Want to find out more about this picture? Click here to not find out. Why? Because this is just a cheap stunt to announce SlapClap’s latest aggregated growth initiative on something called Tumblr.
Slap Clapper is the unconscious approval of any and everything not consciously linked to by SlapClap.com including the above picture which, again – and I cannot stress this enough – we have no earthly idea as to the origins of. It just seemed like a cool thing to write something funny about and then, subsequently, to link from on this site while self-promoting yet another blog on the internet.
The next time you take a long walk on a fall day because the person you thought you loved definitely doesn’t love you, or you’ve climbed out of your massive hangover just enough to reach the neighborhood coffee shop, or the diner waitress finally brought over the check for dinner and now it’s time to grip the newspaper, brace for cold, and walk home – before you do any of that – find Neil Young’s After the Goldrush on your Zune (or your iPod) and press it play. You just scored the soundtrack of your life.
A 25-minute video about the design of the London subway map stimulated by a European turn towards modernity in London architectural design aesthetic. Don’t think this is just about maps because it isn’t. This is about the ethos of Romanticism: distance, diagrams, and navigation.
Special thumbs up by the way to maps. Especially fantasy ones.
According to this picture from *The New York Times Kenny Chesney spit tobacco into pages of my 11th grade Health class textbook. He’s playing three chords like it’s a flying-kick guitar solo though. This is a song he wrote entitled “I’m a Bad Boy (with a Country Tan)” and it goes out to YOU Renee Zellweger.
*The New York Times is a city newspaper distributed daily at Barnes & Nobles bookstores.
Esquire’s “25 Sexiest Women in Film” contest has both the good sense to include Lisa Bonet in Angel Heart and the balls to not include Salma Hayek in any movie she’s ever been in (even Frida). The winner though, hands down, should be Raquel Welch in 100 Rifles, because that right there is the definition of impossible youth.
The New Yorker can’t tell the difference between euphoria and violence, and they refuse to publish my submissions to their cartoon caption contest. I have no idea why.
SlapClap caption:
“The U.S. dollar originated in 1792. So what the f@#k is this?”
Did not realize: that dude is the same as THIS dude. Oh but it makes sense now. Although, Rachel Getting Married is not exactly Labyrinth Adebimpe. Never forget you’re a rock star.
“Someone showed it to me on YouTube. It wasn’t like Tina Fey doing Sarah Palin, that’s for sure. And ‘Saturday Night Live’ hasn’t been funny for a long time. They’ve asked me to do the show a ton of times. I used to watch it when Eddie Murphy was there and Joe Piscopo and Bill Murray. I don’t even know who’s on the show now.”
Piscopo? Oh that’s right, I forgot he produces Entourage.
Normally my shaky cam work would be frowned upon, but I think here it captures the frenetic conclusion to The Dirtbombs free show at Fort Greene Park in Brooklyn over the summer.
Round 2 this week with TV on the Radio
Oct 14: Brooklyn Masonic Temple, Brooklyn, NY, USA [Opening for TV on the Radio]
Oct 15: Maxwell’s, Hoboken, NJ, USA
Oct 16: Southpaw, Brooklyn, NY, USA
(pictured clockwise from top right: Alexander O’Neal, Luther Vandross, Ron Isley, The Whispers, Freddie Jackson (2), Peabo Bryson)
… rock a suit out when they romanced.
In the 80’s R&B was far different than it is today. First of all every lead singer looked like your father, dressed like your father, and sang sex songs to your mother while you were still in the room. And they had one other thing in common- no not tax fraud. It’s that all of them bothered to wear a nice suit on-stage. So what’s the matta with that? Was it always a classy suit? Were the fashions always understated? NO. HELL NO- but it WAS a suit.
The Japanese are cool people, EXCEPT when you turn into a werewolf on their ass. Don’t wake up the next morning thinking it’s all gravy … cause it ain’t.
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