Camera Phone Horror

My sister and I recently went with our mom to Asheville, NC to celebrate her 71st birthday (my mom's, not my sister's), and we had a blast. Asheville is a beautiful city, picturesque and poetic, and it simply demands to be photographed. So obviously you're all dying to see pictures of the inside of a few shops, no? Allow me to take you on a tour of a few hilarious/terrifying shops (actually, one shop and one shoppe) we visited so mom could browse through figurines and stuff, which she's currently in the market for more of (she's always in the market for more figurines).

'Tis the season for bunnies dressed in their best spring threads, which in this case were stitched from your Aunt Sadie's bedspread.

Mom always loved your Aunt Sadie's bedspread.

A terrifying Easter Bunny ornament for your Easter Tree.

A Christmas ornament based on that scary Christmas ornament you used to dream about.

This is the expression Santa has when he doesn't like the cookies you leave him.

Watership Down meets Holly Hobbie.

Well, I guess I know what I'll be dreaming about later.

This is another shop we found, one with a reverence for the olden days when the world had a surplus of the letter e.

(Shudder)

I think this is the point in the browsing when I got a headache and had to sit down.

Wait, is that Gandalf in the back?

There is a great deal of pathos in this photo.

So much tinsel.

Mom needed a bear.

Because f*ck traveling in a sleigh.

Mom got a bear.

A Lot to Say a Little: New Fancy Feast Commercial

Um, what? I'm a fan of any commercial that features a cat being passed around, even if it's one of those irritating fluffy white cats that always feel so entitled. But this commercial is du-humb. It tells a tedious story of a gay dude asking his girlfriend to marry him in a cloyingly roundabout and precious way.

"Girl, don't do it, you know he's gay!" Jimmy said, because the commercial is long enough to have a plot for you to react to.

My point is that fluffy white cats sometimes get turds stuck in their butt fur.

Been and Gone: Elizabeth Taylor

Some would argue that the performance she'll always be remembered for is the one she gave in her Diamonds commercial ("These have always brought me luck"), but that is wrong. Her best-ever appearance on film and the one that has earned her her own private steam room in heaven was her role as the scenery-chewing harpy in Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf. This is the movie that made me want to be a sloppy alcoholic when I grew up.

RIP, Liz.

New Fun Thing: Bangable Dudes in History

Has your Internet been sizzling lately? Well, that's because there's a new blog out there that is piping hot and is coming to teach your children history. It's called Bangable Dudes in History and is a really fun way to while away the hours while also answering important historical questions like "How badly do I want Lincoln would-be assassin Lewis Powell to sit on my face?"

The historically accurate answer to that is "very" but I would also accept "terribly," "incredibly," and "feverishly."

Friday Japan Awesomeness: Zatoichi

After a week of awfulness in Japan, it's high time to celebrate its opposite, and to my mind, nothing is more gleeful than the last scene in actor/director Takeshi Kitano's 2003 adaptation of the Zatoichi story. The bulk of the film is dark, moody, and violent, with an excellent score by Keiichi Suzuki and flashes of brilliant humor. But this scene is where the curtain falls on everything that came before and the clogging/tap dancing begins (things really get started after the minute mark). It was after watching this scene that I decided to pursue a career in tap dancing. (I've made some bad decisions.)

Ultimately the scene ends up being a curtain call of sorts, as the main characters file in and join the dance. You may wonder why two of the characters morph into children at one point. It's a good question! You'll just have to watch the movie to find out. It's pretty much a masterpiece so it will be time well spent. Plus it's got Tadanobu Sato in it, and he is handsome, even when he's rocking the samurai updo.

Letters from Tokyo

The media coverage of the Japan horror has been relentlessly bleak for obvious reasons. It's profoundly terrifying. But the New York Times ran a few essays today—by Japanese authors in translation, reflections on their country and their fellow Japanese—that have allowed a little sunlight in, however small a pinprick. In an essay called "Amid Shortages, A Surplus of Hope," renegade author Ryu Murakami—himself an often relentlessly bleak writer—allows himself some optimism. And in his essay "For a Change, Proud to be Japanese," Hiroki Azuma finds that an exciting strength is gathering among his fellow citizens amid the fearsome (and seemingly endless) calamity around them.

I highly recommend both of these pieces.

日本人は　がんばって！

The above poster is available here from Signalnoise, and all proceeds will go to Japan disaster relief.

Sad Realization Followed By a Happy One

With a heavy heart last night, I started coming to grips with the fact that I was going to have to start watching the new season of Celebrity Apprentice. Last night Jimmy admitted he'd been watching it while I was away on Sunday nights at band practice. (I'm in a band!)

"And Dionne Warwick is a bii-hi-iiitch," he said.

"Really?! That's awesome! What did she say?"

"What didn't she say? And I think LaToya Jackson is retarded."

Oh shit, Dionne Warwick is a Grade-A C*nt I can't wait! I thought to myself. Then I read on Gawker the most incredibly succinct compliment one can give another human when they described Marlee Matlin as a "fierce bitch." Shit, maybe I should be watching this tedious, awful show.

Then I visit Salon, find out sweet-potato-headed slob Donald Trump is now a pretend birther, and decide I am no longer obligated to tune in, no matter how much I'd like to see NeNe bitchslap Star Jones for me. Jimmy and I can just act that scene out for ourselves. (I get to be NeNe.)

Letter from Tokyo

In the past week, since the horrifying earthquake/tsunami/possible nuclear catastrophe, I've been checking in with friends in Tokyo (I didn't know anyone in northern Japan) to make sure they are ok and able to get food, since food shortages are one problem Tokyo residents have been faced with. My friend Shun, one of my best friends when I lived there and a master of understatement, sent me the following email. He lives in Nakano, a neighborhood in west Tokyo that is still pretty central. Stay safe, Shun.

hey timmy

Im fine thanks and you?
it has been terrifying about these quakes... last night we had a big one in Shizuoka and today another one in Chiba....
so I cant sleep well recently... because I feel small quakes.
and there are no bread, rice, water, tissues, toilet papers in supermarket and conveni... only snack left:-(
also trains dont run properly. because of black out. neclear power have been acting strange. so they dont provide enough erectricity.
so they do black out on purpose around Tokyo except central Tokyo... thank god I live in nakano-ku.

oh well... wish Japan luck!!

-Shun

Fashion is Important: Throttled Models Edition

We've all seen models on the catwalk and simply wanted to wring their necks for looking so irritating, dead-eyed, and entitled. We're only human. But who knew that fashion designers often want the same thing, of their models? (I mean, we assumed, but we didn't know.)

Well, French designer Jean-Charles de Castelbajac made it official yesterday at Paris Fashion Week while unveiling his Fall/Winter 2011-12 collection: he wants his models throttled. Fabulously. He's not necessarily suggesting model murder. No, stop assuming the worst. He's only suggesting that women look better--indeed, they feel better--when they have a pair of sleek, reassuring hands surprising them from behind and gripping their neck parts to make sure their heads are on straight. But who can afford to hire someone to perform that service all day? Starving models, but who else? Not my lady friends. This is why de Castelbajac introduced this new clothing item, which he has probably called "The Literal Choker (No Really)," in honor of International Women's Day.

This new neck wrap will be a big hit in America in a few years when it trickles down to Target, though they'll have to make larger sizes because we've got big necks and sausage fingers. But that's fine; just more surface area for bedazzling.

When Will a Journamalist Ask Weight-Loss Expert Mike Huckabee Why He’s Not Skinny Anymore?

Ok, I’m not being mean here. I’m not. It’s fine that Mike Huckabee is once again a full-figured man. More than fine. I myself would probably be the same size if I weren’t gay (gay men can’t be fat or Anderson Cooper officially disinvites us from all his hot tub parties that we were never invited to) because my favorite food group is the fried one. But the thing is, back in 2007 Mike Huckabee wrote a book, see, about how he lost weight and how we all should, too, because we are a country of fat slobs, but he isn’t anymore, so book deal pls. Inspiring!

It’s great when people use their life experience to help others/generate selfless profit. (I myself have been unsuccessfully attempting the same maneuver.) But here’s the thing: is it not kind of irritating that this guy—who spends his days getting paid lots of money to behave like a school marm criticizing our culture for producing/tolerating evil pregnant Natalie Portman and electing a man to the presidency who had the unmitigated temerity to have a Kenyan father that was alive during the incredibly relevant Mau Mau Revolution—failed utterly at one thing that he once lectured us over in a 176-page book? Irritating? Kind of? Yes?

Because Mike Huckabee, as Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club might put it, is once again pushing maximum density. His face is now taking up pretty much the entire front cover of whatever dumb book he’s promoting now. The book is about small, simple government or some shit. So are we to expect that in a few years time Mike Huckabee will be abandoning this particular fight and giving out government checks at his Fox News studio to an audience of socialist welfare queens with Oscars for Best Actress?

The answer is chicken. Fried chicken.

And biscuits.

Jukebox: New Primitives Single!

Everybody knows I'm gay for the Primitives. I'm gay for many things! (I'm gay.) But I'm a full-blown tranny for the underrated fuzz-pop band that time forgot. The Prims got back together for a tour back in 2009 and found themselves in Brooklyn last May playing at the Bell House and IT WAS AWESOME.

So, what's happened now? The band has put out a new digital EP (because that's what the kids are doing these days) and shot a video for the single "Rattle My Cage." And it's good stupendous! Sure, it's no "Thru the Flowers" or "Stop Killing Me," but for a band who's been gone for 20 years it's not a bad little slice of pop heaven.

This will be my springtime jam whenever springtime decides to come. I'll be waiting...

In conclusion, Tracy Tracy is wearing some hella cute shoes in this video.

New Fun Thing: Cats Quote Charlie Sheen

Ok, I know that Charlie Sheen memes are popping up like porn stars at a Charlie Sheen open house, but this one is pretty fun. It just feels closer to the truth of what cats think than any other cat captioning has ever gotten, and not just because my cat Stella said to me the other day "You can't process me with a normal brain."

I'd Watch This Show

Then again, I'll watch any show featuring a dude wearing goth makeup, carrying a stethoscope, and sporting a scary yellow scythe cock.

Social Issue of the Day

Please, reach out to a real queen today. Let her know she's fabulous.