A PREFACE TO A BOOK THAT DOESN’T EXIST (YET?)
If you were drunker than an Alabama preacher (thus unable to access most of your normal mental functions; don’t lie and say you haven’t been there), and someone put on a Slayer record (these are people you should unquestionably be hanging out with, by the way), would Slayer completely kick your ass (either as a positive or a negative)? Now, under the same circumstances, if someone put on No Country For Old Men, would you pause after Tommy Lee Jones’s final speech and consider the significance of his ruminations on fate and mortality? If you say “yes” to both, you’re clearly lying...
DECISION '08: MAKE ONE
Sarah Palin.
I’m told that whenever you’re about to discuss something important, it’s always best to lead with a joke. Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get to the serious stuff. In the next month, you’re going to read a lot of articles and watch a lot of coverage about the players in November’s election. Unfortunately, for most of you, those articles are going to appear in OK! magazine and the coverage will come courtesy of the E! Network....
AMY WINEHOUSE ISN’T IMPORTANT—NO, NO, NO Amy Winehouse is a critically acclaimed multiple Grammy winner whose sultry and brazenly rebellious songs have embedded her in Pop charts and Pop hearts world-wide. Amy Winehouse is also a foul-mouthed racist who has ingested so much crack cocaine that she’s already developed the onset of emphysema at the age of 24, and continues to be perpetually unable to perform her songs without falling off of the stage. Conventional wisdom suggests that the latter sort of cancels out the former. For instance, if I perfected a vaccine that successfully cured cancer, but then it was discovered that when I wasn’t curing cancer, I was sexually molesting baby seals, the public at large would justifiably view me as a repulsive deviant who should be exiled from humanity… and who also happened to cure cancer. Such is not the case with Winehouse, who, despite the voracity with which the public has lapped up each of her public train-wrecks, is still described by most as a “gifted songwriter”, “talented singer”, and “worthwhile human being”.
LO, HEAR THE POUNDING HOOF-BEATS OF THE FOUR HORSEMEN AS THEY BRING FORTH AN ETERNAL MIASMA OF PESTILENCE AND DECAY Look to the skies, friends, for the apocalypse is upon us. Fire and brimstone—that shit was all true. All of the biblical portents leading to the end of days have already manifested: great towers falling, global warming, massive floods, continental famine and disease, Flavor Flav getting his own sitcom. But now, ye faithful, the final sign of creation’s undoing has occurred: Nancy Grace and I are in total agreement. I never considered that our world could truly end, because this final omen seemed about as realistic as the rest of the bullshit in the Bible.
After all, Nancy Grace is the most mean-spirited, vindictive cunt on television; what could we possibly ever agree on? But, her coverage of the unfolding scandal involving Nick Bollea, son of professional wrestler-slash-steroid and tanning salon enthusiast Hulk Hogan had me screaming “Preach it, sister,” which I must admit, scared me tremendously....
THE TOP 25 REASONS WHY ROB O’CONNOR IS A DOUCHE
I don’t know Rob O’Connor, but I’m fairly certain that he’s a f**king idiot. Or at least that’s the assessment that came readily to mind as I read his audacious and completely merit-less list of “The 25 Best Heavy Metal Bands.” Scanning his choices, it’s clear that O’Connor is about as qualified to write about Metal as I am about the joys of veganism. It’s also overwhelmingly apparent that O’Connor thinks so highly of himself that he’s willing to not only write a lengthy piece about something he knows jack about, but also egocentric enough to defend his ignorance of the subject matter with explanations for why, in his alternate universe, Robin Trower is a Metal band...
Billy Corgan Takes Two Steps Forward, Looks Four Steps Back Most artists on the eve of releasing a solo disc called The Future Embrace would likely be using the outing as a rebirth: a chance to cut the past clean and move on to new frontiers. Not so much with Billy Corgan, who ran an ad in the Chicago Tribune the very morning said solo disc hit stores, proclaiming, "I have made plans to renew and revive the Smashing Pumpkins. I want my band back, and my songs, and my dreams." Not exactly a promising selling point for Embrace’s collection of Corgan’s songs and dreams....
"Best" Lists Are Completely, Utterly Pointless... So Here's Mine Well, it's December, which means it's time for we media critics to trot out our yearly "Best" lists. Apparently, our sense of self-importance dictates that we, alone, know what the finest offerings of the previous 12 months were, and, since you clearly do not, it is our sacred duty to list them for you. We don't do this to influence you or steer you toward some overlooked gems you might have missed. In fact, we rarely do more than piss you off, since, most likely, you are going to disagree with everything we choose and send us angry e-mails demanding to know why The Fray record isn't on our list....
"Radio, Radio", Or "How I Wasted Hours Of My Life That I Know I'll Wish I Had Back When I'm On My Death Bed" I have long wondered what the experience of the average music listener is like, as I haven't truly known what it is to be a consumer of popular music for many years. There are several reasons for this: I own approximately 15,000 CDs and another 2,000 or so LPs, so I've never had to go any further than my room to hear exactly what I want at any given time. As a musician, I have enough knowledge of the art of creating sound to determine immediately how untalented the vast majority of society's popular performers really are. For instance, anyone who's ever owned a keyboard that comes with pre-programmed drum beats knows that 95% of the entire hip-hop genre could be produced by a walrus if you gave it a Roland and Pro Tools....
AN OPEN LETTER TO GEORGE LUCAS, EPISODE II Mr. Lucas- Taylor Kingsbury here again. I'm not sure if you remember me or not. I'm willing to accept the possibility that you never read the last letter I wrote to you in the pages of the Campus Times. This was probably a wise decision on your behalf, since said letter was surrounded by the insipid babblings of sorority girls who were adequately convinced that their boobs and their boyfriends were compelling topics for columns....
Wanks For The Memories A "wanker" is, literally defined, "one who wanks", or, for those of us who aren't British, "one who masturbates". I've never liked this definition, mostly because that would mean that everyone with sexual organs is, has been, or will someday be, a wanker. Despite this, "wanker" is still the best word in the entire world, for it encapsulates a very special subspecies of humanity that desperately needs a defining description. This term is never more useful than in the realm of media criticism. For, you see, entertainment, in all its forms, has become overrun with wankery....