An influencer gets invited to her old childhood friend’s bachelorette party but then it turns out her former bully is there! Things take a violent turn and not everyone walks away with sashes and tiaras. It’s also pretty funny, so I do recommend.
RATING: 73%
Whatever Happened to Alternative Nation? is a ten part essay series by Steven Hyden featured on the A.V. Club. The essays look back at the 1990s in a historical and semi-autobiographical fashion, focusing primarily on the musical trends of the era. Moving from grunge's clash with hair metal to the rise of Brit-pop and rap rock and culminating with the emergence of Napster and the shameful debacle that was Woodstock 99. Reading the essays is like taking a plaid colored time machine back to the days of depression and dial-up internet. Well, not exactly, but the essays do make for a good read. And since I'm convinced that a 1990s revival will likely be the next big thing in popular youth culture, reading these essays has prepared me for the horrible, horrible times ahead.
I'm no expert on the works on Charles Bukowski, but Post Office is the the third Bukowski novel that I've read in the last two years. I started reading his novels (I'm not too interested in his poetry) after I had read something on the internets that suggested that Chuck Palahniuk's fans wouldn't know a good book if it bit them on the ass so they should pick up Bukowski's Ham on Rye. Seeing as I couldn't stand the Palahniuk novel I was reading at the time, that sounded like a pretty good idea. Post Office is Bukowski's first novel to feature his semi-autobiographical stand-in Henry Chinaski, though it focuses on a period of his life that comes after the events of later novels such as Ham on Rye and Factotum. I'll avoid ending this review with any hyperbolic praise for Bukowski, as most of his fans are wont to do, all I'll say is that there is already another Bukowski title lined up on my Amazon wish list.
Last week, the BBC posted a story about a guy in Scotland wearing a horse mask who could be seen on Google Street View. The story was viewed over a million times and thus the legend of Horse-Boy was born. Personally, I could care less about who Horse-Boy really is and what possessed him to don the equine disguise. I just love to watch internet memes like this crop up. It's not like there's more important news out there that I should be paying attention to. 
The A.V. Club, the semi-serious pop culture offshoot of the Onion, started their Undercover project a few months ago. Inviting bands into their office to play cover songs from a predetermined list of tracks. The first entry in the project, my favorite so far, was Ted Leo And The Pharmacists doing a cover of the Tears For Fears song "Everybody Wants To Rule The World." As corny as it sounds, Ted Leo's cover more or less redeemed the song in my mind. I recommend checking it out along with most of the other tracks from the Undercover project. There's even a Depeche Mode cover, if you're into that sort of thing.
Storesonline is the company that sent my parents a flier in the mail advertising a meeting they were having to show fine local persons like themselves how to set up a website from which they could sell things. Storesonline sounds like a giant scam. And guess what? It is! My dad is the most street-smart person I know, but when it comes to the internet, he knows squat. Of course, it only took me about 13 seconds to type "stores online" into Google before finding thousands of complaints. The most upsetting part of this whole ordeal is that, even after informing my parents, my dad seems to be unwilling to accept that it's a scam. It still sounds like a good idea to him, and he thinks that somehow I'm misunderstanding the situation. The most genius part of this scam is that, although there is countless documentation about how this thing is bunk, it's all on the internet, which storesonline banks on its victims not understanding. So bravo, inbred Mormon terrorists! Tomorrow I'm calling you as my mother and I dare you to stand my New York rage for five minutes without canceling my parents' charge as you piss yourself with fear. And just for extra revenge for screwing with Prop 8, I'm going to fuck and gay marry all of your daughters. At once. We'll live in different houses with a nice, big, shared yard.
The Angry Video Game Nerd, created by James Rolfe, is the main character in a series of popular online videos. Typically, an Angry Video Game Nerd (AVGN) video features the Nerd going on a scatologically profane tirade against a vintage video game he has chosen to review. The reviews center primarily around games for the original Nintendo system, but the Nerd has been known to focus his rage on other vintage gaming systems as well. AVGN videos are also notable for their use of slapstick and cheap special effects. Since beginning in 2004, Rolfe has made over eighty episodes for the AVGN series among other videos. 
There are a lot of freaks out there. But even freaks need to stock up on tube socks and cat food from time to time. Thankfully, the website People of Walmart dutifully documents some of the many freaky people who get their bargains at the Wal. The site boasts photos of mullet enthusiasts, crossdressers, escaped mental patients, casual racists, and even the occasional celebrity. Be afraid, be very afraid.
Perry Bible Fellowship is a online comic strip which has little, if anything, to do with the Bible. The comic can more or less be explained as like, the Far Side on acid, man. Using a variety of subject matter and artistic styles, Nicholas Gurewitch (the author/artist) has created a uniquely morbid and subversive comic. Though no longer actively updated, two collections have been published and an extensive archive of the comics remains available online.
People who can't even formulate two sentences in their own words about some supposedly urgent, morally profound issue are probably too lazy and superficial to be addressed as sentient beings. If you agree, please don't post this as your status for the rest of the day.
Internet message boards are rarely forums for civil discourse, but there is a special place in hell for those who lurk on the Internet Movie Database's message boards. What should be a place for film discussion is instead a haven for racist/sexist/elitist/moronic/illiterate fanboy rhetoric. No one wants to hear about your sexual fantasies regarding Hollywood starlets and your claims that George Lucas raped your childhood. Keep that shit to yourself.
When I was eight years old we got a Nintendo Entertainment System. It was one of the second or third generation models with the orange zapper gun. I never really understood why, since every time my mother saw us playing it she'd tell us to turn it off, but on that joyous Christmas afternoon when my brother and I were sitting down to play Rampage for the first time, a visiting family friend who was on her way out the door admonished us, "Don't get square eyes." I'm not sure what she'd make of my current enslavement to the MacBook pro, but I think she'd approve of my desire to dig a hole in my apartment complex's noisily manicured lawn for the purpose of burying my head in it for a few hours.
I've had the luxury of sharing internet access with my neighbor for the past year; but there were many times during the year I considered paying for internet service, because I was tired of having to sit in the same place on my couch every time to get a decent signal. It sounds cheap, I know, but in this economic climate every twenty spot counts. But I finally broke down, and decided to fairly share internet service and split the bill. I figured I could deal without $10/month. Honestly, I can't say paying for the internet makes it anymore fun. It's actually less fun, but at least I have a stable connection. I believe in this technological age the internet is a right, and service should be subsidized by the federal government for the people. Otherwise, the internet is just another means for the man to keep us down. Just kidding. Do I look like a fucking commie?
In a business letter or email*, a formal salutation lets the other person know you're civilized. Opening a business email with "Dear Mr. Crabbit" doesn't mean you want to be Mr. Crabbit's girlfriend or boyfriend, it lets him know that you're a regular user of shoes and toilet paper. I'm so sick of getting emails from American institutions that open with "Hi Jonathan," when 1) we're not on a first name basis; 2) if we were, they'd realize that no one calls me that except my mother and sisters; and 3) it's misspelled and missing a comma. Canadians, who tend to be more formal, will often open a business email with a simple "Hello," which is even worse. It says, "I barely give enough of a shit to greet you, let alone remember your name." And concerning To Whom it May Concern, if you're not the Queen of Sheba posting a royal decree for your unspecified subjects, the way to say it without sounding like a self-important twat is Dear Sir or Madam.
I tell my students never to cite Wikipedia, but I often use it myself as starting point for research on a topic I know nothing about. However, every single time I've tried to edit a Wikipedia article, even just a talk page, I've been flamed by trolls in under 10 minutes. In fact, if one reads the discussion pages, one will notice that the supposedly neutral senior editors are often the most insulting, partisan, and juvenile posters on them. I've been berated for my lack of education, my apparent young age, and accused of being a sock puppet, all by people who are supposed to be "watching" the articles and protecting them from vandalism, and all for trying to fix errors and problems that even an 8 year old could identify. Lots of articles are pretty good, I suppose, and it's not like anyone's reputation is at stake for the bad ones, but I can't help but wonder if Wikipedia's current system is more about trolling and bureaucratic navel gazing than with actually having good encyclopædic articles that don't read like they've been written by 12 year olds or small town pseudo-activists trying to post their resumés on Wiki Biography.
Scheherazade is, of course, the name of the princess who tells the tales in Arabian Nights, and it is also unrelatedly the title of this symphonic suite by late 19th century Russian composer Rimsky-Korsakov. Nah, just kidding, he based it around the classic tale. It's not by definition a tone poem, since it doesn't follow a specific narrative, although he does give the dastardly sultan of the tale a theme that competes with the lilting theme for the princess. It's bombastic and exciting, but NRK moves it beyond mere showmanship by implementing key changes that pull a lot of emotion out of the affair. If you're a philistine, you can just tell yourself it's the newest score to National Treasure or something and you'll enjoy it, I swear.
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