You Won't Believe The Shit That Happened This Week That You Already Don't Remember

by Alan Hanson

Everyone was so riled up about culture this week that I had to drink a whole bottle of ACME Acid every morning just to cope with my pointless existence. What kind of bullshit did we jerk our jaws off for? Come, let me chew your food with my metal teeth and my dashing enzymes!

Selfies

Call me the Lizard Lord of Dooftopia and spank me silly with the atrocities of change! Shower me in selfies of varying qualities, poor lighting, and Vampiric Vanity! Listen, butterfly thinkers, the telegram didn’t cut us down and the telephone made us say I Love You more. Let visual communication of Self spread even more so. Each silly song posted to my personal blog, every review of every film I’ve seen, every week I write this column — these are selfies, barely disguised. And to the Magazines and the Movie Madonnas and the Billboard Babes and Buddies and Mr. Advertising, we proponents of the Selfie, we say Shove It! We say Look At You, Helpless And Losing All Power! Let us flood every bright surface with our own faces, our own chosen depictions, and forget every face you forced down our face-throats. We’re already enjoying it, already enjoying knowing what we look like, liking what we look like, rather than what we Should Look Like. Should can spin itself into a fist and pound sand while we’re going breathless non-stop gnawing these discussions. What a trend! This trend of over-talking the trends! Isn’t it exhausting being exhausted?

Lulu

Lots of Lulu talk this week! Thank god for the New York Times. Does classism go both ways? ’Cause boy howdy do I detest the success stories of the wealthy and their fun people-rating apps hatched at brunch and their fireworked Nights of Passion echoed across the Branson Islands and back. Isn’t it pretty objectively gross to rate Human Beings in any way? Isn’t part of dating figuring out these things about people on your own? If you’re so worried about going on a date with someone THAT YOU ALREADY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH then you should check your local sex offender listings or REFINE YOUR SHITTY TASTE. Everything is so “best of” and “top ten” and “the worst this” and “in your 20s” can’t we all just BE for a little while? Leave some mystery? Date each other for dating’s sake? Don’t cut the exploration. Quit Yelping humanity.

Anyway, should men wear blazers with jeans? Hahahaha, I don’t give a fuck!

George Zimmerman

God fuck me in the solar plexus with a Titanium Dick each morning I flip my limping eyelids to another American Groundhog Day of armed clowns and earthquake parties. Somewhere a mother, baptized and thankful, forehead full of oil, is rubbing her delicate pads over his baby belly, his pouting brow, soothing and sweet, seeping warm words like “Georgie, my Georgie boy, my little George, my little Man, my Georgie Porgie sweetie pie, hush little G, little Georgina of Past, hush and sleep again, Cherub George.” That’s the kind of sad sock I can expect! But somewhere else, somewhere in this world, the tangible, existing one, there was a punk band named The Dicks and they were Mad Important for various reasons, one of which was being openly gay and singing about it in a punk band, which, unfortunately, was new! and brave! But on top of that, these beautiful Dicks from Texas wrote a nasty and wonderful song called “Dicks Hate The Police” which is basically a song about George Zimmerman but 33 years in advance. Or a song about men abusing their authority and using guns to make them feel like Big Men, so kind of the same thing! LOLOLOLOLOL. Oh man, it’s so fitting it fucking hurts! A lot!

Sexiest Man Alive: Adam Levine

OK what’s up with this am I right ladieeeeesssss? [crowd goes fucking wild] No but seriously I get it, I think, even though most every famous dude kind of looks the same? At least in this category of stubble and styled perma-wet hair? So that happened. And earlier this year ScarJo was named sexiest woman, again, and like, I get that, too. It’s just, for the first time I’m realizing that no one really cares that no one really looks like this but we all still want to talk about it? I can’t describe how it feels, but I know I don’t like it! I get the same feeling about Adam Levine that I do when I think about Justin Bieber these days, which is this: they would look at you hard in the eyes when they fingered you and be all like “yeah, you fucking like that?” and I think I understand why sometimes BAD and DIRTY and NAUGHTY are turn-ons but that doesn’t sound SEXY to me. Obviously, I’m not really qualified to comment on this for “real” but can men even be sexy? I’m not sure anymore! I definitely know I CAN NOT which is comforting and also kind of a bummer? Like, what’s it like? I think I’d care more about the privilege or just never having to try too hard at much else. You probably get to play tennis for free, like, all the time. Anyway, time to go look at some porn on the internet. Have a good shitty week!

Alan Hanson is a Californian writer living in Harlem.