OK, I will say this only once, and never speak of it again. Lakers vs. Celtics: A FUCKING TRAVESTY.
Book Expo America in LA →
Now just wait a fucking minute. I know you are a whore, but jesus.
And because the universe gives back to you what you put into it, here we have the Gawker commenter brain trust on the Jenny Holzer topic.
Despatches from New Smyrna Beach - West Siiiide →
FYMTQ: Sara Zucker →
What’s a stamp?
Crowd sourcing question — I bought some of those Breast Cancer donation stamps a year ago or longer. They seem to continue to make them regardless of the current postage rate, with qualifying the date (that is, it just says ‘First Class’). Do I need to put additional postage on them now, and how much? I’m not trying to cadge the USPS, but the rates change so fast, how can I...
FYI, experiencing major physical difficulties here at mission control.
This can’t be for real. Or maybe it is? Still, it makes me happy to see that she has so many followers, because now I can shake my head over 1,800 times and chuckle about how They just don’t get it.
Just a heads up: YM to feature its first male FYMTQ, soon-ish. Will entertain nominations for more candidates (but just so’s you know, tits or GTFO).
Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics →
Just look away. Really. It’s not worth it. But if the boss ever pulls off his jibbles/YM drinks night, you can come spill the bile in meat space. Also: don’t blow a gasket before your party.
FYMTQ: Caroline McCarthy →
Well, there goes my plan to retreat from Manhattan once Karl Fischer ruins my view.
Someone else do the math: at the last published page view/bonus rates, have the Gawker writers now outearned Emily based on the reportage of her story?
The Self-Preoccupied Territories of Emilystein →
Someone finally got the message. Now, if only all of Chicago would go away. I kid, I kid. Pitchfork is great! I love Jim Coudal! Jason Fried is not an ass!
The best Bill T. Jones call back I’ve seen in some time. But you did forget the slash, dude.
So we’re two for three this week. When can we expect the Jews do needlepoint post?
[Insert cool, look-at-me Siberia story here] Oh, if you put it that way… I think it was the leaving-NYM party for Spiers (or maybe Lindsay’s birthday?) where Gurley, who I had never met before, heard “my friend” had coke and without introduction asked for some. The friend obliged. I later took a shit in the bathroom which I would rate an 8 on the difficulty scale. (Nothing...
I’ve never seen a ‘good’ photo (meaning clear) of Gurley until now. The verdict : entirely unsurprising. Will Spiers ever learn to smile, or does she simply refuse to eat fiber?
I remember “the” Siberia very well. But talking about the old days isn’t going to bring it back, no matter how many Nick Zedd in a garage stories you have. Related: Sloane Crosely thought the basement was nasty? Clearly this was her I’ve-never-been-too-a-dive-bar tourist destination. One night at the Blarney Cove, the bartender told me a story of a corspe...
Oh, I forgot about this. For the Boss and Eli, roughly the date it was announced that it was cool for y’all to date Palestinians. Too bad our FYM crew is thin on keffiyehs.
Finally, before I go to bed and/or insult anyone else, here’s Robyn Hitchcock covering “Every Day Is Like Sunday.”
And since I’m on such a roll right now, why doesn’t anyone seem to remember how much better Siberia bar was before it moved across the street from the Port Authority? I mean, yeah, it’s fun to hang out with Lou Dobbs and all, but I much preferred the location in the subway station; there were Wedding Present songs on the jukebox and they had tonic on the regular.
Krucoff, I’m not hiding in Queens, I’m in Florida, and I’m not sure it’s possible to top so cogent and airtight an argument. Bitch don’t know shit? Well that shut me up! And for the record, I’m not a Manhattanite, and I don’t shop at Whole Foods, so she can cram it full of walnuts.
Dana, you can’t hide in Queens forever. Chicago called, BITCH DON’T KNOW SHIT is still holding on line 1.
I read this as He’s Just Not That Into Your Tumblr which would be perfect for the YM Story.
Calvin Trillin fans, check out the hot poetry reading action.
Damn you, Sac! You already tagged Jessica Gold Haralson?
Krucoff, I know that with your new campaign to meet all our pretty followers, you’re probably planning on sending her a questionnaire next, but since I’m still not through with the previous campaign (ie, alienating and insulting our followers) and I still have a hateboner for him, why don’t you send a questionnaire to this guy, who loves nationalist music, cryptoracist commentary...
Things that make us sad and/or feel better about ourselves.
Okay, I have to link to this. Noted without a hey, didn’t you pose in a fucking AA swimsuit and post it on Gawker? comment.
Self-hating Jews and the Dead Kennedys: A perfect combo.
How to Survive Federal Prison. [via Spots via Jackson email]
FYMTQ: Jessica Gold Haralson →
I didn’t get this, but I will note that I did just listen to it on the way in from Ohio. Not because I was chasing classic rock stations, but because I have a copy of Moving Pictures in my car. Also: I used to think Neil Peart solos were more interesting. Unrelated: I still haven’t read that fucking article. Sort of related: I was about to ask what the fuck happened to Dash.
Well, I finally read that article. It made me feel sad and tired. That might also be a by-product of the bourbon and the sedatives. I’d really love to know what they factchecked Choire about. “How fancy were those dinners you cooked out on Fire Island, hm? Would you say lavish, or merely gourmet?” Also, why no mention of Gessen’s micropenis?
Well, Of Course It Is →
YYZ, on repeat. (This is an in-out-in-out joke.)
Emily would be happy to tell you why you are such an incredibly jealous person for reasons that you are too afraid to admit to yourself.
Listen, you fucking botard, we walked past the Bongo Room, which was full of people who’d commuted all the way from Lincoln Park to eat brunch, apparently. I would rather eat my own asshole than in a place like that. I’m aware that Chicago is famed for its molecular gastronomy and roasted guinea pigs (I read it in the airplane magazine) but I live on a fucking budget and please, please...
You know what’s really annoying? Adults who cannot find their own drugs. This is not directed at you, Boss. At our fabulous brunch during Creativity Yeah! we talked about what it means to be a gentleman. I might have been wrong about tampons, but a gentleman can provide his own goddamn drugs.
Yeah yeah, but what did the greatest minds of our generation think about Emily Gould in NYT?? Jami Attenberg and Claire Zulkey MUST have an opinion, even if it’s behind closed doors.
Chicago: The City of Big Everything* →
Not yet - at this point it looks like I’m buying for the whole fucking team. Word to the wise, or at least dry: $200/qtr. If you and Curt want to go halvsies, fine by me. Next week I can make it uptown. Or does that fuck with your summering schedule?
Dude, are you back from Ohio yet? I need a re-up from your stash. That shit was bonkers. Might help in mellowing your posts too.
I mean really. What the fuck? Junior, you know these people, and you were good at getting them on board. Now, can you please get them off? Be sure to kiss after. I hear that’s popular with the sexy lady writers.