..Cabbage Patch Dolls happen when bunnybees sprinkle crystals on magical cabbages.
Top 10 texts you shouldn’t have sent.
Diesel (the clothing company) made an app that makes your Facebook look like an Excel spreadsheet. Way to stick it to the man, Diesel!
Wanna not sleep tonight? Read about the Lazarus Sign. Wanna never sleep again? Search “Lazarus sign” on YouTube.
Amy Pond drunk and naked in a hotel in NYC? [insert TARDIS joke]
These are seven failed food launches from the ages. Remember Coca Cola Blak?
This is a great article on why firefighters decide to be firefighters. Very eye opening.
When I’m in a bad mood, I just watch this scene from Children’s Hospital.
For what would have been Princess Diana’s 50th birthday (because that deserves a cover, right?), Newsweek decided to do something very very stupid.
This has topped the ick factor of Natalie Cole doing a video with her dead Dad. Go further into the hard-hitting newsieness of Newsweek’s website, and you’ll see a sample of how they imagine Diana’s Facebook profile would look.
I just read this interesting post at Pitchfork, about Kreayshawn and the neverending debate of whether or not musicians are being authentic, and whether or not it even matters.
But people think this way because making pop music– more than almost any other art– sits right at the intersection between being yourself and finding something better than yourself to be. This, in the end, is what we’re looking for: Someone who can devise some fantastically compelling version of herself to act out, while still seeming as if she’s… being herself.
This is something I’d like to think doesn’t bug me, but apparently it does. In high school, I remember having a moment at a Korn show (shut up, I went to see the opening band) watching the lead singer writhing in pain on stage, howling about how miserable he was, and thinking “He does this every night- at some point he’s got to be faking it”. We were obsessed with figuring out if the indie and goth bands we loved were being “real”, and we called bands that seemed inauthentic “Faking the Funk”. We didn’t have much information to go on back then (magazine interviews, videos, live concerts), and seeing a picture of Trent Reznor looking happy, sipping a latte at a cafe, upset us greatly. Back then, we thought of ourselves as the constant Authenticity Police, quizzing kids at school who wore NIN shirts on how many Halos they owned. Our lifestyle was hard-fought and difficult to maintain, and we didn’t enjoy people who seemed to just be skating through it casually. We especially didn’t want the bands we spent money on to just be skating through. We were young and stupid.
Lest you think I’m over this kind of thinking, in 2008 I did a post about Katy Perry, Britney Spears, and how much producers are involved in making pop stars into the highly consumable creatures that they are.
I would still like to believe I’m more evolved now, and have better things to think about than whether or not a band is being “fake”, but this article reminded me that I am still the same asshole. However, some things have changed, because now I think the thing that bugs me about all this is not the inauthenticity of the artists themselves, but rather how artists are packaged and marketed to us in such a way that guarantees their success with a certain segment of the population. Because we’re so easy. Countless pop stars, rock bands, and hip hop artists are packaged and repackaged by teams of stylists and handlers until a version of them becomes palatable to the kids of America, and it bugs me that we’re so easily manipulated.
I don’t know if Kreayshawn is fake or not, but what I do know is that whatever that look and attitude she is rocking in her video, at least it’s something she created and posted on YouTube, and not persona pasted on her by some oily assholes in suits.
I’ll take what I can get.
Last night at a bowling/karaoke party, during a rousing version of Power of Love, I found out some fun info about Huey Lewis.
He is a master of controversy.
Not only has he had some issues with Ray Parker Jr over song stealing, but did you know that his band used to be called “Huey Lewis and the American Express”? They formed in 1979 and didn’t really have any success (except the b-side of a single that Huey had previously recorded with his former band, Clover.
Then, in 1980, American Express complained about their name, which forced Huey to change the band’s name to Huey Lewis and the News. They took it in stride, but this is why the song Power of Love has this lyric:
You don’t need money, don’t take fame
Don’t need no credit card to ride this train
Way to stick it to em, Huey.
Ever wondered how Columbia House ever made money back in the 90s? This guy will explain how, at Mental Floss.
Mickey Mouse hangs out with moonshiners, fights, and tries to commit suicide. There’s proof!
Do you want to buy Trent Reznor’s childhood bicycle, because you totally can.
Please read this amazing post from Rob Delaney on depression and getting help, as it is wise and badass and lovely.
Please enjoy this picture of FatMac, who gained 50 lbs for the next season of It’s Always Sunny because he thought it would be funny. (It is)
I’ll never forget the first time I saw my scar.
I was in the hospital, having just been lifted out of a medically-induced coma, and was adjusting to a body that no longer felt like my own, a body that was numb and weak and hooked to thousands of machines. I’d been under for 12 days.
It was slowly explained to me that I had been very sick, so sick that lung surgery was needed, and that the surgery had left me with a few new scars. I was too weak to get out of bed, so I just lay there, letting people roll me over and examine me, wondering if this was why my back felt numb and stabby at the same time.
There were some scars I could already see- my wrist and arm was covered in puncture wounds from panicked phlebotomists, and my neck had three tiny tubes coming out of it, tubes I yanked on so frequently that they left shiny raised dots of scars. But it wasn’t until three days later that I was able to be wheeled to a bathroom, and immediately I demanded to have my hospital gown parted so I could take a gander at my new self.