Sasquatch sighting

Soooooooooooooo Dr. Stewart Stangl and myself went on a scientific voyage.......to Popeye's, not knowing that we would run into the first ever baby sasquatch. An astonishing documentary. What a beautiful creature.

If you're familiar with The Knife, you know Karin Dreijer Andersson as half of it. On her own, she just released a debut as Fever Ray, which you kids that like Portishead and Bjork should probably already be going apeshit over. Pretty much every blog I've seen it on has been taken down really quickly, so this will be an album I just recommend. While you hunt out a torrent, scope this video for "If I Had a Heart":

If I Had A Heart from Fever Ray on Vimeo.

I've got no idea how I missed this one, but apparently sometime in '05 two guys who go by DJ Cappel and Smitty came out with an album called Blue Eyes meets Bed Stuy which is A) a Biggie and Frank Sinatra mashup and B) dope. Head on over to Spymasta and cop that shit.


If you've not checked out one man hype-machine Wavves yet, the second psuedo-album, Wavvves, is something you should rock if you're into no-fi music with lyrics about: surfing, goths, and being totally bored. Something tells me this video isn't official, but it's Japanese as all hell and the song is rad. Download it from our friends at Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers (which is one of the best-named blogs out there, after Pretty Pretty and the Jump Jumps).


And if you're in the mood for some whole other shit, the new Venetian Snares album "Filth" is noisy breakcore bliss. The kids over at nodata have it.

Heads up, my brief dissertation on my relationship with Kanye West is in the works.

band name

here are the newest band names we've come up with:

Totally Nautical

Rodney King & The Nightstick Gangbang

Speaking of Juggalos

After watching this video I'm sure we'll all agree that there is really nothing wrong with Juggalos.

Thank God for ICP

Last night at Club Congress, I witnessed an utterly indescribable spectacle of rock 'n roll brilliance... the apex of live performance... the pinnacle of the gen(r)e pool. What will from here on out be known as "The Monotonix Epiphany" has completely redefined my idea of what constitutes a rock show, in just one night. If you are considering asking me what it was like to be there, please refer to word 10 of this entry, then also consider shooting yourself in the face.

There was a man at the show with what appeared to be a DAT and MiniDV setup recording the whole show from the middle of the sweaty throng of primitive, thrashing beasts who would normally constitute what is referred to as an "audience".

While poking around the net hoping to find some information about this recording, I stumbled across the Tucson Weekly's Tammies blog, on which Monotonix were featured with a sparse interview containing some golden quotes from singer Ami Shalev. Check it out, solid read.

But that is all just incidental information. I digress (to my main point):

Also on the site was an entry listing the top sales for local record store Zia Records for last week (ending March 22). What I saw astounded me. Occupying the #1 and #4 spots were Twiztid and Hollywood Undead, respectively. Amongst a scatter of other shitty artists (and a couple of good ones), the fact that these two acts alone are not only selling records, but selling enough of them to be given space in a top 10 list, blows my mind.

People are actually buying this shit?? We're in a fucking recession, and a lot of people can't even afford to put gas in their cars. People are canceling their phone service, not going out to eat, and sending birthday cards with apology notes instead of cash. Where in the fuck is Johnny Juggalo getting the money to buy the new Twiztid record? And how many fans does Hollywood Undead really have? This mostly-digested, fully regurgitated force-fed bullshit doesn't even pretend to be pop, and it's moving units faster than a Britney Spears box set.

This happening was initially disturbing, but after a grace period of incredulousness, it became ultimately satisfying, and I'll tell you why. Our lives have been almost fully-automated and digitized by the advance of modern technology. Technology where we can, for instance, find any album by any artist at any time for free, as long as we have access to an internet connection (and who doesn't?). Stealing vs. paying for music is a tired issue at best and a ideological zombie at worst. The only two reasons I can think of for buying physical copies of CD's from anywhere other than directly from the band anymore revolve around two types of people:

1.) Those who feel they are decent citizens of the musical community, who'd like to support not only the artists they love, but also the local record company that carries said artists' catalogs. Unfortunately, they are deluded into thinking any large part of their hard-earned cash actually goes to either of these parties in the end, but their intentions are respectable, and they deserve recognition for trying to save a dying animal. Most of us see the dead cat in the road and adjust the steering wheel accordingly.

2.) Those who are too fucking stupid to figure out how to turn on a computer, let alone navigate to a music site and utilize the vast array of abundant resources that have been available to assist in downloading music, movies, etc. for YEARS.

Somehow, I don't think the Twiztid and Hollywood Undead fans fall into the first category. It bums me out that these people still exist and can do things like speak, leave the house, and procreate. But on the flip side, falling into category 2 affirms their behavior as a stereotype which me and my friends have joyfully exploited for years, and just when I think that Juggalos and trailer park rock 'n roll trash bags have gone the way of the buffalo (mostly due to my choice of avoiding their favorite watering holes and piss-stained 24 hour daycares where you can always find a low price, always.), something as seemingly innocent as a top ten selling records list pops up and reminds me that sometimes, stereotypes are so accurate, you'd be a category 2 not to embrace them.

And that POV feels very at home here.

First Post

So as my first I figured I'd introduce myself. I'm James. I'm big you're little. I'm cool you suck. And that's the long and short of it. Blow trannies and die slow. Oh and I'm on Percocet right now.

Everyone who seen the leprechaun say YAAAAAAAAAAAA!! 8D



this is black people setting themselves back another 1000 years. . . .

steve-o

Wolverine hypeman

here's what "Real Royaelty Gambit" has to say about the upcoming Wolverine movie a la Facebook.

"Diz movie iz gon b off da fuckin hook n bay da grace of da Almighty God diz 1 iz gon open wiv mii on a zeat in 4rnt.....knt wait mii iz itchy itchy........."

despite speaking in tongues, Im as excited as he is - by the grace of da almight god.

Whoa

I planned on writing some shit in here today - but considering it's 9:30am and my 'night' is just now coming to a close...I'll just leave you guys with this picture of Steve-O

Dave and Steve-o Dominate Resident Evil 5 in Less than one week

So the title pretty much says it. . . we made that shit look like Barbie's horse adventure. Even with a mass array of Enemies such as Freaky Head, Big Guy, Bees, Split head dogs, and Wesker with his rocket catching abilities we still took that shit out to a fancy sea food dinner and have yet to call it back. Anyways here a few videos that I think everyone needs to watch and appreciate seeing as how Incredibad is probably the most amazing Fake emcee group ever. . .



On a boat ft. T-pain


ras trent


And yes I'm still racist

Handicap People. NO!

In my nearly twenty-eight years of existence on this planet I have always, when afforded the opportunity, opted for the handicap stall over the pedestrian and closet-like normal stall when faced with the prospect of pull-the-fuck-over-it’s-GO

-time shits (normal was a carefully chosen word, btw). By not even the most fantastical flight of imagination do I require all the space sported by the handicapped affair – but, to quote Rex, this is America goddammit. If I want to pretend the shitter is my ivory throne and laid before me is my sublimely spacious court at the beck and call of my fickle whimsy, then so fucking be it. In fact, that handicap stall could be anything.

Maybe it’s my stage and I’m in the process of amazing a sea of adoring fans (see also: toilet paper dispenser) with my heroic air-guitar performance of Led Zeppelin’s “Immigrant Song”. Or perhaps it’s my locker room, and I’m getting my game face on before I go and hail-mary some assholes back to the stone age. Maybe it’s December 7th, 1941 and the handicap stall is actually the tarmac of some balmy Hawaiian airfield, the Japanese are incoming, and it’s up to me to change history. The point is that room and all those square feet that are grossly wasted on me are my own personal Matrix – and no goddam wheelie is gonna take that away from me.

Sure, I could do all that at home. I certainly have the space for it now that I’ve moved (I picked up Street Fighter 4 today and have been doing karate / teaching myself to throw fireballs inside since this afternoon). But that isn’t going to cater to my masturbatory need to do incredibly strange and childlike things alone and in public where no one can see me, now would it? So again, I need all that space. And again, wheelie’s aren’t the rulers of the Handicap Stall Kingdom, I am.

Or at least that’s the mentality I had up until up about 5pm today when a wheelie rolled into the bathroom at McDonalds sputtering like a 1978 Ford Pinto. I was stoked when I heard this because you could safely hypothesize that loud sputterings upon entering a public bathroom are probably indicative of some manner of crazy. And I know I love it when I’m tucked away in my stall kingdom and some crazoid decides to interject himself into the bathroom and unknowingly subject me to all manner of batty declarations, whether some grumbled insight to a personal insecurity or a wild and berating vituperation which considers perhaps the world or maybe black people.
Bathroom stalls are like ley lines for totally nuts, usually useless, and always entertaining information

So there I sat waiting to be favored with some morsel of forbidden eldritch knowledge from the depths of insanity when I saw them. The half-circle of wheelchair wheels parked accusingly at the gap below the stall door.

“hey! You almost done?!” came the croaking voice from beyond.

At this point two things happened simultaneously. The first was that I was suddenly very done shitting. Second, I began to panic, because I didn’t think this day would ever actually come. I thought that handicap stalls existed for the same reasons that Braille existed on things like ATMs, to satiate some semantically-anal “politically correct” notion. I didn’t realize that wheelies ACTUALLY went to the bathroom, and what’s more; in public!

“Hey!”

Oh, right – Wheel-tron asked me a question, hadn’t he?

“yeah….. I got this thing, and I, it’s about just done with” that’s a close approximation to the nonsense that came out of my mouth. The tables, like the wheels of Croaky’s creepy conveyance (that’s a little alliteration for your ass, btw), had turned and now I was the sputtering one. Evidently, my capacious vocabulary, staggering intellect and boundless wit quit me when faced with a handicap person who really speaks.

“Okay, good. I don’t stand up so good.”

Before my brain could staunch the flow, I said: “Really?” and I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that I actually said that shit out loud or the fact that that wasn’t the most inconsiderate thing I said today.
So I finished the paperwork, took a deep breath and steeled myself, then walked out and to my credit somehow managed to resist the urge to fucking STARE at Croaky as I left.

So in addition to any other lesson life may or may not have taught me today I’ve been graced with this knowledge: they are among us. So keep that in mind next time you pass up the closet-stall for the stage/airfield/locker room/whatever because you never know when a wheeled out Croaky might roll up on you.

*this is an old one, sorry nothing new and finished yet*

less is more, particularly when "more" means having two male sex organs.

fetus in fetu is apparently considered to be a disfiguration. an abomination. a handicap. at least to eastern europeans, it would seem. and it begs the question: had they not operated on sweet, little Artyom G's future god-given complex (which, i believe, we're all inherently entitled to), would this boy have grown up to think he was twice the man every complicated, lust-filled woman begs for (think: redefining double-penetration. gang bangs squared. multiple orgasms. ménage à deux dick.), or would he simply develop algebraic insecurities regarding the size of his forever-scarred genitalia?: it's not just small/limp/funny looking -- it's small/limp/funny looking, divided by the sum of the equal parts times two, fractioned and fucked with.

that's just math no teenage male should ever have to think about.

NOODLE KNIGHT

I understand there are all types of crazy. There’s everything from John Wayne Gacey clown crazy to Sarah Palin Dinosaurs-Existed-2 thousand-years-ago crazy, to ex-girlfriend crazy and so on and so forth. And, sure, every type of crazy is interesting in its own right – but for me, nothing is as entertaining as bum crazy.

Bums are fantastic. Bums are sieved, raw, uncut, pure, unadulterated examples of just how nuts we can be. They’re like filthy , crazy, walking Christmas presents – because if you come across one out and about, then grab the popcorn, because chances are solid gold entertainment will ensue. And unlike hobos, which can be highly dangerous due to their tendency to stab and their repertoire of dark hobo magic spells they’ve taught themselves, the only harm which will befall you as a result of a bum encounter is a sore midsection thanks to some hearty chuckles.

Bums also represent a nod to a simpler time in life, like when we were children and everything was make believe – because if you’re a bum, who gives a fuck what people think? You’re already filthy and crazy – and you gotta entertain yourself somehow right?

And you know what, bums? Dave Carender is on board with your craziness. I am in, bring on whatever bonkers ass shit you want, sell it to me, I want to buy it.

You’re an astronaut today? Fuckin a. Oh, you’re a tennis player? Go for it. Today you’re a chef? I believe you!

In what has proved to be a tantamount example of my staggering arrogance, I actually thought I’d seen it all when it came to street-people crazies. Oh, boy – earlier this month I discovered just how wrong I was when, on the corner of Grant and Campell, the craziest bum I’ve ever seen graced me with his presence.

Imagine, if you can, a man with aquiline features, sun baked leather for skin and hair as wild as his eyes. He stood on the corner, in one hand he held a two way radio (or maybe one of those baby monitor walkie-talkie things) from which he was no doubt receiving gospels from whatever bumgod commanded him to do His work. In his other hand he wielded a green pool-noodle with which he vehemently whipped cars as they sped past whilst screaming at the top of his lungs.

This was, in a word: AMAZING.

There have been precious few moments in my life in which the events taking place rendered me truly speechless. As I beheld Noodle-Knight (as I instantly dubbed him) prosecuting his righteous work, words quit me.

As I sit at the red light Noodle-Knight screams, whips cars and occasions stops, stands bolt-upright like a Meer cat while holding his radio to his ear to receive some transmission then proceeds to point at something that, obviously, only he can see – then repeats the entire process.

I felt like some heathen Muslim during the crusades witnessing a Templar knight in action, going about some esoteric work, the minutiae and intricacies of which were wasted on my simple mind – but understanding, on some fundamental level, that this was important work. That this was bumgod’s work.

Oh, noble Noodle-Knight – I can’t fault you, in your mind you were defending the parking lot from the onslaught of nefarious four-wheeled dinosaurs. Is there a greater calling? I can’t think of one.

ADDENDA:

I texted everyone I knew about noodle-knight right after I witnessed him, figuring I’d never see him again but as fate (or bumgod) would have it, me and kungfuroni passed him a few days later and I was able to capture a few pictures with my phone. So here in all his righteous / filthy glory I present Noodle-Knight:

I know the picture quality is bad - but we were driving by and i used my phone - sorry. If I see him again, and I hope I do, I'll get better pictures.

i guess that it's only fair...

...that the west coast reprazent.



study this for your next SAT's -

The Notorious B.I.G.:Tupac Shakur::Adolf Hitler:Barney the Dinosaur

does that mean that Hitler was one of the good guys?

Is This Real Life?

Adam found these gems.



and then follow it up with this.

Heavy Rotation - Friday The 13th

To start off this week's round up I recommend going over to Michachu's Myspace and checking out the track "Golden Phone", which is one of my favorites on her upcoming debut "Jewellery" (not a typo). She and her band The Shapes will be playing a bunch of sets during SXSW, but not coming through Tucson for WXSW. The album is a lot of fun and can be found over at El Rincon De Kik.

Next up to bat is the third album from Art Brut who are back with the same basic formula. It has definitely been done before but I've still been bumping it a lot this week; it's good for a laugh if nothing else. Check out Art Brut vs. Satan at nodata after you watch the video for "Alcoholics Unanimous."


I know this album is over a year old, but seeing as Vivian Girls just tweeted:
"We just finished tracking the entire 2nd album. Our hands are sore and we are psyched! 6:49 PM Mar 10th from web",
I thought it was a good time to post last year's self-titled debut in case you missed it. Follow the link to Ritmono to check it out.

And since I honestly believe this dude is going to overshadow Kanye within a year or two, check out the new Kid Cudi mixtape "Stoner Charm" from Rappamelo. Then watch the second video for Day N Nite which is way fresher than the first (which Cudi himself apparently hated.)

kid cudi - day 'n' nite
Uploaded by 75_prod

Ever wondered what Lil Jon's "Get Low" sounds like 8-bit?

How about Kanye's "Gold Digger"? I didn't, but I'm sure glad I know now, cause knowings half the battle.Click here.

Humans Inspired By Humans Inspired By Kittens Inspired by Kittens

6We all know Kittens Inspired by Kittens is the internet's current hot meme - but thanks to Susan I present to you Humans Inspired By Humans Inspired By Kittens Inspired by Kittens

annnnd thanks to Steve-O...here's lil hitler

Street Fighter 4

Kid's got moves.

Band Name

Adam and I came up with this one tonight: ClownHat

An all Clown Foghat cover band who all speak really seriously during their set, between songs.

Backflips are a state of mind.

Hey Kids,
The first thing you need to do is immediately go to Sound Verite and download Beach House's cover of Queen's "Play The Game." It was supposed to be on that Dark is the Night comp, and then it wasn't and now it is if you buy a physical copy and not a download (or some nonsense like that.)

If you know me or have just figured out my not-so-secret love for girl fronted indie-pop, you'll likely already know that I'm loving the new Camera Obscura album "My Maudlin Career." It is in no way shape or form a departure from the formula they've been using for the last three albums, but on the first listen I'm enjoying it more than 2006's "Let's Get Out of This Country." Radiobutt has it.

While you're already at Radiobutt you can download the totally awesome new "Veckatimest" from Grizzly Bear. If you liked the Fleet Foxes album from last year, try this on for size, I think it's way better.

If you feel like punishing yourself for being bad this week, I had a hell of a time sitting through the new Cursive album "Mama, I'm Swollen" which is as garbage as it's name. We Are The Brain Washers (which I swear is a dope blog) has it.

I'm currently tired as hell and in the mood to zone out a bit, so I'm going to be bumping the new Mono "Hymn to the Immortal Wind." Which you'll find over at Messiento.

To leave you on a high note, everything RZA touches is solid gold. He is the hip-hop King Midas. Afro-Samurai: Resurrection was a dope movie, and the (demo at least) for the game was dope, so here's the soundtrack to the game from our homies over at Onlyrealhiphop.

Pee Ess: Thanks everybody, now Watchmen is definitely waiting until it's DVD/dollar theater release before it rapes my eyes like the book's choppy writing raped my brain.

Not exactly a review but more of a thought on Watchmen.

So, it's been about 3 days for me since I have seen Watchmen and still I have yet to decide if I really liked it as much as I think I do. It's hard for me to decide beacuse I read all the reviews and suck in other's opinions like a sponge but still my head is spinning.

When I saw it I walked out of the theatre in a weird daze. I couldn't get the book out of my head which sucks because I didn't go and read a book, I went to watch a film. Yet still, all I could do was think about the book comparing to the film. I think this was a huge flaw with the movie itself. The first half of it was almost flawless with the actual graphic novel. Shot for shot, word for word and yes that little fanboy inside of me jumped for joy everytime Rorschach said something (which I totally agree, he was by far the best part of the film). Now the second half of it was what puzzled my tiny lil brain. It went off the pages so much that I got lost. Having been so faithful to the book for 90 minutes then just making up your own parts fucked with me terribly and I started to get confused. I am not sure if I was confused because of the movie itself or the book. I am actually going to be seeing it again to see if I can get a better grasp of it on my own and without the book inside of my head.

I will tell you though, I have really no problem with Zach Snyder. I thought his visuals were amazing. What he did with some of the panels in the book were just incredible and some scenes will really be with me forever. So I guess that sums it up. I didn't like the whole movie but I fuckin loved alot of the parts of the movie. Just exactly like the book. I never truly loved the book. I just really like parts of the book. So all in all I am happy.

Word to your mother,
Chad

Watchmen Review by Dave

if you haven't seen watchmen, don't read this - it's full of spoilers.

First off, I haven’t read the comic (and now do not intend to, especially after eyedialect pretty much told me what I suspected even before the movie came out – that it’s not that good) and if you believe that debunks my analysis of the film then I’m sorry you’re one of those blind fanboys I was making fun of in the theater last night. Let go a little and open your mind to some critical thinking. And being accused of being pretentious just tells me you simply aren’t capable of intellectually analyzing something beyond its veneer.

Let’s start with the cursory; the music was pretty bad. At best it felt forced, at worst it was forced, awkward and out of place. I’m still a bit perplexed by the 10 seconds of 99 Luftballoons for seemingly no reason. The showcase example, though, is that god awful cover of “Hallelujah” during the Owl-Ship fuck scene. The opening credits were pretty awesome though with Bob Dylan’s “the times they are a-changin”, probably the only example of good use of music.

Which segues nicely to my next issue: editing. I always prefer a movie be longer then shorter. Mostly because I feel like too many movies feel waaay too rushed, probably do to studios imposing restraints on the film crew, so it’s nice when a movie feels fleshed out. Watchmen, however, really should have been an hour shorter then it was. Whoever was in charge of editing did a bad job. Too often scenes would drag on and at the end of it you were left with no more then you had when you started. A totally awkward fuck scene could have been cut form 7 minutes to a few shots, that scene really could have been implied with the same effect. Way too often this movie is inconsiderate and self-indulgent, “I’m really really important, and you will sit through me” was kind of the over-bearing vibe. It’s ironic that Rorschach continually admonishes mankind for its hedonism and arrogance, when this film is exactly that.

I admire the attempt to lay the movie out very much like a comic. An idea which sounds good on paper, but doesn’t quite make the transition to the screen. There are flashbacks throughout which act as the opening narrative to a monthly issue of a comic which works great – in a comic. In the movie these flashbacks are tired, drawn out, and bring the movie and momentum to a grinding halt – and, again, afterwards, you’re left with no more then what you had to begin with.

For such a convoluted plot, the foci of which is the destruction of the human race, it wasn’t very humane. It was emotionally unapproachable; it was difficult to be invested in any of the characters. I think this was in part because of cardboard performances on some parts – like, for instance, Silk Spectre’s Martian plea to Dr Manhattan to save the human race; she might as well have been asking him to return some clothes after a break up. I didn’t care about any of them and, by extension, didn’t care about the fate of humanity – and, in this post 9/11 world you have to try hard NOT to evoke some feeling when it comes to a terrorist attack on NYC, it’s a gimmie, how did Zac Snyder botch that?

The only exception here was Rorschach who’s only real avenue of connectability was “hell yeah, kill bad guys”. At first I didn’t like Rorschach’s way over-the-top 1920’s gumshoe noir detective film spin, and was even more put off by his forced gravel voice – but my reservations were quickly waylaid and Rorschach grew to be the only thing about the movie I truly loved. Jackie Earle Haley’s performance was fantastic.

There were a few things that stuck out like sore thumbs. The first being Nixon’s make up. Are you fucking kidding me? How did something that awful slip in a movie which otherwise looks fantastic (if, maybe, a little overly CG). It was pretty hard to focus on any of the scenes involving Nixon.

Next, the blue horned tiger at the end. What the fuck? As I said, I’ve never read the comic, if that was in the comic then cool – but it was so out of left field in the movie, it was a detractor for an important scene. When I first saw it I at least thought it would be involved in the climactic end fight, that would have at least justified it a little – but nope, here’s a blue horned tiger and two minutes later, it’s blown up…..what?

And lastly, Dr. Manhattan’s crystal-constructed clockwork conveyance (there’s some alliteration for your ass), again if that was in the comic (which I’m sure it was) did it get any explanation? Being faithful to source material is great and trust me I go nuts when directors fuck it up (I wanted to kill someone after I Am Legend) but faithful directors must also understand that when it comes to film, there will be a lot of people who haven’t consumed the source material, it’s the nature of the art. As a director you have to pay attention to what those who are raging fans of the source won’t think twice about and what will boggle those who aren’t. Like sudden blue horned tigers.

The entire thing felt like it was just trying too hard to force-feed huge ideas. There was too much focus on big without the groundwork, which ultimately left it feeling scattered. It was; open with spy thriller James Bond action scene and slo-mo body thrown through pane glass – now it’s Rorschach’s noir detective film - now it’s campy lover’s tiff on mars – now it’s Arctic neo-Nazi Egyptian pharaoh with the keys to doomsday – and then – and then. The movie was like a beautiful building, a genius example of architectural mastery – sitting on a flawed amateur’s foundation.

So was it bad? No. Was it good. No. It was okay at best.

It’s a good example of a victim of its own hype. I really wanted to come out of the theater and stand corrected, and be able to admit that everyone was right and the it was all it was hyped to be, but that wasn’t the case.

At least there was a sweet new Terminator trailer before Watchmen

Diablo Cody's ugly troll ass belongs under a bridge asking people three riddles

>

Don’t get me wrong, I understand that in certain mediums of entertainment it’s understandable and enhancing to have a stage name of sorts. Now, how valid, understandable, applicable or annoying the stage name may be is as variable as the persons using them. No big surprise, however, that most monikers are just fucking obnoxious. Need a good example? How about Bono. Oh, and speaking of U2 – their guitarist goes by “The Edge”….no, really.

But, that’s music. How about pro wrestlers? No one uses their real name. Even film stars often change up their names. But that’s movies.

So what about literature? Well, I get that sometimes perhaps the author’s subject is something dangerous, or for whatever ever reason, they may need to keep their identity secret. Or perhaps there are several authors who chose to write united under a single name. Or maybe the author is writing something outside of their norm and need to be taken seriously and out of context of what they normally write, so they use a pen name.

Really what I’m getting at here is I fucking hate Diablo Cody. Because that’s a stupid goddam name, and everyone regards her like she’s super cool underground female Chuck Palahniuk (who is also retardedly overrated), pop culture messiah who’s every keystroke produces work of staggering genius and boundless wit that must taste like the sweetest ambrosia to any film/television exec because they all seem to eat it up. Writers don’t need rock star aliases, and those who have one are just as fucking stupid as the people who read their bullshit. Don’t even get me started on Poppy Z Brite. If you’re a writer then the work you produce is your name, if you want glitz and glamour you’re in the wrong field.

Any fuckfaced faggot can record some bullshit, upload it to myspace and land a record deal. To be a fucking actor all you have to do is be good looking, and often not even that – my point is you don’t need a honed and refined skillset for those things. Yes, a lot of musicians and actors are truly gifted at what they do – but a lot truly aren’t. So what right? Well the point is here that real talent when it comes to being successful at writing, it takes a fuck of a lot more then music or acting – and when some asshole does make it with a stupid moniker it cheapens the art that is writing. And it makes the rest of us look bad.

Diablo Cody isn’t a writer. She’s an ugly ex- stripper who had a blog, a blog some fucker thought was witty and helped her get a book deal. Oh and a stupid name. Apparently the rest of us real writers are going about this all wrong.

And by the way, for all you dumb fuckers that actually though Juno was a good movie, don’t be too stoked on her “writing” it – do a little research – she was a writing consultant.

Fuckers.

Baby Peach Is A Cunt

Binocular Soccer = Amazing.

Binocular Soccer is a pretty good idea, but I think Binocular Dodge-Ball would be waaaay better.



annnnnd....this kid.