I’m done with Spotify. You can keep Pandora. I want no more iPod shufflin’. I don’t need ‘em anymore! I had a come-to-Jesus and I’ve returned home … to college radio.
A friend of mine always tells the story of his encounter with Bill Murray. Whilst walking home from a near-by Dominoes pizza back to the house, Bill Murray comes up behind my friend, takes the pizza and runs away with it shouting “No one’s going to believe you!”
Surrealism, for Buñuel, is as much a moral philosophy as it is an art movement.
Practically everybody in New York has half a mind to write a book — and does. – Groucho Marx
“I do not wish women to have power over men; but over themselves.” – Mary Wollstonecraft
In my mind, I ooze charm and coolness — there is never an occasion in which I’m not a wink and a subtle nod away from going home with seven European male models. In my mind.
Food Party was a combination of Pee Wee Herman, Salvador Dali, Julia Child, Tim and Eric, and LSD. To call it a cooking show would be like calling The Wire a cop show. Episodes revolved around hostess (and show creator) Thu Tran cooking up some weird food in her Technicolor cardboard kitchen.
Let’s consider What Would You Do? Here’s a show that was basically the movie Saw except with cream pies instead of elaborate death traps. There was a pie coaster, a pie pod, a pie pendulum, a pie slide, and an insane contraption called the “Pie Wash” which spun contestants around in a leather chair and enveloped them in cream shot from three nozzles.
More than just the preeminent commentator on the social role and cultural politics of graphic design in contemporary culture, the English cultural critic Rick Poynor is our most reliable dashboard navigator through the visual landscape, a politically astute, historically literate GPS plotting our course through the forest of signs.
Ever more pigeon-holed as the “stressed out protagonist,” what follows is an in depth analysis of some of Leonardo DiCaprio’s more notable works, from which the said description is derived. This contributor apologizes for any glibness, a tone employed in aid of pedestrian honesty.