The fun goth stuff just keeps rolling in, ever since I wrote about being goth in Lemondrop! This picture was sent to me yesterday, with this caption:
Here’s Barack and Michelle Obama with Spanish Prime Minister José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero and his family. The State Department uploaded it to Flickr. (What an unlikely sentence!) Whoops—no one in Spain has ever seen Zapatero’s Goth daughters before! According to Zapatero, Spanish law allows him to prevent the Spanish media from running any photographs of his 16 and 13-year-old daughters Laura and Alba. For their privacy, see. And because maybe it would be considered weird for the PM to have goth daughters, but it totally shouldn’t be. It is a natural part of life, becoming a teenaged goth.
Jump to see it, you won’t be disappointed. (Also, that’s an awesome law)
I work in a wonderfully afrocentric neighborhood in Brooklyn, and leading up to the election, the amount of bad artwork and clothing featuring our lovely president’s face reached a fever pitch.
I swear, I actually saw a shirt with Barack and Tupac standing side by side, but of course there’s no trace of it online. I did see a lot of this though:
And while it’s fun to make fun of really bad artwork, the fact that we have a president that inspires people to make really bad art and really bad t-shirts is really wonderful.
I found these at Buzzfeed, and they fill me with this warm, fuzzy, wonderful feeling I have not felt while looking at pictures of the president. What is this feeling?
Hey, Obama inauguration people, I’ve got a great idea. I can’t think of a better song that represents the current mood of the country than “Hey Ya” by Andre 3000, and besides, I miss him being around, so why don’t you guys make a call and pull Andre up out of whatever fabulous barber shop he’s hanging out in and let him perform. Seriously, remember how great this song was?
The Mirror has a fun article about how things will be different in the White House when the Obamas move in.
Here are some factoids I learned!
When Obama travels by motorcade there are a dozen identical cars – so potential assassins won’t know which one he is in.
He has to hand a Secret Service agent his glass every time he has a drink outside the White House. The agent carries a small bag for his glasses, which are later destroyed. The idea is to ensure that no unauthorized person has access to the Presidential DNA, but it is not clear how an enemy would use it.
First, a funny video I saw originally on Neatorama done by the guys of The Landline, asking the all-important question of “what if Hollywood directors made campaign ads?”
Second, an essay in the New Yorker by David Sedaris, a man I refer to as my “soul brother”, called Undecided. Here’s a smidgen:
I didn’t vote again until 1976, when I was nineteen and legally registered. Because I was at college out of state, I sent my ballot through the mail. The choice that year was between Jimmy Carter and Gerald Ford. Most of my friends were going for Carter, but, as an art major, I identified myself as a maverick. “That means an original,” I told my roommate. “Someone who lets the chips fall where they may.” Because I made my own rules and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of them, I decided to write in the name of Jerry Brown, who, it was rumored, liked to smoke pot. This was an issue very close to my heart—too close, obviously, as it amounted to a complete waste. Still, though, it taught me a valuable lesson: calling yourself a maverick is a sure sign that you’re not one.
The essay is great, but honestly not up to Sedaris’ usual standards. Still read it, because a subpar Sedaris essay is still better than most others.
A video was splashed all over the place over the weekend of a crazy-haired woman at a McCain rally saying that she doesn’t trust Barack Obama because he’s an “Arab”.
