It’s hard to think of Lux Interior as dead, despite what reports say. Then again, it was always hard to think of him as alive.
Some 30 years ago, with the King still warm in his casket, Lux rose like a zombie from the primordial swamp as a twisted, grotesquely libidinous, werewolf Elvis from Hell, and the mask – if it was a mask – never came off. The Cramps went one step further than punk rock: they didn’t merely go back to basics, they stripped rock’n’roll naked and flaunted it in its lethal distilled form: as a relentless sex beast, a psychotic release, a nihilist post-apocalyptic celebration, the ultimate in trash culture.
Barrett: I feel like Fred Phelps was exploring his sexuality and some bitchy queen rejected him for whatever reason and he’s been REALLY bitter every since. Me: I wouldn’t be surprised in the least bit if that were true Me: they could disprove gravity and I’d be more surprised
Thank you, Barrett, for showing me this. YUR GUNNA EAT YUR BABIES!!
“The real question here is why 58 Democrats can’t pass the president’s top priority. We’re learning that the minority still controls the Senate. So long as Republicans fundamentally don’t want a bill to pass, they can make virtually limitless demands. The worst that happens is that Democrats simply give up and admit failure to the American people. Put another way: The worst that happens is overwhelming success. The trick is making sure the demands seem reasonable rather than obstructionist. But that’s not too hard. Republicans know full well that they won’t actually be forced to publicly filibuster the bill and defend their obstructionism while Democrats fan out across the news shows to warn of the economic dangers. Instead, Harry Reid will ask how the bill can be made smaller and leaner and more Republican. And maybe, for this, he’ll get the crucial two votes assuring passage of an insufficient measure, the failure of which Republicans will run against in 2010.”—Dear Ezra: stop being right. (via southpol) (via chuckmore) (via soupsoup)
It’s tempting to write that a wheel-chair bound Cheney has retired to a new underground fortress surrounded by a private army to stoke his bitterness at a country that rejected him. If we don’t keep his policies in place, somebody might attack.
But the article is perhaps a glimpse into why the last eight years went the way they did. Cheney sufficient gravity and access to classified information that people were willing to defer to his insistence that some measure is necessary to prevent some ambiguous threat. He said that if we knew what he knew, we would agree with him. But even years later, we haven’t seen what he knew or why we should have deferred.
“…Showtime’s series have borderline personalities. They’re charismatic; they’re unpredictable. Yet there’s also something grotesque and manipulative in the mix. When HBO series fail, it’s most often because they are too ambitious—pretentious, arty, overreaching. For all the good writing and fabulous actresses, at their worst, Showtime can make you feel like a sucker or a cynic, someone who longed for the girlfriend experience and found instead a bag of practiced tricks.”—
Despite being a bit too kind to United States of Tara, one of the most dreadfully awful scripted television series in recent memory, Emily Nussbaum is very sharp in her assessment of Showtime’s slate of original programming, particularly in its contrast with HBO’s series.
Pretty good, in a it-is-what-is-is kind of way. Liam Neeson brings some fresh psychology and moral ambiguity into it, but it’s too bad they have him Rambo his way through the climactic fight scene. Diving behind a couch and shooting out a bad guy’s foot is supposed to be the least clever thing you do, not the most. But other than falling apart at the end, it’s a pretty decent popcorn flick.