I’m gonna be right up front about this:
I can’t dance.
There is no certain reason for this I suppose, maybe it’s because my body has about as much rhythm as a sun dried catfish, or maybe it’s the fact that the last time I even attempted to dance I was nearly dragged from the dance floor by my nostrils. But I’m going to guess the number one reason is that I am a 38 year old white guy who spends the majority of his time as far away from the club and dance scene as possible. It all comes down to wanting to fit in and feel comfortable where ever you go, and when I’m in a club with a bunch of sweating “young people” gyrating to enough bass to level a small third-world country, I do not fit in.
The news of a pregnancy is a blessing to a young couple; their love is made real. It will soon be solid living screaming pooping flesh that will occasionally fall asleep sometime. What a blissful time of life, when two loving people come together, give up the last traces of their youth, and become a family of three. Gone are the hollow, unsatisfying nights full of peace and quiet. The freedom to come and go as one pleases are in the past, replaced by the comforting shackles of never being able to shirk certain kinds of responsibility ever again. Say goodbye to old friends, you won’t need them anymore. You won’t ever find time for them again anyway. With a new baby comes a new, better life, and certainty of a kind of “immortality” as your DNA is passed along to another generation. Announcements must be made, plans put into motion before the Big Day arrives and the Stork comes along to bestow upon you the new focal point of your daily existence.
The Shadow started as a narrator for a radio show meant to advertise the Detective Story Magazine pulps. As big fans of pulp fiction, from westerns to undersea tales, we wanted to honor The Shadow today, on the anniversary of his debut in 1930. He remained a narrator for a little over 5 years, before they decided to fashion him after the pulp hero of the same name, with his own stories (the pulp version of The Shadow started in 1931, after his narration debut).
The Shadow has many disguises as he travels the world avenging any wrongs. His persona differed slightly depending on the media, but he was always the mysterious Shadow, fedora and cape. From radio to books, to film and almost television, he traveled not just his fictional world, but made the rounds in ours too. He was even voiced on the air by a young Orson Welles for a year.
Spooky indeed. Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men…?
Enjoy this little overindulgent self-portrait of us as THE SHADOW, because this is the closest we will ever get to cosplaying. Drawings of ourselves.
As you must know, YouTube is great for entertainment, but it is also great for learning and for sleeping and for calming down — all kinds of things! Little by little, I have been expanding the ways in which I depend on YouTube every single day. I don’t maintain manicured playlists of things which get deleted, nor do I upload my own videos, even though some day I will be a YouTube star of some kind. I mean, isn’t that the modern dream?
One of the things I rely on YouTube for is lectures. Now, don’t get me wrong, I generally hate lectures. In school, I had the hardest time in the world paying attention to a lecturer. And really, when I listen to lectures on here, I am not really paying the best attention. I have listened to dozens of them but I probably couldn’t tell you what they were even about! That’s okay though because I use them sort of as a blend of music and ambient sounds. And my favest of the faves, who I return to time and time again, is Aldous Huxley, as you probably gathered from the title. Give him a try with this little one, if you please.
This time, rather than discuss one of our images, we wanted to show you one of the reasons we chose Redbubble. We just love the kinds of clothes they make and really, we want it all ourselves. If you see any single thing in the store, it’s up because we want it too. So here’s a selection of our favorite summer looks courtesy of Amandoll’s art and Redbubble’s awesome shit.
Marketing has always had a pronounced gender divide. Look at an ad for, say, laundry detergent; You never see Dad sorting the whites and colors, it’s always Mom doing the chores while Dad sits on the couch trying to lick the last of the cheese dip from the bottom of the jar. To market to men, all you need is a mixture of diamondplate, sports, and aggression. Marketing both builds and reinforces gender stereotypes. Live up to the standard of masculinity or lose your “man card.” Masculinity is very fragile, and can go away at any moment if you can’t name at least three starting quarterbacks for the NFL. It’s stupid, demeaning, ugly, and it’s time I cashed in.
Fidget spinners are all the rage right now. Originally invented as an aid for children and adults with conditions like anxiety and ADHD, it’s now caught on in the mainstream, so now it’s dismissed as a toy so the people who need them look foolish for taking advantage of them. Once again, it’s time to cash in. Every product, from hygiene to TV dinners, has a version “FOR MEN,” and it’s time fidget spinners caught up. This fad has a shelf life, after all. So now, in the interests of cashing in on fads and upholding the masculine standard, Sneer Campaign presents FIDGET TOYS FOR MEN.
You might see these around sometimes in old people’s homes, on the street, or under the bed of some guy you met at the bar. They’re usually black circular thin discs, sometimes with a sticker label with nonsense words. But what are they?
Originally created as a sort-of frisbee, they did not catch on much. The strange method of production however, resulted in millions and millions being pressed. Many records (heh heh heh) of what was done with them since then have vanished but we can find some clues in the haphazard piles people leave behind. From what we can tell, these were once available from places called Urban Outfitters and a place called CBGBs. The last remaining mention of CBGBs indicates it was an eatery at Newark Airport.
One Day At A Time was originally a show in the 1970s about a family in Indianapolis. A recently divorced mother of three and her daughters, take things, well, one day at a time. Basically. I’ve never seen that version though, sorry.
This new iteration, brought to us of course by Netflix, King of Television, features the most adorable Cuban family and an opening theme by Gloria Estefan! So far it’s just one season, with 13 half-hour episodes. Rather than three daughters, the main character Penelope Alvarez has two children, a son and a daughter. She also has her mother living with them, Lydia, played by Rita Moreno, a hilarious, nervous Catholic abuelita.
When you’re buying a wine, it’s probably easy enough to get a sort of general recommendation for which wine might go well with a certain kind of dinner. That is… if you’re eating something relatively normal for dinner, or something wine is commonly thought to go with.
But some of us don’t just eat pasta Bolognese and mushroom risotto, wine sites! Some of us eat the glorious American tradition that is fast food, and some of us want a complementary wine to drink while we eat that fast food.
I am not going to mention specific wines, because it’s unlikely that readers could find them across the United States, and even less likely they’d find them around the world. But I will describe the perfect kinds of wines for these foods, based on my 100% expert opinion as someone who hardly drinks wine, but never does not eat fast food.
Born December 12, 1915, Frank Sinatra was a heroic figure of Hoboken virtues — particularly manliness and civic virtue. Most often, he is known as a singer and movie actor, but around my home town, he is best known as the founder Cincinnati, Ohio. It is not a widely known fact beyond this region, but the city was originally known as Sinsinatra and we were raised to revere his uprightness and strength of character.
In the 1960s, when it seemed that his stardom was losing its luster and that he would wind up being a penniless tragedy, the city he once called his kingdom distanced itself from him and renamed itself to Cincinnati, pretending that it had ties to ancient Rome somehow, for some reason. Of course, this angered Sinatra and he went on to build Las Vegas, known affectionately as Sin(atra) City, and he sure showed us by becoming the icon he is today, eternal and universal in all ways.
Still, there are statues that remain around town, and here is my humble sketch of the most prominent one. It is Sinatra wearing his classic tunic and fedora combo, in honor of his keen sense of style. He is holding out an ax wrapped in fine Cuban cigars and bound in what appears to be some skinny fashion neck ties, indicating his dislike of chopping timber and his love of cigars and finery. He is standing in front of a plow of some kind, a symbol of his love of fresh farm foods.