Wednesday, January 28, 2009

ColdplayingRadioHeadsStonedTheDoorses


this is the best article i've come across in a long, long time
. i've been saying this for years. your favorite band of all time sucks.
¡SUCKS! ...and i'm perfectly aware that it applies to my favorite band, too.

here's the thing: every great band has at least one horrible album, and 95% of the bands out there never even have one, single good record. it's usually just a couple of good to great to maybe incredible songs, and the rest of the record is pretty much the same song with different words. seriously. be honest with yourself.

jack johnson's made six albums by coming up with one song. one. horrible. song.
punk? a whole movement made up of the same 3-4 chords, prodded along by the same chugging, polka rhythm.
indie rock? come on. whiney hipsters channeling the beatles, or fleetwood mac, or bob dylan, or whatevertheflavoroftheweekmightbe... only, never as well as the originals.

so do me a favor. love the music you love, but don't try to convince me that your favorite band/artist is the greatest thing ever.
this guy is.


Tuesday, January 27, 2009

IT HAPPENED!!



Watch the #*@$ out, bitches! I TOLD you!

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

space. the final...


awwww horse huey!!! i see new frontiers all over the urban landscape of this li'l earth!
... and in my next life i wanna be as smart, clever, and sneaky as these punks.




bring on the Ko-Dan armada!



Thursday, January 8, 2009

An open letter to Ann Coulter.

Dear Ann,

I realize you're a big successful author, and really, I'm just a shopgirl with delusions of becoming a junior college instructor of some sort—which means you have no reason to heed my advice. But believe me, I've been sitting on these thoughts and feelings for the last several years. They come from my heart and I think they might help you. Here goes...

You HAVE to stop talking. I'm not just saying this because your voice grates on my tender ears—which really aren't so tender considering the fact that I grew up in a boisterous and foul-mouthed family. And it's not because you look like one of the dinosaurs from that old ABC show of the same name. (Remember the next door neighbor...the brontosaurus?)

No. I'm advising you to stop talking because you're awful. You are the exact opposite of the following: gracious, impartial, sympathetic, human.

Trust me. I know where you're coming from. The anorexia must make you super cranky and I'd probably be pissed, too, if my eyes kept sinking to the back of my head a couple millimeters every year. Seriously, you look like Skeletor. And please don't let your body dysmorphia trick you into taking that as a compliment.

So, we have a deal, then? No more talking? No more wasting the world's time by writing useless books? No more passive aggressive interviews with relatively harmless News Magazine hosts, just to prove who's the bigger man? (It's you, by the way. Congratulations).

Alright. I'm glad I got that off my chest. No doubt we'll see each other in the afterlife. Actually, you'll probably just see me from that great view on your pedestal, hobnobbing with my friends: the single moms, the members of the liberal media and the homosexuals.

Of course, you're always welcome to join us.

Sincerely,

Gretta


Wednesday, January 7, 2009

cockroaches, twinkies and ... adult entertainment?


so no one knows whether we're in, or headed for, the second great depression, but we're facing a financial crisis that borders on a nuclear winter, of sorts. and what can survive nuclear fallout? cockroaches. and twinkies. and i kinda figured the oldest profession/pictures of the oldest profession would too. but apparently i was wrong. check out this
CNN article about a "porn bailout".




now the really funny thing about it all is that i was AT the beverly wilshire the night that Flynt Publishing had their holiday orgy party.
the beverly wilshire. on rodeo drive. hookers and trashy pimps swerving their milion-dollar goodies all over the place. i took a chemical shower when i got home. i STILL have a rash. anyway... what i'm getting at is that i'm pretty sure Larry Flynt's disease-and-wheelchair-ridden ass doesn't deserve a bailout to continue peddling something that's free-- if you just try and slide your self-image back down to where it actually should be and marry that person who's willing to settle for your sorry carcass.