Saturday, December 27, 2008

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

new british anti-cocaine spots

apparently the Brits are going with an uncomfortable satiric humor approach to getting kids to stop doing coke. Talking mascots include a tiny, fluffy dog that they claim is being used as a mule (couldn't really hold much innit?), a bag of coke and a dude's nostrils. Seeing this fake stuffed dog with a hole in its stomach is totally weird and will probably make a lot of people uncomfortable. but I think that's the point.

this one has the talking baggie, which is reminiscent of the Oprah's minge episode of South Park. This one in particular makes me cringe, mostly just because I hate this guy's stupid accent and the unfunny jokes. also, it's apparently a Scottish bag.

then there's this one with the nostrils. uninspired comedy and predictable premise, outside of those two things the message is delivered like a brochure in a high school guidance counselor's office.

so these ads are lame and will (like pretty much every single anti-drug campaign) simply give fodder to those who already use. But, in 2009 (yup), the success of campaigns is pretty much measured in one way, and you're seeing it right here. Word-of-mouth is all that matters, and these spots seem like they were made with the youtube/blog world explicitly in mind. Like the new Burger King "Whopper Virgins" campaign, this already has people talking. So if the responsible parties were trying to get people commenting on threads about how much they hate these ads, then they may have already succeeded. But getting kids to stop buying coke? Try introducing some American rap mixtapes into lesson plans and curriculums. This will teach them just how despicable it is to be a "fiend." They will look down on "customers." Sure, you'll have a generation of kids who aspire to be drug dealers, but it hasn't really failed here in the States, plus, if everyone's dealing then no one's using! Young Jeezy will work well, I'm sure. I mean, it's probably better than showing them a bag of coke for over a minute and a girl blowing a line off a toilet seat and a "disco" kid dancing in a club.

Monday, December 08, 2008

bill murray

Bill Murray is my personal patron saint. I feel like I know him because I've grown up with him. He raised me. Not only is he my favorite actor of all time, he's easily one of the figures who has made the most significant mark on my sensibilities and humor. From movies like, first, Ghostbusters (which was pretty much the only thing I cared about when I was like 5 years old), then Groundhog Day and Scrooged, then Caddyshack, and then Rushmore and to a lesser extent Lost In Translation. The only other movies that had as big of an influence besides Bill Murray movies were probably Tim Burton and Wayne's World.

But the idea that he walks around nowadays like some sort of wandering trickster/Socrates type is really interesting to me. Apparently the man is into social experimenting and people's reactions to strangers doing strange things to them and pretty much just fucks with people.

There’s an urban legend that’s gone around until no one is sure who it happened to, or if it happened at all. It was late one night, a few years ago, when a young man was walking through Union Square Park. He suddenly felt someone behind him, their hands over his eyes. When he turned in surprise, there was Bill Murray, his creased face leaning in close. Bill whispered, “No one is ever going to believe you,” and then just walked away.

— From an article in this week’s Page Six Magazine (not yet online), which looks at Murray’s recent forays into Brooklyn house parties and wonders aloud if he is going through a mid-life crisis.

I also read a comment on Gawker that someone wrote in which they described a moment in a bar when Bill Murray suddenly made eye contact with them and then ran up and started tickling them. This is important work this man is doing.

And then there's this. lolbrooklyn

Thursday, December 04, 2008

I Watched as the Light Changed Over the Water - FICTION

I followed Adam out of the drug store and stumbled back onto State. St. People quickly crossed my blurred vision, all busy in their routines. No one saw me behind my sunglasses except for my friend, the only other person on the street who knew what to do with the tin foil and baking soda he just bought from Walgreen’s.

It's never been clear whether Adam is serious. He's an ambiguous caricature of himself, crafted through hundreds of half-sarcastic quips and asides that began as funny in-jokes among our friends but now seem more and more real. So it never really fazed me when he joked about crack, something he had done countless times since I met him.
I had seen him do some pretty crazy things, but crack is just too silly. People who smoke crack live in trailer parks, not in Statesider. It carries such an intense stigma that it seems like a universal line that no one can cross, even the most adventurous. I never thought he was serious.

Giggling, he clutched his plastic shopping bag like it was a new puppy and I tried to keep up with him as we rushed through the pedestrian traffic. I had begun to figure out what this field trip was really about.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” I yelled, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. With a menthol cigarette dangling from his mouth, holding his pants up with one had and squeezing the shopping bag to his chest with the other, he stared blankly at me. I was now shouting loudly on the sidewalk in front of his building, normal people enjoying the summer weather and the sun beating down on us.

Adam shook me off and ran up the stairs to his apartment, slammed the door and locked it. He had just moved in so it was empty except for a few boxes, a stereo and an overflowing ashtray. It now seemed like an ideal environment for deviant behavior.

He had been hanging on by a thread for the past couple years, barely maintaining sanity. The day’s activity did not seem like a positive development for him and I did my best to voice my disapproval. But as he prepared, his excitement filled the room. It was like watching a child unwrap presents at his birthday party.

He laughed and excitedly bounced around his tiny kitchen building some sort of deranged contraption. He explained every detail as he followed the directions he had found by Googling the words “making crack.”
I felt depraved and twisted knowing that I was in a room that would shortly become a crack house, but I was having a hard time containing my laughter. I stared with rapt attention and my hand covering my open mouth, the way I would probably gawk at a freak show. This felt more like rubbernecking after a bad accident on the highway, though.

When Adam finally lowered the torch lighter over the foil, I stopped pacing and pulling at my hair to peer over his shoulder. The bubbling powder spilled over the sides of the measuring cup. That’s when I knew we both had finally lost it.

Monday, December 01, 2008

rap rotation

I think I'm gonna do this more often. here's my current late-08 rotation

OJ Da Juiceman "Culinary Art School"
ridiculously ignorant drug rap of the highest order. Post-Gucci Mane mush-mouthed South flow with one of the most unique Ad Lib games in recent history. maybe this is like the new Trap Or Die.

I'm convinced that Gucci is not only one of the most entertaining rappers around but he's also not actually a human living in the USA in 2008. dude is definitely something else...He doesn't speak English, his mouth doesn't really make the same types of sounds, and he looks really fucking scary.

get the fuck off my blog if you don't like scarface

Classic. Probably my favorite and most listened-to cd/mix/whatever of the past 6 months. PRGz should be the new Beatles.

G-SIDE "Starshipz and Rocketz"
more Alabama. killing it. like a mix of Organized Noise circa ATLiens and G Space Age Pimpin 8Ball & MJG...this is a filthy good country rap album.

I don't how the someone who can barely be qualified as sane can even make three albums in a little over a year PLUS go to jail, but Prodigy has made three DOPE albums in a row. it's fun to listen to his ridiculous, delusional paranoia and crack stories.

this goes in just for The Greatest Mixtape Cover of All Time.