Dress For Suck-cess

This commercial has been on teevee a few times tonight and I've watched it in rapt fascination, because WTF? Is this supposed to be a deep satire of consumerism I'm missing? The one lady is set upon by a group of other ladies, who want to stage an "intervention" and keep their friend from buying overpriced clothes, or something. But is it just me, or is this passel of would-be interventionists NOT wearing clothing that looks as if they've crash-landed on the set of Desperately Seeking Susan Or Some Other Nightmare Memory of the 1980s. I mean, that is some fugly-ass casualwear, right? Right?

Memorial Day Financial Meltdown Blogging

One sees immediately that the credit crisis is also a crisis of hegemony. To believe credit can be extended and repaid is to believe that the U.S.-led geopolitical order can continue to expand, that the globe can be sewn together even more totally. This particular belief is the state religion, and it's going the way of Mithraism and the gold standard. It is the end of an empire, and it is a better reason to celebrate than is a presidential election.

Meanwhile we are told that we must make this final round of expenditures because what is ending is not our empire, but the world - the end of history with a vengeance. What is on offer is the apocalypse itself, or rather, a defensive spell against it. We are getting nothing for $700 billion but promised protection from systemic failure, a threat issued hour by hour on the news, by polticians and economists. We are made to purchase end-of-the-world insurance, but may sell nothing onward. It's an apocalypse bubble. It smells like nitroglycerin.

--Joshua Clover, "Notes On The Meltdown," THE BELIEVER, Jan. 09.

Scientists Are Saying The Future Is Going To Be Far More Futuristic Than They Originally Predicted.

Foster Kamer compares the symbiotic relationship between Drudge and Politico to Roland and Ronald Taverner from Southland Tales, a movie that famously, only I liked. READ THE COMIC BOOKS FIRST, Y'ALL: it will make slightly more sense slightly less not sense.

Politico and Drudge have a symbiotic relationship, like those small fish that suck the bacteria off the bigger fish: the bigger fish gets cleaned, and the small fish gets fed, but really, one's getting rid of shit and the other's eating it. Matt Drudge needs Politico to break stories. Politico needs Drudge to link to their stories. And this has got to more or less be the mutant-psychic peak of their relationship: Politico breaks a story on Drudge, for Drudge to link to. It's Drudge's favorite kind of story, because he gets to flatter himself and take the cognitive dissidence route into thinking he was banned for being a badass, by the Government! He links to it, and Politico gets the hits on the story.

For those who were fortunate enough to not have to sit through Donnie Darko director Richard Kelly's so-bad-it's-good apocalyptic fetish dream Southland Tales, the movie ends when (SPOILER ALERT!) Seann William Scott shakes the hand of Seann William Scott, playing his clone-via-time-travel double. Stiffler meeting Stiffler rips a hole in the time-space fabric of the universe, and the credits start rolling over a Moby song or something. This is kind of like that, except the world goes on and all we have left to show for it is a news cycle that just made us all slightly stupider people. The upside to all of this is that we've seen through the other side of the fourth dimension, and we finally know what it looks like.

In the movie, then, this is the scene where a hole in the universe opens up to reveal the Drudge siren.




I guess, by extension, Mike Allen is the Justin Timberlake character:

Pushin' That Candy, Drinkin' That Brandy

ACT ONE:

The Governess: Things i will do before i die: become a rappers girlfriend. Seriously, they stay in the StL Four Seasons all the time? And I becoming accustomed to this lifestyle?

The DCeiver: Are you in Saint Louis?

The Governess: Yes, indeed.

The DCeiver: And yes, Nelly is from there. As are all the St. Lunatics! Nelly got thrown out of the Union Station Mall once for wearing a bandanna!

The Governess: I have BEEN to the union station mall! Not this trip, but.... I dunno, before! I did not get thrown out.

The DCeiver: I have too!

The Governess: Alas. Cards are in town tomorrow as i leave. So sad.

The DCeiver: TRUE STORY. I went there on a company retreat.

The Governess: sweeeeeet

The DCeiver: And we had many beers. And playing outside were THE KNACK!

The Governess: I am drunk now! I already love this story!

The DCeiver: Fronted by John "Missing You" Waite, for reasons I never fully understood, or maybe i was JUST THAT DRUNK!!

The Governess: YESSSSSS

The DCeiver: And it was like, WOO! GATEWAY ARCH! ST. LOUIS CARDINALS! And the Knack, I guess!

The Governess: Woot. i am sepnding my time here thinking of implausialbe situations in whichi would have a French lesbian affair and drunkenly adding hotel employees to my linkedin. OMG WATCH OUT WORLD! OMG WATCH OUT SHARONA! Wooot fried ravioli and comped alcohol in my room every night.

The DCeiver: We spent the rest of the trip in conference rooms, and it TOTALLY sucked.

The Governess: Conference rooms are my life. So, yes

The DCeiver: It sounds like you are having more fun, though!

The Governess: The Four Seasons leaves wine in your rooom every night with snacks.

The DCeiver: OMG, that airport! It goes on and on forever, with moving sidewalks!

The Governess: So, yes. The nights are delightful. I drink and listen to Blur real loud and etc, and eat choc covered strabwerries and think about rappers.

The DCeiver: That sounds like paradise.

The Governess: it is, its pretty much heaven

The DCeiver: It's like you are the star of your own MEET ME IN ST. LOUIS.

The Governess: here, meet me in st louis: i can see the Casino Queen from my room and am drunk and everyone here is FRENCH for some reason? The french stalk me! OK so thats not heaven, it's just fact.

The DCeiver: That is strange!

The Governess: but whatevs willing to overlook

[...]

The DCeiver: Have you ever watched MEET ME IN St. LOUIS and thought to yourself: "This would be a lot better if Judy Garland starting singing "Country Grammar?" I bet you are now!

The Governess: YES I WAS JUST THINKING THAT! SOmewhat related to that idea: my room overlooks sexy rappers using the jacuzzi, People on the Pool Terrace Having Affairs, the Arch, and the Rams stadium that i dont remember what it's called. The remake of MMIStL will be so much awesomer. Suck it Garland! Visit the new version of yr movie in MY MINDGRAPES!

The DCeiver: MEET ME IN EAST ST. LOUIS.

The Governess: YEEEESSSSS! Hahahah. Yes

The DCeiver: By Aaron MacGruder.

The Governess: Ha! I will have cartoon fro. It will be awesome. My chocolate covered strawberries in my room have sprinkles. I am not made of steel. St. L. marry me?

The DCeiver: HAHA.

The Governess: Okay, i need to go drunkenly sign hotel catering orders. Take care DC.

The DCeiver: Have a good night!!

Act Two:

Amanda Mattos: Oh my god! "Milton Green Milton Green Milton Greeeeeeeeeeen!"

The DCeiver: "I'm one of the drunk ones!" HA, know who is right now, totally one of the drunk ones, for real?

Amanda Mattos: The G?

The DCeiver: HAHAHA!!! YES.

Somewhere In The Multiverse, There's A Parallel America Missing It's Gigantic Socio-Political Turning Point

Dude! Look what happened when Catherine Andrews went to Manhattan on the teevee! FREAKAFIED!



Also, in that universe, Barack Obama just reversed his decision to release photos of the Joy Joy Unicorn Orgy. It's all true! Even the Catherine Andrews part, let's say!

[via.]

In Dreams You're Mine, Awl Of The Time

Here's an achievement Choire and Alex's new website can take pride in: Last night, The Awl made an appearance in one of my infamous half-in-and-half-out of sleep, blittery-jittery anxiety dreams. I forget how, and why, but in this spastic brain vibration of mine I had cause to look up and stare at some entry posted to the site. The irony is: maybe my unconscious mind was reading a brilliant monetization strategy, probably one that involves beaming the site directly into the agitated minds of a restless, angst-ridden nation. The Awl thus sets a new record as far "Time it took from launch to worm its way into my subconsciousness," supplanting the previous honoree, Kausfiles.

The LOLian Web

Honestly, this is the funniest thing you will find at the nexus of politics and the new Star Trek movie:

Can you imagine if Star Trek was actually conservative? It would go something like this:

“Captain, the Romulans are about to fire on the starbase, what should we do?”

Kirk: “Cut taxes!”

Prelude To A CNBC Hit: A Lamentation On Modern Times In Two Acts

Act One.

[in a cab, 17th and R Streets, NW]

[pause]

CABBIE: They talk, there.

[pause]

DCEIVER: I'm sorry. What?

[The cabbie motions toward the police, congregating on the corner outside Steam Cafe]

CABBIE: They talk, there. And people die, elsewhere. Always.

[pause]

DCEIVER: So. That's the way this night is going to go, I gather?

----------

ACT TWO:

[in a cab, later, near Mount Vernon Square]

[silence]

[The Cabbie turns on the radio. "Superman (It's Not Easy)," by Five For Fighting plays.]

CABBIE: [softly and plaintively hums along]

[pause]

DCEIVER: Really? I'm sorry, but you are the least serious fatalist I've met today.

FIN.

The Transcendentalist Economy

The hedge funders throw in the towel:

"After a great deal of soul-searching and quite frankly agony, they concluded they just don't have critical mass to withstand the enormous pressure and machinery of the U.S. government," a lawyer representing the group told Bloomberg.

Left unanswered: did the "great deal of soul searching" actually turn up any souls? Or was this like, you know, Race For The Cure?

Working On The Night Cheese

Pictured above, on the stylish finger of my editor, Rachel, is a little, plastic toy rat that you can wear on your finger. But it's not just any rat!

Word! It's a PARTY RAT, y'all! PARTY RATS in the hizzy! Colorful rodent lights for your fingers, just like the marketplace has always begged for! What, pray tell, turns the foul and rabid rats that scurry around the alley behind Felix into a PARTY RAT? First you make them finger-sized. Then you give them a bright color. Next you attach an elastic strap, so you can wear it on your digit. And finally, you insert a tiny, but bright LED light in their nose, which you can turn on and off. Presto! MOTHERFUCKIN PARTY RAT!

As you can see, the little guy gets plenty bright! And you know what that makes it perfect for?

NIGHT BLOGGING! At last the possibilities of BLOGGING AT NIGHT are opened to a world that has long dreamed of it! Thanks, PARTY RATS!

Let The Tiny Violins Play

Why is it so impossible to sympathize with some people?

We've got TV pundits and op-ed columnists splitting hairs over the legal definition of torture versus the moral implications its use could have on America's oh so white bread image that the more naive amongst us think is accepted as the gospel by those in foreign countries.

None of these people know what torture is.

If you want to know what torture is, call up a GM bondholder.

O-KAY. I'm going to stop you right there. Because seriously, that's not helping you.

Pigs In Zen

The Governess: how did i not know this? how did i not KNOW this?

DCeiver: Yeah, dude. Party at the Pietanza!

The Governess: i did not know this. i feel...something.

DCeiver: Woo early morning calzones with Mitt Romney. The American dream!

The Governess: I wish they woulda met someplace that had Poppers. Any type of poppers.

DCeiver: Would amyl nitrite poppers count?

DCeiver: Also, you should read the sad story of the only pig in Afghanistan.

The Governess: Aww. Haha. "The interned animal -- known simply as 'Pig.'" Saddest sentence in the universe.

DCeiver: He is friends with the Goat!

The Governess: You mean "Goat," not "the Goat"

DCeiver: It's like the saddest Richard Scarry story in the world!

The Governess: Oh jesus christ it is. We shoulda sent in a trojan pig to pietanza. I am full of wacky ideas like this.

DCeiver: Trojan Pig To Pietanza sounds like a Mission of Burma album.

The Governess: I was like, 3 seconds away from making that joke. Fast fingers, you, nice fast fingers.

DCeiver: Haha.

The Governess: A trojan pig to pietanza full of poppers. Next time!

Soundtrack To Alcee Hastings Talking About Obscure Sex Practices In Congress

Ryan Grim posted this video classic of Representative Alcee Hastings straight up reading a long list of awesome, multisyllabic perversions into the Congressional Record, for freedom. DCist's cut, which I've posted below, comes in at 3:17, and I naturally wondered what tune would make perfect underscoring for this clip.



My iTunes had many suggestions. The better ones included:

• The Lovely Sparrows, "Department Of Foreseeable Outcomes"
• Washington Social Club, "River And The Road"
• The Delgados, "Is This All That I Came For"
• The Cure, "Why Can't I Be You"
• Cloud Cult, "Chemicals Collide"
• Pavement, "Summer Babe (Winter Version)"
• Tori Amos, "Happy Phantom"
• Le Loup, "We Are Gods! We Are Wolves!"

Three I really thought would be good, that turned out to be sorta meh, were:

• Cansei De Ser Sexy, "Pretend We're Dead"
• September 67, "Stephen Malkmus Is A Fucking Snob"
• The Killers, "Somebody Told Me"

I'm open to suggestions. "Why Can't I Be You," I think, was especially good.

They All Have A Motto

Reuters:

Just 29 percent of people with lots of money to spend say they enjoy being recognized as wealthy, down 6 percent from a year ago, a survey showed on Wednesday.

The poll by American Express Publishing and Harrison Group questioned more than 1,500 people in the first quarter of this year with discretionary annual incomes of at least $100,000 and up to $5 million.

Cara David, an executive with American Express Publishing, said wealthy people may not want to be viewed as insensitive to hardship around them.

"People don't want to be called out, they don't want to be seen," she said. "Most people in this group know somebody -- either family, relatives or friends who have suffered because of this economic downturn."

And that's This Day In Exquisite Hardship.

The DCeiver Jumble

Hey kids! If you arrange these words from the first sentence of a post on The Awl just so, it will reveal today's sign from God that nothing is ever, ever, ever, going to start making sense or ever get better, for the rest of your goddamned life!

Electroclash
back
pioneers
Fischerspooner
are

Answer here!

Also, Whatever Happened to Simpatico?

I'm sorry to say, but I just don't find the argument that the most interesting man in the world would be a Dos Equis drinker all that compelling. Dos Equis is a beer for third-year Sigma Chis who want to feel "upscale." Now Negra Modelo bottles on the other hand, are shaped like buttplugs. Surely this would not have escaped the attention of the most interesting man in the world!

Fuck New York.

Thanks, Vanity Fair! Another fifteen kabillion words about how New York City bloggers turn their world to bullshit on a daily basis. I hope you guys tagged that shit "swine flu" for maximum search engine optimization. Meanwhile, here in Washington, DC the crew I run with have somehow managed to never need to construct a sign that reads, "It has been X days since we last fell to ruin in an orgy of petty, self-obsessed skullfucking."

Get home safe, Liz Glover!