I have nothing to say about last night's Jersey Chore/Snore/Bore. After last week's gleeful declaration of sexist double standards, I figured I was pretty much done with it and this week, I found I was pretty much right. (Really, even Pauly's squandering his likability with enough nonsense hollering to make him unwatchably obnoxious at this point?) When Snooki and Angelina took part in two (two!) rounds of a physical altercation, I felt like I was watching my mommies fight. I don't know what I wanted more: for them to stop or for them to kill each other so I could get the TV back.
I'm going to stick out the viewing till the end of this season (and next season's return to Jersey is tantalizing, for sure), but the recapping may be over. One of the worst things you can do (outside of the realm of human atrocity) is speak when you have nothing to say. It would be helpful if the cast of Jersey Shore knew this, but no matter: I'm transcending anyway.
Just what you need: Trash Humpers gifs
If annoying is an art, Harmony Korine's Trash Humpers is a masterpiece. It's full of high-pitched cackles, nonsense songs ("A doodle all day," goes a line in the most often repeated one, "Three Little Devils") and a group of people intent on devising new ways to be as simultaneously stupid, disgusting and solitary as possible. The things that they come up with are amazing as innovations in inanity.
Korine creates what really feels like its own world, slowly revealing its malevolence. It's all fun and trash-humping until we see a dead body lying in a field...and then catch evidence of another murder performed by this group of people who are maybe in masks or maybe just melted (the murder reveal is preceded by some banter about a pet dog, folding an act of atrociousness into banal domesticity as a matter of course). And that's not all, as far as crimes go. So many questions arise, if the movie holds your attention and its seemingly plotless and free-form structure doesn't turn you off. Why's that toilet in a field? What's in the bags? Where do these people live? Why are others hanging out with them? What's the point? Are they really as free as they think they are?
It may feel like a frustrating cocktail of idiotic and lofty (as a great fan of absurdity, I really enjoy the movie, but by the end of both of my viewings, I was ready for it to be over -- and its running time is less than 80 minutes). But that cocktail can also be hysterical. This movie is as trashy as that which is humped, and its old-VHS aesthetic only helps reinforce the seediness (I don't understand, though, why, if it's supposed to be edited from tape, its aspect ratio is 16x9 instead of 4x3). Some select, NSFW-ish absurdity is included in the gif wall below. It is mostly inspired by the humpers' advice: make it, don't fake it!
Blondes have less blonde
Also something that didn’t bode well for Sara: not being blonde anymore.
Sorry!
I'm in Miami for work and not only is it a lot of work it's also...Miami. There comes a time when you have to choose between having a blog and having a life. I often choose the former; since I'm in Miami (I will not say "bitch!") and haven't ever been before, I'm choosing the latter. I'll have a recap up, but probably not till it's late enough to be irrelevant. Whatever! It's coming. In the meantime, enjoy watching Tyra going ba-ta-ta-tuh-ta with these nice ta-tas. What size are they again?
The lesson of Jersey Shore: Season 2, Episode 9
That's right, lesson. There's only one this week:
These people are gross. And not gross ha-ha.
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Aretha Franklin is amazing
Aretha Franklin and her muumuu recently took to PBS to fund-raise apparently out of an extremely deep-seated love for the network. Guys, she really, really loves it. Her love of PBS programming is not to be believed -- believe me and I'm serious. I clipped and cut up the weirder points of her shilling, including her open scratching and possible crotch-grabbing, her tributes to cheese steaks and roller-skating and her unexpected modesty when confronted with a compliment.
This at least must be better than Devil
The clip above is a bit of so-bad-it's-fantastic transcendence from a Christian propaganda VHS called Demons: True Life Evil Forces. In it, a woman who apparently is disgusted by Buddhism recounts a story she once heard about a "demon" in the apartment that she manages. Reenactments of hearsay are obviously the best reenactments of them all. Anyway, I hate to spoil it for you (no I don't), but it turns out that all it takes to rid the apartment of the demon is telling it, "Jesus...In the name of Jesus, leave!" and then drawing a cross in crayon on a piece of paper and taping it face down on the portal the demon came out of. Yes, it's true: ridding your home of demons is easier than ridding your home of vermin and relatives. It kind of makes me want to get a demon -- if they're that easy to get rid of, I might as well keep one around for a few hours just for the cultural experience. It would, at the very least, make a good blog post, you know?
Into thin air
It wasn't Annamaria's constant bragging or the camera's lingering on her supposedly unhealthy body that let me know she was going home. It was her attempt to defend herself from Tyra's criticism and the death blink that followed.
At this point, I knew it was all over for her.
Catfish/bullshit
Below is a possible explanation (based on inisder knowledge!) for the air of bullshit that arrives with the new "documentary" Catfish. Also, I spoil the entire film. Ha.
Sometimes camp just ain't enough
Above is basically contraband footage from a live interview/signing John Waters did last Friday that was put on by the Word bookstore in Brooklyn (though it took place at an actual venue, Coco 66). We weren't supposed to take any pictures or video, but I couldn't resist having my boyfriend capture footage while I asked John about reality TV. His immediate response struck me as disagreeing for the sake of disagreeing because he's said plenty disparaging words about reality TV (John Waters saying that something ruined bad taste is about as big as an insult can get). All night he was like that with the weirdly bashful L.A. Times reporter Carolyn Kellogg, who interviewed him, while regularly turning and covering her face when he said anything mildly racy. She called him kind to his subjects in his recent book Role Models and he was like, "OF COURSE, I'M NOT GOING TO INSULT THEM!!!" She said it was interesting that he didn't out Johnny Mathis in the chapter about him and John was all, "IT'S NOT LIKE IT WOULD HAVE BEEN A GREAT JOURNALISTIC COUP OR ANYTHING!!!" I'm paraphrasing, but all mean to say is that he was oddly combative. I guess when you're John Waters and your ass is now raw from all the kissing it's experienced, you get to be abrupt and dismissive.
The lessons of Jersey Shore: Season 2, Episode 8
The only sweeter sentiment we've seen all season came in the form of a Fossil watch.
(Obviously, this is coming at you way late, but completism impels me.)
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A new take on an old joke
Are you cracking up yet?
A toast for the douchebags
If you take Kanye West's "Runaway" at face value, it's a song about the narrator's emotional cheating and flaws and how they are destroying a romantic relationship. But the context of "Runaway"'s world premiere suggested that this was no simple love song for us to behold. It came during the moment we were all supposedly waiting for, saved till the end of last night's MTV Video Music Awards and teased throughout the show. At long last, Kanye was returning to the VMAs after interrupting Taylor Swift's acceptance speech (never mind that his would-be comeback took place just one show later, meaning he spent no time away in VMAs time). Adding to the necessity of his voice was that by the time he hit the stage, Swift already had commented on the controversy in a performance that attempted to paint her as a Christlike boon of wisdom: "You're still an innocent" was her forgiving, condescending message to Kanye, who is 33-years-old, not that innocent and at any rate, doesn't need a 20-year-old telling him about himself. He would reveal in his performance that he's plenty self-conscious as it is.
After all that, how could we read the admission of wrongdoing in "Runaway" as anything but a metaphor of his last, least enthusiastically received public act of wrongdoing? And so, when Kanye told the world, which he knew was tuned in, that we should collectively, "Run away from me baby," it was disingenuous. He didn't actually want us to do so, and he knew that we wouldn't, at any rate. Not when there was water-cooler juiciness to be had. Not when it was anchored to a gentle-but-firm beat tailored for the hip-hop heads and more delicate listeners, alike (it recalls the downtempo '90s just before Primitive Radio Gods showed moms just how nice breaks could be). Not with that that ear-worm melody, which Rob Sheffield smartly compared to Natalie Imbruglia's "Torn" on Twitter. Not with that consciously arty, undeniably beautiful and entertainingly silly background of lights and fabrics and ballet dancers he performed in front of. He put the ball in our court, making "Runaway" as much about as as it is him.
The lessons of Jersey Shore: Season 2, Episode 7
This is the concept of "save me from myself" defined visually.
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For now, I'm all...
Jersey Shore recap won't be up for a while, but it will be up...eventually.
Everything I don't know about TV, this guy does...and more! fourfour.typepad.com
