Archive for the 'politics' Category

Oh Tori, Where Art Thou?

Dear Tori Amos:

WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU, SON? No, really, I know that you were last seen sporting a trash bag on loan from Missy and signing comic books inspired by what happens when artists listen to ecstasy and take Boys For Pele…or, wait, maybe it’s the other way around. Anyway, you’ve been M.I.A. in a way that only she should be, but even Maya’s been more up in my grill this election year, talking shit about “blop blop” and “pow pow” and probably something about mr plow, also, cause that’s his name, that name again is mister plow.

(L-R: some guy, some guy, a woman, Tori and her Hefty Synch-Sack, Some Guy, Baseball cap dude)
Regardless:

SARAH FUCKING PALIN. I know you’ve heard of her, Trans-Am. I know you have. She’s from a state so boring even Sufjan Stevens refuses to write a song about it, she wouldn’t let her daughter have an abortion even if the baby was conceived via rape, and, oh, yeah, she thinks doing public or community service work is for “pigeon-toed sissywhackers ( I may be misquoting).

(l-r: A bunch of guys named Njord or Thor or Thjord, Sarah Palin, more guys named Fnjord)
That’s the sort of utter and complete assbag insanity that would normally have you frothing at the mouth, Tee-Aim. Isn’t this where you hop on some platform, either Letterman or Leno or something fat dude with a lisp in a baby blue/black ringer tee three sizes too small who writes for a fanzine called “Breakfast Every Hour”** or “Civilized Syllabub”*** or “Freakish Pancake Amistad”**** clutching a voice recorder, a pen and a doll he made from scraps of your hair he gathered over the course of sneaking backstage approximately five hundred and seventy two times in the past six years (and he can tell you about each and every time-what shoes you were wearing, how many choc-o-nana-crispies he had to bribe the guards with, whether or not you played “leather”…and you always played “leather”), and start spouting complete and utter nonsense that ends up with deep, passionate truth attributed to it out of sheer and utter incoherence? Stuff like “if I was a tigress, that bitch would be a panda cub and in my safari…no, no, listen…in *my* safari, we eat the flesh. We. Eat. The. Flesh” or “It’s like the state of ketchup being met with a ice cream float on a tuesday…and I will not stand for anything less than a hamburger. We have to protect our sundaes, and our meats, before the convenience-stand vendors in power begin coleslawing through the milk chocolate.” Or something like that.

(Hey Y’all Tori Amos dressed like a sheep once)
WHERE ARE YOUR POLITICAL QUOTABLES, Tiggity-T? where is your “I would set fire to that bitch’s igloo with the pom-pom in my wampum”? I GREW UP THINKING THAT THE ONLY OPINION THAT MATTERED WAS YOURS, which is why i care SO MUCH ABOUT ICE CREAM FLAVORS, SHOES, and LED ZEPPELIN. In what could possibly be the most important, at least the most memorable, election of my generation’s lives, I want to hear you mutter completely senseless but partially and almost-epically brilliant noun/verb/wild animal/clothing store half-phrases that both empower and befuddle.

(optional caption 1: “KEEP YOUR LAWS OFF MY SWINE”

optional caption 2: “AMERICA FUCK YEAH”

optional caption 3: “This is a statement about the current political climate, the bush administration, and oh crap that’s areola”

optional caption 4: “it’s the economy, stupid”)

Fuck, Ori-Tay, you shoulda been a pundit. You make at least as much sense as O’Reilly, and I’m fairly sure at one point or another you compared evil drunken Grandpa Bill to “a lost goose sliding down a mountain of graham cracker pudding into a world of shitstorms and bound feet” OR SOMETHING. AND THAT IS BRILLIANT. People think “it’s the economy, stupid” is quotable til infinity? Give you a half-bottle of red wine, two lines and the opportunity to use the words “shoes”, “track-horse” and “milk-maid” in one sentence and we’d all have our new political mantra.

In the words of the great god-poet of the sky Yeezy: tori, we needja right now.

Tuna rubber a little blubber in my igloo*****, which probably means OBAMA 08 MUTHAFUCKAS,
-Shaun

**an actual tori lyric, probably not a fan-zine name

***see above

****i’m just fuckin’ with you now.

*****nope, she said that.

(Note: Tori recently went indie, so chillax)





“I just think there’s a hole in your truth”…

Life is imitating art imitating life.
As those of you who follow U.S. politics may have heard (and as those of you who follow cheddarslime gossip tongue-wag sites have known for a month now ), former Vice/Presidential candidate John Edwards, once upon a time the Democratic party’s big sexy hope, has admitted to cheating on his terminally-ill wife (and all-around nice lady who signed my copy of her autobiography “with love”) with socialite social-lite Rielle Hunter, aka Miss “I’m going to film you being all just-woken-up-rumpled and unshaven and call these little post-bedroom snippets ‘campaign webisodes’”, aka Alison Poole, the Bret-Easton-Ellis-via-Jay-McInerney character (aka the walking literary human cocaine straw punchline).

It’s perfectly fine, though, because, in Edwards’ words, his wife Elizabeth’s cancer was “in remission” when he was creepin’ (it has since returned full-force), and, after all (again his words) he “didn’t love” Aliso, I mean, Rielle.

Ladytron: Ghosts (Modwheelmood Remix)

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

There’s a line in B.E.E.’s Glamorama , a sprawling mess of a book beloved around the once-singular Resonator office(s), that comes to mind right now: “I just think there’s a hole in your truth”.

(there’s also the bit in American Psycho where it’s explicitly stated that Poole will give blowjobs for Amex Card holders. )

I instantly thought of this Ladytron song, from this year’s underwhelming-in-the-face-of Witching Hour release Velocifero, and this specific remix, which bathes the song’s dry, minor-stab chorus of “there’s a ghost in me/that wants to say ‘I’m Sorry’/it doesn’t mean I’m sorry” in reflective, pensive synthetic washes. It’s hard to watch Edwards, basically damage-control-to-Major-Tom-ing it up last night by blanketing the world in his blue-eyed apathy, and not find this as the perfect soundtrack. This is a contemplative kiss-off of a remix, and it’s all I can hear in my head right now. I dedicate this one to you, Johnny Feelgood.





I believe I can Rove

MC Rove. Just the mention of Karl “Sith Lord” Rove’s rippity-rappin’ alter-ego is enough to send icy bolts of fear pulsating like the strobe-lit Justice cross into the hearts of all thinking, feeling ‘mericans.

Which is why, dear hearts, the fact the Fed-K….K-ex? Ex-fed? What the hell is Kevin Federline going by now? Anyway, Kevin Federline brings a not-just-winking humor and voice to the long-dormant skizzillz of MC Rove, this past week on Lil’ Bush (the best show you’re not watching).





Hide the children, the pets, your hip-hop cred…

It is, with great nausea, that I present to you today’s next rap supernotstar:

Watch the whole thing. No, really, WATCH. THE. WHOLE. THING.

For our friends outside the U.S., two things:

1) No, the Knife isn’t in this video

2) Yes, that’s Karl “Darth” Rove, Bush’s Deputy Chief of Staff, doing…something.

I insist again-you have to watch the *whole* damned video…but not, I repeat, NOT on an empty stomach. Karl Rove does NOT get to work at the Hip Hop Repair Shop (”he’s Kurtis Blow and he’d like you to know that these…are…your brakes!”), I assure you.

God, that’s a bad taste in your mouth, huh? Need something else to cleanse the palette? How about the lastest little bit of genius from Polow Da Don? Falling somewhere between the futurefuck of Timbaland and the southern mini-malicious sound of Lil’ Jon, we have Polow’ latest project, Rich Boy-and “Throw Some D’s”.

Rich Boy: Throw Some Ds (produced by Polow Da Don)

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

And, because imitation is the….something:

I went over to my friend’s house over the weekend, and his little brother was sitting on the couch looking like someone stole his puppy. I asked what his problem was, and he said that he got put on punishment. I was like “Why?” he said he got straight “F’s” on his report card, I was like “Word? Straight Fs?” He was like “Yeah, when I saw that report card, I knew I was getting my ass whooped, so I went to the teacher, tossed the report card on her desk and was like, ‘You better throw some D’s on that bitch.”

Oh, c’mon, god only knows what you’d do without us.