For Willis, if your revolutionary thinking didn’t accurately reflect reality, it couldn’t change reality. In her version of liberation, sexual revolutionaries aren’t smug, performative hedonists who play out their fantasies in villas on Mustique; they wonder instead how thin the line is between courage and delusion while drinking coffee alone in their apartments or sitting on benches outside the Laundromat. And rock writers don’t turn their prose up to 11 to compete with the bands they’re covering, or get so bound up in the role of gnomic wizard that they can’t just shrug their shoulders and say, as Willis did, well, I was wrong about the Ramones; they admit to communing with what she called “the screaming teenager” inside. To Willis, acknowledging the real meant acknowledging that we are minds connected to bodies, and that what may not seem real at all — the unconscious and the psyche — are very powerful forces. Nearly every piece is a reminder that the culture we live in, even when we don’t profess its prevailing beliefs, has an effect on the psyche; that we internalize expectations even when we think we’re free; that we need to gather in groups to change our minds and the minds of others, because otherwise we stand alone in our pain and confusion, thinking that we’re the problem. — NYT, on The Essential Ellen Willis (via katherinestasaph)
Debbie Harry Has A Posse
That new Flying Lotus on the way!! -
flyinglotus’s photo on Instagram
(Source: thisislove, via mendelpalace)
Comics has an outrage problem. —
4thletter! » Blog Archive » Beyond Outrage
I spent some time in LA over 4th of July weekend getting my west coast on. I came back to the world on Monday after a great weekend, only to find that the comics internet had melted down over an ill-conceived hashtag and was busy stomping up and down on the heads of people who were no threat to them.
This isn’t about that, or the hashtag. It’s about all the other times comics has faced controversy and replied with scorn.
The short version is “you don’t have to like it, but please respect it.” The long version is through the link. Comments are off until I get back from lunch, but hopefully you get something out of this.
Even if you’re not invested in comics, at least read this for a necessary bit of perspective on Kanye’s so-called “rants”.
This is how Italo-Disco tracks were made.
(Source: paintyourwagon, via minimoonstar)
I think we need to redefine what a Bond Villain dresses like and it’s saddle shoes, spandex, bowling gloves, Don Johnson blazers, Sophia Loren beach hat visors, and hawaiian shirts. We’re all failing in the eyes of of a god that can see Diamond Dave.
My new thing at NotGraphs: Eighteen paintings of ballparks. http://www.fangraphs.com/not/eighteen-paintings-of-ballparks/
Includes a stirring rendition of the Metrodome that’s pretty close to how I’d like to remember it (i.e. an indistinct, blurry sea of blue plastic and green FieldTurf).
A few years ago in Toronto, I attended a screening, in a packed auditorium, of a horror movie called Hell Night (1981), one of the innumerable progeny of Halloween (1978) and Friday the 13th (1980). The film itself was about as uninteresting as it is possible for a cultural product to be: the audience, which consisted largely of teenagers, was remarkable. It became obvious at a very early stage that every spectator knew exactly what the film was going to do at every point, even down to the order in which it would dispose of its various characters, and the screening was accompanied by something in the nature of a running commentary in which each dramatic move was excitedly broadcast some minutes before it was actually made. The film’s total predictability did not create boredom or disappointment. On the contrary, the predictability was clearly the main source of pleasure, and the only occasion for disappointment would have been a modulation of the formula, not the repetition of it. Everyone had parted with his/her four bucks in the complete confidence that Hell Night was a known quantity and that it would do nothing essentially different form any of its predecessors. Everyone could guess what would happen, and it did happen. In the course of the evening, art had shrunk to its first cause, and on coming out of the theater, I had the incongruous sense of having been invited to participate in communion. — Andrew Britton, “Blissing Out: The Politics of Reaganite Entertainment” (Movie 31/32, winter 1986). Reprinted in Britton on Film: The Complete Film Criticism of Andrew Britton (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2008), p. 96-154. (via thediscography)
The Negajinx ad, 1981, promises to permanently destroy every one of your Jinxes. Handy offering for those of us who suffer from the heartbreak of multiple jinxing.
Turns out it’s just a 12-pack of Coke.
Thank You, Bobby Womack.
I made a list of only twelve of the many gifts for which I have the late, great Bobby Womack to thank.
1. Every note of your re-arrangement of “Fly Me To The Moon.” But especially the first note. And the way you pronounce “song” at 1:09. And the screams at 1:29 and 1:53. And the way you sing “Jupiter” each time. And your guitar sound at 1:38, definitely.
2. The left-hand turn made three minutes and fourteen seconds into “That’s the Way I Feel About Cha.”