Today, I saw chinese duck sauce dipping noodle-bodied Xander unicycling in his “Joey Ramone meets Andy Warhol” uniform to his creative assistant job at the hand-crafted artisanal club soda shop in BuschGardenswick. So I rammed a pool cue through his emaciated 3rd world country rib cage. End of story.
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That’s what I call chalking the tip.
Speaking of The Ramones, “Commando” is Johnny Ramone’s memoir just released (years after his death). He helped start the punk scene at CB’s but didn’t waste his time with the hangers on. He’d rather go home to watch baseball on tv.
Years ago (’78 or ’79), my friends and i went to see The Ramones at the Hotel Diplomat, on W. 43rd St. One of my friends, Joe the Skinhead, cornered Joey and Johnny after their set. He was telling them what a big fan he was, how he goes to every show and that he lives and dies by the band. Joey and Johnny just stood there, staring at him. Then, they look at each other and burst out laughing. Joey told him to get a fucking life, a job and a girlfriend, if he didn’t have any of those yet.
Hotel Diplomat Ballroom had some good shows, remember seeing The Specials and Madness there…back in the British Ska thing.
I had an odd encounter with Joey Ramone right before his death.. I was visiting my sister who was having brain surgery at Rusk Institute in 2001, and they had an atrium in the lobby with plants and exotic birds that you could feed. I was down there when I noticed an awfully sickly looking man with a walker dressed in sweats with his elderly mom, still wearing bright teal glasses–immediately I knew it was him, and told my dad when I went back upstairs, who handed me a hospital menu and told me I should go back down and have him sign that. I got in the elevator back up with him and his mom, and had the menu and a pen behind my back, but couldn’t bring my 16-year old self to do it, hmmm. So I just said Hi, Joey! and shook his hand. A few days later they released the news of his lymphoma and he died shortly after, incredibly sad. I do wish I would have went ahead with the menu though…
When are you going to do Fishing for Hipsters again, DH?
It’s been a while now, and while I understand you concerns about the likes of Stevey and others trying to out you, I wonder if the occasional one wouldn’t hurt?
Craigslist has blocked me from posting. Haven’t tried in a while.
LOL! Shame. Fishing for hipsters was the best.
Fishing for hipsters really was good, I’ll agree.
Have you tried under a different alias and computer?
Give it some time. Either Stevie’s going to have to get a real job, or his new medication will take effect, and he won’t be spending all of his time on Craigslist flagging “inappropriate” postings. I swear, I’ve never seen anyone spend so much time showing off his Goatse-level case of butthurt as Stevie does.
http://www.disinfo.com/2012/12/did-aleister-crowley-communicate-with-extraterrestrials/
Well, I think I’ve solved the mystery of Stevie’s identity and obsessions once and for all.
Hint: his last name is LAM.
Naw, this was Stevie’s grandfather. You know, the alien who made the family fortune so Stevie could waste his days as a “Web Designer”.
Steve “Needy Ned” LAM, professional Me-Monkey:
http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/12/10/article-2245683-166F9A56000005DC-119_634x464.jpg
Aliester Crowley was a closet homosexual who traveled the world banging women to hide his homosexuality (we’re talking Victorian England here – the gayest bunch of homophobes in history). His whole “Wickedest Man Alive” shtick was just a way of hiding his inferiority complex and shame.
My current conspiracy theory is that Stevie’s lineage is a result of interbreeding with Crowley and that sexy alien which is where the name LAM comes from. Either that or estrogen.
Check your email. Something you can use.
Make an OKcupid profile!
Yo did anyone who watch the simpsons last night? It was about hipsters invading Springfield and Homer thought he was cool.
Damn, I was too busy to catch it. Was it on the level of King of the Hill? Those hipsters were so fucking annoying.
Duff Blue Ribbon was the best thing I’ve seen on the show in years.
Williamsburg’s not cool any more……….or, I can’t afford to live in the place I gentrified anymore?
http://www.brooklynpaper.com/stories/35/50/dtg_zebulon_2012_12_14_bk.html?comm=1#feedback
Soubiran said it’s not worth the hassle to better soundproof the club or ask bands to keep it down because that would compromise the club’s authenticity. He said he and the other owners might consider opening up in a different neighborhood — maybe Bushwick — at a later time.
NO SHIT SHERLOCK!!!
Well guess what? Your stupid bimbo friend just called the cops to complain about a Puerto Rican record store which was there since the 50s for making noise. I wonder who complained about you. You know what? What goes around comes around. Bet you didn’t see that one coming bitches!
Found this link in the comments.
http://peopleforanindependenteastwilliamsburg.com/
Help Liberate East Williamsburg from Williamsburg
Join the Movement Sweeping North Brooklyn: Demand a Free and Independent East Williamsburg
Sign the petition and have your voice heard in our democracy: Let East Williamsburg Secede From Williamsburg
Guess what? The doosh has comments moderated and gives no reason why they want to secede or what they’re seceding from.
Oh, and his name is Ian.
Oh no. Is it this Ian, the one too cool to name his new cat?
For the list-addicted hipsters. Here are some signs you’re quickly turning into an old, crazy dude who’s probably latently gay:
1) You start collecting cats.
2) You make videos of yourself ‘meditating’ in silence for several minutes on end, preferably with the camera pointed up your nose.
3) You tell everyone who’s been worried about your drugs and craziness that have been going on for years on end, it was all just a demonstration of your immeasurable acting talent.
4) You move to NYC and quickly begin convincing everyone within ear shot that the solution to all their problems is to do what your racist family back home is trying to do: Secede from everything around them that doesn’t play a fiddle.
5) Blame everything on any woman who wants nothing to do with you.
There are no other signs.
It’s not THAT Ian. It’s this Ian, ianmac47, who can’t open a champagne bottle with a meat cleaver.
From the site:
0 Responses to “Join the Movement Sweeping North Brooklyn: Demand a Free and Independent East Williamsburg”
Then again, what the fuck is he seceding from?
The Federal Govt?
New York State?
Brooklyn?
Williamsburg?
(The last 2 being totally pointless)
Here’s his site:
http://www.ianmacallen.com/
And here’s his poetry:
I’d like to open his head with that meat cleaver. You know, a bury the hatchet kind of thing.
From his site:
When I was seventeen, a military recruiter who must have lifted my home phone number from a college application or SAT registration or perhaps through some more nefarious means; several times a month the recruitment office would call asking for me.
Yeah, they wanted him to be a target.
1-2-3 RUN, ASSHOLE…
“Yeah, they wanted him to be a target.”
“Lock and load one twenty round magazine. Shooters, watch your lanes.”
You know how fast a BIT/AIT class can burn through pop up targets. And this one would be interactive:
http://i239.photobucket.com/albums/ff149/SfanGoch/1279572025–100719-A-8880P-0092-1.jpg
And note that the shooter is a female Soldier. While neckbeards seem to be attracted to Alpha females, she is definitely no Molly Canklesaurus. Hooah!
A quick note to all of the Arty the Seal lookalikes reading this: you might want to get your semen paintings to a gallery now, because the bubble is finally blowing up.
http://www.thedailybeast.com/newsweek/2012/12/09/blake-gopnik-pop-goes-the-art-bubble.html
I’m actually sympathetic to one group that will be directly affected by this. Just as when the weekly newspaper business imploded, when the bottom falls out of the speculation art market, you’re going to have any number of coke dealers who won’t be able to send their grandkids to Harvard any longer.
I heard one of Matthew Silver’s used speedos fetched $10. That is, he gave a bum $10 to take it. The bum burned it. While Matthew was wearing it. The ART ART ART ART ART ART ART ART world was aghast…
Heh heh
Poor ol’ Arty is taking a beating lately. He’s probably very bummed to also hear that the Walton family ( Sam Walton’s ) built a humongous museum in Arkansas and have been gobbling up a shitload of art work, which has greatly disturbed some longstanders in the Art community. OTOH, must of these people are billionaires and so are probably blissfully unware of the hipster-tainted shit that Arty has been subjected to.
I recently had the misfortune of attending a gallery opening for the first time in years. OMG, it was the most scary experience I’ve had in a long time. Scary in a very very weird way. Not scary because the art was weird. It wasn’t. Scary because it was so fucking boring and lame and because the artists had absolutely nothing to talk about. I mean NOTHING!!!
Whatever happened to the day when artists were the vanguard of new ideas?
What happened to the day when artists tried to outdo each other in shock value?
This exhibition was neither. It was like a bunch of mental patients spewing meaningless babble after receiving their injections for the day.
The paintings were the usual meaningless crap but the publications they had were worse. Lots’ of photocopied “zines” consisting of fancy fonts and meaningless pictures of dead birds or something stupid and psychobabble text about nothing. WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY SAYING???? I could not figure out.
These were mostly recently graduated students. Students who just spent 5 years spewing nothing, gaining no talent and trying to cover it in a layer of shit that no-one wants to admit is just shit. I don’t want to think how much student debt they owe or how much money mom and dad are going to waste in trustfunds.
All I could think of is what is the fucking world coming to? Are these people going to be looking after me in my old age?
Then again, if Sam Walton is spending millions on shitty art, maybe Stevie is right and I’m missing something after all.
I like this one. Like a nice shot, it’s straight and to the point.