- Meghan McCain and her stupidity.
- Bonos’s business partner and his cupidity.
- That coffee cup that went to the Met Gala.
- The 38 CD Woodstock box set. (This is a torture device, plain and simple. I’d give up the nuclear codes halfway through the fourth disc or Joan Baez’ first number, whichever came first. The great Jesse Jarnow wrote some of the liner notes, and I’m glad he got paid, but this is not for me. I’m not voting for Joe Biden, and I’m not listening to fucking Woodstock. Come at me, Boomers. Struggle out of your chairs and come at me.)
- The secret racist history of hula hoops.
- Anything anyone has to say about Ilhan Omar.
- Anything Ilhan Omar has to say.
- Whether or not that runner lady who looks like a guy has a cock.
- The Internet of Stuff. (It’s like the Internet of Things, but less specific.)
- Joe Rogan’s podcast.
- Moutaineering, bouldering, the Giant Slalom, sherpa politics. (Longtime readers will recognize these as topics that FoTotD Nick Paumgarten has covered in the New Yorker. My respect for–and envy of–Nick’s writing skills stand no chance in competition with my fervently-held belief that humans should stay the fuck off of mountains. That is not where we are meant to be. We are not snow leopards; you can tell by our posture. Draw a mountain, sure. Have a romantic picnic at one’s base. Hell, gain 200 pounds and name your band “Mountain.” These are all fine activities. But stay the fuck off the slopes.)
- The Newt Yorker. (It’s like the New Yorker, but by and for newts. Latest issue features 20,000 words from Masha Geesen on her childhood as a communist newt.)
- The re-emergence of Avitel Ronell.
You all seem like nice people, except the simpletons who post comments calling me a “soy boy” after I mention what a slapdick the President is, but you need to make your own decisions. Listen to 5/8/77, don’t listen to it, sand your nipples down to nubs: I don’t care.
For those of you desperate to hear a lonely weirdo’s impressions of a semi-defunct choogly-type band’s mid-week contractual obligation: the Search Button is your friend. For those who aren’t: the Donate Button is also your friend.
Good things seem less special, when everyone thinks they are special. Special, by definition, implies a sort of singularity, or at least that you and me, and MAYBE 10,000 other folks dig it. Which leads me to my point, we are here. Digging on one, a few, feeling special, we are here. Whoa. Hey man, get your hand out of your pocket, (as Pig is want to say), and reach on over, and to that keyboard, know that we are here.
So Connell aye?
Wait is there something special about this show? Should I listen to it?
Well, look who’s not too good to visit her old friends.
Maggie was working as a waitress in a coffeeshop, when she met you ToTD,
She should not forget it.
Oh wait she works at a Donut shop now..
Lost my train of thought…
Well anyhow.
Eddie Izzard was good on Rogan.
The McCain chronicles are a proven winner.
I find Omar sexy.
No Gunter?
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2GtfEwwpmNI
I feel almost guilty.