Tonight, on the train home from work, the man standing next to me was scratching his scratchers and reading this gem.
Awesome. I love New York. It is so great.
Posts published in “Life”
With all this talk of Kevin Smith being kicked off airplanes for being a portly fuck, it’s easy to get all pissed about the airlines being total dicks or whatever. But what about when the airline actually has a legitimate reason for kicking some bastards off the flight? I’m not talking about perceived threats to your safety in the air or some other terrorism bullshit, either. I’m referring to good old fashioned offensive sons of bitches trying to make your flight hell.
For example, one Canadian Airline kicked off a guy for smelling like crap. I think my favorite little tidbit of info from the article was this.
Another passenger described the smell as “brutal.”
Brutal? HAHAHAH. I’ve experienced some brutal stinks on the subway so I can only imagine how bad this guy must have stunk. Like what the fucking fuck, guy? Are you serious? Take a fucking shower.
And here it is.
A salesman is sitting in the reception area of a big corporation, waiting to give a presentation to some of the people there. He is kept waiting almost 40 minutes beyond the time of his appointment, and then he’s finally ushered into a conference room. He goes in, and sitting around a big table are two Jews, an African-American woman, and a gay guy of Chinese descent. The salesman goes into his pitch, for software or a phone system or something, and it’s pretty evident a couple minutes into it that these four people couldn’t care less, especially the younger Jew, who keeps checking his BlackBerry. But he plows through the presentation anyway, and when he finishes, everybody shakes his hand and thanks him. He goes out to his car and starts to drive home. On the road, his cell phone rings and he answers it. It’s his wife, and she asks him to pick up a couple of groceries on his way home. He says OK. She says, are you OK? And he says, yeah, I’m fine. She says OK. He hangs up, and this commercial for anti-itch powder comes on the radio, and it’s got all these country-sounding old people giving testimonials about how this powder completely improved the quality of their lives. And the salesman starts crying. Big choked sobs. He shades his eyes with his left hand so that the other drivers can’t see that he’s crying and says, “And I don’t even fucking care about this shit!”
Seriously, this really gets me for some reason. It comes from “Jokes” by Andy Richter on McSweeney’s. Check out the rest of them. His other 4 jokes in the article are similarly awkward and deliberately not jokey, but this salesman one is just miserable and makes me sad, not because it’s badly written, but because I feel for the pathetic salesman. Just horrible.
Funny how such a small bit of text can be so affective.
Thanks, Andy Richter. Real cool.
I’ve been rustling through the interwebs today and found out a little more about Die Antwoord. Apparently, the group is the brain child of Watkin Tudor Jones, aka NINJA. His career in South African hip-hop stretches back to the halcyon days of the mid-90s (remember those?) and across several different projects, such as Max Normal and the Constructus Corporation.
Now, I could go and rehash all the info I read, but instead I’ll just send you to the site where I read it.
How about some samples of their previous work?
Max Normal.tv
Constructus Corporation
I’ve also learned about this concept called “zef” which is a South African word meaning something like “common.” Based on the description I got from Kameraad Mhambi’s blog post “What is Zef?” is that it’s like a blend of ghetto and trailer park sensibilities. Read the article though, it’s more informative than what I just wrote.
Where does that leave us with Die Antwoord? Exactly where we were before. They are still awesome. If these guys ever came to New York, I’d be in line an hour before doors. Seriously, I don’t care if there’s a whole scene in South Africa, this shit is fresh as fuck here in the States and I am into it. I need—NEED—the record. Need it so bad.
Yesterday, before posting Die Antwoord’s music videos, I sent them to my friend Gardner, absolutely sure that he would enjoy them. I was, of course, right. He loved the hell out of them right away. And, being Gardner, what does he do? He finds the band’s e-mail and send them an e-mail about how awesome they are.
To: Die Antwoord
From: Gardner Loulan
Subject: You are now my gods.I just came across your stuff via my friends blog TheBlackLaser.net and I am totally obsessed now. I was a VJ for MTV Networks in the US a few years ago and have a knack for getting excited about the next level of music and you are it. It’s like you’re bitch slapping Lady Gaga while melting The Knife in her propelled by The Sounds and blowing up Golgol Bordello with an M.I.A. bomb—- putting them all int he past and back together again in the future where you clearly reside.
Well done,
-Gardner Loulan
Now, one usually expects this sort of missive to go unnoticed or unreplied to. But did it? Of course not!
From: Die Antwoord
To: Gardner Loulanwhat a FUCKIN nice thing to say
we fuckin love you for saying thisonce my blaar!
NINJA
out
This trifecta of e-mails was completed with a brief note from Gardner to me.
To: Me
From: Gardner LoulanMy day is now complete.
Awesome. Thank you, internet, for allowing us to have such remarkable instantaneous contact with such diverse people from all around the world. Though we often take it for granted, the ease with which we can communicate with folks from such places as far from us as South Africa is truly incredible.
And also thanks, Die Antwoord, for being cool enough to respond to Gardner.
And thanks, Gardner, for being enthusiastic enough about everything to go out of your way, if only a little bit, to track these dudes down.
If you haven’t yet watched the music videos below, do. And get yourself to Die Antwoord’s website and listen to their, frankly, amazing debut streaming in its entirety. Go now!
Hahah! Excited to see you next weekend, Cha Cha!
This story is making the rounds today, but I thought it was cool enough to share.
There’s no secret that substance abuse has always traveled hand in hand with people in the literary world. It’s just a thing. It doesn’t make it ok, but it’s fascinating nevertheless. For example, did you know that Ayn Rand was addicted to speed? No, neither did I. But here she is, looking a little crispy around the edges.
Intense.
Life has posted a gallery of famous literary addicts. I knew that Burroughs was a junk addict, but I had no idea that Louisa May Alcott (of Little Women fame) was too. Wild!
Famous Literary Drunks & Addicts
Check it out.