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this is not okay

June 3, 2010

people. oh my god. seriously. first chester, and now blanche devereaux. brian moylan at gawker wrote some lovely things in his post on rue’s death, things i wish i could say half as nicely:

Now Betty White, who is enjoying a career resurgence late, is the only member of The Golden Girls cast still alive. Estelle Getty died in 2008 and Bea Arthur passed last year. These deaths seem harder than when most actors of celebrities pass away. Maybe it’s because the characters they played were close to the actresses’ personalities, that we feel like we were so close to them. Their infamous theme song wasn’t so much about the women’s relationship to each other, but thanking us for being their friends and sharing in their adventures.

For younger people who grew up watching the sitcom—or discovering it in syndication, where it still lives today—these were like our surrogate grandmothers. Funny ladies who were at turns gentile, kind, funny, and daffy. Ones that lived a full life of friendship, dating, multicolored caftans, and lots and lots of cheesecake. Yeah, it was a TV show, but thanks to the wonderful actresses who inhabited the roles, it always felt like the real thing.

i’ve already discussed my love of the golden girls. i was watching the show last night, actually, and thinking about how part of the reason i’m hesitant to get rid of my cable – even though it’s ridiculously expensive (ugh, seriously, how can television cost that much?) – is that i love knowing i can watch golden girls every night at 11 while i’m puttering around, getting my shit together for the next day. it’s a good way to end the day.

let me show you how i feel about this development:

Read the rest of this entry »

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like a horse in a saddle

June 1, 2010

oh, people. it’s time for another installation of “slimlove loves nathan rabin,” as he tackles one of my favorite delightfully demented albums:

Like The Byrds did with Sweetheart Of The Rodeo, the brothers Ween recruited an all-star team of session musicians to give their smartass foray into country an authentic sheen on 12 Golden Country Greats (true to form, the album is only ten songs long; the album title refers to the session musicians). That’s the album’s most inspired joke: having country legends like Hargus “Pig” Robbins, Elvis’ longtime back-up singers The Jordanaires, and Buddy Harman dress up Ween’s puerile humor in a sparkling, rhinestone-studded Nudie suit.

i started listening to ween in college. their 1999 concert at the warfield was an epic event in my early adulthood. for a while there, T and i were both completely obsessed with 12 golden country greats. we listened to it in the morning before going off to class/work. we tried to convince everyone else we knew to listen to it. we could not understand why they could not see the humor in “piss up a rope,” which is so intentionally offensive it’s hysterically funny (i stand by that opinion, but your mileage may vary):

in recent years, ween has kind of stuck with the neo-prog rock sound they began with the mollusk (a brilliant album, incidentally). and while i still like their newer stuff and i find it, generally speaking, more listenable than godweensatan the oneness or the pod, it’s also not nearly as surprising or crazily awesome as the older albums. but then again, i guess that’s what happens when you stop huffing scotch guard.*

and yeah, i know that scotch guard thing was a joke. but at the time, if you’re listening to the pod while under the influence, it seems not only plausible but eminently reasonable.

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what mighty contests rise from trivial things

June 1, 2010

and what brilliant ideas rise from bar napkins.

RIP Chris Haney, photojournalist and creator of Trivial Pursuit.

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pet peeve

May 30, 2010

do you know what really drives me crazy? even more than comma splices and inappropriately using apostrophes to indicate a plural? misplaced modifiers. to wit:

The episodic story of two hippies (he and Peter Fonda) making their way across America on motorcycles, Mr. Hopper placed his hero’s quest for identity and fulfillment within the tradition of the road stories of American literature, from Mark Twain through Jack Kerouac.

via SFGate

this is a professional article, written by a professional writer and supposedly edited by a professional copyeditor. and no one noticed that Dennis Hopper just got described as an “episodic story.” which i suppose could be true, in some abstract manner. but not in the manner this writer means.

the reason this is really a pet peeve for me is that while, logically, i understand how people make this mistake, i can’t really practically understand it. how do you not see that? it’s so glaring to me. and it happens all the time. so people, please learn about proper agreement between your subject and the introductory modifying clause. thank you.

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i set fire to our bed

May 28, 2010
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flames on the side of my face

May 28, 2010

so this week’s av q&a raises the question of art (or “art,” as the case may be) that absolutely infuriates you. which i find interesting because i was just thinking about this.

this time last week, i was driving down the coast to santa barbara. my tape player has apparently decided it really doesn’t want to work anymore, and my other ipod adapter (the radio scanner one) is kind of jacked up, so i was stuck with the radio for long swathes of the journey. and while flipping stations trying to find music (instead of shitty drive time djs), i got to hear the new katy perry song, which is so awful i’m not even going to link to it. just trust me, ok? it’s terrible.

and yet i didn’t change the station. i listened the whole way through. 4 minutes of absolute dreck that hurt my soul. and i realized that i almost never change the station when her music comes on. and i realized that this is because i love to hate katy perry’s so-called music. the lyrics are so vapid and inane, the music so craptacularly bland, the singing so atrocious, it’s like a perfect storm of all that’s wrong in pop music.

it’s not so-bad-it’s-good, it’s so bad that i actively enjoy hating it.

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the biggest, meanest motherfucker at R&D Trucking

May 27, 2010

I don’t remember precisely the first DBT song I ever heard, but this is the first one I actually paid attention to, because the story behind it amused the hell out of me. DBT plays this song live a lot, and so pretty much all of their fans are acquainted with the trials and triumphs of Jan and Chester. And now Chester has passed. Rest in peace, man.