Tag Archives: videos

Rocking this Friday Happy 8 Days a Week

never ever false metal

never ever false metal

Today’s Friday Happy is dedicated to MCA of the Beastie Boys, who announced this week he has a cancerous tumor in his salivary gland. Here’s hoping for a full recovery, buddy. Cancer is a piece of fucking stupid trash. You got this.

  • Important points to note: that is Slayer guitarist Kerry King on guitar.
  • Who is in the gorilla suit? If this video were made today, that would probably be Justin Timberlake or Zach Galifianakis or something. But back in 87 it was only most likely only Courtney Cox.

Just remember, MCA: you do what you do best because you’re illing and able.

Friday Happy: Get to Little Eden in time for the fireworks

Happy birthday, America!

You’re 233, but don’t look a day over 210. Little known fact: Fourth of July is actually the best holiday of the year. Why? No bullshit. No arduous family obligations, no intense financial outlay for presents or meals. There’s just kicking back in the summer sun, having a cold one, watching some shit explode and taking a day to enjoy what it means to be ‘merican. This is at least part of what our fathers fought for: the right to not be hassled even just for a day.

After getting back from a week in Europe, I kept thinking about how we don’t have much physical history here in the states, and even our artistic history has a vintage that’s still relatively fresh.

But we do have Steinbeck and Poe, disco fries and pizza, the First Amendment and the New York Times, Michael Jackson and Jay Z, bagels and bars that go all night, Fitzgerald and I Can Haz Cheeseburger, and, of course, Bruce. That’s good enough to force a light into all those stony faces left stranded on this warm July.

Also, click on this site to remember why America is great: because even our giant robots from outer space have huge fucking sex organs.

Friday Happy: We don’t have to change at all

RIP Michael Jackson.

This rather sweet video co-starring Roberta Flack is from the 1974 children’s special “Free To Be… You And Me.” It also included contributions from Dionne Warwick, Mel Brooks, Harry Belafonte, Alan Alda and Shel Silverstein. Why aren’t we making children’s entertainment like this any more? I don’t know, except that I’m pretty sure will.i.am has something to do with it.

A customer at the store yesterday asked me if I thought this would become one of those things that people will always remember where they were when they heard the news. According to customers, a lot of people in Brooklyn were in stores or other public spaces screaming at the top of their lungs. But I kept thinking one thing all day: what are Weird Al’s thoughts on the matter?

Oh that’s right, we don’t have to ever wonder that again.

MJ, you may have been an odd one, but you beat up a car and turned into a cat once, so, you know, that was pretty sweet.

(video via boing boing)

Friday Happy: How long you gonna be, mate?

Slow posting this week because I’m headed to England on Tuesday and slammed to the wall against deadlines until then.

This’ll be my first trip to England. My conceptions of Britain, as filtered through my pop culture education:

Overly obsequious mannerisms towards inter-species intruders

Silly walkers

Regicidal gutter punks

Hormone-addled teenagers carrying dangerous class 5 weapons

Cross-dressing history buffs

And, of course, brutal and terribly dry humour. Here’s an example of how the original Office was so much better than the American version (hint: it wasn’t a sitcom).

Oh Britain, I long for your awkward pauses and reserved tempers. See you soon, mate.

Friday Happy sees the nuns are gay

Good news everyone! The Bollywood strike that crippled one of the largest foreign motion picture industries and sent reverberations throughout Indian communities across the United States has ended!

From the New York Times:

MUMBAI — Indian filmmakers and theater owners settled a two-month dispute about the sharing of ticket revenue Friday, paving the way for ne w Hindi movie releases beginning next week, industry officials said.

Producers and distributors had held back new movies from multiscreen theater companies since early April, demanding that they get an equal share of revenue from ticket sales. The theater owners said a 50-50 revenue split was unacceptable, given that many Hindi-language films do poorly at the box office.

How should we celebrate? By going to any of the various Indian-run theaters in New York to support the arts and culture of our friends from the East? Maybe watching that final scene in Slumdog one more time? Opening a restaurant called “NaanScents?”

Hmm. Yes, those are all well and good. OR you could watch this slightly culturally insensitive video and laugh at it. It’s not a translation but rather a suggestion at what the words sound like in English. It’s long, involved, and requires many, often color-coordinated, full costume changes:

As far as the actual video goes, if  the strike meant that people who have this much choreographical energy, musical passion and, um, ability to dance up a mountainside in pastels wearing sunglasses were going to be out of work, I’m certainly glad that strike has ended.

Welcome back, Bollywood! Your moony bun is fine.

[Thanks to Christine for the link]

Friday Happy: Supermindbendinggroup edition

For this edition of Friday Happy, sit back and enjoy this video from new band Tinted Windows, then let’s discuss.

Why do some of these musical upstarts seem so familiar, you ask?  And why is your brain getting that tingling sensation that either a stroke or a complete black-hole alternate-reality, double-Spock mind crush is impending? Details after the jump (thanks to Cribbster for the tip).

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Friday Happy: Hustle to the mall to get me a short set

It’s Memorial Day weekend. That means one thing….


Summer means stale strains of Sublime songs pumping out of speakers every 20 feet on the Seaside Boardwalk; long lines for a table at the Carrabba’s on Hilton Head (yes, Carrabba’s); Congressional recesses; the cool refreshing oasis of a movie theater showing the latest Pixar film; and, this year, probably a lot of long, lazy days lying out on the roof drinking Brooklyn Summer Ale and reading The New Yorker and lots and lots of comic books (and I do mean lots). It also means personal hygeine shrinks to a bare socially acceptable minimum and my wardrobe recedes into the essential vestments necessary to keep the more shocking bits of self away from scrutiny. Jeans will be put on reserve for formal functions, and only used begrudgingly.

Today’s Friday Happy will be a text-based adventure from a 2008 McSweeeny’s Short Imagined Monologue. Also filed under Things I Wish I Had Written, a file that is becoming tragically obese:

A Pep Talk
for the New Pair
of Shorts I Will Wear
Every Day This Summer.

– – – –

I understand you had higher hopes for where you’d end up. But the simple fact is that I chose you, not some fashion-forward type who’d wear you once every few weeks to lobster boils and garden walks and might even have you professionally laundered. Beyond that, I need to make clear up front that, for me, you aren’t leisure wear, weekend wear, or yacht wear: I won’t be wearing you in the off-hours when I’m not in a suit, because I don’t own a suit. I’m going to need to rely on you all day, every day, day in and day out, until summer is over or you fall in tatters to the ground and cease to be clothing anymore.

It won’t be easy. Washings will be erratic and, at times, infrequent. Creases and lines will become visible. A permanent outline of my wallet will form in your back left pocket. People will make jokes about you being able to stand up on your own. All sorts of drinks, foods, and smoking materials will be dropped on you; some of them will stain, some will bleach, and some will leave unsightly burn holes. At times, I’ll sleep in you. I like to camp, and I’m a bit of a drinker. There will theoretically be times when I wear you for periods of 48 or even 72 continuous hours. The basic rule of thumb will be that if I’m still standing you’re on duty.

Also, I lose at least half my guitar students in summer, so I’ll need you for day-laboring assignments that will involve exposure to anything from thorn bushes to roofing tar. You may find yourself asking why I’d opt out of wearing pants to protect my legs, and the simple answer is that after years of experience I’ve learned to endure scrapes, abrasions, and burns on my legs over being hot. I sweat profusely about the groin area whenever the temperature exceeds 80 degrees. Your tag referred to your fabric as “breathable,” and let’s hope to God, for your sake and mine, that’s true.

Despite the challenges, though, when all is said and done, you will know that it was you and you alone who got me through the summer. At the very least, take comfort in knowing that when it’s over it’s over—you won’t find yourself sandwiched in some musty thrift store awaiting an owner who doesn’t believe in underwear. You’re going out of here in a garbage bag. So buck up and let’s get on with it. A friend of mine is having a fish fry and he needs help cleaning 11 catfish he caught this morning.

Living in Ocean City, Md. one summer, I decided early on to see if I could get by wearing only one pair of board shorts the entire summer, my rationale being that between surfing, ocean swimming and dips in the pool a few times every day, the trunks would be in a constant state of tumble wash and rinse. This went about as well as you are imagining, and about a month in I ceded to decorum and added at least one other pair of shorts to the rotation. Growing up in Jersey, I had a friend Brad who, every day before we went to the beach, would squeeze some shampoo into his Nike hat and throw it on his head so that he would have a ready made wash job as soon as his be-capped head dipped below the waves. Somehow this worked for him.

Oh, what the hell, here’s a video too. It’s Will Smith Fresh Prince and DJ Jazzy Jeff’s beloved “Summertime” circa 1991. If this song doesn’t fill you with the sunny happiness and anticipation of the season ahead, you have died. Please stop reading this blog, as it creeps me out.