Mr. T, you are so wise.
I like themes. Today is Star Trek day for me, apparently. The Q & Data pic reminded me of this lovely clip from Extras with Patrick Stewart. Engage!
Aimee Mann and Ice T just had a Twitter duel. Apparently she insulted his acting and he didn’t like that so much…
(It’s totally entertaining enough for weekend posting.)
Look! Look!! Newsies on Broadway! I bet the new Jack will even be able to sing.
And you thought the subject line was an exaggeration.
I don’t post on weekends for exaggerations.
So there’s going to be an Asian Jersey Shore?
I feel like I should be offended, especially since they’re also doing a Russian one. And it’s really not long until they get through every stereotype in the most offensive way possible.
On the other hand, I have two thoughts
1: It’s not all Asians “If you are not Asian but are obsessed with Asian culture or people in some way, email us and please explain.” - This means at least one of our editors is TOTALLY eligible, and its about time that Kaks took it to the small screen.
2: Who am I to judge? This is obviously going to be awesome.
I have an abiding love for James Franco that I think started when I was about 15 and he played James Dean in that TV movie. Bam. I’m sold. And then, shortly thereafter, I discovered he’s actually from my town and made out with my friend’s sister in high school and his younger brother is friends with some girls I knew in high school, and I knew it would be a long-term thing. When it turned out he’s actually intelligent and cool and multi-talented (actors are hot, but writers and English majors up the ante) and makes ridiculous videos making fun of himself, I decided we were meant to be.
But now, I’m not so sure. You see, he’s publishing a book of short stories, named after our lovely little California town, and Esquire has been so magnanimous as to publish one so we can get a taste of what’s to come. Gawker reviewed for us, and, well, let’s just say that this story involves a “dragon bong.” Whatever, that’s fine, but I’m more worried about his taking Palo Alto as his own now; as a writer friend of mine worries, can there really be two famous writers (or general writing/movie major players, in this case) from one town?
Just sayin’, James Franco should watch whose toes he steps on…
An excerpt from the “About” page so you know what you’re getting yourself into:
“The AXE COP saga began on a Christmas visit to see my family. My Father, a man with very healthy loins, has managed to produce a variety of children, ranging from me, a 29 year old comic book artist, to my 5 year old brother Malachai, a 5 year old boy genius, with four other siblings in between. During the visit Malchai was running around with his toy fireman axe and he said he was playing “Axe Cop.” He asked me to play with him, and I asked what my weapon was… so he brought me a toy flute (actually a recorder). I told him I would rather be Axe Cop then Flute Cop, and he seemed just fine with being Flute Cop. The story that followed became more and more brilliant, until I couldn’t contain myself and I had to draw the whole thing into a one page comic. From there the saga continued, and over the course of my week-long visit we cranked out the first four episodes of AXE COP. I posted the comics to my blog and on Facebook and they got great responses. I decided to give AXE COP a home on the internet here and attempt to continue the saga as often as I have time to draw them, and I can get Malachai to write them.
The writing process is basically just me quizzing Malachai as he develops the saga. I’ll just try to pry all the details out of him and write them all down until something like a complete little story has been formed. Everything in AXE COP started in Malachai’s head, all I do is sort it out and draw it. Here is a video of the writing process. So enjoy these comics, they are a fun slice of the mind of a 5 year old boy processed through the pen of a 30 year old comic artist.”
Yeah, that’s right. Run to the Axe Cop page as quickly as possible. It’s amazing.
Guys. GUYS. GUYS!
This is going to be terrible. I could not be more excited.
I remember once having a conversation with a music snob about pop music. She was telling me how everyone expected her to be ashamed of her love for, say, Backstreet Boys, or ‘N Sync. Or, for that matter, any of the other really horrifying (by which I mean awesome) music that makes the cut on Bad Pop Wednesdays.
But, my friend explained to me, she wasn’t in the least ashamed of all that. She celebrated that. What was she really, truly, and deeply ashamed of? Her love for (she whispered so no one would hear) Rob Thomas.
Because bad can be celebrated, but mediocrity so rarely gets its day in the sun. With that in mind, a musical tribute to this weeks awesome legislation:
And, um, in honor of that executive order:
PS I am totally digging that outfit. In every unironic way possible. Why did the 80s ever end?
[Edit: Obviously grad school has gone to Willa's brain. Don't be confused. It is, indeed, only Tuesday. You didn't misplace a day in drunken revelry, sadly. Though, you could try... ~Kaks]
My name is Alfie. I’m 23 years old. And I’m a Euroholic.
I am, more precisely, a politics-obsessed Europhile: two causes which have rarely been less popular in my homeland, but which go together hand-in-hand.
Combined, they mean that this May I will be reduced to a quivering heap of nerves. On the 6th May Britain goes to the polls for a general election – a contest which is very likely to go badly for my team, and leave me wanting to drink a ballot box of gin. On 29th May Europe goes to the phones to select its best-worst song of the year in the annual lycra-wrapped camp-fest that is the Eurovision Song Contest – a contest which is still more certain to go badly for my team, but will nonetheless leave me wanting to climb onto the roof and sing ‘Dancing Queen’ while downing bad sangria.
I’m not even going to bother posting the Lady Gaga/Beyonce “Telephone” video, because I assume that you have all already seen it, like the good little Gaga lovers you should be. However, I’m always on the lookout for an excuse to post something related to my Lady Gaga obsession.
I didn’t use to care about the Gaga – I thought her first single, “Just Dance,” was a little flat and overplayed, but never really gave it a second thought – and when I saw on interview with her on Ellen one day while at the gym back in the fall, I found the whole thing merely amusing. And then, one fine day about a month and a half ago, my life changed and I became obsessed. I don’t really know why, but I’ve been unable to get enough of her ever since, and almost all my friends feel the same way. This hilarious NPR piece takes a stab at explaining why, though I never had a gay teenage boy (or girl, for that matter) phase.
You were excited when Phoenix’s last album, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, came out, weren’t you? (If you weren’t, you should have been, and if you just go become obsessed with it now, no one will be the wiser.) You didn’t think their music could possibly get any better. Hey, they probably didn’t think their music could get any better.
And then it did.
And then go check out these guys’ website and become obsessed with them too. Maybe read the article where the awestruck Phoenix band members said this video “would… bring a tear to the eye of an SS officer.” I love these guys.
I am so excited. I can’t even tell you. I can’t begin to express… I… I… Well, to fall back on an old one, but this time closer to true: I am so excited about Life I could wet myself.
And no, not my life. My life still consists of dodging seminar reading while quietly driving myself towards a nervous breakdown over my thesis and spending my meager amounts of money on beer and cheese sandwiches. Which is to say that my life remains that of a grad student.
I mean Life as in the show. As in the show by the same people, that BBC/Discovery Dream Team, who brought you Planet Earth, which in one stroke converted untold thousands of couch potatoes, pot heads, and drunk college kids into amateur naturalists. As in the show that made the suggestion of watching birds of paradise mate a perfectly acceptable way to end everything from dates to bachelor parties. The show that led to heated arguments in which people actually screamed things like “NO, Seasonal Forests kick ASS” and magnified my fear of underwater caves to a point of an irrational paranoia that I will somehow, with no explanation whatsoever, wake up in one.
Life premiers this weekend, and all I can say is bring it on. But if I were the headline writer at the New York Times, I would be way, way prouder of what I had to say about Life.