I Have Become My Most Feared Childhood Enemy (Lord Kuruku, Duh)

For parents who preferred that all of their children's entertainment material was created by people tripping balls, Unico and the Island of Magic was a godsend. It was a cartoon about this vaguely messianic baby unicorn named Unico who was just as cute as a button. unico-63957

At some point, Unico encounters a stoner named Melvin the Magnificat who calls the little unicorn, "Peewee" and mocks him relentless for his small stature. Melvin listens to headphones that have little tiny bird singing in them, because he is deranged. Here he is, punching a baby unicorn in the face, like a psychopath:








Now a bunch of weird shit happens with an enchanted boy flute-playing boy named Toby and his sister and several people that get turned into blocks. All of this weird shit happens because of one gnarly motherfucker named Lord Kuruku. He is an insane sorcerer who reigns terror from a floating bubble:







Are you following so far?







Okay, let's move on. When Lord Kuruku gets mad, things get really scary:








And then things get weird when you find out that Lord Kuruku never had friends:







I felt bad for Lord K. but didn't really relate to him because I was busy resembling other misfit cartoons that were inexplicably given to children:










So imagine my surprise when I put on this seemingly innocuous hat this morning...








And I was suddenly transformed into a spitting image of that wicked Lord Kuruku!!!!










I cursed the gods, gnashed my teeth, and begged for answers from on high. How could I, the one who had so feared the Lord Kuruku, so easily become him?  And just then, an apparition appeared to me....







Fucking useless as ever.

New York's Got Problems, I've Got Solutions: Snakes in Make-Up Edition

Another day, another plot line ripped directly from the hellscape that is my brain during REM sleep and plopped into the local news! BEHOLD: A BUNCH OF FUCKING SNAKES FOUND ALIVE IN A BAG IN BOERUM HILL.  Now anyone with a lick of sense knows that there is only one instance in which snakes and bags go together:

Everything in it's proper order, you see.

But nooo, this was not a bag MADE of snakes, it was a bag FULL of snakes.  You know,  just the latest in a series of little gimmicks the stunt queens of the reptile world have thrown our way here in New York.  The sadistic writer of the Gothamist article  above was kind enough to link to a number of other incidents in which these legless motherfuckers make surprise appearances in the lives of innocent human beings and ruin their entire lives in so doing.

Fortunately for this fair city's residents,  there is a resourceful hero living among them.  That hero, of course, is me.  You see, I was reading an article this morning in The Economist that mentions that animal testing of cosmetics is mandatory in China.  I know you thought that the whole  Sucking-the-Bile-Out-of-Bear-Stomachs-for-Junk-Science-Reasons was the worst that emerging superpower could go in terms of its animal treatment record but no, they gotta put lipstick on 'em BY LAW too.  

Substance in image unconfirmed as bile.

However, the Chinese Food and Drug Administration has recently announced that they will begin lightening this restriction for certain cosmetics starting in June 2014.   I would like to suggest that before they begin to phase out animal testing, that we send every snake in America to China to have cosmetics tested on their sinister non-asses.   I propose to do for America what St. Patrick did for Ireland and look how well THAT country is doing? Lotion em up, give em some rouge, and shampoo the devil out of 'em all you want because they are serpenta non grata in these parts.

You look great, you harbinger of doom and author of The Fall of Man.

After their ordeal, they can be unceremoniously made into handbags or turned into jump ropes for forest foxes. 

A dramatization.

I don't care where they go really, I just want them gone.  In the words of Susan Sarandon and Natalie Portman, ANYWHERE BUT HERE. 

Natalie Portman does NOT approve this message.



Why Won't Ralph Lauren Let America Be Great?

When you don't personally know a fashion designer(though I DO know most, don't get it twisted), it is hard to make informed judgments about their character.  Unless, of course, you know the near-foolproof method of judging them entirely based on whether or not they've received a positive name check by L'il Kim. The combination of the 2003 revelation on La Bella Mafia that her office is decorated in Ralph Lauren plus an evident devotion to the brand throughout the years, I thought it was safe to think that he was a patriot. Queen Bee strikes a pose in Ralph Lauren, then and now.

So you can imagine my  horror late last week when it was revealed that Ralph Lauren wants to humiliate this country by hiring a team of time-traveling grandmothers from 1988 to conceive of, design, and sew the uniforms for the athletes representing this great nation in the Winter Olympics in Sochi, that city that nobody's ever even fucking heard of until two weeks ago when we stopped calling the games, "That homophobic sports shitshow happening in Russia." Thanks, Ralph, for getting our minds tuned into the REAL issues again.

Oh stop pretending you're capable of dignity in this outfit.

From that hat they bootlegged from the dad in the "Night Before Christmas" poem to the sweater they jacked from the back of Roseanne's couch during Dan's Fourth of July barbecue  to those ill-fitting dingy white pants from the Trainspotting collection, it is clear that Ralph Lauren wants to ruin the morale of the team and sabotage their chances of taking home the gold.

A memo to athletes reviewed by The Wall Street Journal revealed, "The U.S. Department of State has advised that wearing conspicuous Team USA clothing in non-accredited areas may put your personal safety at greater risk." Yeah, at great risk of getting their asses kicked by some high-fashion Russian thugs that were so starved of consumer goods during the Cold War that they know WHAT IS UP in terms of fashion nowadays.  Behold, their uniforms:

On point.

Okay, so those aren't actually Russia's Olympic uniforms but doesn't Fashion Week in Russia seem like fun? I like that they don't even pretend they're not sending preteens down the runway.  You do you, Russia.  But for real, this is their uniform:

Well, zhdrasveetya to you , madame.

Putting aside the fact that she took her haircut inspiration from the brunette member of early 2000s faux-lesbian Russian pop duo, t.A.T.u., this chick looks fly as fuck in that get-up.   I don't OFTEN say the words, "I want that windbreaker," but for this, I make an exception.

It gets worse.


First, Ralph, this is the Olympics, not the Internet.  You could have spelled out the word "Four" on those mittens.  Secondly, why are they making this athlete do the Macarena? Also, it's bad luck to wear a fake gold medal before you have a real one.  It's like wearing a ring on your engagement finger before you're engaged, it curses you.  YOU CURSED THEM, RALPH. I thought it was hard to mess up a classic peacoat but a superfluous red stripe and that logo on the collar went ahead and did.

I reached out for comment from Russia's most stylish It Girls on what they thought of the uniforms.  They had this to say:

Not. Impressed.

Trent Reznor, Word Play, and Grown Goths: A Night at Barclay's With Nine Inch Nails

On Monday, after a long day watching people make the same Columbus Day jokes all over social media, I was pleasantly surprised by a former roommate of mine who I haven't seen in years inviting me to see Nine Inch Nails and Godspeed! You Black Emperor at Barclay's. My text message confirmed politely that I would indeed like to attend, but on the inside I was saying this:


I'm glad that you are here with me as I make the exciting foray from Common Blog Enthusiast to the much more exciting Concert Reviewer. 

You Can Have It All, My Empire of SHIRTS

Far and away the worst thing about the show was the point at which Trent Reznor changed from muscle tee to common t-shirt, hiding away the ripped lean muscle that he has been sporting over the past few years.  A series of searches like  "Trent Reznor Arms" and "Trent Reznor Workout" rendered only images from around 2007 when he was rocking a bit more dude-bro bulk like this:


So imagine the above but a little leaner and in a muscle tee and not that humiliating collared sleeveless button-down monstrosity.  I'll wait here....You got it?  GOLD, RIGHT?  SO you can imagine my disappointment when halfway through he was overcome with modesty and put on something with sleeves.  That or he was drenched in sweat from performing his ass off despite being 48 years old and having mountains of money and a smokin' hot wife at home.  He does this for THE FANS, you guys.

 Pretty BABE Machine

For some, the best part of the 90s was the democratization of the former Soviet countries and the worldwide prosperity closely associated with the Clinton administration. For me, the best part of the 90s was the rumor that Trent Reznor and Tori Amos were lovers and/or siblings and/or BOTH and that that was the source of their rivalry.  Combining that with their sartorial choices at the time, the whole charade was all very Edwardian.  Anyway, Tori mentions Pretty Hate Machine in the song "Caught a Lite Sneeze" so I went on this tangent.  Here are those two adorable creepsicles in their heydays:

I just can't with these two.

What I wanted to let you know before I got sidetracked with nostalgia was that the babe to non-babe ratio at the show skewed HEAVILY in favor of people who prefer babes.  It turns out that lots of awkward, misunderstood youth grow up and convert all that angst into serious fitness regimens and learn what hairstyles looks go best with their face shape and eyebrows.   Good work, everyone.  Everyone did a bang-up job growing up and getting hot just like they always dreamed.  Now let's all get ragey.

Other Titles Considered for This Section:

March of the Babes, The Babecoming, Every Babe is Exactly the Same

Head Like a...Holy Moly There Are a Lot of White People Here

Breaking News: White people love Nine Inch Nails.   Sorry I didn't warn you that you might want to sit down for this news.   It probably isn't news to you that the audience would be overwhelmingly white but it was still startling, particularly because NIN had a pretty killer lighting designer that liberally used blinding flashes out into the audience that reflected all of our pastiness.

This image doesn't fully capture the experience but you get the idea:


Also, guys, PUT DOWN YOUR CELL PHONES WHILE TRENT IS TALKING. Bow down before the one you serve, as it were.

You and Me, We're in This ToGOTHer Now

Now you didn't think I would write a post about Nine Inch Nails, the 90s, and attractiveness and leave out Goths, did you? In addition to the babes I mentioned before, the Goths came and they DELIVERED.  I'm not a monster so I didn't take pictures of their expert fashions cause RUDE but here are some examples culled from the Internet of the most choice looks I saw.


The plaid Doc Marten is a staple of the Fun Goth wardrobe and I saw at least three pairs at the show. I am not sure when red plaid became the signature print of the mall/fun Goth aesthetic but I send my best wishes to whoever made it happen.


The fishnet sleeve, to my knowledge, is only available at stripper clothing outlets if I can judge exclusively by window displays so these are not for the sheepish Goth that wants to avoid sullying their reputations by being seen at such establishments.  These are for a daring Goth that is committed to their look and will suffer under-arm discomfort, terrible tan lines, and chills in fall weather.


And of course no goth look is complete without one of history's great unholy alliances coming out in full force: cleavage and dark make-up.  I cursed the day I started going with orangy red lipsticks and mostly full-coverage tops. I didn't catch any super-fun contact lenses that complete the look above but I'm CERTAIN they were lurking.

LOL, I tricked you into reading 900 words that were just observing attractiveness and whiteness and had nothing to do with the concert itself.  It was incredible, blah blah blah.  Trent Reznor is one of the most talented musicians of his generation and gave a spectacular performance, blah blah blah.  You knew that was all true already.