Here are some links
Filed under: Here Are Some Links
After weeks of chronic headaches, I couldn’t help noticing yesterday that the right half of my face had swelled up like half a pufferfish, which theoretically should scare off half of all potential predators, but instead landed me in the emergency room last night. It looks like an abscessed molar is to blame, but I figured I’d make sure it wasn’t salivary gland cancer, as I don’t want to end up like Roger Ebert (that is, like a Phantom of the Opera lookalike, not like an internationally respected film critic).
Five hours in the emergency room were not for naught, however. For one thing, it gave me the chance to endlessly recycle one of my favorite dumb jokes: a deliberate misquoting of a scene from Rushmore. (“I like your nurse’s uniform, guy.” “These are ER scrubs.” “E are they?”) And for another, I would never have otherwise overheard a thuggish, gangsta-looking, baggy-panted guy with a bandaged finger griping, “Man, I could be home watching Grey’s Anatomy!”
Anyway, that’s why I haven’t written much in the last few days, and it’s why I’m not writing now. Instead, I pass along for your perusal this collection of links:
- In addition to the pains in my head that have made it hard for me to live but I go on anyway (like Phil from the warehouse), my ability to communicate has been limited by Rogers Cable’s decision to deny internet and phone service to me and a number of other customers yesterday. The silver lining to this not-atypical occurrence is that it gives me a chance to catch up on reading the contents of many of the dozens of open tabs that continually cause my Firefox to crash. Noteworthy among my recent long-form internet reading (and you’ll see that I really do apparently read men’s magazines for the articles) are the Johnny Carson Playboy interview, Matt Latimer’s account in GQ of working as a speechwriter for George W. Bush, and an Esquire story about a horrific chimpanzee attack, which makes me feel a little better about my own current facial disfigurement.
- Speaking of things that have been so hideously destroyed as to be unrecognizable as their former selves, there’s National Lampoon. Like Mad, National Lampoon was once a great satirical magazine and is now a brand in bad shape, but I’ve talked about that before. Here now is National Lampoon‘s 1971 satire of Mad.
- And speaking of masterful takedowns, KTLA anchor Sam Rubin’s furious calling out of Perez Hilton is easily my favorite Perez Hilton–related headline since will.i.am’s manager briefly made me respect the Black-Eyed Peas after punching out the internationally reviled man-child. (My least favorite Perez Hilton–related headlines, incidentally, are written by Perez Hilton himself and involve multiple exclamation marks. Despite their shared fascination with the lifestyles of the rich and famous, F. Scott Fitzgerald would have been disgusted with Hilton’s abuse of punctuation.)
- Shortly after my girlfriend ran across this Paste magazine spread chronicling the evolution of the hipster, Mike “The Math Librarian” Martelle (recently named as having the top nickname among MMA fighters you’ve never heard of) sent along this story about a mysterious spiral of blue light appearing in the skies above Norway, with the comment “Hopefully an opening to another world where hipsters don’t exist.” This possible portal may or may not have been caused by the malfunctioning of the Large Hadron Collider, which the Math Librarian has strenuously opposed ever since initially misreading its name as “Large Hardon Collider”.
- And finally, in other correspondent news, your favorite Internet humourist Jay Pinkerton alerted me to a list of the 85 best Morrissey songs that’s worth reading for, in the words of The Stranger, “the wealth of hilarious fake Morrissey song titles accumulating in the comments.” What would be really great is if Morrissey had the sense of humour to co-opt any of these made-up titles and actually write songs called “I Have Been Peeved” and “Catherine, I Dislike You” for his next album. (Jay submits “These Mints are Only Vaguely Minty” and “Barbara, I’m Merely Flexing” to the canon. I answer with “Reports of My Death Have Been Unfortunately Exaggerated”.) Also worth noting is the strange WWE comic-book spread Jay forwarded without comment. I don’t even know what to make of it except that Matt Hardy is clearly nowhere near that jacked. In fact, the inability of the artist to provide realistic depictions of the WWE superstars is probably the reason the writer has them refer to each other by name—usually in boldface—in each word balloon, just so the reader can piece together who’s involved in the story. Thanks, Jay Pinkerton, for the link.