Jonathan Franzen and Mark Zuckerberg both recently appeared on the cover of Time, and never has the approaching-archaic magazine seemed so relevant, or at least tried to be, to “us”—a word which marks this supposed readership of the internet savvy and literarily inclined.
Shown above is a standard taco—not the pre-curved ones from Taco Bell, but an authentic taco, usually made by actual Mexicans, especially in California and maybe Texas. This is not so much a “diatribe against tacos,” as the title of this article has rather glibly implied, but a diatribe against a kind of evasive vagueness coming from the people of Mexico about the proper way to eat one.
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For sake of continuity, we shall observe the informal (and somewhat politically insensitive) vernacular of “bros” and “hos” in the following article. May it be known that this contributor, with bro-like qualities, is not a full on bro; nor does he believe that all women are hos.
Your chances have never been better. Notice her at an Irish pub leaning heavily against the wall, near the pay phones in the back. Notice the glimmer of what appears to be either vomit or hot wing sauce on her left thigh. Go over to her, smell cologne from other men, most likely Italian-Americans; when she doesn’t notice you encroach, plug her nostrils to test if she’s still breathing.
The Piano Teacher (2001) chronicles the psychological, emotional, and sexual pathologies of a lonely pianist whose obsession with her pupil turns from bad to worse. Known for transgressing boundaries and his ambivalence towards the audience, director Michael Haneke has evoked the following reactions from this contributor, whose sensibilities in film are fairly mainstream and conventional.
In observance of, and keeping with, the undue authority of this contributor’s position as a man, no additional research has been made in writing this, relying solely on personal observation, to further embrace the concession that much of what follows may be entirely wrong.
Tom Hanks has embraced many roles where his characters haplessly struggle in the modern condition, to ultimately find themselves. Were it not for Hanks’ subtle charm and humane generosity as an actor, such “Hollywood endings” might be trite, but they are not; rather, they mark the journey of common man. That many of them somehow involve the ocean, and its vicinity, will be examined herein.
I am an Administrative Analyst—wherein the word anal resides like some etymological hemorrhoid deep within my seat. Keep telling myself Kafka had a day job, an effect with diminishing returns as the years roll by and I still haven’t turned into an insect.
The plural of grill is not grills but “grillz”; such liberty in spelling has rhetorical agenda which stem from disenfranchised urban communities asserting their own vernacular as a form of cultural dissent and self-empowerment. The usurpation of plural ‘s’ to ‘z’ is recognized as “street cred.”
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.