You may know you're getting up in years when the music that had a major impact on your generation and your own little life is deemed historically significant.
That's what the Library of Congress is saying about Tupac and R.E.M. So thanks, Library of Congress. Because you know this is really all about my mortality.
An Andy Warhol self-portrait sold for $32.5 million at an auction in New York this weekend - more than twice the expected auction price. The guys at Sotheby's said cha-ching!
A self portrait.
Isabella Rossellini gets f&cked by a duck.
You think I'm kidding?
So I'm pretty much obsessing over the LOST season premiere (squee!) (have I mentioned we'll be open threading that, here, live?) (squee xINFINITY!). And I'm not the only one. Not by a long shot.
When I think of an ideal future for my husband and I it is this: That we'll remain in love, be interested as well as interesting, still hold hands when we take a walk and continue to create and appreciate art. In other words, I'd like to be Herb and Dorothy Vogel, a postal worker and a librarian living in a tiny, one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan who have managed to amass one of the most important contemporary art collections in history. The documentary of their life, Megumi Sasaki's Herb & Dorothy, was just released on DVD and it will be only the second DVD I've purchased for myself in five years.
Warning: Incredibly un-cynical, heart warming, inspiring love story up ahead.
I always thought that people who had a panic room in their house automatically qualified as clinically paranoid. I mean, really, who needs a panic room? If you are at high risk for a home invasion you can get a really nice alarm system or some beefeaters or something. Right?
Kurt Westergaard actually needed and used his panic room on Friday.
I don't know what the hell is going on in New Delhi, India but apparently it involves a good deal of public urination.
I mean, it is enough of an issue to require an ad campaign with cute little guys with adorable names.
Certain fashion trends need to die. The return of popped collars? Horribly reminiscent of American Psycho era high society serial killers. Tissue paper thin jersey anything? Guaranteed to make anyone look lumpy and dowdy. Really long and pointy toes on shoes? If freakishly long and misshapen feet are your thing, all the power to you.
Some fashion trends, though, should never be born...
Daniel Edwards, the New York-based artist who brought us such sculptural creepiness as Britney Spears giving birth, Suri Cruise's first poop, and an autopsied Paris Hilton attended by her chihuahua, has made yet another strangely discomfiting move along his career path as a cheezy attention whore an artist.
He now brings us Landmark for Breastfeeding, a life-size Angelina Jolie sitting naked while simultaneously breastfeeding twins:
I just realized my title makes this sound worse than it is, or possibly better depending on how your mind works. Either way, the story is this: Rihanna was at her favorite tattoo parlor just hanging out with BangBang and the boys when those crazy kids thought it would be a good idea if Rihanna was on the giving end - of some tattoos.
Apparently she did a lovely job but there was a hitch.
Tim Burton and Alice in Wonderland - the two are a match made in heaven, or possibly hell, but either way this was a movie that was destined to be.
When I first heard that Burton was directing a version of the Lewis Carroll acid trip novel (oddly while playing Trivial Pursuit on my iPhone, the question came up about who would was slated to play the Red Queen in Tim Burton's upcoming film "Alice in Wonderland". Obviously I guessed Helena Bonham Carter because 1) She is his girlfriend, 2) she is in all of his movies and 3) she is perfect for this role.) I rejoiced. I knew that this film was going to be a visual masterpiece.
Then I tried to figure out who Johnny Depp was going to be. I gave myself three guesses but really we all only need one.
Let's face it: things right now are...not great. The situation in Iran gets more and more intense every day. The economy is still utter poo. Psychos are out in full force and heavily armed. Personally, I often find myself feeling pretty crappy about being a member of the human race. And sometimes, when I'm that kind of mood, I just really need somebody to look down on. I'm not saying it's good or healthy, but sometimes I just need help getting out of bed with the knowledge that I'm not the biggest idiot around.
Enter Ugliest Tattoos.
Did you know there's a recession going on? I read about it on Twitter. Apparently people have fallen on the collective hard times including the handsome devil that lives in my mirror- Fairest. Of. Them. All. I vote that we all fall on the collective High Times should this happen again, the one with Willie Nelson on the cover. I think Studs Terkel would back me on this. Also, Snoop Dogg.
Perhaps it would make you feel better to see someone else suffering. I know that I always enjoy it. Well, you're in luck. It seems that some others have slipped from their pedestals and landed in a little thing the kids call life. Not the cereal. The slippers? Princesses.
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