Roc Marciano raps and raps. I'm not sure if he says "bozak." But he wins the official award for Best Minimalist Use Of The Word 'Bozak' Within Cover Art:
It's maps. Nerds love that shit. HBO obviously knew this, because the first thing you see when you watch the show isn't some hot nude costume-drama ladies or dudes gettin' their heads chopped off. It's a map. A map with details that grow while you look at it. A map that isn't quite the same from week to week. Wait, IS HBO MAKING FUN OF NERDS?
Yer Poppa ain't usually all zeitgeisty in his hate, but apparently I'm not the only MF who's nixing the bracketology this year despite being a sports fan in general. Dudes have their reasons. For me, it's about my ever-waning ties to the product. In my ever-contracting mind, college basketball has become a thing for:
• college kids
• dudes who still wish they were in college
• dudes who really really like basketball
• dudes and chicks who went to one of the colleges that give Dick Vitale super-stiff wood
• dudes and chicks who went to colleges that got really good at basketball only recently and now have a nationally viable brand name because of it (which, technically, is a subset of "colleges that give Dick Vitale super-stiff wood")
• people who will wager $5 on anything
Anyway, I'm not any of those things right now. So ... no bracket.
(Sorry about all the orange dicks. Kinda looks like some Keith Haring shit, though, which is nice.)
Using our advanced knowledge of aesthetics and personality types, we've placed each sock wearer from this NYT article into a category, based solely on their socks:
Yeah, it's kinda nice:
They have the unsettling grain of found footage and the lurid pull of fixed-viewpoint surveillance images. Like something out of an art project. And if a band is built to be poorly recorded and still sound like itself, it's Lightning Bolt. IF YOU ARE TRULY A BADASS, PLAY ALL THREE AT THE SAME TIME.
Accordin' to The Feast, D.C. women apparently want this $1,200 Tory Burch "Hiltibrand" vest because "Her looks are classic and well-recognized, and they have a lot of longevity."
Whatever. It needs the Public Enemy logo on the back. That's what it needs:
Because, really, this fucking wolf from the Feb. 20 Week in Review section looks like some straight up Wolf Gang handiwork:
Like this shit:
... or maybe this "Sam Weber" is designing for OFWGKTA?
We're leaving the preps out of this, because I can't even stand to look at madras. And if you think this post is some kinda B-game/summer-filler material, I ask you to do the following: Google "swim trunks" and tell me if your eyes are immediately poked out by dicks in banana-hammocks. That's right, they are. I LIVE ON THE EDGE, FOR YOU.
OK, put your eyes back in their cock-bruised sockets. Bombs away:
This kind of shoe is perpetually banal, no matter how you try to remix it. I repels irony, it dampens good humor, and it has a limitless supply of frump. It should not be fetishized or celebrated or appropriated. Your aesthetic cannot penetrate it; your art is dulled by it. The boat shoe is merely a foil; it exists to remind you that not everybody can afford a big boat.
(Kiddies, this is what happens "boat shoes" lands on a list of acceptably trendular footwear: Yer Poppa gets his tubesocks in a twist.)
Panda Bear orange:
Band of Horses mustache:UGLY
Surfer Blood pun on Joy Division album cover:STOOPID
Yeasayer hand:UGLY, but definitely
PREVIOUSLY: "Alice in Wonderland" posters: Creepy or Banal?
Anonymity-bars usually make people look creepy and mysterious. This squeaky urchin, however, is immune. Is it the fact that his hands are frozen into a piece sign? SOMEBODY TEACH THE KID HOW TO GIVE THE FINGER TO THE INDUSTRY. I feel empty inside:
IN OTHER NEWS: No Refused reunion.
|SHIT I HAD||SHIT EVERYBODY ELSE HAD|
|Coaster brake||Hand brakes|
|Boombox on seat||Actual car stereos|
|Velvet Elvis||Beer posters|
OK Go, This Too Shall Pass:
Peter Fischli and David Weiss, The Way Things Go (Der Lauf der Dinge):
And so, more than 18 months later, it is still true that we cannot stop thinking about Quatchi. We've grown to know him quite well, and although he is generally a gentle and noble beast, we're pretty sure he steals our food sometimes. And he hasn't washed those earmuffs in awhile. Otherwise, though, dude can party, at least until the weed kicks in. If you hate him, you are an evil, soulless robot and you must be destroyed by Canadian weaponry.
(Photo by NowPublic.com user bensonkua.)
This is the new logo for Allentown, Pennsylvania:
My reaction: What's that curvy thing with the square supposed to be? Oh, it's an "A." OK, fine, but if the slogan is "City without limits," why choose a symbol that obviously has limits? The curve starts in one place and ends in another, like a fast-food drive-through. I'LL HAVE LARGE FRIES AND A MR. PIBB WITH MY ALLENTOWN BURGER, PLEASE. And if the "A" is supposed to imply upward-and-outward movement, why is it all blunted and round, like a water tower? Shouldn't it be a least a little bit pointy, like a rocket cone or the nose of a really fast airplane? ARE YOU AFRAID OF SPACE TRAVEL, ALLENTOWN? Because if you are, then you obviously have limits. I'm so confused.
* The television of my mind, sweetcheeks.
Does anyone in your family own a non-ironic "Two Wolf Moon" cross-stitch? Somebody in the Cess Clan does:
Funslides exist because you bought a shitty McMansion and stuffed it with a platoon of bored kids and hundreds of yards of shitty carpeting. There is no other explanation. Please do not try to rationalize it. Nobody else is using them:
ALSO: You probably buy those toddler sneakers with the lights, too.
Doctors presumed he was in a vegetative state following a near-fatal car crash in 1983. They believed he could feel nothing and hear nothing. For 23 years. Then a neurologist, Steven Laureys, who decided to take a radical look at the state of diagnosed coma patients, released him from his torture.
Let's call it The Diving Bell & The Butterfly II: Brussels Awakening, or even better yet, Le scaphandre et le papillon: Réveil à Bruxelles.
Holy shit, it's gonna be better than Avatar.
* Damn, yo, Artcyclopedia.com is ugly, for a Web site about art.
The thing that strikes me about this Dream Syndicate video is the utter lack of fashion-control, but then again, did anybody have fashion-control in the '80s? Or is it just because the show was in Spain? Anyway, yer Poppa is having a renaissance with this song. No, that's a lie. I didn't care about "Tell Me When It's Over," like, ever, until a couple of days ago. So it's an enlightenment, not a renaissance, technically. I guess I didn't hang with enough record-store geeks in the '90s. Or maybe this is just some subtle, grown-up rockershit, and Yer Poppa is gettin' soft in his middle age, and I wouldn't have cared, regardless, until now. Yeah, whatever, you judgmental pricks, I'm not soft, I'm AWESOME.
This is for your own good, trust me, Mr. Psych Major: C.G.'s shiz is down to like $115 on Amazon, but seriously, don't buy it now. Wait like six months until dudes start selling it to used bookstores so they can get money for weed.
This postseason-baseball thing is dry-humping some of the life out of me. Or maybe it's Other Stuff that is dry-humping some of the life out of me. Or maybe it's the Crack. Oh well. In the meantime, here's a picture of Pedro Martinez and Nelson de la Rosa:
TOTALLY UNRELATED BONUS: Interview with Vincent Locke, the guy who makes album covers for Cannibal Corpse and also illustrated "A History Of Violence." BLOCKQUOTE, YO:
The only hard part is not being able to let my kids see some of the artwork. There are times they can’t come in my studio. Since I work at home, they often come and go and see what I’m working on. But there are definitely times where they need to stay out, or I work out a way they won’t see it accidentally. Some stuff is not for kids, right?
END BLOCKQUOTE, YO!
Oooh, here's an idea: Let's round up some totally nonthreatening teen models and have them act like they're an assassin squad. Nobody has thought of that before! They'll wear thigh-highs, of course. And because we have to sell shoes to dudes, let's make sure the victim gets away from those crazy bizzitches!
Hi, we're Sonic Youth, and nearly everything we love has been bastardized, battered or trivialized by the Internet and/or high finance. We're not exactly at "self loathing" stage yet; otherwise, we never would've made this cool punk song or spent any money on a video. So let's get some art-school babes and boutique them up. Yes, "boutique" is a verb. They'll be naughty. The point: Fashion never dies. The riot grrls knew it a long time ago.
As we've pointed out before, sometimes rappers try to be hard or profound when naming an opus, and that shit kinda backfires. Some more examples:
Juelz Santana: Back Like Cooked Crack. ARGH, it ain't crack UNTIL YOU COOK IT. (Note to readers: If you use this little catch phrase, you are perpetuating a horrible, unfunny redundancy.)
Pretty soon, 4-wolf moon shirt.
then 5-wolf moon shirt.
it's like razors: pretty soon 3 wolves and 1 moon will seem technologically obsolete.
Maybe the way to avoid a totally destructive and impractical "3 Wolf Moon" arms race is to escalate via fractions of wolves.
So, y'know, you could start with a "3.00001 Wolf Moon" shirt.
Then I'd come out with a "3.00002 Wolf Moon" shirt.
And if people escalated all the way to a "3.99999 Wolf Moon" shirt, I'd start adding decimals to the Moon part.
"3.00001 Wolf 1.00001 Moon" shirt. Yeah, that's where we should start. FOR OUR OWN GOOD.
Trouble is, how do you represent 0.00001 of a wolf?
I mean, yeah, it's easy to represent 0.00001 of a moon.
But the wolf? That part is hard. We'll have to talk to some ethicists.
Darrow Montgomery has been quietly digitizing and posting shots from his vast archive of film-and-paper photographs. If you wanted to set a movie deep within the D.C. neighborhoods during the 1990s, you'd be wise to send the production designer directly to his ongoing "Postcards From Home" series on the City Desk blog. Samples:
No disrespect intended, dude. You've seen things and done things that I cannot fathom. You probably know people who would kneecap me just because you're thinking about it. You don't even have to say it. Bang, somebody shows up and kneecaps me.
You are probably responsible for a significant number of the romances that led to the procreation of my friends and known associates.
In summation, you are famous and people get laid because of you. I totally admire this.
But dude, I'm seeing this head shot more frequently these days, and the more I see it, the less I like it. Everything about it is stiff: your jacket, your hat, your smile, the tilt of your head, and so on. You look like an action figure or a wax statue. You're the Geator: a lively, vibrant radio god. Your head shot should say, "if you come near me, you might catch on fire from the blazing force of my record-selection skills and verbal improvisations."
This head shot says, "take the damn picture already so I can go eat lunch."
Anyway, please don't hurt me.
|The Council on Foreign Relations might think this chair is stylish, fashion-forward and/or modern-macho, but its pointy/curved back gives Bernanke a weird, imperial, quasi-diabolical look. Or maybe that's the point.||.|