"Pepper," Butthole Surfers
I always knew my tastes were a little predictable, but The Teenage Guide has revealed just how unsettlingly true this actually is. I’ve already reflected on videos full of dancing SWAT teams, vaguely ’60s-ish performance set pieces, and skeevy long-haired dudes, and yet here we are with “Pepper” and a combination of all of the above. Plus Erik Estrada. So apparently the Butthole Surfers are the perfect distillation of my personal aesthetic. Take that for what you will.
I’d find this all a lot more upsetting if “Pepper” weren’t the sort of song I almost always listen to multiple times in a row. When I’m in the mood for it, which is often, I can’t get enough of it. It’s probably been that way since I first heard the song, which I believe was on Z100 during a drive to Splish Splash, the local water park. Since then, I’ve found myself endlessly captivated by the misadventures of Marky, Sharon, Cherese, Mikey, Bobby, Tommy, Flipper, Pauly, and, of course, the other Mikey. The less said about the ever-present football player rapist the better, though I’ll admit his inclusion turned this song into a sort of nightmarish version of "Popular" for me. (Sincere apologies to our hostess Ace Boogie if this in any way causes her to think of Gibby Haynes when she means to be thinking of Matthew Caws. I would never do that to you intentionally, I swear!) And considering what an atrocity exhibition of a single this is, it’s even more impressive it managed to hold onto its perch atop the Modern Rock Tracks chart for a couple of weeks. It’s all traffic accidents and diseases and backwards guitar and knife fights and Haynes breaking away from his cast of misfits to sing some stuff that maybe sorta kinda sounds like faux-deep reflections on mortality and the limitations of individual subjective experience. Whatever we were supposed to think about those solar images and softly spoken lies, though, “Pepper” was legitimately deep enough to leave me with two questions that even now leave me lying awake at night: “How am I going to die?” and “Wait, Flipper? What the fuck?” —Kylie
Eric Sloane (American, 1905-1985), Sailing Under Stormy Sky. Oil on masonite, 28 x 36 in.
i want to do drugs and stare at this painting
ever since i worked in retail and needed a cheap, effective way to keep track of my flexible (read: infuriatingly inconsistent) schedule, i’ve made my own weekly planners out of these neat little moleskine pocket notebooks. i know i should probably just use the calendar in my iphone, but these books have become as sentimental as they are useful, and it’s so easy for me to jot down a few notes whenever i make plans, need someone’s contact info, or have a thought that i gotta get down on paper. (plus, there’s a little pocket in back for receipts, business cards, etc!) they are pocket sized and always accessible, except when they fall out of my jeans into the gutter in williamsburg (that was an awful experience).
being the crafty d-i-y aficionado i am, i draw in all the lines by hand and organize my notes and to-do lists into cute little boxes and charts because i am a fun and interesting person. but every now and then i make a little flub, smudge the ink, misplace a line, or otherwise fuck up my perfectly spaced calendar, and the ensuing psychological devastation is intense:
for this reason i am confident that the week of june 16th will be a time of tribulation, missteps, and general calamity. i’m not sure anything could convince me otherwise, for the fates have spoken and this harbinger of misfortune has been etched permanently onto the fabric of my life.
"Like a Prayer," Madonna
At the center of my mantle is a flea-market rendering of the Virgin of Guadalupe. She is the most colorful part of my living space, a burst of near-neon life against stark white walls and more muted art. It’s maybe a little strange. I’m neither Mexican nor a practicing Catholic, but her image and other religious iconography have always drawn me in. That’s why I’ve also always been drawn to Madonna — the ultimate Catholic woman with unsanctioned tendencies.
“Like a Prayer” is the first video that I vividly remember seeing. This was obviously not Church-approved, what with the figure of a black Jesus who comes alive and kisses our heroine in a pew. It’s the justice-for-the-persecuted story line that stuck with me, though, and that’s the kind of lens through which I was already predisposed to interpret the teachings of my birth faith. This kind of interpretation led to me having multiple ideological run-ins with nuns (and maybe when I wore a Tinky-Winky backpack in 8th grade because of insane talk of him being “the gay Teletubby,” I was antagonizing them) and priests (but never Franciscan monks, bless them), run-ins that taught me so much and made me who I am. And I’ve always had Madonna to go back to as an example, as a person with the utmost respect for the imagery and stories and little respect for the dogma and hierarchy.
(And I mean, Leon Robinson. Damn.) —Alicia
god bless alicialapirata for waiting for the day of our Lord’s death to post a video about Madonna fucking him in a church.
i will never understand conservatism in this country. it is such a behemoth movement that it cannot be ignored, and yet it is so intellectually and morally bankrupt that it cannot be taken seriously. the only function it serves is to distract attention from the serious systemic flaws of our country, to keep us bickering about nonsense when we should be focused on solving real problems. at best, it serves to make hacks like jon stewart and aaron sorkin look reasonable, progressive, and constructive by comparison. at worst, it actively strips america’s most vulnerable of their rights and works to destroy our country and our world for the benefit of an elite few. its most loyal proponents are the ones it most harms, and its rhetoric is so backwards that it’s at best completely meaningless (and, at worst, downright dishonest; e.g. “pro-life”, “right-to-work”, “death panels” etc).
i’ve made a serious effort to keep myself open to listen to conservative opinions, because the best way to know you can trust your own beliefs is to keep them challenged. i’ve only been disappointed, though, because conservatism has offered nothing challenging whatsoever. frustrating, sure. but only frustrating in its equal levels of ubiquity and vapidness.
did i just blow your mind
just posted this on my moms facebook but i doubt she’ll d o it
today is a dogboarding kind of day
Freddie Gibbs & Madlib ft. BJ the Chicago Kid - Shame