big post, lotta stuff, all over the place

here's a selection of some of the dastardliest daguerrotypiest druwings from married to the sea, the latest awesomest website around town. it's quite goodly, sirs and madamsels. yes, quite.

oh, and I want one of these, too.

(via.)

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Lisa: Ralph thinks I like him. But I only gave him a Valentine 'cause I felt sorry for him.
Homer: Ah, sweet pity: where would my love life have been without it?
Lisa: What do you say to a boy to let him know you're not interested?
Marge: Well, honey-
Homer: Let me handle this, Marge. I've heard 'em all. (counting them off): "I like you as a friend," "I think we should see other people," "I no speak English," "I'm married to the sea," "I don't want to kill you, but I will..."

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this Village Voice review of Ghostface's new album aggravated me for some reason. aggro-vated! just the way it's written. it bugs! check out the lead graph:

Five years ago it was clear that Ghostface Killah was going to be the last Wu-Tang Clansman standing. Career-wise, not literally, Russell Jones Dirt McGirt R.I.P. Chalk it up to Big Ghost's Everyman appeal—to the fact that he's now made five solo albums that the people enjoy and not one movie directed by Jim Jarmusch or about getting high at Harvard. I love Jarmusch, RZA, and GZA and think Meth is the tightest cameo artist in hiphop history—just don't try and sell me one of his own albums. And somehow we just know there are no Lee Iacocca or Charlie Rose appearances in Ghost's future, no Beyoncés either, and that's all fine by us. Us being the ones who actually listen to hiphop to satisfy the basest of urges, the artform's smooth and savage concoction of stupid beats, surreal rhymes, and that je ne sais quoi we know as unrepentant, unreconstructed, around-the-way negritude.

that's right. "that je ne sais quoi we know as unrepentant, unreconstructed, around-the-way negritude." uhhh, what? from the first sentence -- was it really clear? is it even true? -- from the R.I.P to O.D.B. to all the strange references to Wu-Tang's other cultural endeavors to that turn of phrase at the end, it just seemed that the guy, Greg Tate, knows what he's talking about but was really trying to sound deep and cool at the same time. and not.

and then:

Lookahere brothermansisterlady, I don't know how it is between you and Ghost but I'm enough of a closet Marxist to get turned on by the idea of a blood who in another era would be carting a lunchpail to the plant being a monster poet up in this suddenly glitzaramic hiphop sheet.

yeah, Tate doesn't know how it is between us and Ghost, even though he's the reviewer, so why should he care? ... said my high school journalism teacher. yeah, he's a enough of a closet Marxist to not have the completion of the sentence make sense why he needed to tell us so. and yeah, he referred to Ghostface as "a blood". who knows, maybe Ghostface Killah is a blood. but, really now. I just thought: that's funny. he called him blood.

Tate carries on, talking about all sorts of things, none of which really have any relationship whatsoever to the album being reviewed, which is great, by the way -- how you would know from reading this review, though, I have no idea. the funny thing about the article is that I do agree with his take -- that Ghostface is "Burroughs, Ellroy, and Bukowski rolled into one garrulous gregarious grungy gruesome ghettofied writer." that he's "a one-man Wu reunion out his own mouth." ohh, word? word.

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this exquisite dead guy has noticed something awesome going on at the Amazon page for that Harvard novelist/plagiarist girl. Amazon customers have been tagging the book with all sorts of great and crazy tags, like:

liar
fraud
should be kicked out of harvard
lil miss plagiarist
slap in the face to legitimate authors

and, the awesomest:

could this be the moment at last when publishers stop buying books from boring Harvard prodigies and start buying zombie books

rad. just rad. when will the zombie books start showing up on Oprah, I think, is the real question here.

now if someone could just explain what tags are to me, that'd be great thanks.

send more paramedics is a funn blogg, anyhoo, too.

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these re-enactments of famous movie scenes by Brandon Hardesty are fricking dynamite. my favorite is probably the Princess Bride one -- his Vizzini is spot-on -- but his Candy/Martin from Planes, Trains, Automobiles is pretty great, as well. shit, they're all great. more great shit from the land of the internet.

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a couple days afterwards, Matt Gonzalez taught me what the deal is with Cinco de Mayo.

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both these next are via the nonist, who has a smart new design and always keeps my head smart.

only 21 finalists remain in the final stretch of the public's selection of the new seven wonders of the world. you know, because the seven ancient wonders of the world aren't around anymore, except for the Pyramids. so it's time for some new wonders, dammit! hells yeah!!!! so here's where my seven votes'd go:

1. Pyramids
   
2. Taj Mahal
3. Stonehenge
4. Aya Sofia
5. Angkor Wat
6. Machu Picchu
7. Great Wall of China
   

I've been to one of those!

and this is the most interesting news story i've read in a long while: an alert unlike any other. a group of linguists, anthropologists and scientists are all working on this project to determine some way to communicate with people in the far distant future, to try to warn them about the deadly radioactive sludge we're burying deep underground in New Mexico. what a really extraordinarily great job.

i'm not even being facetious when i say i'm glad that our American tax dollars are going toward something like this. this seems rather noble and intelligent for us, for a change.

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good music I've been listening to the past couple days: Friends of Dean Martinez, Pavement, '98 Phish, Beethoven and this song by Rilo Kiley.

good blogs I've found the past couple days: laura the tooth, basketbawful, sophisto, gentrified rice, and you can't get arrested for being awesome.

good ideas I've had the past couple days: to eat more cucumber in salads, do more push-ups, carry a pen, check email less often.

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mirrors are people aquariums,
the sofa lies.
today is tomorrow
in disguise.

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