Tortoise and the Hair
Malcolm Gladwell
Getting really tired of Malcolm Gladwell’s “genius” hair, that intentional stylization, or at least neglect, of the intellectually consumed. His 1999 appearance on Charlie Rose is proof that he understands what normal hair is (no comment on the tie). In 2008, on the same show, he looks either high on meth or himself. Gladwell has made a career of being a provocative thinker, and while I do find him pleasantly curious at times, his constantly enthralled persona is exhausting. One more cappuccino on the per-diem en route to The New Yorker offices and he’s gonna have an epiphany about foam. (What the tale don’t tell you is that a fast rabbit is running away from itself.) True, everyone is a poster child of their own cause; I’m just weary of the cause.
Doris, your door is open
"Nobel Prize was a bloody disaster" -- Doris Lessing, The Independent (2008)
Jesus lady, get a grip. So you got post-Nobel prize ennui, a plight shared by us all. Evidently, you haven’t spent any of that prize money on new clothes, just what appears to be a large bag of bird seeds (which ought to last you a while), and two plastic bins of who knows what. There’s a bunch of mint on your right, which is our way of saying “take five mojitos and call me if you’re still mourning.”
The Independent article from which this picture was culled reads like an Onion piece. Lessing laments, “All I do is give interviews and spend time being photographed.” Give this woman some Oil of Olay and an ego for god’s sake. I guess men fair better with a gentle pat on the back, their spines broken by this world. She goes on to say that her will to write is “[…] sliding away like water down a plughole,” which I guess is a tact simile. Less may be more, but Lessing is more dramatic than I imagined. Smile, not simile Doris, it’s called a camera.
Two Obituaries: Publishing Genius & Anderbo
Publishing Genius (March 13, 2007 – October 27, 2010) Publishing Genius suffered a fatal brain aneurysm under the presumptive posthumous auspices of its genius ridden editor, Adam Robinson, whose genius/molester glasses did little to deter his underage contributors, whose logical conclusion was that being published at such place meant it was so. From chapbook genius, to everyday genius, to the genius of sticking poems (aka “gay tagging”) in or around Baltimore, one wonders how Robinson’s head could not have exploded. Their genius poster-boy Shane Jones will be hosting an all night vigil in February, in a fable-like unnamed town somewhat characteristic of upstate New York, in which precious things happen; February lasts forever, so those who are undecided about braving the snow to meet Shane Jones and his authorly beard can afford to wait. A private cremation of all ignored manuscripts will take place inside the fiery chests of those whom Robinson geniusly rejected.
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Anderbo (March 2, 2005 – October 27, 2010) Anderbo was stabbed in the server to death by a near-sighted ironist who mistook them for mcsweeneys.net due to their almost identical formatting (12 pt. Times New Roman, em dash/italics heavy, wide margins). Confused about the internet’s URL implicitness, Anderbo obstinately called their website “anderbo.com,” afraid their readers would not know how to get there. Anderbo is survived by a massive masthead which includes: twelve associate editors, thirteen editors at large, a features editor, a managing editor, an associate publisher, a senior editor, and finally, an editor-in-chief, whose inferiority complex is, well, complex. Short of a staff meeting, they have opted for a large roman style orgy—and so, donations will be accepted in the form of condoms, laurels, robes, and pizza. Beautiful, kind, and generous to a fault, their “Director of Online Publicity and Outreach” will appreciate this link to the recently perished. Prior the imminent traffic, they thought “hits” was something only Michael Bolton had.
Drew Kalbach Power Mean Quote
"htmlgiant is the walmart of litblogs" -- Drew Kalbach, Oct. 25, 1:50 EST
Drew Kalbach
Poet Drew Kalbach is the Richard Simmons of creepy ebuillience, per his goodreads slash twitter pic. Two profiles and one pic; dos cojones y uno prick, hope you’re bilingual Drew. One figures what’s behind his profile pic’s ambiguous backdrop: a broken real doll, eight empty venti mochas, and an extra toupee. With Donald Trumpian hair like that Drew, you might have a future in real estate — not your literary estate, but the soft patch of grass under which we will all be buried. Start counting away them years, and for fuck sake, blink.
Two LitBlog Obituaries: Trick With A Knife & Big Other
[Throughout the week we’ll be posting a series of literary obituaries, as as we well know there are many things literary at the knell of death. Observe. – ed.]
Trick with a Knife (February 23, 2010 – October 25, 2010) Trick W. Knife passed away peacefully in relative obscurity after a long bout between editor P.H. Madore’s various schizophrenic personalities, all of whom accused one another of nepotism. Born out of envy, it garnered in its heyday approximately 110 hits a day, despite its one-dimensional reactionary posts and inadvertently ironic “anti-gossip” gossiping. The bereft contributors wish to express mild dismay, tempered with relief that they don’t have to write there anymore, and can go on to do what they do best, namely, torturing small animals behind high schools from which they barely graduated. Trick Knife is especially survived by contributor Nathan Tyree, son of a bitch. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to P.H. Madore, so that he may acquire camouflage high thread-count sheets, and even more server space subject to his misdirected use. Committal Services at Holy Shit Cemetery will fortunately be private.
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Big Other (October 11, 2009 – October 25, 2010) “Online forum of iconoclasts and upstarts focusing its lens” on various cultural detritus, Big Other, led by editor/hair-stylist John Madera, dies at puberty after struggling for relevance, permanence, and a site design. Born Small Brother, its default WordPress template theme is “Mistylook,” which may serve to explain the misty look in Madera’s eyes, having seen many of his contributors migrate to HTMLGIANT, who offer a larger and more immediate readership. Big Other’s allusions of being a giant “other” alternative to HTMLGIANT was not subtle enough, though just passive-aggressive enough for the latter’s editor, who received the former’s inception with subdued enthusiasm. With an average of 3 – 5 comments per post, the Bulimic Other has little to barf up, save the disjointed syllables such comments are comprised of. A memorial service will be held at some local bar at which Madera’s fusion rock band Mother Flux will perform their elegy “G-string in A sharp.” The contributors request donations to the Alzheimer’s Foundation, quickly, before they forget who they are.
3 things I like a lot
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"Echo #6," 8.5"×11", oil & dirt on paper, by JK Keller
Artist JK Keller does a “chronic drawing” of sorts, by replacing a mouse pad with a standard piece of office paper, the result of which is an apparition of presence and self. The dirty ghost of grime is our one untrained vocation, hands down.