Negativland’s big single from their excellent Dispepsi album.
I’m fully aware that this is supposed to be a satirical commentary on advertising and its influence on us and all that fun Adbusters shit or whatever, but I’m gonna be completely honest: This song just makes me want to have some fucking Pepsi.
The Giants covering Lesley Gore on Post-Modern MTV in 1989.
You’ve been around for 30 years — put out the all accordion album already, Johns! Also, young Flansburgh is really hot.
(detail from strange tales #163, 1967, by jim steranko)
steranko called his style “zap art”, and it’s a perfect term: it recalls pop art, while the “zap” carries the “low art” connotations of comics—which is just about what steranko did. he put the silver age aesthetic through funhouse mirrors of cinema, pop art and psychedelia; indelibly kirby-influenced but infused with a sharp graphic sensibility. his panel design was particularly brilliant. as above, they often eschewed conventional sequential technique for visual dynamism—to the point where, at his peak, each page can practically stand as a work unto itself.
I saw a local production of Dog Sees God this weekend — it was pretty damn good! Funny and thought-provoking, it’s a pretty loving parody. You can tell that the writer of the play is a big fan of the strip, and not just throwing something sensationalist together to get knee-jerk reactions out of the audience.
From the episode Cape Feare, Season 5.
Since my job is populated with a heavy amount of nerdy 30-year-old white dudes, we’ve decided to start doing an NCAA-style tournament bracket of quotes from the Simpsons. “No one who speaks German could be an evil man,” though it’s one of my faves, has a tough first round match-up against “It’s a pornography store. I was buying pornography.”
Hi, we’re the Replacements.
Minneapolis wouldn’t have another person with Tommy’s level of ups until KG showed up in ‘95. (What up, basketball references?!?)
And just ‘cause I’m so swell, here’s another 70s anti-drug number, this time from Jonathan Richman’s original incarnation of the Modern Lovers. Er, almost original incarnation at least. John Felice had already left to form Boston proto-punk gods, the Real Kids. Fun fact: Many fans believe that the “Hippie Johnny” character referenced throughout this song is a crack on John Felice.
Anyways, much like a lot of the original Modern Lovers stuff, it’s hard to believe they were doing this kind of shit in the early 70s.
I’m not sure if I should embrace tumblr’s new Spotify music player or not. I don’t like the idea of people being forced to use Spotify if they want to stream stuff on here, though I myself like and use Spotify on occasion, I can understand why people wouldn’t want to. While the pros of posting tracks through the music service - ease and convenience, tracks are legal, fairly good selection - are pretty weighty, use of the streaming device would still require downloading the app. Spotify is only supported in 14 countries at the time of this writing, and then of course there’s their chattery ads and constant plugging of their pay service, not to mention the various shortcomings and problems of the service itself, all of which could exclude potential blog visitors. I don’t see the point in posting something that not everybody who visits this dumb blog can even enjoy.
Hmm. Well, we’ll see.
Anyway, while I ponder this, here’s an unrelated song from 1972 by the Detroit soul giants, the Dramatics. It’s about druuuuuugs, man, and is one of my faves from the much loved “admonished on the grounds of religion” sub-genre of anti-drug songs. Plus, it’s got the whole Satan thing going for it, which always makes for good listening.
Um, I thought of this a few seconds ago as a result of my previous post:
What did the shark with no health insurance face when he severely wounded the flattened appendage he uses to maneuver while swimming?
Fin-ancial ruin!
…
Wow. That bad, huh? Sorry. I feel like I should make it up to you by posting some naked ladies or something.
Man, that is one sad looking octopus. I’m wondering if Aquaman’s kingdom wholly subsidizes his undersea medical practice as part of a government-funded single-payer health care system, because if it doesn’t, I can’t imagine the poor guy has any sort of health coverage. Could the woe-begotten gaze we see on his face in fact be a pain killer-induced vision of a future spent not only physically underwater, but financially underwater too? I certainly hope not.
On a lighter note, you should probably read this story if you can track it down. It features a sea lion that comes down with a case of fish scurvy.
“Calling Dr. Aquaman” from DC’s Adventure Comics #188 (May 1953), art by Ramona Fradon.
And for more Aquaman ridiculousness/greatness/what-the-fuck-ness, check out the uber-cool Tom vs. Aquaman podcast.
Comics, culture, and snappy banter from some guy in Cleveland, Ohio.
