1. When you feel sucker-ish and manipulated by buying into mainstream cultural notions of what physical beauty is, even though you know logically that it’s all tied to capitalism and convincing women they should be happy with their second-class citizenship, but you still can’t help but think Amanda Seyfried looks superfoxy in Esquire: that, my friends, is what we refer to as guiltlust.
Lee Fields – “Ladies”
Beyonce, who gets more inhumanly physically attractive with each passing minute, even with those bangs, yellow eyeliner, and a ridiculous cowboy hat while doing nothing to subvert the dominant paradigm and making Sony Music Entertainment, Inc., even more boatloads of money. But I tell you, all those Lady Gaga collabos look so good on her.
Related: feeling ashamed to find yourself attracted to a young, grizzled Phil Collins (!) when you come across a Genesis photo from the ’70s. This is proof that even if you make awful fake-prog rock with your band, and even if you’re a diminutive pasty Brit who wears a shearling coat, STYLE TRUMPS ALL. This is also proof that everything that was once fresh comes back ’round again, fashion-wise. If their pants were tighter I’d be almost positive I saw these dudes at the Cha Cha last night.
2. “Electro Wars,” via my Cratekings boyfriends. It’s true, Lil Jon–Muhfuckas don’t even know what the fuck they’re talkin about.
Listen, I love synth and 808 as much as the next stunningly beautiful girlnerd music fan, but I am growing increasingly tired and frustrated with dudes who are “tired and frustrated with the hip hop scene,” whatever that is. So here we have a video collection of things that make me want to throw stuff across the room, including but not limited to: a predictable appearance by fucking Will.i.Am’s annoying ass, Pitbull’s annoying culo, a wholly inexplicable appearance by the god Premier (??!), pasty white men culture-poaching and boosting the best music Juan Atkins already made in the ’80s, and 1 of the LMFAO buffoons bragging that Kanye was unhappy when they covered “Love Lockdown.” (That’s quite a feat, you know. Kanye rarely gets upset.) Ugh.
Your attention please: I would like to hereby announce that my transformation into “grouchy old-timer at the party in the back of the room clutching her Mantronix and Kraftwerk records to her chest” is now complete.
3. Cough-wheeze-cough! HI SPIKE.
The latest in ESPN’s 30 for 30 series is Winning Time: Reggie Miller vs. the New York Knicks, premiering Sunday night at 9. In related news, please do not call me Sunday at 9 or during the 60 minutes directly following 9. Thanks.
Reggie Miller is annoying and gives off a real strong bitchy vibe. Also, he believes himself to be quite the comedian when he calls into Dan Patrick’s radio show that I listen to on the way to work; this belief is erroneous (he’s not amusing in the slightest). Dan always announces him as Reggie Aloysius Miller, though, which is funny, see, ’cause that’s Pat Ewing’s middle name.
Anyway, Reggie as a sports figure, it must be said, is pretty compelling–somewhat because of the fact that I like New York hiphop and every New York MC has mentioned the Knicks at some point in verse, but more so because of the fact that he’s mentioned in various southern-rap-odes-to-weed because Reggie Miller can be smoked, just ask 8 Ball, and also because he can be approvingly mentioned in rhyme by a New York MC, just ask Biggie (the understated “Play hard like Reggie Miller/Rapper-slash-dope dealer,” which was clearly written just ’cause Big needed something to rhyme with dealer. Oh Christopher.)