Meatballs for one
Crack
Oh thank god, we’re in regular time again. The time of no familial, religious, or personal obligations. Let’s get right on into it shall we! No time to waste! Time is money! Money is a gold doubloon in a sunken ship! Bitcoins don’t spend themselves now! A penny saved is a penny you’ll find under the couch!
Theme music for this newsletter
I’ve been listening a lot to Ain’t Love Grand by X, an album by one of my favorite bands that I always dismissed as kinda shlocky. But what I now realize upon revisiting this album is that the production is the true nightmare and otherwise this album is very good. It’s that crystal-clear, overwrought mid to late 80’s production that actually hurts my brain. It makes me feel like I’m in a car commercial (Happy Honda Days everyone!).
Contractually the entire United States decided between 1971-approx 1991 that all albums must have at least one unnecessary sax solo that takes you both out of the song and this earthly plane. I can’t decide if the sax solo in “Watch the Sun Go Down” is good or not. I’d also like to clarify that I think saxophones in the 80’s can be alright, case being that I’ve also been re-listening to Germ Free Adolescents by X-Ray Spex (A PERFECT ALBUM) and Lara Logic’s* sax lines are good because they are unhinged and demented.
Saxophone in rock music was COOLEST in the 50’s when it was loud, kind of obnoxious, and groovy. As it progressively became “smoother” it became awful and ruined a lot of perfectly fine songs. What I’m telling you is the whiter rock became, so too did the sax, and consequently rock music sucked proportionately.
Below is a scientific graph to better illustrate my point
*Yes I’m aware Lara Logic didn’t play saxophone on the album, but she still originated the arrangements
**Arguably the only okay 80’s sax sounds are some of those emanating from Clarence Clemons, and I’ll allow the intro to “Young Americans” by David Bowie. This is canon. Steely Dan suck. This is also canon.
Pigeon report
No sightings of note this week, but while we are on the subject, you ever see a baby pidge? Pretty horrific.
Are you okay? Checking in on my favorite d-listers
Okay this one I’ve been avoiding for weeks because everything about it just makes me grit my teeth, puff up with my cheeks with air and go “uggggggggggggggggggggggh”.
So where do I start? There’s this HGTV show called Property Brothers that I like to watch, despite the fact that both the brothers annoy me because they’re smarmy dudes who have had tasteful, but obvious, work done around their eyes, and they’re obsessed with open space concept houses (which I hate a lot).
Enter Zooey Deschanel, noted manic-pixie dream girl. I actually like Deschanel because she seems to come by her twee-ness honestly, even though her music is boring and a little like warmed-over Belle and Sebastian (who I don’t even like very much to begin with). But I also love New Girl which is a pleasant and nice show. It can’t all be prestige TV! Who am I kidding I haven’t watched a non-Bravo show in years.
Anyways one of these brothers and Deschanel are dating and everything about their relationship makes me want to scream into a pillow and stab something because it’s so deeply performative and CLEARLY arranged by their managers. They seem to eternally be on sponsored dates at Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm and I’m sorry are you FIVE? Everything they post publicly about their relationship makes me wish gay agendas were real, because if this is what being straight entails I want out…now.
Grade: No grade, this week we’re grading Hampshire style babbbby!!!
Photo: Instagram
The weirdest shit I saw on Craigslist recently
Oh good, I’m sure noted normal-guy John Bolton will see this random post on NYC Craigslist.
Photo: Craigslist Screenshot
Hints from Hellouise
I made this Thai-inspired meatball soup this week. It was super easy and makes an obscene amount of food. The meatballs are the real star (ain’t it always that way!) and I need to throw a cute house party so I can serve these meatballs with toothpicks and people marvel at my wit and sophistication. Who am I kidding!? No one comes to the party and I eat these alone while crying a little, but secretly happy I can eat all the meatballs.
Shit you really ought to read
A Requiem For Hot Topic-John Paul Brammer
On No Longer Being a Hysterical Woman-The Paris Review