You Think This Is Abuse?

I will probably write about this in more detail elsewhere (yes, I will blog at any place, any time), but it needs to be said as clearly as possible: You must avoid "Redbelt" at all costs. Have you ever wondered what "The Karate Kid III" could have been if it was written by the guy who made "The Spanish Prisoner"? "Redbelt" is a lot like that, only KK3 is slightly more plausible and 15 times more entertaining. Revenge is a dish best served without Tim Allen.

Or to put it another way--can you believe the guy responsible for the absolute gem above also expects you to pay Broadway prices to see this ...?



You fucking child.

No, I'm not done yet.

Two ex-NYPD cops are alleging that they have discovered a nationwide network of serial killers. Their victims? 40 mostly white college dudes. Their method? Drowning in large bodies of water. These bloodthirsty monsters are fiendishly clever--they're covering their tracks by making the deaths look like the result of a drunken whoopsie off a bridge! And they're leaving behind an irrefutably unique calling card: smiley face graffiti.

Then here we have the story of James Lee Woodard, who was, until today, "the longest-serving wrongly convicted man in the nation to be exonerated by DNA testing." 27 years in prison, because he was labeled a writ abuser with outlandish claims. Let's hope that the team in charge of the Nationwide Serial Killer Clown Posse Investigation learns from this. No matter how fucking preposterous a theory might seem, you know? Hell, if DNA can prove a man innocent of rape and murder...

Flibbiddydibbiddydob

Snuff - "I Think We're Alone" and "Rockafeller Skank"

Their original stuff is much better.

Psalm Number 151

Trend alert! Apparently "resigned" is the new "outraged." (Recommended: Saving your outrage for the oppression of the Young White Privileged Male as Literary Subject Matter. Related: YM boys: Think we can drum up a casual pick-up game?)

Sorry, but it's just really easy for me to be angry these days, and not just because Denton's late sending out the 1099s this year (AGAIN). I feel as though some vestigial odor of Gauloises and patchouli comes wafting out of my pores when I write about shit like this, but whatever. Consider it the result of this Perfect Shit Storm of the Bell trial verdict and reading both Dark Alliance by Gary Webb (more on that here) and Body of Secrets by James Bamford (read an excerpt here, and yes I know these secondary links bear the crinkle of tinfoil hats but what do you expect from me). Oh, and also a friend of mine just got confirmation (after she filed an NSA FOIA request) that she is not paranoid and is, in fact, being monitored by the government because of some "antiestablishment" activities.

Don't worry, on Monday I'll go back to being irritated about Sloane Crosley or something. I'm sure this is nothing a few Pimm's Cups on my yacht can't cure.


The Coup, My Favorite Mutiny

You Grew Up On Night Flight, Right? Boom Boom Boom Boom*

Suburban Lawns - "Janitor"

Charlie Buckholtz, previously mentioned here as the East Village rabbi from Silver Spring, MD who grew up with Sedar Chappelle (and brother David), was recently the focus of a PBS feature. He sent me the above video from New Wave Theatre (he has a book coming out about the show and its host Peter Ivers) which I think I've played at least 25 times since receiving it. Wow. I feel so uncool that I had never seen or heard of the Suburban Lawns before. To gank a comment from the YouTube page, Sue Tissue had the potential to be a female Ian Curtis. Download two more of their songs here. A video for "Gidget Goes to Hell" was shot by Jonathan Demme and shown on SNL in 1980, probably the only thing worth preserving from that season.

*Like most suburban youth in the 80s, my friends and I first saw "Another State of Mind" on USA's Night Flight. Someone taped it and it was passed around like that Playboy with Suzanne Somers. It remains a mystery to this day, but somehow Marc Browne erased the audio from the VHS tape. Unless he was routinely jerking off with a magnet, that kind of thing just wasn't possible in those days.

Gulping down thorazines.

The number one reason why this weather is great: Floaters. The number one reason why this weather sucks so much: The Crazies come out of the woodwork. Coming down Fourth Avenue just now: First I got stuck behind a senile man making Three Stooges-type noises. Then I passed by a guy shadow boxing with his reflection in the KMart window and shouting about "the smoke." Finally--and I kind of wonder if this guy wasn't really some sort of Black Bloc/Situationist type--I happened on a homeless dude facing the front windows of the Astor Place Starbucks with his pants down, playing with himself. A crowd of onlookers hooted and hollered. Meanwhile a cop bought a candy bar at the newsstand.

Magazine - My Mind Ain't So Open

I will beat Krucoff to the punch with this one...*

Because this is a charity blog, right?

Here's the deal:
The World Food Programme (WFP) has said that high food prices are creating the biggest challenge that WFP has faced in its 45-year history, a silent tsunami threatening to plunge more than 100 million people on every continent into hunger. This is the new face of hunger – the millions of people who were not in the urgent hunger category six months ago but now are,” said WFP Executive Director Josette Sheeran, who is meeting British Government officials after addressing a UK parliamentary hearing in London.

“The response calls for large-scale, high-level action by the global community, focused on emergency and longer-term solutions,” she said.

The campaign is called Fill the Cup and you can donate here. (Unless you're Paul Theroux, then you can just save the world by teaching.)

*...and it will feel like a kiss

The Other Other Other Other Other Twin Cities Band

For good reasons, you've never heard this before.

Quincy Punx - "I Wanna Be A Dyke"

You should know the reference though.

Fucking Jews: The Sequel

I know I said I read one book a year, but 2008 is turning out to be rather special so add another to the list. I met Canadian Jew Gregory Levey in Israel when he was still writing speeches for a coma-less Ariel Sharon and today marks the release of his book about working in the Israeli government. It got the Very Short List blessing last week.

Salon published an excerpt of the book and there's an article about it in Canada's National Post.

Tonight, Team YM asks that you join us in attending Greg's 7pm reading/signing at the Borders on Park Avenue and 57th Street. Drinks will follow.

Ariel Sharon is still in that coma.

Breaking T-Shirts

Buy CNN Headline Shirts

CNN has a t-shirt icon next to headlines in the Latest News column and you can hack the URL (intentional?) to put whatever message you want on it. This one's for 99 getting banned on Jezebel for "outlandish anti-Semitism."

UPDATE: This tip came from Sac. I should have checked the feeds or done a search first because of course this has been covered elsewhere, HOURS AGO. Jesus.

Leave Some for Elijah

When I read in Daniel Radosh's Rapture Ready! about Bible theme park Holy Land Experience in Orlando and its Passion play that takes place every day at precisely 4:20, my ears and throat started to burn. No explanation of the time is offered but I immediately consulted Modern Man's Holy Research Tool, Google.

Phish.net (no credit to Lockhart Steele) has a "What's 4:20 say in the Bible?" page in their FAQ and while you might be tempted to siphon meaning from Deuteronomy's "But the LORD hath taken you, and brought you forth out of the iron furnace" or the ecumenically appreciated "Moses took the rod of God in his hand" in the Exodus passage, it's not hard to imagine all Scripture being composed with the aide of a Menorah bong. In fact, it was recently suggested that monotheism is at the mercy of a story concocted by Moses while tripping balls.

Apparently Jesus was a scroll-smoker and early advocate of medical marijuana too.

Rye Coalition - "White Jesus of 114th Street"

Previously: Dana's hard-on for Hitler

Just one hit, then I gotta go.

The intrepid reporters at Gawker have announced, for the edification of those readers who didn't attend a state school, that today is 4/20, man, signifying the High [groan] Holy Day of Stoners everywhere. Because this is predicated on a myth, not unlike every other spiritual belief, and because I think I'm pretty much the only YM crew member who doesn't like to burn--got that out of my system in high school, which is about where my knowledge of the drug parlance stopped as well--I am much more interested in the other reasons that 4/20 is historically significant. (4/19 is also important, but since history is written by the winner and this is a loser's blog, we'll lump them together for all intents and purposes.) All conveniently in single Wikipedia link form, because as 99 pointed out to me the other day, in the future, blogging will be reduced to and endless slew of Wikipedia links. (And, probably, YouTube videos. We at YM are working on hastening this trend.)

• First and foremost, Happy Birthday Hitler!

• Second, the the siege at the CSA Compound, 4/20/85

• Third, the siege at the Branch Davidian Compound, 4/19/93

• Next, the OKC bombing, 4/19/95

• Honorable mention: Columbine High School shooting, 4/20/99

For further reading, here's the government's "strategic analysis," written after the conclusion of Project Megiddo. No new sieges since then! (Well...) Thanks government!

Oh, and yeah: I think that I wrote this strictly so that I could post a photo of Hitler during Passover. Pop quiz: Will Krucoff hate me more for this, or for posting mid-90s alt.country?

Waco Brothers-Bad Times (Are Comin' Round Again)

Pulp? Never Heard Of Them ...

Other remakes that are better than the original:

I Fought The Law - The Clash



But ...



Train In Vain - Dwight Yoakam

Also:
Hallelujah - Rufus, Not Buckley
Hurt - Johnny Cash
Anything sung by Carole King
Three's Company
West Side Story (Broadway better than Shakespeare, but movie not as good as Broadway. [I'm assuming.])
Donald Trump Jr.
The Departed (Just kidding! Scorsese sucks.)

What did I miss?

The Holy Church of Hip-hop

I just got back from a showing of Planet B-boy, and to trot out a hoary cliché non-ironically, it's the feel good movie of the year. It's hard not to walk away believing that hip-hop -- as an aesthetic movement that champions non-violent conflict resolution and freedom of expression in a truly inclusive, secular context -- could very well save the world. I know, that's a lot to heap on the shoulders of The Jimmy Castor Bunch, but in their words, it's just begun. Go embrace New York City's greatest gift to the world at a theater near you.

David Bowie Is Always Happy To Stop By And Perform A Beautiful Piece Of Pantomime for Andy Warhol.

September 14, 1971, the Factory: another one of those moments you realize that before the art we know, there were lives far more interesting than yours or mine.

Our Lady of Wheeling

Remember the hole in my bathroom ceiling? I tried to scare it away but it's back with its bigger brother.

Music: Naked Raygun - "Ghetto Mechanic"

If I had a face like yours...

Krucoff, for whom there is not enough love attention in the world, has reinstituted the columblr. He's commenced to deriding 99 for his pedestrian choice of music, but really, "Police and Thieves," it's apropos, given the subject, no? (And how is OpIvy any less mainstream? What did you want, a Jingo de Lunch test pressing?)

I tried to dig up something really edgy and obscure to post, a sorta nose-thumbing at the Boss, but he beat me to it. All those songs with "faggot" in the title...now what do I do with them? Speaking of which. This morning, while on the can, I was listening to some WNYC report on the growing crusade against homophobic dancehall lyrics and the performers who write them. This is not a new movement or anything. (I find it baffling that Buju Banton et al would be so short on subject matter that they'd dedicate entire songs to the topic of burning homosexuals alive, and that said songs would be popular in dance clubs, but a) de gustibus and b) everyone in the world is a fucking idiot.) The news story reported that iTunes will not sell these songs. I bet iTunes does not sell Skrewdriver or RaHoWa songs either. I'm too lazy to look. (Why would I care, anyhow? I have their entire discographies.)(Look, you can't argue with the fact that they have tight rhythm sections.) So then the story goes on to this demonstration outside a dancehall festival on Randalls Island. The demonstrators can be heard shouting, at a sensible volume, "Hey, we're gay, that's okay, wheeeeee" or something like that.

Listen, if we have learned nothing else from history, at least we can say with certainty that you don't get anywhere with peaceful demonstrations. If your mission is to effectively keep these songs off the airwaves and the performers out of your local venues, then I recommend that instead of holding hands and singing Holly Near you grab some fucking brickbats and declare, If you do not shut the fuck up and go the fuck away we will beat you within an inch of your fucking life.*

So iTunes doesn't carry Buju Banton. But you know who does? WalMart. And you know who else they carry? MDC. Now, MDC would've been a logical music choice for this post, I think, but I don't own any of their shit. (I guess I should go to WalMart. I need some Kingstone briquets for my auto-da-fe anyhow.) This is the perfect segway, however, to talk about the time that I saw MDC in high school, at an all-ages afternoon show at the venerable QE2 in Albany (a club housed in a former White Castle, which, from what I've heard, is now a dance club or something). So the crowd was fun and rowdy in a positive way and it was totally a Safe Space for Women. Then some dipshit (probably wearing a Leeway t-shirt) showed up and ripped this one girl's t-shirt off in the pit. Dave Dictor saw it happen and made the band stop playing and announced that the show wouldn't continue until "you guys grab the shithead who ripped off her shirt and get him the fuck out of here." Wheeee! A punk posse comitatus quickly dispatched said shithead. (There is apparently a tradition of this at the QE2.) (Just imagine if it had been Hitler onstage. "The Jews are responsible for putting barcodes on MaximumRockNRoll and printing phony Fugazi t-shirts!" It could happen.)

So I need a song here, a song about police or something, because this is a Music Blog.

Suburban Mutilation, Police State

*This is merely an idea, specifically Dana's idea, and not at all YM's tacit endorsement of the use of violent suppression of people whose ideas you disagree with. --the YM legal team

Fat Fag Hav Nag

99 has been jeopardizing our status as a Top Music Blog™. You felt it, sideways probably, and even his "#1 fan" Maura's Maura was reduced to incongruent tumbling, if that's not a redundancy in terms. By stretching the limits with Rolling Stone cover bands like Radiohead and The Clash, he's made a lubricated Goatse of our proud spindle hole tradition.

This is not to disrespect those bands which deserve all the fucklore admiration chucked on them but surely we can tailor a snob-superior service to showcase the vein-glorious crap crawling under less shuffled rocks. It's now my job to plug the dam, say no fat beaver and do this Rip Off style.

My antidote: Officer and Car Thieves.

The Car Thieves songs below are from their split with Supercharger (aka The Mummies' favorite band) and I don't remember the story but the Car Thieves are probably Supercharger or The Mummies or both. Whatever, this stuff sucks and you should love it.

"Fat Faggots Gotta Lose" / "Hava Nagila"

Humane Trafficking: Vespers at the 500 Club

When I heard on Friday that big news - bigger than a waste basket! - in the blog world was forthcoming, I took small comfort - smaller than a drunk's hunch? - that I was in San Francisco where Internet culture is kept afloat by patriarchal smirks, fey traders talking at parties using their insider voice and fecund trans-partisans looking for top surgery in an economy feeding on bottom fever. I limited my contact to the outside world to email, even with the people I was visiting.

I suppose my position at an American Airlines gate this morning, on the verge of boarding an uncanceled and on-time flight back to New York, was as good as any to read the news of Gawker Media unloading excess baggage. I immediately texted Jackson West of Valleywag. I thought I left dirty socks in his apartment. Later, I sent him this response when it was safe to assume that Gothamist would not require my self-services.

It was the 2nd day after we launched Gridskipper when I heard Denton and Lock clink thumbscrews while setting a timetable for Denton's funding of Curbed and eventual paper transfer of the newborn travel blog to Lock. They'll deny it, maybe even for good reason (I frey-bricated 45% of the previous statement) but if none of this means Lock will finally get his ad team on task to make Bloghaüs a reality then I don't want to hear news of another New York blog shake up unless it involves milking mustache rides at naked Tumblr parties.

And while everyone is feeling piss-pot warm and fuzzy-knuckled that Papa Denton found homes for these ad-aberrations from the Gawker norm, the man doesn't like his porridge cold. How long will he play protector of the remaining blogs without the bite of additional lay-offs? I dunno, some of those mastheads are mighty meaty and the week of April 15 is a helluva time to be nursing a hibernation hangover.

Video: Ex-Valleywag correspondent Megan McCarthy walks the fine line between something and clever in Dolores Park after claiming she will "never work again" at her 30th birthday party.

Previously: Circus Lupus "Tightrope Walker"

Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt

I was going to open my first post here with a rant about Tumblr (as required by regs), but since the sidebar powers that be have destroyed Web 2.0 in its nest, I can't get any uppity satisfaction out of boycotting it. Plus, one of the dudes that works there bought me a fruity tiki drink, so I guess it delivered some good into this world.

Instead, I'll just say that I've watched all six parts of "John Adams" and so far all I've learned is that of all the Founding Fathers of this great nation, the one who was least deserving of a seven-part HBO miniseries is John Adams. (Also, Ben Franklin almost certainly had syphilis.) JA apparently failed at diplomacy, governance, fatherhood, farming, and dental hygiene, while still finding it in his heart to resent all his friends for their successes. (Do I really have to make the joke that logically follows here?) Is it possible to get swift boated by your own cable biographers?

Still, the soundtrack is pretty sweet, because I'm 90% sure it was just lifted from "The Last of the Mohicans."

This is a TV blog, right? Just to be safe:

Another post lamenting the death of the tumblr

Congratulations Hamilton Nolan, for today you are Gawker's shithead non pareil. Granted, this could change in a few hours, because it's not even noon yet plus all of the G-men (save Pareene--no, really, SAVE PAREENE) are staggeringly revolting. But if you cannot be bothered to NAME more than three "female MCs," I don't want you to weigh in on why you think there are no talented "female MCs" out there.



PS Stuff White People Like: KRS One, "underground" MCs.

If Anyone Can Get Us Into The Top 100 It's Gotta Be Pere Ubu.

Seriously, though, I thought we agreed that personal blogs were dead.

Dance!

Toronto, Ontario's Mike Long is my new hero. Sure, he wears skinny jeans and white shoes well out of season, but instead of cultivating ironic detachment, he goes in for earnest positivity, and it's downright infectious. From his YouTube channel description:

Do what you want, but don't expect the man to understand.

I am only here to make you smile and hopefully change the way you think about "genres," show you what honest reactions to music look like on the daily, teach you some stuff, SPREAD POSITIVITY and provide a new addiction for the masses.

A little spazzy, but his footwork is reminiscent of Jackie Wilson -- and he's got pretty great taste in music, but better taste in mise on scene like the sex shop location for an ode to Wilson Pickett. Hat tip flourish on the one to WBAI's Jay Smooth, who took time to eulogize Frosty Freeze, unlike this blog.

But where's the gun store?

I swear, the Internet is built just like a casino. People always pumping you full of hot air, bells and whistle bait at every corner, all you can beat buffets, no clocks to cast a reflection of your presumed dignity, trapped in an endless maze of cheese moving, tail chasing, head swallowing and liver tattooing. You cannot beat the House, or expect to get a floor vote, unless you're Clooney.

Guided by Voices - "Quality of Armor"

DC-Winnipeg Slang 6

Photo from Slower.net

Faraquet - "The Fourth Introduction"

The Weakerthans - "(Manifest)"

Previously: Our Retired Explorer (Dines with Michel Foucault in Paris, 1961)

Subprime Steak

Several people told me they were salivating in advance for my "inevitable" response to the latest dead horse's assnalysis of financial markets by Elizabeth Spiers. Sorry to disappoint but 1) I don't know shit about financial markets other than the rich get richer, poor get fucked, people write vague songs about it, some wear patches, we buy, sell, shit, repeat, nothing changes, etc. 2) I'm not sure I can pretend to care, like all the times before, even for a joke and 3) a mutual friend once said "it's like kicking the burnt remains of a puppy from an airplane crash."

Fine, but I'm an anomie activist so I'm biting. What do we have for starters?

My friend Dana, a former real estate investment banker who got out of investment banking comfortably before subprime mortgages hit the fan, has a personal inflation index. It's pegged entirely to the price of filet mignon at the Palm Too, his favorite steak house on the East Side of Manhattan. If the filet mignon is reasonable, all is right with the world. If it seems unduly expensive, Dana gets worried that inflation is spinning out of control. So a couple of months ago he returned from a month in Paris to find that the price of pricey steak had jumped to $38, up from $36. To hear him tell it, not since the Last Supper has an evening meal emanated so pervasive a sense of impending doom.

Fuckin' Christ is right. The rest is a whole bunch of nothing, at least that's what people in the know tell me, but she manages to work in a book plug and circles back to the steak dinner with enough regurgitation to make these ladies look fat and grabby.

Sorry folks, Felix Salmon I am not. Hell, I'm not even Brian Van who could wax this rack with more grace than I am capable of producing.

But check this, if Balk's rapidly impending last words are not "Spiers was right!" then I guess "I'm coming, Elizabeth!" works too.

Crossed Paths

Sources say the boss is coming to The City, but I'll be in LA, and Von Iva will be in Columbus. Sigh.

Putting me down as a rock-n-roll clown

In observance of this post, our newly minted status in the Pantheon of Music Blogs (hint: let's just say that there are only 7,202 better...), and the passing of a brother in arms, a little musical interlude. This goes out to all that Tumblr pussy. (Avert your eyes, Mrs. Krucoff.)





Wang Dang Sweet Poontang, Ted Nugent

Leb Wohl, Klaus! Die Motorik Ist Nicht Mehr. Oder: Auch Das Neue Muss Mal Sterben.

What with Dinger's death at 61 and everything, now's as good a time as any to take ourselves up on our earlier promise to get a little more Neu! into circulation, this time via a preciously brief clip of a live performance (with Klaus' brother Thomas on the drums) caught by the Westdeutscher Rundfunk (for which, by sheer coincidence, my uncle used to be a correspondent). Note the killer bubble machine and 8-track recorder. Echt geil.

Speaking of West Bank Checkpoints

I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Kahane.

I'm Holding Out for Diablo Cody's Pop Culture Rap in Aramaic

Great, now give her a gun and put her at a West Bank checkpoint.

Previously: Aish whores Natalie Portman

The Year of Living Philanthropically

I'm sure she meant "Dear Blottered":

Dear Andrew,

Thank you so much for your recent contribution of $100.00 to Stop Prisoner Rape on March 7, 2008. We would like to keep you updated on our work, but the contact information you provided with your donation only included an email address. If you would like to receive our regular Action Update newsletter, please reply to this email and provide me with your mailing address

Sexual violence continues to plague U.S. prisons and jails, despite the fact that such abuse largely is preventable. While anyone can become the victim of a sexual assault, we know that some inmates are at especially high risk, and that they could be protected without much difficulty.

It’s no mystery who the vulnerable inmates are. They tend to be young, unschooled in the ways of prison life, non-violent, small in stature, or mentally ill. Gay and transgender detainees, or those who are perceived to be gay, are also victimized disproportionately.

Basic measures, such as identifying likely victims and likely perpetrators – and making sure that they don’t get placed in the same cell – could help ensure that thousands of men and women are spared the devastation of a sexual assault.

At SPR, we work hard to combat the systemic causes of prisoner rape, including the routine placement of vulnerable inmates in harm’s way. We believe that better policies and practices are essential, and feasible, and we are working closely with the National Prison Rape Elimination Commission to develop the first-ever national standards addressing sexual violence in detention.

Through your generous contribution, you are helping us to do that work – and to protect every human being’s right to be treated with dignity and to be free from abuse.

Thank you!

Sincerely,
Kristin Hall
Program Development Director
Stop Prisoner Rape

You're welcome, Kristin. It's what I do.

In Case You Were Wondering What Ever Happened To Cable Access TV.

1. Apathy
2. Archaic Rules that were/are user friendly. Subject to the whims of local public access cabals
3. The Internet

So Alan Abramowitz, founder and producer extraordinaire of Videowave, in response to one of our earlier posts on Lydia Lunch. This just apropos BWE's recent talk about the unintended wonders afforded by cable access in the 80's. Next up, with any luck, our long-sought interview with Saget on the future prospects (if any) of AFHV.

Island, Come and See, The Landlord's Daughter, You'll Not Feel the Drowning

And Carney is getting married on Saturday. The world is crumbling around me.

Jeff Jarvis: Fuck Slate Too

If I'm one of the few who still read Jeff Jarvis (my tit and 99's tat), then you'll have to pry him from me when his typing hands turn cold and dead. Even then, I'm sure his purple tips will still be fighting for Iraqi freedom and the triumph of public media. But fortunately that won't happen anytime soon, he's got the juice to keep him warm. How can you not love a man who tells Jacob Weisberg (on account of Slate's anti-Hillary bias) to suck an egg through a krazy-straw (my words) then cops to being a little testy-toasty from the vino? My suggestion to Jeff: BLOG DRUNK ALL THE TIME.

Anyway, here's more rag for the molotov cocktail. Aim it at Duane Street. Weisberg's wife, Deborah Needleman of Domino magazine, donated to the Obama campaign. How's that for smoking fun?

Nappyhead, It's an Annapolis Thing

From "Left Out in Lacrosse" in today's Washington Post, this person will probably be forced to resign before lunch:

"It's been one dead end after another trying to get black kids to play," said Ruthie Lavelle, president of the Maryland Youth Lacrosse Association. "There are kids who are so athletic, but all they want to do is play basketball. We're trying to get rid of the reputation as an elitist white sport, but it's not going to happen anytime soon."

Didn't Bunk in The Wire mention playing lax? Hometown gets a shout out too:

The difference, DeMatha Coach Scott Pugh said, is that the counties that produce top high school players are the ones with decades-long lacrosse traditions. In Crofton, whose lacrosse teams regularly win state youth championships, former Division I college players and coaches train elementary school students. The Prince George's youth program often has difficulty recruiting qualified coaches.

Disclosure: One semester I took lacrosse class in high school (hey, the girls were cute) but never played on an organized team at any level. Got my nose broken in that class when a varsity player took a windmill shot that jettisoned my own stick from my hands and the butt-end flew in my face.

Previously: Lacrosse Your Fingers, Hope to Get Into Middlebury

The Tumblr Is a Ass

I'm so bored with this tumblr rumbl and with all you bloviating kiddy-diddlers and your ad nauseam reblogging wannabe big-dick slinging. Let's get this over with already. I'm here to alienate you all. (Except for you, katiebakes, you can stay.)

Memo to the silk-rep halfwits: 1. Get back to me when you've read at least one book that isn't the Butt Magazine anthology (or Atlas Shrugged), 2. Your extensive knowledge of bugbears and goblinoids does not you an expert on what black people should think (oh...just go into the archives), and...well...2a. (and this doesn't technically count as it's not tumblr-related but I'm including it because I feel like it as I am an irrational female) If you're going to be mean don't be witlessly mean. And then apologize about it afterward.* (Denton made you do it? Jesus Christ, either grow a pair or put another log on the fucking fire. You can't thread a moving needle.)

And stop being mean to Krucoff in particular.** It might seem as though he enjoys the abuse--and he very well might; he actually sends out emails telling us who we aren't allowed to bait and/or lambaste for the week--but I'm beginning to find it a bit trop, so FYI: You fuck with Krucoff, you fuck with me, and if you fuck with me, you fuck with you. (What can I say? I feel a strange affection for him--not unlike that Downs kid I defended on the school bus in 4th grade.)

OK, moving on. I'm not averse to photos of cats, but just because you don't get a joke doesn't mean it makes no sense. Are you from Southern California or something?

I will have no truck with you, Mr. Counting Crows Fan and Straight-Theater-Guy, except to say that if you're a writer learn a) how to spell proper nouns and b) the difference between contractions and possessives. Oh, and, a lifestyle tip: Landmarc, IKEA: pick one, baby bourgeois.

*Not that we're kind around here; but at least we don't apologize for it after the fact. Unless the target was someone Krucoff wants to shtup, then we have to apologize.
**Well, not you Carney. But when you're in Brooklyn, you best watch your back. Just to be safe.