It really sucks so far, and while you may be beyond help, I'm gonna attempt to save your sorry ass nonetheless. Who taught you write anyhow? Helen Keller?" etc. etc.

ever skim over an unfamiliar word while reading, and just assume that was a more familiar, similarly spelled word? i did this other day, with the word balaclava, mentally replacing it with the word baklava. of course, a sentence about gunmen, their faces covered with baklavas, storming into some hapless guy's room to abduct him, struck me as odd; it was only this oddness that forced me to go back and actually acknowledge the word as unique.

i'd make a faustian deal to be able to play like this

carrboro needs one of these

be the yin to its yang

so much depends upon a red blackberry

this is for when a pencil prevents a shark attack
this is for when your mom returns from the grocery store with those chocolate chip doritos you jokingly asked her to buy
this is for when your brother's fist whispers sweet nothings behind the woodshed
this is for when dog-day afternoon turns into cat-dance sundown
this is for when the story of your life fits on the head of a pin, with room to spare
this is for when your teacher forgets how to read
this is for when clowns interrupt the seance
this is for when you find organic pork rinds at your local food co-op
this is for when iggy pop graces the cover of good housekeeping
this is for when you win a pulitzer for your poem about mechanically separated chicken parts
this is for when you spot your daughter in an episode of girls gone wild
this is for when the borders poetry slam gets out of hand
this is for when hollywood decides to take a year off to rethink its commitment to artistic integrity
this is for when you are reincarnated as a one-armed stripper writhing onstage to "rosegarden funeral of sores"
this is for when the whole world knows your achilles heel
this is for when getting drunk is the catalyst for peace
this is for when you spend a few hundred bucks on braille comic books
this is for when your best friend eats donuts and beer for three days straight
this is for when your inlaws turn out to be cooler than your parents
this is for when you accidentally pee on your toothbrush
this is for when the captains of industry admit they've all been smoking crack
this is for when piercings and tats fall out of fashion
this is for when the foxtrot comes back into into fashion
this is for when honesty is the new black
this is for when a postcard ellicits a wet dream
this is for when your grandfather drops you on your head
this is for when dream-gang sex children spike your sleep with voodoo
this is for when what's old is new is old again
this is for when the fez factory catches fire
this is for when heaven turns out to be the designated smoking area behind the DQ
this is for when you find a dilithium crystal in your crackerjack box
this is for when your brisket takes the catering world by storm
this is for when your fanzine finally sticks it to the man
this is for when the magazine racks at the supermarket checkout lane are filled with scientific journals
this is for when a zebra shares its point of view
this is for when a heated tennis match triggers a fullscale riot
this is for when all the tea in china couldn't get you to play wii twister with that hulking brute of a babysitter
this is for when the hottest girl in town has a thing for hunchbacks
this is for when the cattleprod replaces the feather
this is for when you sing sister ray by the velvet underground on the karoaoke machine, and they ask for an encore
this is for when white supremecists start their own quartlerly poetry journal
this is for when your guitar needs no hands to sing
this is for when white indie rock fans finally learn to dance
this is for when the world bounces and hops
this is for when everyone's a critic but no one's a creator

simple

yet effective in eliciting laffs

EATD

indeed

kewl pics of new wave bands, circa '79-80

if

...i were in a band, and could only choose 1 cover song for us to do, it'd have to be "the intro and the outro" by bonzo dog doodah band
...your dog were jesus, i'd be judas
...electronic equipment had a soul, your cd player might decide it's sick of hearing nickleback and tracy chapman, and refuse to play the cd another time. don't let's even start on limp bizkit or good charlotte, at which point it'd just break down entirely, or possbily erase the disc.

q: what do you call a dude in space reading Sartre?
a: an angstronaut

their job is to fuck with googlemaps

http://www.streetwithaview.com/index.html

my job is to hypnotize children

my job is to hypnotize children 3
Originally uploaded by i zimbra

Some children are easily hypnotized.

unpublishables

Short, Black, and Curly: The Pictorial Encylopedia of Pubic Hair
The Ins and Outs of Intercourse

the man who

...rhymed crimson with jimson
...slipped a $2 bill into my uncle's meaty palm
...danced naked on the fire escape
...with boney hands the world did sway, and fed a bird on a lonely day
...got tendinitis in the tunnel of love
...became the king of bathos
...sewed a kimono on his daily subway commute
...got a boner during an autopsy
...woke up inside his own coffin
...convinced robert de niro to play sarge in the adam sandler adaptation of gomer pyle
...pulled a fast one on the puppetmaster
...vomited forget-me-nots
...named his penis "christ"
...became tangled up in blue
...grew fond of cursive
...found the cure for ennui
...grew a beard and collected vinyl
...met a body meetin' a body a comin' through the rye
...remained culturally irrelevent
...made sure that sunday night bingo was fixed
...leaked ectoplasmic white goo from ears and mouth
...named his golden retriever "throckmorton"
...got mixed up in some bad sock knee jive and late night death jam voodoo

so what if, in a polytheistic culture, name checking different gods and godddesses was like name-checking cool indie bands? and the more obscure the god, the more cred or coolness they'd be apt to have. woe to those gods who become really popular. so there'd be hipster class of worshippers, given to saying things like "i used to pray to him when he only played small churces and chapels. now he's sold out and only plays the megachurches, and his followers are so trendy."

i wonder if vic morrow's death scene is on the special feature outakes on the twighlight zone disc? same with brendan lee's death scene in the crow?

3 kindsa fun

it's time to leave the party

-when the urine stain is visible for all to see, it's time to leave the party
-when your spare clip falls out of your shoulder holster and clatters to the floor, it's time to leave the party
-when they break out the pleasure tester for men, it's time to leave the party
-when you've shat the fondue, it's time to leave the party
-when the hostess notices your swastika tat, it's time to leave the party
-when the party mix consists of bands like they might be giants, ben folds five, and magnetic fields, and when books by writers like sarah vowell, augustin burroughs, and david sedaris litter the room, it's time to leave the party
-when you realize twister participation isn't optional, it's time to leave the party
-when most of the men are wearing clogs, it's time to leave the party
-when you're expected to sing along to rem on karaoke, it's time to leave the party
-when everyone in the room is talking sociology, it's time to leave the party
-when the host is offended that you eat meat, it's time to leave the party
-when someone breaks out the crisco, to boisterous cheers and applause, it's time to leave the party
-when there's semen on your cravat, it's time to leave the party
-when they bring out the special kool aid, it's time to leave the party
-

kick 'em when they're down

is this an editorial? fairly dripping with schandenfreud. yeah, vick sounds like a total a-hole, but could tim dahlberg possibly be licking his chops more vigorously? i doubt it.

http://sports.yahoo.com/nfl/news?slug=ap-timdahlberg-111508&prov=ap&type=lgns

raising questions

good staff posture
Originally uploaded by anti-factory redux

It's rare that anyone gives any shout outs on this blog, probably because we're all very cynical. But I'm going to float this one anyway.

I have been following Stephanie Syjuco's work for a while now. She is currently a visiting professor at Carnegie Mellon. Judging from her Flickr photostream, she and her sculpture students put together an exhibition to look like an Ikea store, naming it Shmikea. There are lots of cute puns in the product names, my favorite being the "faggut" (sticks in bundles, spray painted different colors). The staff wore the classic yellow and blue polo shirts, sold their "products", and meatballs were sold and served. The meaning behind the exhibition is a little too obvious - a commentary both on art and capitalism and the intersections therein. Warhol already did this, kind of, but I think a critique of Ikea demonstrates the problem when stores try to blur the line between lifestyle and the market. I personally identify with it because I'm a bit of an Ikea addict myself. Plus, it looks like they had fun with the dramatic aspects of the show.

The set of photos is here. It is worth taking a look.

Thoughts?

it's time we rethought some im acronyms

lol=lactating on laptop
brb= blow, rollo, blow!
lmao= let's massage an orifice
btw=browbeat the wetback

i'd like to start up a moving company where all the employees have cerebal palsy. that way i could call the business "movers and shakers"

chocolate frog on an albino lilly= a turd in the toilet, perched atop floating toilet paper

phrases i'd like to work into my life, to take the place of more mundane phrases

-what the al jazeera's goin' on in here?
-

Carbon Footprints in the Sand

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed carbon footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of carbon footprints,
other times there were one set of carbon footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of carbon footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
"You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during
the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one
set of carbon footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most,
you have not been there for me?"

The Lord replied,
"The times when you have
seen only one set of carbon footprints in the sand,
is when you were riding in my SUV."

the secret to unhappiness is worrying about stuff you cannot change

online dating= a dog and pony show, with a spelling bee thrown in

these two should marry each other

You suck

I once found an LP at a used record store with a great band title and an even better album title. It was "You're Not Fascinating" by the Icky Boyfriends. It was a dollar so I bought it as a novelty. Actually not a bad album, either.

Anyway, I often think of this mantra - you're not fascinating. You're not. Basically, we're all assholes, but to varying degrees. Some people get this and some don't.

I am often mystified by the degree to which people do not understand this. No where has this become more apparent than in the world of on-line blogging. The word blog itself generates nausea for this very reason. It is the pinnacle of egotism, the height of all that is wrong with Americans.

Sure signs that you are a complete egomaniac if you include in your blog...
1. Pictures of yourself, your family, repeatedly
2. When you woke up
3. What you ate or prepared for your family
4. What you wore, as clothing or put on your children
5. If you did laundry
6. If you knitted/played video games/picked at your feet
7. What music you listened to
8. How you feel about packing for a trip or cleaning the house or organizing crap

If you find any of the above details important or interesting, you are surely wrong. I do not feel for you and I think you're the most extreme form of asshole. If you think you are special because you knitted or packed a suitcase, I want to throw up all over you. You are lucky to be alive, fuckhead. You have no sense of your place in the world. None whatsoever.

(ahem)

This blog (photo above) is one the biggest offenders. She takes a photo of herself every day and details where she got each item of clothing. Get off your high horse, lady!

There is another blog that I have been following for a while that is absolutely ridiculous. This chick (featured below) appears to have the most perfect, cookie cutter little life. I like her taste in vintage crap but I cringe every time I am confronted with her life.

I don't know what the solution is. What can be said really? These people aren't trying to hurt me or be assholes. They write blogs for their own pleasure. And no one is forcing me to read anyone's bad blog. I'm the consumer, right? The freedom to choose makes my objections moot.

I still think that it's kind of fucked up. Is it that the internet provides a window into people's lifestyles? A house with no windows could be beautiful inside for all I know. Or that the genre (ick) of blogs manipulates people into thinking that the minutae of their life is important? The second observation is easier to address.

i do so appreciate the whole "in the future, military showers will be coed" conceit found in many bad sci-fi movies

i took a tan shit on a tin roof

WTF

Present!
Originally uploaded by bre pettis

Could someone please tell me what in the fuck this is?

"A DiY experience"? Fuck you. I'll tell you what a DiY experience is: a Sharpie connecting with a wall.

middle names for some middle-class confessional writers

jayson "way to play the race card" blair
augustin "my literary agent so totally invented this pen name" burroughs
james "i am not a pussy, i swear it!" frey
elizabeth " " wurtzel (still thinking on this...suggestions welcomed)

is it just me, or is obvious to anyone else that sarah palin is this decade's dan quayle?

never let it be said that i couldn't follow the zeitgeist

if i ever write a play, im'a call it "angels with dirty assholes" or maybe "assholes in america"

today's phrase inversion: "towers will be violated"
kinda like this idea, that someone who tows your car will suffer subsequent physical or psychological violation for the act.

bon mots

to become erotic is to disappear
to talk of oneself, is to say...nothing

these are like self-aggrandizing rorschach tests, designed to make the originator (in this case, me) appear profound (but in taking a meta-position to them, i can't be guilty of this sin, can i?).

these short phrases hint at profundity and sound good but don't stick around long enough to uncover substantial meaning.

for the person who creates or recycles the bon mot in public, the hope is that the listener will make the trek towards meaning/truth, return with this treasure, assuming that it belonged to the originator all along. in essence, handing it back with the sentiment of "here, this is yours. it's beautiful/profound/brilliant/etc."

i'm not saying bon mots or whatever are bullshit, but rather, when they are so elusive or seductive , there's a good chance that their originator is more in love with the cascade of words and their cumulative effect than as a cogent insight. stye over substance, if you will.

here's this canvas. i painted a few nice black dots on it. you go ahead and fill the rest of it in with beautiful images. then, when you're done, come back and compliment me on my beautiful painting.

score!

if i ran the world court of cultural opinion, i'd like to stage a cultural nuremberg trial, at which i would try bands like limp bizkit and red hot chili peppers, finding them guilty of cultural crimes against humanity. their punishment? mandatory disbandment, with authorities monitoring them so they cannot ever reform.

"the damage that we do, it's just so powerfully strong--we call it love. the damage that we do, it goes on and on and on--not long enough."

when fat people go swimming naked, can we still call it 'skinny dipping'?

what to say to those who those who say lazy crap like "fuck columbus, he was lost"-- "i don't see you giving your property or land back to the native americans."

wanna create a moment of cognitive dissonance for the liberal/hippie clientele in the courtyard of your local organic grocery store? here's what i suggest: drive by real slow in a hybrid honda, making sure you have an obama sticker on one side of the bumper and an apple sticker on the other (and, if in say asheville, nc or berkely, ca, maybe for good measure hang a dreamcatcher from the rearview mirror); then as you pass by, toss an empty soymilk carton out the window in a flagrant display of littering. i can just imagine the cogs at subconcious play in the minds of those who witness it: "there goes one of us. yet, wait, what...littering? does...not...compute."

i don't care what your views are, it's time to condone violence

guess we know who they're voting for

wanna go out on the town this weekend, hit a few night spots, and do some polite white dancing? a subtle hip thrust; a glancing, tasteful caress; a wave of our feathered hair; and nary a drop of sweat under our matching red sweaters?

titles i'd like to see

love in the time of diahrrea
catch 69
running with gaum sticks
romeo and oubliette
pantless in gaza
of laughter and senility
the unbearable flightiness of being
dyspepsia
last exit in brooklyn for really good baba ganoush
100 years of solicitude
much ado about motherfucking everything
gout fisting in america
bob, ted, carol, alice, and shecky
running with forcepts
always a brideshead, never revisited
my runny clementine
florence of arabia (or, laurence of labia)
a goiter grows in brooklyn
are you there god? it's me, shecky
you and me and a dog named cujo
a taser in the sun
one hundred years of dyspepsia
infinite death
irma la douche
i never promised you a prosegarden

what do you call an ingenue stricken with consumption?


a phlegm fatale

i hope that one day e network and discovery channel join forces- that way i'd get to watch shows like "celebrity shark attack"
just imagine, desperate third-rate celebrities (bridget nielson, flavor flave, shannon doherty, etc) with a line of chum tied around their waists, thrown into the florida or australian waters. last one who survives wins $1mil!

this am me

for those who like dark meat

all this talk about "sticking it to the man"
i'd rather stick it in the man

when i wear a certain pair of pants, all my farts smell like american airline peanuts

the end of arrogance

the whole thing reads like one gigantic prolonged FAIL

yuppie tech fail?


that would be some delicious, sweet irony, what with how pleased most mac users feel with the progressiveness of their purchase

so we have laugh, laughing, and laughter
and we have clap, clapping, but no clapter? i call bullshit on that.

ali g on terrorism

another chestnut

and w/ hippy protestors

gas attack

oivey~!

pictures of nazis having fun, or, dissonance

http://www.chicagotribune.com/features/lifestyle/chi-naziphotos-080924-pg,0,323286.photogallery

i wonder what it would feel like, to be culturally relevant? like say cody diablo, darling of the zeitgeist, ormore mundane, like those stylish folks i see around town, with their impeccable aesthetic and ideological credentials (stylish cars and clothes, yoga physiques, appropriate political/social viewpoints, sharing a microbrew or veggie meal with other golden children such as themselves). what would it be like, to be effortlessly instep with some sort of tribe?

advice i've yet to overhear

"try not to get the soap directly inside the anus, but rather spread in even circles around its periphery"

ever gotten slightly ocd and protective of your home for a few days after cleaning it, stooping to pick up little bits of dust or dirt on the floor or counters? i get like this after a few hours spent cleaning. for a couple of days afterward, each bit of dirt or dust is like an affront to my work, and not tolerated. after about 48 hrs though, this feeling dies off, diminishing to a literal or figurative shrugging of the shoulders and eventually not even noticing, at least until next month's round. weird how i can let cleanliness more or less slide and procrastinate house cleaning, yet i get so gung ho while doing it and so proctective and vigilant for a few days after the fact.

today's word fail

faceplant---wtf is up with that? if ur thinking of a fern or shrub or something, it's like--dude, nice going word. not.

the serial killer spring collection

be a nice idea to create a line of men's casual clothing named after serial killers:

the starkweather spring collection
the dahmer fall line
wayne gacey formal wear
the bundy beach collection

and have the last names sewn into the left breast...nothing ghoulishly overt, just the names. that's all.

for your consideration

a new tattoo
Originally uploaded by i zimbra

discuss.

Click on the photo for a close up, old man.