Andrew WK makes freak out songs. (He pretty much built his career off of them.) So does Japandroids. So does Titus Andronicus.
Let’s get on Twitter, a word that once meant one thing and now means another thing. What do birds do now? Chirp, I guess. My heart is a-twitter. A-flutter.
If you are going to spend some of your precious minutes on this earth taking out loans, buying real estate, securing proper zoning, hiring employees, getting inventory, all to open up your dream pet store, why ON EARTH would you not then give said pet store a hilarious, punny name for everyone to enjoy?
When a piece of art is made personally, but still somehow manage to connect with me as an audience member, the connection is much deeper than when the art is produced for the masses, for the lowest common denominator.
I wasn’t really listening. I watched. I saw a stick figure pinwheel down the side of the building, and didn’t process what that meant. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. So I watched the footage over, and over. And over.
Clinton could do any number of things last night, and Obama’s team hadn’t seen his speech, and he was getting up there to talk about a person with whom he had a strained relationship, on the big stage, in front of everyone…
Christopher Plummer gets caught in the rain with a footstool.
And when my friends tell me “Man, I wish we could just go back there. Life was so much better back in high school, you know?” it pisses me off. Because they are falling for the oldest trick in the American book.
Listen. I am white.
From a white family. But
this is WHITE, y’know?
You know Lance Armstrong. From the TV. From his books. From his magazine covers. From his cancer. From his infidelity. From his bracelets that were such a fad for about six weeks there a few years back.