The End of The World Party

I don’t know what it is that has me in such a good mood. I don’t know if it’s the charming Christmas light decorations on every fourth house I drive by, the good feeling that accompanies the purchase of cool gifts other people will enjoy, or the fact that it’s seventy degrees in the middle of December in Washington, DC.

(Usually this last fact would be scaring the hell out of me, because just last week I saw An Inconvenient Truth and I tend to get sort-of, well, crazy about things that have the potential to end the world. But here I am, getting ready for New Year’s in shorts and a tank top, with not a care in the world.)

I had intended a snarky year-end summation of this year’s most vitriol-deserving famous people; I was going to call it The Trashies. Clever, yeah?

But because of my merry mood, I prefer now only to praise those things that were truly great about 2006. Scrap Heap refers to them “pieces of gold,” and it was these few nuggets that made wading through the septic tank of pop-culture completely bearable.

"The Wire"
The best show on television. I don’t do criticism well, so I won’t. It’s just the best show, maybe ever.

"The Office"
This show is so great, and in so many ways, I almost literally want to slap myself to prevent from gushing so openly about it.

Love Is All - Nine Times The Same Song
Energetic Swedish garage rock all about the different stages of love, from bliss to boredom. Very great.

The Organ - Grab That Gun and Sinking Hearts EP
This is the kind of year it’s been. A friend, knowing my deep affection for girl-made indie pop, recommends I listen to the Organ. I do, and I fall in love. I listen to their record and their EP a thousand times, marveling at how great a band they are, and looking forward to anything they release in the future. Then after a few months, I check their website to find out they’ve broken up. That’s the kind of year it has been.

Au Revoir Simone - Verses of Comfort, Assurance & Salvation
Three ladies playing two keyboards and a Micro-Korg, singing sad, pretty songs. I ask you, what could be better?

"Lost"
This is more for the last half of season two, than for this fall’s six-episode mini-series tease-a-thon. I’m not joining the knee-jerk haters, I’m just saying that something better happen soon. Also, I’m still kind of pissed about Mr. Eko. But I know they’ll get it going for the seventeen straight shows next year, and that will ease my troubling mind.

"Postcards From Italy" - Beirut
My favorite song from this year. A catchy ukelele, Neutral Milk Hotel's amazing drummer doing his thing, and a horn section part that kick's my ass everytime. A perfect song.

The Prestige, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest, The Departed, and Borat
(If you don’t like the end of movies ruined for you, stop reading this now.)
There’s this moment at the end the Pirates sequel where Captain Jack is staring straight into the mouth of the terrible Kraken monster that’s been unleashed to devour him. Just before the enormous sea monster swallows him alive, Captain Jack pulls his sword, smiles as if he were looking forward to his fate, and casually says, “Hello, beastie.”

God, I love that shit.

The other movies listed are my other favorites released this year, all awesome in their own distinct way.

That's all I can think of for now. If my mood sours, I'll have a crack at the worst of this year. Until then, however, have a nice holiday everybody, whatever you celebrate.

Except you Episcopalians. You people fucking freak me out.

Look Everyone!! I'm a Racist!

No, not me, of course. But you are. Particularly if you are a celebrity. It seems that at some point during your career, it is more than likely that you have conveyed this sort of message (whether out of real hatred or some last-ditch effort to garner some attention). This country has a long history of some seriously messed up racist shit, and that's a woeful understatement. Oh, I don't know, things like slavery, the KKK, and the fact that there have only been 5 (!) black Senators--EVER--come to mind (You want references? This ain't college, it's the internet, look it up yourself). And while this country's disdain for minorities and Hollywood have gone hand in hand over the years (minstrel shows of the early 20th century, 70s blaxploitation, less than ten black Academy Award winning actors, continued limited or stereotypical roles for minorities), it seems that hate-filled diatribes have become the shameless publicity stunt du jour (in addition to wanton vagina flashing; thank you Mr. Basura). From Mel Gibson to Michael Richards and now this tidbit from media juggernaut TMZ (Now with 10% more credibility!):

"...Just hours after TMZ broke the story about Andy Dick's cavalier use of the N word in a comedy club this weekend, the alleged comedian has admitted that he made a huge mistake. In an apology issued through his publicist, Dick said, "I chose to make a joke about a subject that is not funny. In an attempt to make light of a serious subject, I have offended a lot of people, and I am sorry for my insensitivity. I wish to apologize to Ian, to the club, and its patrons and to anyone who was hurt or offended by my remark."Andy was heckling comedian Ian Bagg at L.A.'s Improv comedy club Saturday, when he sudddenly got out of his seat and jumped onstage, cracked jokes about Michael Richards, and referred to the crowd by the N word..."

Yes yes, Andy, we get it, you're a fucking idiot, now go away. I was (and have consistently been throughout your career) offended by your actions and I do not accept your callous apology. We will, however, be sure to call you the next time a hurricane hits and we need to build a levee of human sandbags. I think we'll put you at the base of the levee where all the water and drownings are.

The moral of this story is really quite simple: American people no longer believe that public displays of racism are acceptable or funny. Bigotry is only acceptable and funny when it takes place in the privacy of your own racist home, or kept as thoughts within the confines of your thick, bigoted skull.

Gold Nugget Vs. Piece of Trash Vol. 2

Gold:

"The body is wrapped in shadow
The face is built of cinders
And panic tears through your silhouette
As you're squeezed by burning fingers
And he's crackling in all colours
With teeth of gelignite
When he sighs his song and pirouettes
Through a dance of dynamite
We are fireworks - slowly, glowing/ Bold and bright
We are fireworks - burning shapes into the night
His fuel is our frustration
And dreams begin to ache
And all the while we wear a party smile
And happily we shiver
And happily we shake
Oh shake, shake, shake
We are fireworks - slowly, glowing/ Bold and bright
We are fireworks - burning shapes into the night
Twist and turn - burn, burn, burn
Twist and turn - burn, baby, burn"
--Siouxsie & The Banshees "Fireworks"

Trash:

"Oh, I, I, I I wanna be bad with you baby
I, I, I, I I wanna be bad with you baby
Do you, understand what I need,need (from you)
Just let me be the girl to show you (you)
Everything that she can be is everything that I can be
I wanna be My turn
Let me let you know that I can (I can)
Promise that I won't do that
So boy, say the time and place cuz you make me wanna misbehave
I wanna be bad
You make bad look so good
I got things on my mind I never thought I would
I, I wanna be bad (bad)
You make bad feel so good
I'm losing all my cool
I'm about to break the rules
I, I wanna be bad
I wanna be bad with you baby
I, I, I, I, I wanna be bad with you baby"
--Willa Ford "I Wanna Be Bad"

Come on, Willa, you got on to "Dancing With The Stars" because of this shit? Frankly, I'm appalled.

The Edge of Empire Thanks the Centre

What beautiful flowers grow at the centre of empire?
Whose scent gently wafts to our uncertain edge
Most construe its beauty for selfish desire
Their roots as a noose extracting our breath

For are not flowers central to the essence of nature?
Do they not represent nature's fruitful plan?
To the detractors of empire I quickly wager,
"Isn't empire nature seen through the eyes of man?"

For they see the potential in a soulless desert
Emerald hills instead of endless dunes
They value oil and water with equal measure
Progress central to their point of view

But the multitude cry out "bloody murder!"
They smell the putrid scent of genocide
"How can you kill for progress?" they naively wonder
"Does not native blood out weigh selfish pride?"

Yet genocide is simply slashing and burning
So Ideas can be planted to mature and bloom
How beautiful it is to see their children learning
Noursihed from their new found bountiful fruit

So the edge of empire thanks the beautiful centre
For your selfless garden endlessly grows
But the white bones portruding often remember
Dying of thirst while bloody rivers flowed!

Why Y'all So Vagina?

What does it say about us as a culture when all a young and famous lady need do to curry favor with the American media is a well-timed and well-executed beaver flash? These accidental-but-not-really-at-all peep shows have become so ubiquitous, they've ceased to have any truly remarkable impact. I mean, shit, the photo to your left is Ms. Spears' second genital display in a week.

It’s become a cliché of the Lohan-level fame-lust crowd, the de rigeur move of desperation for any starlet who feels the celebrity press just aren't ravenous enough over them: get famous (acting/singing/blow jobbing), have a physical or emotional breakdown (blow overdose/marriage to background dancer), and then remind people that you're famous by showing off your newly Brazilian-ed lady hole to the omnipresent paparazzi.

This is not to say I’m against a woman’s right to choose to flash her vagina in public. Hell, I think we need more public vaginas in our society, not less. But it becomes a twee bit icky when the act itself is a cry for attention: “Hey, America, remember me? Check out my box!”

But here we are anyway, talking about Britney when there’s really no other earthly reason to do so. I suppose, then, that she accomplished her goal. She's climbed back into the pop culture consciousness, if only briefly, and all it took was panty-less car ride, a thousand flash bulbs, and our craven desire to see a famous woman's baby chute.

The very model of a win-win situation, no?

(And you're welcome for the picture, Scrap Heap. You. Are. Welcome.)

Gold Nugget Vs. Piece of Trash Vol. 1

Gold:

I've got two underpaid educators on the faders/
mad about the salaries of baseball players/
a nation of thugs wavin guns at the mayor/
the meek on their knees cold prayin for savior/
unable to outlast disease that plagues ya/
scientists with remedies save em for later/
'In God We Trust' written on the paper/
which soon will burn/
as humans learn/
to upgrade, advance/
got way too far in the waters of chance/
stress reaches up to the heavens/
its arms/
take the form of nuclear bombs/
and when they're weary/
they drop and crush theory/
laying to waste everything you held dearly/
death is nearing/
at this point you see clearly/
united through peril just scream if you hear me/
--Mr. Lif, "Low Key"

Trash:

As my, Daytons spin lowrider sittin low/
Hittin corners so hard you can taste my rims
Hard top six-four, I'm Diddy no tint
I can't hide in New York City
I'm 'bout it in the South, sleep good in the West/
Know a chick from Watts with Bad Boy tatted on her breast/
I done been there and did it (I done been there and did it)/
Ten years without gettin sweat inside my Yankee fitted/
1990-Raw I showed you ice/
You ain't know who Jacob was so I showed you twice/
When it was (All About the Benjamins) I had two bezels on my arm
Like a Don's supposed to, Sean
Ride with a chaffeur in Gucci loafers/
And switch to All Stars without losin focus/
These rap niggaz hopeless (hopeless)
you can change the locks
but I'ma shine for niggaz that ain't know Big
--P.Diddy "We Gon Make It"


Wasn't that easy??
More to come...