A: The District Attorney of Los Angeles officially declared today that Lindsay Lohan is not a felon, just gellin' like one. And by "gellin'" I mean "carrying cocaine."
But only a little cocaine! As the D.A. explained, a little blow is totally fine, you know, just enough to take the edge off. Moderation is the key. Remember, it's cocaine, not Pringles.
Anyway, this is very sad news indeed — and not because Lohan is quote catching a break unquote in the words of some quote journalists unquote comma but rather because the D.A. is being way way too harsh exclamation point exclamation point exclamation point
The fact is, letting Lindsay "La Dolce BJ" Lohan roam the streets unsupervised by law enforcement is the precise equivalent of sentencing her to death.
A: I don't spend much, or for that matter any, time on TMZ.com, on account of how it makes my eyes bleed, but a Friend Who Shall Remain Nameless for the Sake of Her Dignity linked me there for the BREAKING, EXCLUSIVE, BREAKINGLY EXCLUSIVE, ETC. news on Lindsay Lohan's DUI, and it reminded me of how our culture is dying.
I know blogging is a medium rooted in the ephemeral, the disposable, and the generally shitty, but honestly: ten consecutive posts in one hour about Lindsay Lohan getting caught with drugs for the seventy billionth time? I thought they'd hit rock bottom here, until they dedicated a post to how Lohan will probably not be on The Tonight Show. WELL THERE GOES MY NIGHT.
In other news, Iraq exploded, everyone in Africa is dead, and OHMYGOD OWEN WILSON BOUGHT NEW PANTS.
I can't remember if I had a point here. Good thing this is a blog. Hey, remember when Lindsay Lohan was so hot? Those were the days.
University of Zurich researchers have created a spray that can relieve people of shyness, and help them socialise with others.
The spray is very easy to use, and an individual can boost self-confidence just by squirting it up the nose.
Amazing! Now if only science could develop some kind of smokable herb to stimulate creativity, relieve nausea and mitigate the symptoms of glaucoma, I'd be really impressed.
Of course, if the presidentprime ministershadowy cabal that runs China had really wanted to impress the West, they would have handled this the American way: by commending the FDA chief for his magnificent work, and then promoting him.
Keith Richards was joking when he claimed to have snorted his father's ashes along with cocaine, a spokesman said Wednesday.
"It was an off-the-cuff remark, a joke, and it is not true. File under April Fool's joke," said Bernard Doherty of LD Communications, which represents the Rolling Stones.
Doherty declined to say any more about why Richards made the statement in an interview with NME, a pop music magazine.
T.A.M.S.Y. suspects it's because he was high on his mom.
In an astonishing admission that might surprise even his fellow band members, who have become used to his wild and eccentric behaviour, Keith Richards said he could not resist snorting the ashes while high on drugs.
"The strangest thing I've tried to snort? My father. I snorted my father," said the 63-year-old in an interview with NME. "He was cremated and I couldn't resist grinding him up with a little bit of blow. My dad wouldn't have cared, he didn't give a shit. It went down pretty well, and I'm still alive."
That's just preposterous. I am shocked and offended. I mean, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that the other Rolling Stones could still manage to be surprised by a Keith Richards admission. Mick Jagger could walk in on him trying to snort the Queen, while she were still alive, and it wouldn't constitute a surprise. Come to think of it, the only thing that would have been surprising is if Richards were left alone with a powdery substance and didn't snort it.
Trust me, folks — I didn't spend 11 years at Cal Tech getting my PhD in Surprises to have some punk-ass reporter from England tell me what constitutes surprising.
On a more tender note (if you can get more tender than doing lines of your dead father); and speaking of dudes who know their way around an eightball: Josh Hamilton.
Hamilton: White lines fade away.
The onetime top-rated baseball prospect — and latertime coked-up burnout — is getting a second chance (and a first chance in the big leagues) with the Cincinnati Reds. His debut at the plate today made for an adorable story.
By the time Hamilton's name was announced as a pinch-hitter at Great American Ball Park, the crowd was on its feet for an extended ovation that made him back away from the plate and break into a broad smile.
In that moment, he hadn't done anything yet as a major leaguer. It's what he had already accomplished in his personal life -- getting his cocaine addiction under control, getting his life back on track -- that made the crowd of 42,720 stand and cheer.
"I've never witnessed anything like that," Hamilton said. "I've never been part of anything like that. The way I'm feeling is hard to describe."
Now, T.A.M.S.Y.'s not exactly bullish on Hamilton's chances of cutting it in the bigs — but a story like that's enough to make even our cold, cold hearts all toasty.
So let's ignore for a moment that this story takes place in Cincinnati, and that the crowds were probably just cheering that he's white.
A:Speaking of ancient myth, here's my pick for best "pop" (can there really be a such thing as indie pop? isn't that an oxymoron?) song of 2007, so far.
It's already been blogged to death, but whatever. Great song! And here's the video:
Q: What does the song "Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse" mean?
Pitchfork suggests it's a tribute to dualistic inspiring/degenerative powers of drugs, such as they relate to the creative process. I see it in a more innocent light: artist Kevin Barnes' appeal to his own brain chemicals as he struggled with depression while composing the album. But I'll leave it to the SongMeanings community to settle the issue (that link also has the lyrics).
Prometheus: Lit a fire under mankind's ass.
As of this moment, promethean curse is not even spefically mentioned in Prometheus' shoddily written Wikipedia entry (might want to ban Zeus' IP address -- just putting that out there). But the curse is a reference to the burdens of consciousness and creativity, as introduced to mankind when Prometheus smuggled us out some fire. Or something like that.
The acquisition of fire in ancient Greek myth is comparable to Eve's noshing on the fruit of the tree of good and evil in Genesis. Both really pissed off the jerk upstairs (Zeus/God). As punishment, the Old Testament God cast Adam and Eve out of the garden, into a cold, cruel, confusing, naked world, where they were forced them to buy new outfits from Banana Republic at full retail; and he made it so women would have to shoot babies out of their vagina. Zeus' punishment was Pandora's box (not a vaginal reference), and led to the same sort of woe and agony and whining.
But does anyone know what "Heimdalsgate" is? "Heimdalsgade" seems to mean something in Dansk -- which would make sense, since Barnes was in Norway when he made the album (as mentioned specifically in "A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger," which begins, I spent the winter on the verge of a total breakdown while living in Norway). Is it a town? A neighborhood? Where are my Scandanavian readers? Do I have Scandanavian readers?
Heimdal: Like Prometheus, bound.
(The other possibility is that "Heimdalsgate" references some unknown scandal surrounding Scott Heimdal, the 27-year-old treasure hunter kidnapped by Colombian guerillas in 1990, and then rescued when the citizens of Peoria raised $60,000, via bake sales and the like, to pay his ransom. But, you know, that wouldn't really make sense.)
This is part two in my new series on explaining the significance and meaning of notable songs, by which I mean linking repeatedly to Wikipedia, and rambling. The previous entry was Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth."
, btw.
]
