Archive for January, 2014

January 17, 2014

Hustle and blow

Since Jennifer Lawrence is now controlled by the Illuminati, it’s only a matter of time before her public descent into madness. You heard it here first. How else can you explain her Oscar nomination (and Golden Globe win) for truly terrible acting in that overblown movie American Hustle? I can’t even entertain the thought that Amy Adams could beat Cate Blanchett. Wait, I just did. 

January 15, 2014

I used to love J-Law. Now she annoys me.

You want her broken with her mouth wide open 'cause she's this year's girl.

You want her broken with her mouth wide open ’cause she’s this year’s girl.

See her picture in a thousand places
cause she’s this year’s girl.

You think you all own little pieces
of this year’s girl.

Forget your fancy manners,
forget your English grammar,
’cause you don’t really give a damn
about this year’s girl.

Still you’re hoping that she’s well spoken
’cause she’s this year’s girl.

Never knowing it’s a real attraction,
all these promises of satisfaction,
while she’s being bored to distraction
being this year’s girl.

Time’s running out. She’s not happy with the cost.
There’d be no doubt, only she’s forgotten
much more than she’s lost.

A bright spark might corner the market
in this year’s girl.
You see yourself rolling on the carpet
with this year’s girl.
Those disco synthesizers,
those daily tranquilizers,
those body building prizes,
those bedroom alibis,
all this, but no surprises for this year’s girl.

(This Year’s Girl by Elvis Costello)

January 12, 2014

Figure skating is a bitch

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Some of the year’s best  television (it’s quite early, I know) happened last night during the U.S. women’s figure skating nationals. There was comedy . . . albeit slapstick . . . and tragedy. Pretty girls doing astounding things and pretty girls being bitches. Not quite Real Housewives, but definitely on par with the best girl v girl reality scenarios. And this one was very real. There was the awkward young up and comer  with perfect form; the unpredictable artist type, clearly an outcast; the likable champion whose star seems to be falling and her rival the queen bitch cheerleader from your worst  high school nightmare.

At first my vote was for the underdog, the champion: Ashley Wagner who supposedly tweeted that she was applying her war paint hours before the competition; Her rival, Gracie Gold lost me when she said this in an interview: “Yeah, my name is like a double edged sword. (Had her hair not been in a tight bun, she would have flipped it here.) You know, Gracie, fall from grace and Gold, grab the gold.” The awkward girl with perfect technique was a bit controlled for my taste (which means absolutely nothing outside the confines of my living room). Commentators’ discussion about the artist type’s volatility/fragility intrigued me, but it was her choice of music that got my attention.

The nationals determine the figure skating champion, which is, all by itself, kind of a big deal. But it also plays a humongous role in choosing who will be on the Olympic team. Here’s how it went down:

Wagner: fell twice and stumbled. It wasn’t pretty. It was sort of poetic, though. Especially, since she could be seen hugging and comforting another young skater who took a few tumbles right before her.

Edmunds: Eh…..(Where’s my jar of Trader Joe’s cookie butter swirl?)

Nagasu: The artist. The Christian Hosoi of women’s figure skating. Her choice of music: James Bond scores. To my uneducated eye, her form was stunning. She wowed me and the audience. Of course the commentators had mostly snotty remarks about her. Rock star all the way.

Gold: Well I’ll be damned if she didn’t go out there and destroy it. She stumbled once but that didn’t seem to matter as her score was the single highest long form skate score ever. Ever.  Her face melting ego came dangerously close to annihilating everything in a ten mile radius, but she did manage to pull off those damn triples, or whatever. Predictably, she gloated.

Gold, of course took first, Polina Edmunds the awkward nubile took second, Nagasu took third and Wagner 4th. This morning I eagerly jumped online to see who was chosen for the team, and I was disappointed to find that Wagner was chosen over Nagasu. As much as I wanted Wagner to bury Gold, I will always cast the rock n roll vote.

Here’s how I’d like to see this reality show end:

Mirai marries a wealthy, sexy and totally faithful rock star, then goes on to win the next nationals.

Ashley shrinks away from the public eye, marries a contractor and lives happily ever after in a warm climate.

Polina becomes the first openly gay female in figure skating and eventually wins a gold medal.

Gracie marries a cheating NFL quarterback and becomes an alcoholic which makes her retain massive amounts of water in her extremities.

January 12, 2014

Thurston Moore’s favorite songs

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Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore revealed 38 of his favorite songs and while many of them are what you’d expect, there are a few surprises. Moore, or anyone associated with Sonic Youth is somewhat of a sacred cow in music. You have to sort of get behind them or you’re basically a fool. A charlatan.  (Whatever). A few of the songs from his list are also on my own list. (I may be cool after all). A few artists seemed out of left field. He definitely has his pet genres: glitter, no wave, So Cal punk, early British punk, “grunge,” and folk . . . didn’t see that one coming.  The fact that he listed a Beach Boys tune but left out anything by The Beatles feels a bit pretentious/trendy. There is a school of thought that The Beach Boys had a bigger influence on pop music than The Beatles. I respectfully disagree. Actually, I think it’s total bullshit, but everyone’s entitled to his opinion.  He also named a Youth Brigade song which made me literally go, “whoa.” And the Bush Tetras. I forgot all about that band. Whether or not I think Moore’s “choices” are a tad self-conscious, listening to them made me nostalgic. Where are The Germs of today? Or the Hendrix. Or even Nirvana? Who’s setting precedents in music anymore? To quote another great artist in its day: Nothing’s shocking. But I wish it was.

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