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Everyone. Welcome to the best song of the summer of 2010.
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I happen to have had something to drink. Not sure what.
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While I am NOT one for animal murder, this leviathan had clearly become a danger to everyone within a couple thousand miles of it. It’s biblical. I shudder to think of seeing it in the flesh: like the goddamned basilisk, it had indeed become a danger to humanity. Godzilla here was caught picking off...
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Codes are in everything if your mind is mathematically inclined enough. Some minds see the turn of the wall as an equation, a matrix. Numbers. Lines. Squiggles incomprehensible. Line them up. Holes over the portrait’s eyes. Chinese puzzle boxes. Subterfuge! Damn, the word cypher is awesome. Oh. And here’s another five dollar word. Steganography....
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As the resident expert on sound, I figured it was about time I addressed this iDosing business. Middle America is terrified. Our children our being corrupted by stupid lava lamp graphics and poorly composed musical dronings. But I ask you, when did kids become such pussies? Back in my day we used to eat...
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Open on a handsome young man being chased who is constantly looking over his shoulder for an unknown enemy. He is disheveled yet well-dressed and bespectacled. He runs down a hallway and passes a young orphaned girl in tattered clothes. Their eyes meet briefly. He rushes around a corner into a room.  There is...
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“There are and there will be thousands of princes. There is only one Beethoven” -Ludwig von Beethoven Sometimes a perfect summertime tune just makes you want to take your shirt off. Beethoven’s 6th (1808) is not one of those tunes. But. Only cause it’s an antique in 2010. Known as “The Pastoral Symphony”, Beethoven...
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. . There are many blockbuster stages in life. The World Cup is a blockbuster stage. Film score led by the vuvuzela. The sound of that incessant tube horn will be singular to an African World Cup. It may have a linger at some other sporting events as a fad...
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On November 19, 1942 Bruno Schulz never made it home to dessert. He died in act of random political violence on the streets of Drohobycz, his Polish hometown. Fucking Nazis don’t like pie, and unfortunately, the pie that he could describe with such perfect childlike fascination and...
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