Tag Archives: celebrity

DIY: Projects For The New Depression

We’re not letting this little blip in the market stop us from keeping up with the Joneses! Here is our first installment in a series on how to remain a brand obsessed, self-centered, consumer during a national crisis



Now there’s time to catch up on the important shit we’ve been missing– the new Black Lips album. That chick who looks like the woman who had the octuplets becoming an actor,WTF? And that promised bipartisanship that we’ve been waiting for.

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GoodBye Chris Brown

Just Cause I Look Like A Dude Doesn't Mean I Am

Just Cause I Look Like A Dude Doesn't Mean I Am

Chris Brown, master of single sylabble oh’s and ah’s, didn’t make it to the Grammys last night. Instead he was picked up by LA police for making “criminal threats”and is being investigated for the more serious, and less startling, accusation that he has been hitting equally talented phonetic acrobat, Rihanna. (see: Bom-Bom-Be-Dum.)
We want to take a moment to explain to Chris Brown that although Rihanna’s haircut as of late leads one to suspect she is in fact male, hitting a girl who looks like a guy is still like hitting a guy only it’s a girl. Which is a nice way to say you don’t hit women dickface!

From Gawker:

He never made it to the Grammy Awards stage, but Chris Brown’s performance Sunday could become an example of how to wreck one’s career in record time.

We don’t think “career” is the right word, it implies longevity in one field of work. And while we won’t compare winning the lottery to lasting long in the music industry we will analogize it to catching heterosexual HIV.
There is a chance, but it’s hard.
So see you later Chris Brown, we hope.

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Kanye West Continues His “Fuck-With-My-Fans” Campaign; The Decline Begins: I downloaded a Death Cab For Cutie Album

There’s been a lot of Kanye West hating going on recently– particularly from white-boys trying to gain some cred by claiming he’s mainstream. We get it, you understand the underlying socio-economic reasoning that’s driven hip hop to take it’s current form, you really feel it. But,still, you keep getting your hat stolen!!

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Check out some of the responses to this ridiculous video that Kanye made from what he claims to be a hotel room in Paris. That previous sentence seems to make me sound skeptic of his whereabouts, which I’m not. I’m more stressing the idea that people seem to accept that Kanye is out of his fucking mind, when really he is just fucking with his fan-base and with the concept of celebrity itself.

I think that Kanye at some level understands, in true Warholian fashion( or maybe more Kaufmanian), that not just the stuff you put on tape is “art” but really you can mess with the concept of people’s perceptions by conducting your life as some strange amalgamated version of Sex and the City and The Jeffersons. Kanye understands the absurd nature of unsubtantiated wealth and that rascist America is foaming at the mouth with each piece of gear the Don of Louis Vuitton buys. The end result is some strange imitation of performance art — the effect is like a visual equivalent to that overused Auto-Tune. But still, it is effecting.
Until people realize he is taking the piss, that his brand-obsession, his megalomania, are kind of a joke, an entire generation of black kids will continue to walk around looking similar to Lamar Latrell from “Revenge of the Nerds”.
Which isn’t fair for them!


Now it’s time for me to defend my cred by explaining half-heartedly why I downloaded, and then tossed, the new( i guess) Death Cab For Cutie album. And it’s not becasue Ben Gibbrad is marrying Zooey Deschanel.


I’ve avoided bands like this for a long time and my recent brush with the Gray’s Anatomy soundtrack crowd will keep me in the good — and purposeless– fight of avoiding them for a few more years. When I say bands like this, I mean the type that practice a strange act of musical-mercantilism by going into a particular music scene and stealing that group’s music, then bringing it back to the motherland to trade for gold.
That’s a bit of exaggerated.
Still, I’ve avoided ever texting FOX during American Idol feeling the act alone would bring me too close to the crime scene– that if I could remain a silent observer, I wasn’t observing at all.

But because of the TV, again, I found myself watching and liking this clip late one night when I was doing work.
And that feeling of delusion blanketed-over until the next day, where I struggled with imagining what life would be like if I weren’t such a musical dick. That if I ceased thinking good music was hard to find, I would have something more in common with the people I take the bus with, or see at my therapists office.
And so, for a few days, I struggled to listen to the album.
The thing is I don’t hate this type of music. In fact, Plans has a lot of the qualities I like in music: melodic riffs garnished with heavy pop-sensibilites, self-deprecating yet egotistical lyrical approach.
Finally I settled on a weak food analogy to settle the score I was feeling about Death Cab for Cutie. And while the following metephor is true, I’m aware that DCfC really isn’t that bad, that the problem is more me dealing with the fact that I think if I like that band, it means I’m pretty low-brow and that I have given into some type of cultural apathy.

I remember when I was a kid and my mom used to buy the no-frills Oreo’s and try to convince me they were as good as the real ones. They even said on the box, something like: compare ours, or whatever. But it was too late, I had the real ones and even though they didn’t taste different at all, I was loyal to the original brand.

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More Non-News—Phelps Smokes Pot

Why is this news?


Phelps looks and acts like every other college kid who sits around trying intentionally to postpone the inevitable monotony that his life as a mortgage broker is guaranteed to become by smoking pot and laughing at things they think are far out.

This clip is probably a  fair indicator of what the Michael Phelps is like most of the time when a camera is not on him.

And, although we wouldn’t want to hang out with him, Michael Phelps seems like a decent guy. He’s a dude’s dude– the kind   who keeps Maxim in print. He has boys, and they hang and watch sports, and commiserate on why the chicks who won’t f them are lesbians. Or whatever!!!

“He didn’t know many people so you’d think he’d be a little shy. But he was loud, obnoxious and slamming beers from the get-go.

“Every girl wanted a piece of him and every guy wanted to be his best buddy. He couldn’t get enough of all the attention.”

The most tiring(and unfortunate) aspect of  what will(quickly) become Michael Phelps future demise is the myth we have created around this kid, so that a picture of him hanging out and getting high has jeopardized his career. We are constantly shocked here by the douche-bags who’ve decided that the most humane way to ruin someone is to give them superhuman qualities. We assume that people in the spotlight aren’t people– that their single purpose is to set examples that us regular folks can never live up to. When those expectations are not met– or even worse our hero’s flash signs of human weakness– us wolves eat them alive.

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