It seems there are many parallels to be drawn here between the notion of playthings and adult situations. Not to mention the idea that Lego bricks create an instant pixelization effect, adding to the X-rated allure of these images.
Black Friday means no rules. Some people misinterpret it to mean “deep discounts,” but that’s not entirely accurate. The $100 flat screen TVs and truckloads of Silly Bandz are merely a distraction. In truth, Black Friday is a dry run for the end of days. And as far as dry runs go, the masses fail miserably–and on a grander scale–each year.
Oprah’s obsession with screaming is rivaled only by her doppelganger Harpo’s obsession with cold hard cash. It’s a joke beyond expiration. Saturday Night Live gave Oprah Scream its funeral back in the early Aughts. But seeing it in action is altogether different. It makes you wonder if she ever watches herself. If she sees what’s happening on screen and just says, “Looks great, broadcast it to the world.”
When I came here it was because of the quiet and calm it afforded. I wanted a place to retreat, where I could sulk or celebrate or create new memories from nothing. A place far from the gunshots that rang out in my old neighborhood, in the crumbling house that sat at the edge of a crooked cobblestone street, squeezed between the decay of the ghetto and houses too dilapidated to gentrify.
You always hear about how New York’s Times Square was more fun way back when, when hookers and porno ruled, before America’s terror mayor Rudy G. “took back the streets” by banishing the Squeegee Men and welcoming Disney into the fold. And maybe it was.
Next Monday, Matt Lauer’s interview with George W. Bush will air on NBC. Bush is on the circuit to hustle his new memoir, Decision Points. Yesterday, in advance of the televised interview, excerpts of the transcript were made available to press. The transcripts are fairly boring, but there is a bright spot.
The term itself is absurd: Influencer. Any reasonable person would laugh at such a title, perhaps go as far as classify it as a fairly pretentious way to view one’s self. But it turns out more and more “young creatives” have adopted the moniker as a badge of honor, an indicator of how they perceive their role in life.
I finally took in the film this morning however, and holy shit. It’s easy to see the moth-to-light appeal of Ninja (Watkin Tudor Jones), Die Antwoord’s cartoon-like emcee who can’t speak three words without saying fuck, and lines like this: “If you don’t know what I’m saying, don’t worry about it, it’s like we’re in the fucking future now.”
It turns out grocery stores throw away tons of food. However, if you’ve ever worked at any slave wage grocery job, you already knew that. Either way, there’s a new documentary out called Dive! that looks at all the wasted food and those who seek to reclaim it from America’s dumpsters.
It was just before midnight when I arrived at the bunker. I drove up to the chain link fence and unlocked the gate. Once I was through, I got out again and closed and locked the gate behind me. Then I drove along the three-mile dirt road toward the entrance to the underground loading dock. I periodically looked up at the sky.