You stab the hot dog sections with the uncooked spaghetti and boil.

Do You Know Where Your Memes Come From?

It’s an unverified fact that many of the major Internet memes of the last year (Chatroulette & IWriteLike, to name two) have sprung from the brainmush of young Russian geniuses. At the same time, we have apprehended at least one very sexy Russian spy known to canoodle with tech bigwigs on U.S. soil, and a handful of inconspicuously unsexy Russian spies with a knack (unrelated to point) for growing healthy hydrangeas (Also unrelated to point: is that girl like SO happy she got a joke into the Times? I mean, I would be SO HAPPY.) My first theory was that the poor unfortunate spies were victims of some sort of Hot Tub Time Machine journey and were mistakenly operating as if in the Cold War era (a plot perhaps to be turned into a Brendan Frasier* movie), but, consider this comrades: what if these SPIES were here to learn our taste and proffer us endless cultural delight and constant virtual candy designed to lull us into the acquiescent state of puppies getting a good belly rub? Like what if their memos back to the motherland were “129-456 Like deciding which famous person they are similar to” or “234-868 Like showing genitals on grainy web cams”? I mean, just WHAT IF?

This post is sponsored by the I Couldn’t Think of Anything To Write About Today Foundation.

*Brendan Frasier, I hath not forsaken you!

A Short Story About Soho House

(phone rings)

Hey you! What’s that? You want me to come to Soho House? Sure, I mean I was just at Soho House last night. HAHAHAHA, I know. Soho House is the shit! Yeah, no problem I’ll just catch a cab to Soho House. Okay, getting in the cab to Soho House now. I’ll see you at Soho House, girl! Wait, did I tell you that hilarious thing that happened at Soho House LAST week? OMG, it was just so so typical Soho House, you know? Just totally Soho House being Soho House. Okay, I'm seriously on my way to Soho House now. (“Soho House, pls. Can you avoid 6th Ave?”) Be at Soho House in 5 minutes! Wait outside of Soho House for me, k?

Protagonist arrives at Soho House.

Fin.

Mad Men Season 4: Prediction Time!

Matt Weiner, Mad Men creator/tyrannical czar, recently told Entertainment Weekly:

"The theme of the season is 'Who am I?' It's about stripping away the things that these people think define them. Once they're taken away, they just may have to look at who they really are."

What are these essence-defining things our favorite elegantly-draped, abulically unhappy characters will have to learn to live without? Some guesses:

Don will lose his penis (or at least a section of it) in the front seat of his Coupe de Ville, one fateful night with the over-earnest, possibly unhinged school teacher, you know, World According To Garp-style.

Sally will lose her lisp, and her long hair, so she can emerge from puberty as the tool-bearing "little lesbian" we all know (and hope) she can be.

Joan will lose her dick of a husband in the war (THANK GAWD). And to get a little meta here, hopefully Christina Hendricks will lose her unfortunate penchant for giving dumb interviews that make her seem far more one-dimensional than the character she plays.

Betty will lose all the money that she inherited after her father's passing when her family's BP stock plummets during the oil leak in a special Doctor Who/Mad Men mashup episode.

Pete will lose his clothes, his apartment, his car, his toilet...basically, his dignity. Oh wait.

And Peggy is perfect and she doesn't need to change shit and don't you dare disagree with me here.

If I Knew How To Edit Film I Would Make A Montage of All The Computer Disk Scenes From 90's Movies, But I Don't.

If you choose to do it, please start with these incredibly hilarious shots from The Net:

Do You Know What A Brooklyn Hit Is?

I shall tell you.

In this life, you will meet people who do activities because they enjoy doing them, and people who do activities because the activities like them back. You might also meet people with horrific handicaps who are incapable of activity. If I hadn’t already adapted my drafting compass for use as a sophisticated heroin injector, I would Venn-D this shit because there’s some obvious overlap between the various camps—like if you’re born with the natural physique and testosterone stores that make one innately good at crushing nerds into garbage cans there’s a good chance you’ll probably learn to like crushing nerds into garbage cans.

The real important point of this exposition is that I’m part of the latter group— I power walk because my body does good at a bouncy 4 mph. I put the hamburger in my mouth because that cow specifically requested to be there. And now I bowl, because I recently scored a 111, which I’ve been told is great score for a lady without a mullet.

There are many terms batted about the universe of bowling—“Strike,” “Spare,” “Where’s the fucking money Lebowski?”—but today we’re going to concern ourselves with a shot called the Brooklyn.

A Brooklyn is a roll that hits at the opposite side of the pocket from where it was thrown. If you’re a rightie, that means the ball impacts at the 1 & 2 pins; for the left-handed among us it’s a shot to the 1 & 3. It’s a fairly ugly ball that rarely yields any marks (but when it does it’s called a Brooklyn Strike). Contrary to many Internet rumors out there theorizing that the Brooklyn hit is a geographical metaphor—the logic being the denizens of Manhattan are DOIN’ IT RONG when they “cross over” to Brooklyn, the true derivation is from another, smaller-balled sport: baseball. Specifically, a baseball team, The Brooklyn Dodgers. In 1956, after a stunning season in which the Dodgers finished in first place with 93 wins, they went on to face the New York Yankees in the World Series. There they were humiliated like shaved Chihuahuas before a pack of wolves. The Yankees won all seven Series matches, one of which was a perfect game thrown by Yankees’ pitcher Don Larsen. Thus the sloppy form of the Brooklyn Dodgers during their disasterous ’56 World Series showing became immortalized as a term for a typically ill-fated bowl to the opposite pin side. And this is what we talk about when we talk about Brooklyn Hits at dirty bowling alleys.

Here is an interview I did while RAGING on ENERGY JERKY!!!!!


And here is a fascinating article about how the Donner family WERE NOT actually cannibals.

The only relation between these two things is that everything you know is wrong.