Setting aside that this song wasn't included on the list, I'm gonna put this out there instead: Is "You Were Wrong" disqualified from maybe being the best indie song of the 90s because it's too meta? I want it to be in the running, but then I can't.
Setting aside that this song wasn't included on the list, I'm gonna put this out there instead: Is "You Were Wrong" disqualified from maybe being the best indie song of the 90s because it's too meta? I want it to be in the running, but then I can't.
By better lyrics, you mean better than awful, yeah? …right? I mean there's no "You Are a Tourist", which is a step, but there's definitely no "Title Track" or "Movie Script Ending" either. Not gonna say this album isn't kind of fun, but it's mostly fun because it's bad. On my grading scale of yep to nope, I'm going…
I'm really digging this. This one and Sylvianbriar to me are two of his most solid, cohesive albums in a while I think (forgive me, but I think Hissing Fauna was a transition album, albeit a really good one, that didn't transition anywhere too spectacular). The classic rock thing is back, and writ large, but with…
That was the one where the guy spouted physical taunts into dark empty spaces while his buddy with a camera had seizures, right?
"This next dedication is from Casey, and it goes out to whoever happens to be within earshot. Casey says, 'I love you, and I'm stuck in the bottom of a fucking well. It's dark, send help.' Now here's Taylor Dane with her hit single 'Love Will Lead You Back'. I'm Casey Kasem, and I dearly want out of here."
Sharknado 3: Sharkin' It!
Nice one, forgot about that. Still. it's too bad one can't still sell their future cadaver to science, have the little foot tattoo removed, then go sell it again someplace else.
A copy of Steal This Book. I didn't really care what it was about (which is good, because by 1997 all the information inside was completely irrelevant), I was just following the directions plainly printed on the cover.
"Hey, guy. Does this look infected to you?"
Not the first time this season, either. They've had Danny Pudi do a fair amount of heavy lifting since Troy left, and yeah, it doesn't always land nor does it really seem all that necessary.
Every TV show pitch meeting ever:
Mrs. I Don't Care for Most Things, for whatever reason, takes a great deal of glee in pointing out which very successful writers, directors, actors, etc. are "our age," as she puts it. I grit my teeth, smile, nod, and die a little more inside.
When I was about 12 I had this friend who figured out that Cinemax etc. all un-blurred if you turned the dial on the cable box to just the right place between the channels. Problem was, you had to hold it there, so, I got all my soft core porn with a side of carpal tunnel. Which, I mean, come on, was gonna happen…
I was tweeting back when it was just wrapping brief notes around rocks and throwing them at passing cars.
It's worth it just for the ubiquitous Airheads.
He didn't mean to treat you oh so bad, but he did it anyway.
I wasn't really expecting to be wowed by the tag, as they've all been pretty lazy so far, so low expectations meant no disappointment (words to live by, kids). Changwise, though, I would've preferred they didn't kill the tension so quickly and clumsily.
The biggest laugh I got out of the awful Limitless was how they lovingly roughed him up to resemble said "struggling writer". Scraggly facial hair, army jacket, greasy ponytail. Apparently, all young artists are whiny, anachronistic Vietnam vets, circa Rambo.
Balls, man! We just ran over a small bus. This really small bus, we just ran over it.
Balls, man! We just ran over a small bus. This really small bus, we just ran over it.