The Problem with Public Education

Wall of Sound, meet wall of… prison

Dear Phil Spector,

Way to go with the whole inventing modern music production thing. That’s awesome. Oh, and also great job on FUCKING KILLING SOMEBODY IN YOUR HOUSE, WALKING OUT WITH THE GUN, AND SAYING “I THINK I KILLED SOMEBODY” LOUDLY ENOUGH FOR THE NEIGHBOR TO HEAR. That’s inspired.

As a soon-to-be college graduate – which to date it had never occurred to me to equate with “unemployed” – I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. Namely, how do I get to where I want to be? The answer isn’t important. What’s important is what the fuck is the deal with people who are totally ALL SET doing really fucking stupid things and screwing it all up?

To-do list of wildly successful, happily retired music producer:
1. Don’t kill the hot actress I’m shacking up with!
2. Whatever else

What, Phil, did she lose that lovin’ feeling? Too bad instead of grabbing your bro and weeping about it you popped one in her face. Cause even with a bloodstain on the carpet, your big house is a lot better than the big house.

Maybe you got jealous of Michael Vick, TI, Paris Hilton, Martha Stewart, etc, etc, et-fucking-cetera, who were getting all the attention.

So really:

Dear Rich and Powerful,

Stop screwing it all up. Leave the murder, gun posession, dogfighting, drunk driving, and insider trading to those of us who need the free food. If you want butt sex, you can afford it.

In short, let it be.

Love and kisses,

The Culturefuckers

Sensationalism Hits Sexist Fucktards, Too

It’s official: the boys’ club that is culturefuck has been invaded. By vaginas.

As the pioneering female contributor for this fine amalgam of snarky, webular wit, I feel it’s my duty to warn culturefuck’s female readers (or femmy dude readers, whatever) that I am no feminist. I love women in the way that has all you non-femmy dudes feeling your pants tighten around the crotch, the same way Jason Mewes loves women – for their titties. I also love men, mostly for their peens. But that’s beside the point.

As anyone who’s ever gone to junior high or listened to Avril Lavigne knows, girls suck. I won’t deny this. In fact, I would even go so far as to say I dislike most women. I actually think that joke about what you say to a woman with two black eyes is pretty funny. Which makes the rest of this post fairly hypocritical, so if that bothers you, I suggest you leave now. But I have a bone to pick with one of the many Boston publications that, day by day, engineers its own failure through the use of shoddy journalism and poor copy editing. (It’s true – local print news with integrity is becoming increasingly hard to find. But hope is out there.)

What the fuck, Metro? Have you gotten your datelines confused? This is not 1956, nor are today’s news seekers, no matter how barely literate they may be (they are, after all, reading the Metro) likely to tolerate the blatant display of misogyny that littered your pages this morning. I’m talking, of course, about the headline “Recession Hits Women, Too,” emblazoned across an interior spread as well as the Metro website, both of which, I might add, suffer from some pretty heinous design issues. Plus the newsprint makes my fingers dirty.

For serious? This article was written by a woman? Well, Heidi Patalano, your screaming headline fails on two fronts: it’s offensive, and besides that, it doesn’t even provide an accurate preview of the article’s content (I mean, it does in a certain way, but more on that later). No shit the fucking GLOBAL RECESSION affects women too, being that they make up more than half of the population of our financially depressed earth. The article goes on to explain that women have actually been more affected by the economic downturn than men, due to factors like the prevalence of women in home care and part time jobs. Why couldn’t the headline reflect those interesting statistics? Could it be that the incredibly rapid drop in the success of your publication has led you to let sensationalism slide past editorial, hoping you’ll garner more readers with this shit?

But what’s more, and what’s probably worse, is the logic of the chosen headline in relation to the article’s sidebars. While the body of the piece focuses on the working woman, the supplemental materials add that the demand for women’s shelters due to domestic abuse has gone up significantly in recent years. Ohhh, I get it, Heidi Patalano. “Recession Hits Women, Too?” That’s clever. Because the staggering and extremely serious national/global issue of intimate partner violence pretty much boils down to hitting women, right? I mean, it wouldn’t be all that harmful to simplify it like that. That’s not how these things are allowed to go unnoticed and become epidemic-sized problems or anything. I’m sure the play on words was just irresistible to a wordsmith like you. Cunt.

Ah, well. It’s not like anyone reads newspapers anymore, anyway. Maybe when the Metro goes under (right), Heidi Patalano can get a job as a nanny or caretaker for the elderly and find out just how hilarious it is to get raped by the economy.

It’s fun to stay at the F-R-A-T, It’s fun to stay at the…

This is one of those moments where you think, “Uh…thanks? Cool? I guess?” In case you can’t quite tell what’s going on, the University of Chicago chapter of Alpha Delta Phi took it upon themselves to piss off Ted Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church aka These Fuckers Almost Make Hitler Look Like a Care Bear (Except That They Haven’t Committed Any Acts of Genocide As Far As I Know, So That’s Actually a Terribly Unfair and Moderately to Extremely Tasteless and Ignorant Comparison, But I Hope It Drives the Point Home Regardless) by imitating the Village People and dancing like big gay stereotypes. So way to go, Frat Boys*, for combating prejudice and stereotypes by…reinforcing stereotypes.

The Westboro Baptist Church once similarly protested a performance of The Laramie Project in Boston’s South End, and in case the pink borders on the South End wiki website didn’t make it clear, the only way to avoid being the gayest thing since gay came to Gaytown is by actually being Gaytown; enter the South End (I mean, if you really want to enter the South End, that’s cool with me. Really. I won’t judge you. Hell, I lived there for 2 years. They have lots of nice gardens, and all of the bars make very strong drinks despite the apparent lack of women in their demographic). See, the WBC believes that the killing of Matthew Shepherd in fact had nothing to do with his sexuality, but rather, it was a strictly gang-related act of retaliation for some drug deal in which he was involved. The mere fact that it was said to be a hate crime is, apparently, further proof of the vast, insidious conspiracy known only as The Homosexual Agenda. Unfortunately for the Westboro Baptists (is that like Southern Baptist?), only about 5 people showed up, as opposed to the 250+ Counter-Protesters. Even better is that, in an effort to undermine the efforts of the church, a number of gay philanthropists have started pledging money for every minute that these protests continue. In the end, these 5 lonely homophobes spent a mere 45 minutes raising $5,000+ for pro-LGBT causes. GO TEAM. Way to stick it to the (gay) man.

*Then again, what do I know? I am, by most definitions, a “Frat** Boy” myself. Except that mine is a co-ed professional arts/communication fraternity, which means that more than half of my fraternity consists of chicks, and that more than half of the remaining are gay themselves. We once prided ourselves on being the only fraternity that could spoon without being too gay.

**And it’s called it a FRATERNITY. Would you call your country a cunt? Didn’t think so.

And now: Panda Sex

And you thought I was kidding, too. Ha! That’ll learn ‘em!

My next post will be an apology.

The Morning After

Apparently, a man in Australia has been breaking into sex shops at night to have sex with blow-up dolls. And after the sex? “The dolls were dumped unceremoniously in an alleyway behind the store,” according to the store owner, who also insists that the man (fortunately) always cleans up after himself.

My problem is not that he’s been having sex with blow-up dolls that don’t belong him, but rather that this man still doesn’t have the decency to respect them in the morning. He doesn’t make them breakfast. He doesn’t pay for the cab home. He doesn’t let them share his toothbrush. He doesn’t even give ‘em a kiss in the morning (and really, how bad could the morning breathe of a blow-up doll be)! He just tosses ‘em out in the alley, like a cheap hooker. Done and done and on to the next one.

Some men just don’t know how to treat a lady.

The World’s Forgotten Boys

For the fifteenth year in a row since obtaining eligibility, Iggy Pop’s band The Stooges have been denied entrance into the Rock And Roll Hall of Fame. While I’m hardly the biggest Iggy Pop fan in the world, this fact still greatly upsets me. And it’s not for poor Iggy’s sake–it’s for my own. Call me selfish, but I’m absolutely sick and tired of self-proclaimed Rock and Roll Institutions that are completely ignorant of what the music that they claim to represent actually stands for, and instead rely on totally arbitrary criteria to compile their hierarchy of greatness. Sometimes, this criteria includes record sales; sometimes it refers to critical acclaim. Sometimes it’s all about influence, and the effect that the band or individual had on the continuing development of Rock and Roll, despite their actual musical value (The Sex Pistols come to mind).

I’m not knocking on the Ronettes, or on Run-DMC (it is, after all, their house), although I may be knocking on Metallica a little here. I am by no means a big fan of metal, but I can still appreciate Lars and the gang for their musical contributions. I can also hate on them for inspiring every shitty adolescent aspiring guitarist to run to the nearest Guitar Center, grab a stupid fucking Ibanez guitar that sounds like ass, plug it in to a Peavey 5150 and try to play the solo to “One” at top volume, thus ruining my shopping experience. I am unafraid to acknowledge their commercial success, either. But without the Stooges, along with the MC5 and New York Dolls (both of whom are also conspicuously absent from the list), there likely would never have even been a Metallica* (although, where I’m coming from, this may have actually been a good thing, so perhaps we shouldn’t award them for these sonic crimes). Sure, Metallica has had much greater success on the charts than the Stooges ever did, but at least the Stooges have maintained their integrity.

And yes, performing “Ray of Light” (and quoting “Like a Virgin” like a rapist) does count as maintaining your integrity.

Isn’t he just so cute when he runs up to Madonna at the end? Like a little boy on Christmas! Except old. And drug-addled. And shirtless.

Oh hey, remember that time that James Hetfield totally outed Lars Ulrich for illegally downloading? The backlash for that wasn’t nearly as large and ravenous as it should have been.

Really, proclaiming anyone to be an “authority” on rock and roll, and thereby enabling them to make such capricious and erratic decisions as these, goes against the inherent nature of the music, a critical factor to its cultural and sonic development. Not that all rock and roll needs to be anti-authority, but that the tendency of rock and roll to go against the grain and defy convention is intertwined with its history. Often, this has come across as anti-authoritarian, but it isn’t necessarily so. This is why the Stooges’ rejection bothers me: apparently, The Powers That Be would rather induct John Lennon, George Harrision, and Paul McCartney twice each (what, Ringo’s solo career isn’t good enough?…don’t answer that) before letting The Stooges grace their halls. Could it be his refusal to wear a shirt? Does the Rock and Roll Hall of the Fame subscribe to the “No Shirts, No Shoes, No Service” policy? I truly believe that Iggy would cover up his nipples, if only you would ask him nicely to do so. Who knows–maybe he’d even wear a suit! Still, such discrimination has no place in the hallowed halls of Rock and Roll, and if this is the case, then perhaps your halls are not so hallowed after all, Mr. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. The only other possible explanation I can think of is that someone confused Iggy Pop with Tom Petty.

Tom Petty

Iggy Pop

Really, it’s an innocent mistake, and a public acknowledgment of it, followed by immediate reparations, would make everyone involved much, much happier (although, I suppose more drugs would make Iggy happy, too). So next year, when going over your supercilious and subjective criteria, please don’t overlook the darling idiotchild of pre-punk rock and roll, Mr. James Newell Osterberg, and his three fellow Stooges.

Iggy Pop: For a Better America.

*I suppose this renders my former statement about “influential-despite-commercial-failure” status being on the list of arbitrary criteria null and void. Unless you’re Pavement.

Holy Tittyfuck, Batman!

How come no one told me that Lindsay Lohan’s gay?!

EDIT: Apparently, everyone else did know this, and I don’t read Perez often enough (or at all). And supposedly, there is some trouble in paradise now, too!

Masturbatron

RealTouch: Virtual Sex is Now Reality

Yes, that’s right. Virtual Sex is Now Reality. Let’s try that once more with feeling: VIRTUAL SEX IS NOW REALITY. The future of masturbation is here, and yours for only $149.95 (plus shipping and handling). 30-day Risk-free Trial! Available for gay and straight men alike. Oh boy! (boys?)

It’s like this: you plug the USB cable from the RealTouch into your computer and it interfaces with advanced Haptic technology. This allows you to experience whatever sexual sensations might be happening in the porn that you’re watching. You can FEEL your porn–set it to mouth, hand, vagina, anus, two hands, foot, ear, nose, whatever. REALTOUCH DOES IT ALL.

Did I mention it was developed by former NASA engineers?

A friend did point out one troublesome detail: there is no receptacle for your manjuices. You still have to clean up afterward. According to the website, a simple rinse-and-air-dry will do the trick (just make sure you rinse it out before you lend it to a friend. That’d be even weirder than crossing streams). Perhaps they’re saving such a feature for RealTouch v2.0? On the bright side, I guess it reduces the risk of staining your favorite shirt. This FAQ insists that, while you can wear a condom if you so desire, it is by no means necessary. Maybe you can try it with those Numbing Sensation condoms so you can last longer?

Unfortunately, the “Testimonials” (hee-hee. Testes) and “Tips & Tricks” sections of the website are still under construction. The video is entirely worth watching, however, as the congenial spokesperson tries ever-so-hard to mask her discomfort while saying things like, “RealTouch mimics authentic blowjobs, anal sex, vaginal sex, handjobs, footjobs, and just about any sexual sensation you can imagine. The haptic technology present in RealTouch also recreates more subtle nuances such as the feel of a woman when she squirts during intercourse. This is one-of-a-kind technology designed to make sure that you get the most authentic sexual experience possible, however you like it,” with the endearing monotone of late night infomercial hosts. Seriously, you’d think she was talking about a Hoover vacuum or something (actually, I guess she kind of is).

So there you have it. I have seen the future. And it’s really fucking horny.