If you’re in the mood to ponder religion and its function, you can’t do better than this essay by Roger Scruton. It elicited 126 responses (so far, anyway) that will have your brain throbbing and all its pistons firing.
The mental exercise is a great prelude to the September Vogue, which I will be addressing here next week!
I can’t describe my adoration of Amy Winehouse except to say that I’ve ruined my hair, teasing it into an enormous beehive in her honor. I’m not crazy about her husband, who looks like a typical hanger-on and scumbag.
But now Amy’s own mother has sold her out to The Daily Mail, in a whiny, hostile interview that includes this recollection of the day her 15 year old daughter was kicked out of school.
“The same day, I had to take the family cat Katie to the vet. I dropped off the cat, went to the school and then went back to the vet’s. We had the cat put down. My joke is I should have had Amy put down and the cat moved on.”
What kind of fuckery is that? I’m sorry about your awful mother, Amy! Get well soon, my dear.
Postal regulators have accepted a proposal from media giant Time Warner that would stifle small and independent publishers in America. The plan unfairly burdens smaller publishers with higher postage rates while locking in special privileges for bigger media companies.
Can we stop Time-Warner and Rupert Murdoch from wiping out all independent media? Maybe not, but let’s give it a try. Go here to find out more.
Look at this dress by Hannah Marshall. It makes me feel religious.
And look at the jacket by Rick Owens. Not to mention those flippers!
Restless Leg Syndrome is a fun disorder to begin with, but now it’s even more fun. The hot new medication for RLS is a drug called Mirapex, which has a cute little TV commercial showing some legs that end up rested and content.
One of the noteworthy side effects to ‘worry’ about is an increased compulsion for gambling or sexual activity.
I love this! It reminds me of those old cartoons where someone tries to use their finger to plug a hole in a bulging dam. Other holes start sprouting somewhere else. If you stop your legs from twitching, boom, you need to gamble or have sex. Nature is trying to tell you, Move it, Buddy! Either your leg or your ass, It doesn’t really care.
I suggest keeping a bottle of Mirapex around, just in case you get caught engaging in some form of, ahem, behavior.
Is anything worse that the HBO series “John From Cincinnati?” Tonight is the season finale and with any luck, it will also be the end of the whole mess. I can hear it on in the other room, where the husband is watching it. He knows it’s awful, but I believe that he keeps hoping it will somehow redeem itself. We loved “Deadwood,” and it’s hard to accept that the same writer could produce such abject garbage.
The executives at HBO must feel pretty stupid by now. Maybe David Milch, the series creator, is getting even with them for canceling Deadwood. Either that or his brain has fired its last coherent synapse. “John From Cincinnati” is beyond drivel. It’s beyond shit. I don’t even know what to call it! I’ll just try to be thankful that it’s over.
I can hear the episode ending now, with a blast of Little Richard…“Rip it Up.” God, yet another slight for Little Richard to complain about. If I never hear the name “Butchie” again or see the ravaged face of poor Rebecca De Mornay, it won’t be a moment too soon.
Kim Kardashian is getting her own reality show on E! TV, and not a moment too soon. I didn’t even know she had sisters named Kourtney and Khloe, as well as half-sisters Kendall and Kylie. That family loves them some K’s!
The show will focus on Kim’s family, which somehow includes Bruce Jenner. Kim’s dad Robert was O.J. Simpson’s best friend…the one who drove him to the airport and helped get rid of the murder weapon, not that O.J. is guilty or anything.
Luckily, Kim’s dad didn’t live to see her infamous sex-tape with a black rapper. I haven’t watched it either, but just seeing Kim in clothing is almost more than I can handle. So far, I love her. She appears to be a fun-loving Armenian Beverly Hills Princess whose savvy eBay purchases have been catalogued in some mean celebrity blogs.
She even has a giantess in her family (click on the photo above), whose name presumably begins with K.
You go, Kim!
Thank god I’ve discovered a hip young artist named Dash Snow! He and his friend Dan Colen have a new exhibit at the Deitch Gallery in New York, described as one of the most unusual ever presented. I think it’s one or possibly more rooms full of torn up phone books, where the artists and their friends have rolled around and deposited some body fluids.
Dash Snow is a 25 year old renegade heir to a fortune whose family has been compared to the Medicis, and whose bother Max is dating one of the Olson twins. Dash is notorious for living on the street and getting arrested. He likes to take drugs and cause trouble. At 16, he ran a graffiti crew called Irak, and gained underground fame for his daring antics. He jumps out of windows, smokes crack, shoplifts, etc. He is a folk hero to photographer Ryan McGinley, who is like Larry Clark only more of an asshole (with all due respect of course.)
One of Dash’s exhibits is a group of framed newspaper clippings on which he has masturbated. Pee and sperm seem to feature prominently in his work. New York magazine ran a nine page story about Dash and his buddies, and the tone of the piece incomprehensively appreciative.
Why do we have to have people like this posing as artists and being rewarded for it? Why don’t these hipsters either do something useful or else kill themselves? Rich kids who sleep on the streets of Alphabet City are a scourge and an insult to vagrants and bums everywhere.
On an even more tragic note, apparently Dash has just become a father and named his kid ‘Secret.’ Just one cultural crime among many.
Why do these shoes have to exist if I can’t have them? They were obviously designed just to torture me. Thanks, Christian Louboutin, and Browns.
Ellen Barkin is never satisfied. First there was the jewelry, now this: Ellen is suing her ex-husband, Ron Perelman, for $3.4 million, saying that he promised the amount to her production company before their marriage broke up.
Even though Ellen has been awarded $40 million after a seven year marriage to Perelman, she says she is owed more. She insists he promised to give her company the money in eight payments, but hasn’t given her a penny. Perelman’s lawyer says he is still waiting for her ‘production company’ to start producing something.
Sounds fair to me, Ellen. If I were you, I’d be focusing on Perelman’s hush-hush new relationship with Gina Gershon. I can’t even figure out if this is trading up or down.
