Wednesday, April 29, 2009

“We'll never solve the feminization of power until we solve the masculinity of wealth.” ~Gloria Steinem

Photobucket
(Via)

Chicks dig the long socks. Except in bed. Seriously. When we say, "No socks in bed" we mean "No socks in bed," you naked-except-for-socks-wearing-weirdos.

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Julia Roberts roasts America's hearts anew



This Tom Hanks tribute speech has definitely made the rounds and reveals that all America really wants is its sweethearts to stop being polite and start going blue (honestly, we don't get enough usage of the word blue in a 'blue' sense as much as we should) and maybe we'll start going to see your highly stylized/romantic/caper/political/dramatic/kids movies.

And because we like you more than Andie MacDowell (Well, at least America does. Personally, I'm always going to side with anyone even remotely connected to the underrated ridiculocity of Bad Girls).


[Cue the sound of America's love snapping back]

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Sunday, April 26, 2009

The Many of Faces of Genius


Yes to the yes power. (Via Paul Scheer's Twitter)

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Friday, April 24, 2009

American Idol defile Lykke Li

(Via)

I know I should be happy for our beloved Lykke Li, getting her work some pub on the most popular show in America, and I know I'm sounding like an overprotective hipster asshole but, uh...argg...wha...no:


Maybe I'm pretentious. Maybe I'm a sexist pig who only wants his precious Swedish indie pop in lingerie adverts featuring German reality show hosts. Or maybe I'm just an insecure purist who wants things unadulterated and pure, like the warmth of an infant's unwavering look of innocence:



Nope, I'm probably just a sexist pig.

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Rashida Jones & ?uestlove justify Jimmy Fallon's existence



My fifteen year-old internal monologue: "That hot girl Louisa from Boston Public and the drummer of The Roots with the ill afro who produced D'Angelo's Voodoo in the same room together? I think I might wet myself."

My twenty-something internal monologue: (Quietly changes pants in excited shame)



Enter yum here.

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Thursday, April 23, 2009

Kids preach the darndest things


Little Toddler Preaching at Church


My boss: "How adorable is this little guy? Future leader of America that one."

My uterus: "Never. NEVER. NEVER. NEVER." (shivers in fetal position underneath desk)


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Manolo Bottlenecks

(Via)


In a past life, bottle opener heels would have been the definition of class for me. And if wasn't for the shame of being eyed by a thirteen year-old Cure fan, I might even consider making the journey into Hot Topic hell.

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Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Kanye's Arli$$



A parody of Kanye's "Heartless" about Robert Wuhl's Arli$$ that's more fun than expected and something I'd rather blare than the anger inducing Asher Roth.

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Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Sasha Fierces Piccadilly Circus



Because this is something that absolutely needed to be done (and be over with).

And no publicity hounds trying to be famous by any means necessary- just because you painstakingly gather and organize a large event in a public place set to a popular song does not mean it should instantly go viral and instantly become the talk of the town on every Tom, Dick and Harry's blog and...oh...uh, I'll shut up now.

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Monday, April 20, 2009

Tom Waits Street

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Saturday, April 18, 2009

Rudd's Ramen Rules

(Via)

  • Cup Noodles is choice.
  • Tuxedo while fine dining is extra choice.
  • Being Paul Rudd while eating Cup Noodles while in a tuxedo...most choice.

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Thursday, April 16, 2009

Super Mario Bros: The most fun a kid could have


(Via)

When I grow up, I wanna be a journalist just so I can do due diligence reportage like this. As well as emulate the mack daddy anchor man doing the intro and outro.

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Zooey Deschanel's warm cottony feeling



A sudden urge to splurge on overpriced vintage cotton tees and mainstream comedies (both intentional and unintentional) starring opposite precariously older male leads while refining the glassy doe eyed look overwhelms.

And sigh.

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Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Susan Boyle: Supa Dupa Superstar


This has been definitely making the rounds the past few days, but it was hard to resist this sweet middle aged British lady who looked every bit the part of the "oh-god-this-is-going-to-be-awful-but-I-can't-look-away" aspect of Simon Cowell 'talent' competitions. But seeing a frumpy, unemployed, self-described cat lady making the assiest of assholes in Simon Cowell and Piers Morgan smile and applaud is a site to behold.

She's already got fan sites popping up. Go girl. And yay.

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Quiet Asian Syndrome



The disease that keeps on giving.

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Saturday, April 11, 2009

Maddow tea bags our hopes and dreams


Tea bagging has never been as cute as this. Yay.

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Friday, April 10, 2009

James Toback's Tyson


Infamy is the greatest form of flattery. While sports purists and historians relish debating the importance of statistics and events often invoking the cultural impact of their respective eras, it's the brand of persona that trumps accomplishment; lionizing the legend over unrealized promise. More than any other sport, the 'sweet science' depends and thrives upon the brand of persona, and its precipitous decline within the mainstream consciousness reflects this weakness. Director James Toback examines boxing's last most notable and polarizing figure in Tyson.

Using Mike Tyson as the sole voice and eyes of his documentary, Toback forgoes any attempts at objectivity and instead allows Tyson to reveal himself today: somber, regretful and surprisingly cogent. Though the omission of other perspectives creates an uneven feeling, it succeeds in accomplishing its diary-like form. It may not be the most definitive, in-depth take on the Mike Tyson story, but Toback's Tyson is as engaging as it is complicated.


For the most part, the film follows the conventional rise and fall arc, with old videos and photos of past fights and indiscretions interspersed with Tyson's running commentary. Rising from the poverty and crime of Brooklyn to finding direction and meaning under the tutelage of trainer Cus D'Amato, Tyson's beginnings read like a conventional hard-luck-turned-good sports story with one caveat: the audacity of greatness. Through seemingly unknowing power and ability, Tyson's infamy builds because of the greatness he stumbles upon. He fought in an effort to hide weakness and by fighting found celebrity that ultimately unveiled and exacerbated the weakness.

As our narrator, Tyson speaks like a remorseful child still failing to grasp the potential of greatness squandered, but also very conscious of the punchline persona he's become defined by. There are rare moments of anger (refuting his rape conviction but complicit with other sins), light unintentional comedic moments (discussions of sex and women being a through line), and sentimental moments with family (evoking images of Stallone's content retired warrior in Rocky Balboa).


It's a reclamation project by all accounts, and Toback doesn't shy away from the reality that Tyson is as much about revealing another side of a celebrity pariah as it is about reinventing and reintroducing the brand name of Mike Tyson. Toback aims to put his friend in as flatteringly truthful a light as possible, shooting him in the calm, white washed tones of a Miami mansion, walking along a beach at sunset while reciting poetry (in an unintentionally laughable Jack Handey-esque manner) and using heavy handed overlapping split screen boxes to reflect "the complicated madness" inside the man.

In prior films like Black and White and Two Girls and a Guy, Toback showed a penchant for compelling subjects with a sometimes uneven dosage of subtlety. Yet in Tyson, a stripped down simplicity succeeds in making the fallen champ all the more watchable. The film may have been able to make plausible the prospect of making him a sympathetic figure, but one can't help leaving with something more.


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Best. Frisbee. Scene. EVER



Sometimes art transcends the limitations of form and becomes something greater. Like this.

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Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Bronson Pinchot dances pre-meme innocence away



This is exactly how I start every single work day. Except with more crying, liquor and not enough crotch glaring.

(Via)
Balki, we go hard, we go hard.

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The Hangover trailer


Zach Galifianakis, Ed Helms, Jeffrey Tambor, Matt Walsh, Rob Riggle, Rachel Harris, Mike Tyson and that irascible rapscallion Bradley Cooper?



Comedy geekgasm complete.

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Grand Theft Facial



Oddly pleasing. Play an actual demo of Close Range here.

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Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Tuesdays are Mondays realizing your life peaked at age six



Dance, dance, dance...before your landlord says no more.

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Eminem's "We Made You": Wigga out like it's 1999


(Via)

Pop culture parody is old hat for Em we all know, but it's hard to get past how dated and flat it really is. One can't hope but hold out hope for the Limp Bizkit reunion we so badly will never want/need.

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Monday, April 6, 2009

Open-mindedness is the new close-mindedness


(Via)

"An open mind that demands little or no evidence or ideas before accepting them will let in an awful lot of rubbish."

Sometimes critical philosophical thinking requires the help of a British accent and 60's era comic art. But that's just what I believe, not necessarily what you believe, though you may believe what you believe about what I believe you believe I believe you to believe. Exactly.

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Friday, April 3, 2009

Sometimes you just need to synchronize dance


(Via)

Adorable. Simply, beautifully, absolutely adorable. Way less annoying than that lame fake funeral prank.

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Norm MacDonald reminds us of the glory days of political incorrectness


(Via)

The fact that something like this from barely ten years ago wouldn't have a shot in hell of airing on television today makes me incredibly sad. Political correctness be damned.

The combination of MacDonald's deadpan and the looks of disgust and "oh shit he didn't" expressions make this a joy to behold. Fantastic.

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Thursday, April 2, 2009

Big Daddy Kane still killin' it after all these years


(Via)

Nice mini documentary on Big Daddy Kane giving Brooklyn the This is Your Life treatment. Definitely one of the most energetic, livest hip hop performers ever, here's Kane rocking "I Get the Job Done" on Arsenio:



And still moving like a madman at the ridiculously phenomenal Kane tribute at the Vh1 Hip Hop Honors with T.I., the Roots, and Common:



Yes.

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Before the Music Dies



Start the morning off with this insightful documentary I caught at a screening a few years ago about the state of the music industry. Four years since the release of this documentary, it's easy to see how the Internet has served as a democratizing musical resource that's made any and every niche genre accessible for people curious and savvy enough to find it. And for those languishing behind in the digital divide, both young and old, a glorified karaoke contest reigns supreme.

In light of the growing demise of the comfy, conventional record store, a look back for those of us who once relished the effort and passion of looking for that old record smell and not the cold, odorless disposable apathy that seems to define our dour downloadable dispositions. Watch the hi-res version here.

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Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Rufus makes April Fools smile



If there's any positive to having my inbox flooded by my boss's love of America's Funniest Home Videos rejects today, it's that it somehow reminds me of how much I love this song.

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John Cage 4'33" starts April off right



Because haters of classical music and anything remotely pretentious really needed more ammunition. And because April Fools Day is terribly, annoyingly useless and needs to die and go away and have never existed. The end. (Via)

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Bobby Brown kills karaoke cold



Bobby Brown's "On Our Own" is masterpiece. We just haven't realized it yet.

At least it is according to Wired and SPIN Magazine writer Brian Raftery's new book, DON'T STOP BELIEVIN': How KARAOKE Conquered the World and Changed My Life, a fun, charmingly insightful journey into the world of karaoke culture. As a self-professed hardcore karaoke enthusiast, Raftery finds history, community, love and identity in what for most of us passes as an occasional drunken night of pop music nostalgia and public, inexplicable shame.

It's a sweet-natured, honest look into why and how karaoke has shaped the musical sensibilities of generations both old and American Idol obsessed and why a massive group of drunken apathetic strangers can suddenly harmonize in unison over Mr. Big's "To Be With You":



It's a light, pleasing read well worth the microphone envy it induces. Buy the book here. See Raftery bring the karaoke goodness this April at the UCB Theatre here.

Also, check out videos on the book and clips of the awesome awful artistry of karaoke videos:




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