Wednesday, March 12, 2003

Knock, Knock. Who's there? Insanity

It's official. Polite social conventions are going to send us gingerly 'round the bend. Instead of ringing cellphones spoiling, say, the denouement of In the Bedroom, the devices will be knocking like methed-out woodpeckers. (Its Crispin Glover calling to say the Willard promo tour isn't going so well. The rats ate all the baked brie.) The harder a caller knocks, the more ugent the knocking. Also check out the "electric shock" mobile. The louder you talk, the greater the shock. Take THAT you rude fochers!

Tuesday, March 11, 2003

God, I'm Old

Back In my day, I used to read sad-sack crap like this over a veggie burger pita at Dojo, a second-gen cassette of Badmotorfinger playing on my Sony Walkman. At least there's one hopeful platitude in this article, one of the the hipster subjects calls the Flaming Lips theory: “If you stay true to yourself and refine your art, in ten or fifteen years someone’s bound to notice.” Kids today, harumph!

New York Magazine