Proof that all high-school French textbooks were published between 1973 and 1979.

This is exactly the kind of thing I think about doing every time I decide not to get rid of all the old magazines in my basement.

http://iiidragons.com/gallery/Van-Advertisements

via BoingBoing

Powered by ScribeFire.

This isn’t my favorite bike from my new favorite online gallery of Bicycle Pr0n, but I love this line:

This is my track bike. It spends most of its time sitting in front of the local coffee shop begging passerbys to answer the question, “Which pared down intellectual in this drab place has the universal cachet to ride such a beast?” I do (not well, mind you).

BTW, here’s a favorite and another and another

Powered by ScribeFire.

Why do they make the loser sing the song that they crapped out on? Why not have all the people who aren’t going home sing “Nah, nah nah-nah … hey Hey-hey … good bye”?

It’d suck less of them.

Just a quick post to try out the youtube these kids are always talking about …

(more…)

Oh, you don’t remember me, it’s okay. I was one of the random survivors from the first season. I ate a bad hunk of boar and well, before I knew it, I was dispersing my Desert Island Records to the charactors that I thought would enjoy them most. Then it was on to the sweet release of death.

Radiohead: OK Computer
Jack, you’ve got people depending on you, and you’re going to have to let a couple of them fall into the loss column. You do the right thing, do the best you can, and try not to be too much of a martyr. You’re tired. Hey man, slow down.

Afghan Whigs: Gentlemen
Ah, Sawyer, I didn’t care for you at first, but you grew on me. Just like this album. Something tells me that this opus of misogynistic resentment will be right up your alley.

Pulp: This is hardcore
Michael, you used to be an artist, right? Starting to feel kinda old and ordinary? Jarvis Cocker is, too.

NIN: The Fragile
Jin, I know you’re still pretty pissed off about the whole my-wife-speaks-english-and-I-never-knew thing. You’re aloof, a loner, but you’ve got soul. Here’s a double helping of beautiful anger and hopeless resignation.

Portishead: Dummy
Kate, I guess I can admit now, as I lay dying, that I always had a thing for ya. Take this album as a token of my doomed love. Like you, it’s sexy, mysterious and just a little cold. No offense.

Spiritualized: Live at the Royal Albert Hall
Charley, dammit, stay off the junk! That shite will rot ya from the inside out. Of course, if you’re going to anyway, here’s some “music to take drugs by.”

The Best of Guided By Voices: Human Amusements At Hourly Rates
Hurley, you beautiful mess. I just can’t get sick of ya.