COM TRUISE EATS YR SOUL

Com Truise - "Brokendate" from stereogum on Vimeo.

teh illest shit.

#jaaaahahahahhaijustshit

let's each get tatts of one of these bros and then when we stand together it will form the union of NATIVEAMERICANXTIANITY/OPPRESSOR&OPPRESSED/THINGSTHATRDUMB&THINGSTHATRAWESOME ETCETCETC

SLACK'D

Back in 2003, I was living at home, wearing purple eyeliner to my boring service industry job and spending most of my time collaging. I had a fresh driver's license and the thrill of rolling around in my mom's car at night listening to the Raveonettes and using her Hollywood Video rental card to check out Marlon Brando movies was unparalleled. The guy at the counter was a plump ginger with a long ponytail under his Hollywood Video-issued baseball hat who I suspected had a crush on me since I was the only teen coming in without my kid and buying the king size pack of jujufruits. I ignored his halting glances since I didn't really start talking to boys until I was about 20, even ones I had no interest in.
One day, I checked out Slacker, because the case looked weird and I had just recently discovered that I was cooler than anyone I knew, having been educated at a prep school in which my peers' interests ranged from the fall j. crew catalog to the spring j. crew catalog. I got home, popped in the VHS (earnestly) and got to work stenciling "London Calling" lyrics onto t-shirts I'd just picked up at the Gap on sale for $9.99.
Slacker was weird, I couldn't really make sense of the characters and the lack of plot line got lost in my intense stenciling session-- I later moved onto Bowie lyrics.
Eight (!!!!11) years later, my life is eerily (depressingly?) similar to that of my eighteen year old self. The only element that's different today from the scene described above is that I use my mom's Netflix account. And I know how to talk to boys now, but that's a different story entirely. Tonight as I was sitting around making record cover journals, feeling inexplicably attracted to Ted Nugent, I decided to scroll through the Netflix collection, and Slacker caught my eye once again.
The film that I watched tonight, of course, is the same as the VHS I rented a thousand beers ago, but oh how my perception of it has changed. What once seemed like dreamy esoterica has since become the soundtrack to my own life; the characters, once just that, are now people I have met over and over, comprising my own anchor to post-collegiate reality. While I was completely engrossed in the film and finding myself in conversation with these people, a thought entered into my head: Is this movie making fun of us? Is Richard Linklater looking at 20-somethings who sit around drinking beer, talking about their lives and the world, politics and their relationships, with their friends and roommates and strangers, and deeming it all a waste of time? The film is called Slacker. Is the film's thesis that we're aimless, rootless, wasting our time and our potential to fulfill that great American myth of "making something of ourselves"?

As anyone with a hundred thousand dollar degree in Why The World Sucks and a barista job to prove it knows, "Our Generation" is the topic of a thousand porch/bar/breakfast PBR 30-packs. The Oxford English Dictionary defines "slacker" as "a person regarded as one of a large group or generation of young people (especially in the early to mid 1990s) characterized by apathy, aimlessness, and lack of ambition". They may have to alter the era included in their definition. Is it not "Our Generation," the children of those hardworking model Americans, the baby boomers, that has been called out on a hilariously frequent number of occasions by the New York Times for being lazy, ego-driven, sext-crazed narcissists? Slackers, in the truest sense of the word? Intra-generational hand wringing abounds at the NYT as their op-ed columnists tell us to stay out of restaurants and save our money. In preparation for footing the bill for "Their Generation's" gross mistakes, of course.

Every conversation over porch beers at noon on a Tuesday illicits the same conclusion: we're not unmotivated, the ones pushing papers and paying their bills are. We're the ones who are looking for something more, the ones who refuse to settle for what we've been given. We're taking the path of least resistance, fighting with ourselves and everyone else for answers instead of with the TV over Dancing With the Stars.


And it turns out Linklater agrees: “Slackers might look like the left-behinds of society, but they are actually one step ahead, rejecting most of society and the social hierarchy before it rejects them. The dictionary defines slackers as people who evade duties and responsibilities. A more modern notion would be people who are ultimately being responsible to themselves and not wasting their time in a realm of activity that has nothing to do with who they are or what they might be ultimately striving for.”





Slack on, "our generation."

This guy "GETS ME!"

Srsly, this guy gets it - has women figured out. Or at least me!

call me back

what do you think?

Offend This....

I'm sure you read this article on The Awl "IN DEFENSE OF OFFENSIVE ART" pretty interesting....

Highlights include:

When we encounter art that actually challenges our liberal values, we find a way to enjoy it without actually engaging with those contradictions. We don’t really like challenging art. We like art that reinforces what we already believe in a way that makes us feel like believing these things is a heroic, rebellious act.

and

In fact the idea of the strong individual vision, the Guy Who Doesn’t Flinch From The Truth, exposing softness, crushing weakness etc. has plenty of resonance in right-wing politics and in big business.

So the model is Unflinchingness vs… what? Well, hypocrisy, weakness, complacency but also often more general ideas of softness, dialogue, compromise… a whole bunch of qualities which our social (patriarchal) set-up codes as “female”, so it doesn’t remotely surprise me that there’s a lot of misogyny underpinning some of this art.

This is a good thesis paragraph:

If we want to judge this stuff on an artistic basis rather than a moral basis, then we can’t try and prove that there is a socially redeeming value to offensive art. We should see "offensive art" as a genre, same as country, rap or anything else, one with its own conventions and reasons for being. With "offensive art," the genre conventions are about being dark and talking about unpleasant things and being performatively confrontational. This doesn’t place such art outside the realm of critique—we can still have lots of problems with the ideological constructions underpinning one genre or another. Likewise, no piece of offensive art should get off the hook just because it’s using genre conventions. However, such a categorization would force us to consider each piece on its merits and, maybe most importantly, within an artistic tradition, instead of simply dismissing it because it contains offensive content.

This one is to the point AND HI-larious:

It’s worth noting that we’re not talking about realistic violence here. We’re talking about cartoonish violence. Despite the rhetoric of this is art that throws reality in our faces, it’s not, really. A historical recreation of the Battle of the Somme would be throwing (violent, ugly) reality in our faces, while GG Allin tossing feces into the audience is just a man throwin’ dooky. It’s ridiculous, absurd, over-the-top. It may be a metaphorical representation of the darkness of the modern world, but it's also just, well, a man throwin' dooky.

I do love musicals!

So maybe it’s unfair of me to assume fandom of offensive art reflects an unearned sense of oppression, an embrace of the fantasy that saying bad things is brave and honest.... As a genre requirement it doesn't seem all that different from the same suspension of disbelief that allows fans of musicals to enjoy when people burst into song for no reason.

duh.

beer = sex

this is ridiculous and probably also true.

I'm still having 5 kids to name them after these bros

(i don't care if they're girls or boys, they'll all be chill and have cool hair).

new single here!

I'm liking it... i think it's a return to their roots as well as shows maturity. Jules' voice and Albert's guitar are in top form.

So glad we blew Dodge....

....I mean, Portland. Wait. We didn't blow Portland collectively..maybe just a few... well... since you're involved in the "us"... probably more than a few! But I digress...

Check out this NYT post... That city is deteriorating before our very eyes.. On the OTHER HAND! I'm currently making a mailout for the 'ol real estate company right now that features this little tid bit "Top 10 Best Big Cities for Jobs" Forbes, April 2010...Austin #1!... "Top 10 Least Stress Cities in US." #5 AUSTIN! followed by a Number 6 OKC!... "Top 10 Cities for the Next Decade" #1 AUSTIN! "Top 10 Cities for Young Entrepreneurs" #3 AUSTIN! ... Need I go on?

Normally (and by Normally I mean ALWAYS) I hate this shit... And I ESPECIALLY hate that I help people (PEOPLE I DONT LIKE read: rich people) move to my fair city. But I'll make an exception this time just to drop a hint to you...

KALAMAZOO IS NOT ON ANY OF THESE LISTS!!

move!

question, answer.

via the hairpin.

So I've been "seeing" (i.e. boning) this guy for a couple weeks. I haven't gone down on him yet because I wasn't sure he'd reciprocate and that pisses me off. So tonight, he said "you're not too much of a feminist to go down on a guy, are you?" to which I responded truthfully that I'm not, DUH. I actually really enjoy it (but, I do have issues with people who feel it's perfectly fine for me to go down when they find the reverse unappealing). Then he goes, "good, because I'm too masculine to go down on a girl." UM, WHAT!? was my inner response although I'd sort of expected it since he hadn't made any moves (but was still kind of hoping he'd come around; he's a bit inexperienced/very young and I thought maybe he was just afraid to botch it). I told him that some dudes love it, at which point he told me some dudes are weird and asked if I'd ever done it (negative, for the record, which seemed to weaken my point in his eyes).

So here's my question: this is what I want, but I feel weird/manipulative holding BJs hostage in return for something he clearly isn't interested in/ready for. Is it unfair to pressure him like that? Plus, it's obviously no fun for me if he's gritting his teeth (so to speak) through the whole thing. But at this point I also don't want to give him a free ride on my mouth. Should I lose this guy or is there an appropriate and effective way to approach this? Oh, also, we work together. Also, is he gay? I have never encountered this before.


WELL. First? Too much of a feminist? I like to think of myself as a "male ally" in really the most humorless of Dude-Feminist fashions. I also really like a blowjob now and again. And since I was wary of defensively mainsplaining around this particular topic, I wound up googling "feminist blowjobs" before answering this question. Thankfully, the feminist blogosphere gave up a post by the fantastic Jill Filipovic (one of the many smart feminist bloggers this Dude reads frequently).

http://www.feministe.us/blog/archives/2006/06/19/feminist-politics-of-blowjobs/

Her post has to do with some kind of blowjob-related Internet blog controversy–the originating posts of which appear to no longer be online–but nevertheless is pretty independently cogent on the score of how mutually respectful partners can start a conversation about de-patriarching the oral. (If they want to! Choices for everyone!)

But back to like the advice I guess? I don't even wanna execute a search for "too masculine to get face down in a vagina." Essentially, this is because you say this guy is young. I have no idea how old you are, nor what "very young" means to you–but I think you should a) try not to take this personally and b) blame it on his age. He doesn't know the gospel of vagina worship! He has not accepted the well-pleasured clit as his personal redeemer! That's cool. It calls to different men at different times. But even an inexperienced dude is aware of the power and mystery of the whole god-shaped vagina-kissing-hole in his soul–and can be a little bit scared by that emptiness in his repertoire. For all I know, your guy may have just recently figured out how to get his dick-swerve on, and he might want to stay within the realm of the familiar and be feeling that power for a while. Presumably you're into what he's capable of doing on that level, and so there's no immediate reason to boot him.

Still, his semi-hostile narrowness on the oral front obviously has the potential to bring you down in a comprehensive way over the long haul. Ultimately you'll want him to trust you enough to bust through his comfort zone and get down. There are ways you can help him through this, instead of turning it into a blowjob-withholding fight straight from the drop–especially since it seems you're significantly older, and since you like giving blowjobs. (SIDE NOTE: pretending not to like things that you actually do like will only make things more confusing for a young guy. Or hell, for lots of older guys, too. Avoid doing this, if at all possible.)

A guy who is told that other guys like things or can do things that he doesn't do in the bedroom will often react by calling those other guys "weird." Those other boys are the ones with the problem, got it? That's natural, because he's feeling inadequate. But you know what else is natural? Being sexually proud as fuck that you're with an older chick who TEACHES YOU THINGS IN THE BEDROOM. If you can turn him into that character, psychologically, he'll sign up for all the advanced placement tests. Has he met your older friends? Maybe he should! And maybe when you're all out for drinks, one of them can casually tell your boy-not-yet-a-man how impressed she is that he can hang with you. How he's really stepping up and being a man by vaulting from his age cohort and into yours. There are other ways to do this. You get the idea. You're going to solve the problem of repertoire-fear long before you solve the problem of men being entirely too much in thrall to their egos. But one outta two ain't bad.

pixelz

you've probably seen this, but whoa.

Quattro Zaaaaany!

NO IDEA if this is even funny..(I'm at work and feel that watching this video on the clock may cross the line)... but what a name.. QUATTRO ZAAAAAAANY!!

http://splitsider.com/2010/12/today-in-four-loko-parodies/#more-1891

"One of the great tragedies

of our lives is how much we miss out on because we think there's something more interesting happening wherever were aren't; it is a lesson always learned too late."

--the awl

This Song Will Be Our Demise....

BRILLIANT!




Here are some imporant things to know about "Hey Soul Sister"

"Hey, Soul Sister" was the only rock song to land in the Billboard Hot 100's top 10 this year. This is pretty much proof that rock music is dead, right? We're not gonna tell Nickelback to come back because all is forgiven, but this warm washcloth of facepalmy puns and cutey-poo pukulele might be why Captain Beefheart died.

It's pretty much the whitest song to ever have the word "soul" in it, and that includes Death Cab's "Soul Meets Body." There is less soul in the entirety of Train than in the palest single member of Collective Soul. "Hey, Soul Sister" is soul for people who refer to peanut butter and jelly as "soul food." It makes the California Raisins look like the second coming of Sly and the Family Stone. It's so white, Sarah Palin just named it her running mate for 2012.

At its outset, it sounds like that All-American Rejects song that was popular last year. Remember that one? Here, we just Googled it for you. Train, you owe us 20 seconds of our lives back, and we owe All-American Rejects a cut of our vast F2K10 riches.

The chorus is jacked from an even worse place. "Hey Soul Sister" is an orgy where bad ideas trade STDs, and the most syphilitic brain-fart stumbled in drunk from a Smash Mouth show. (For those of you who arrived late, Smash Mouth was a band from the late '90s that was formed when a soul patch met cake frosting. Their wikki-wikki scratching and dorkpie hats did to music what blood-soaked clowns do to the dreams of sleeping children.) Listen to "Hey, Soul Sister" a few times and you'll inevitably be reminded of the "whistling solo" from the Shrek house band's inescapable "All Star." From Smash Mouth, Train picked up an earworm that burrowed into society's asshole, laid 4.7 million iTunes eggs, and gave birth to a grey cloud of banality that covers the Earth.

The lyrics represent the weird hippie fantasies of a yuppie toolbag. Quoth front-nozzle Pat Monahan: "I just wrote on my computer for a while what I saw as a group of beautiful women at Burning Man dancing around the fire. I've never been there before, but that's what I imagined it would be like." Yes, this song is the result of a grown bajillionaire who dresses like a 19-year-old Dane Cook stan sitting pud-handed at his MacBook and writing fan fiction about the fun times hippie girls have at Burning Man. Dude is like five feet and 10 inches of midlife crisis.

How much do you want to bet that the initial rhyme to the word "direction" in the second verse was "erection," and not "Love Connection"? Because, really. Erection.

It makes hashtag rap look poetic. The references to the '80s in "Hey, Soul Sister"--the untrimmed-chest bit, the Mr. Mister and Madonna name-drops, Love Connection--they're all lazier than Garfield in a lasagna coma. Oh, fuck-now they've got us doing it!

The ukulele. The fuck?

It lowered the bar for blowjob references on pop radio. "Your lipstick stains / On the front lobe of my left side brains"? Congratulations, Flo Rida: You just became the front-runner for the National Book Award (Fellatio Division). When the inevitable "keep Train's song out of our precious commercials" movement sprung up, it was called Stop Advertising From Pulling a Train, which is a better sex joke in that it a) makes sense and b) wasn't sung over a ukulele.

The ukulele player looks like Howie Mandel. I mean.

It was the lone pop song to manage cultural ubiquity in a year when that was pretty much impossible. Think about the last time you were stuck in a long line while making a toilet paper run, or were forced to spend time on hold with somebody who assured you that your call was very important, or forgot to DVR Project Runway so you had to sit through all the ad breaks. You probably heard Pat Monahan's weiner warble at some point. That's because "Hey, Soul Sister" is made for those moments when you're forced to do nothing else but listen to it, and it's just catchy enough to rattle around in your head during that downtime's aftermath, disrupting any activities you actually enjoy.

It's never going to die. You thought "Hey, Soul Sister"'s ubiquity on the adult-contemporary charts was enough for it to live on in Walgreens' white-noise perpetuity? Well, there's a country version of the track as well, with the fiddles and vocal harmonies and slide guitar turned all the way up. Somehow the lyrical reference to Madonna is intact -- c'mon, guys, "Loretta" scans just as well, and if you think hard enough you can probably squeeze a reference to "Fist City" in there!

And just think: When your shitty kid marries someone you violently disapprove of 20 years from now, this song -- with its references to blowjobs and songs that were ground into the ground before the kid was a twinkle in your eye -- will serve as the couple's first dance. As you watch your offspring and new in-law twirl around the dance floor, you will reach for a glass of Champagne Loko (President Kid Rock won't try to ban the stuff until he's up for re-election in 2032) and wonder how everything went so, so wrong.

The 20 Worst Songs of 2010:
20. Far East Movement featuring Ryan Tedder, "Rocketeer"
19. Ringo Starr featuring Joss Stone, "Who's Your Daddy?"
18. Godsmack, "Cryin' Like A Bitch!!"
17. Trade Martin, "We've Got To Stop The Mosque At Ground Zero"
16. Lil Wayne, "Paradice"
15. Susan Boyle, "Hallelujah"
14. Liz Phair, "Bollywood"
13. Christina Aguilera, "The Beautiful People (From Burlesque)"
12. Jackyl Featuring DMC, "Just Like A Negro"
11. NeverShoutNever, "cheatercheaterbestfriendeater"
10. Die Antwoord, "Orinoco Ninja Flow (Wedding DJ's Remix)"
9. Santana featuring Scott Stapp, "Fortunate Son"
8. Ludacris featuring Nicki Minaj, "My Chick Bad"
7. Aaron Lewis featuring George Jones, Charlie Daniels, and Chris Young, "Country Boy"
6. Salem, "Trap Door"
5. Artists for Haiti, "We Are The World 25 For Haiti"
4. Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers, "Don't Pull Me Over"
3. Cast of Glee, "Loser"
2. Bret Michaels, "What I Got"
1. Train, "Hey, Soul Sister"

Louis CK explains it all!

One of those moments in reading...

...when you think, I thought I was the only one who thought this way, and its as if the writer reached out his hand and touched yours for a moment....





I'll just include the article here but its also here


I can't quite recall who it was now—maybe Linford Christie?—but a couple of years back some athlete, having found himself in hard times, recounted his terrible tale of woe and explained that his burdens had become so difficult to bear that he was drinking a bottle of wine a day. The revelation was supposed to illustrate just how far the fellow had fallen, but all I could think was, a bottle of wine a day? I have a bottle of wine with dinner. I absent-mindedly had half a liter of Wild Turkey yesterday before "Monday Night Football" started. Now, sure, I am probably not the world's greatest example of alcoholic restraint here, but I am trying to give a little perspective to my feelings of underwhelmedness on this report that Britain is the drinkiest nation in the world.


Around 84 per cent of Britons are drinkers – way ahead of the lowest nation, India, where just 27 per cent ever have a tipple – compared with the international average of 71 per cent. The survey found nearly one in ten Britons admit to drinking every day, almost twice the number in France. Around 41 per cent of Britons drink regularly, more than our nearest rivals in Australia, 27 per cent, and the international average of 17 per cent.
I mean, are we supposed to be impressed by these statistics? Who doesn't drink every day? And, more importantly, how the hell do they get through life that way? It's unthinkable.

my fave thnksgvng rcp

So you said you can't cook and are in charge of dins this Thursday; you need to give yourself more credit and OWN this jawn. Cooking= throwing some stuff I didn't measure into a pot and setting the timer for 30 minutes. I make one thing for thanksgiving every year; there used to be a recipe but I lost it and following directions is for mnstrmrs. So, here's my SUPER DANK CRANBERRY CHUTNEY. It's pretty tart, and can be served room temp or cold, which is the perfect antidote to the savory/hot fest going on in your mouth.

1 Beer (or 4, whatevs)

1 Box of wine

LCD Soundsystem pandora station

1 cup water

brown sugar

white vinegar

1 bag (or whatever) of cranberries (did you know that Ocean Spray is a co-op of cranberry farmers and one of the country's largest?)

2 apples

Some raisins

Some walnuts

Cinnamon

Allspice

Nutmeg

Ginger

Ok. Open the beer. Put the water into a medium/large saucepan, boil. Cut apples into small chunks. Same with walnuts (like 3/4 cup or so, I like a lot, but whatever you want). Finish the beer. Get another one or start on the wine. Pop cranberries into pot. Same with walnuts, raisins (like a handful) and apples. Now add an extended splash of the vinegar. Not too much, just more than a little. Now add the sugar and stir pretty well (I like about 1/3 cup of sugar; that evens out the bitterness, but if you want it sweet, add like 1/2 or 2/3 cup).

Before you put in the spices, you're gonna need another glass of wine. Ok, so do about a teaspoon of of cinnamon, a heavy sprinkle of the allspice, half that of the nutmeg, and just a pinch of the ginger. Ok, now stir pretty well. Let it boil, then turn down to low and let it simmer for about 30 minutes.

Down a few more glasses of wine and send some txts about how fucking sick LCD is, and how you kinda feel like "Drunk Girls" is the "Leaves of Grass" of our generation.

When the buzzer rings, check on it and stir. You want most of the water to have evaporated-- at this point, there will still be a quite a bit. Simmer for another 10 minutes. Ponder your feelings on Passion Pit; relevant sdtrk for an authentic DP or or neon tween jams?

Stir chutney, simmer five more mins. Decide you are going to text that bro who you're not that into but really wants to bone you just cause like, what else are you doing (besides watching four more episodes of 30 Rock on netflix)?

So when the next five mins is up, turn off the heat and let cool on the stovetop for a while (there will still be some liquid left but that's ok; it will congeal [yum] in the fridge). Pop into glass container (plastic + hot = cancer) and throw in fridge. Let the chutney chill for at least a day before serving; it's both more mild and more flavorful after relaxing for a bit. Also really f-ing good on a turkey sandwich Friday morning.

Love This Article

here

j.lynne