miserable meatball

Thursday, April 30, 2009

yup

I also hate Alicia Keys.



A few years ago, there were ads all over New York for her "return to the homeland" "Alicia in Africa" film. It made me angry.

CLICK HERE TO SEE

Look at her, looming over the African landscape, looking as goddess as possible, while the little girl in the corner is thinking, "who is this white woman?"

I bet Alicia Keys eats at the South African restaurant in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, and I bet she'd think I were being racist if I had a "return to the homeland" "Nick in Italy" film.

I guess she was doing this Africa thing to help raise money for HIV/AIDS patients. I still hate her though.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

another good one




I hate Ira Glass. He's like an older, smarter, but just as offensive version of Conor Oberst; whereas Conor Oberst wants you to fawn over his purity, Ira Glass wants you to think he's a 23-year old indie rocker with a huge brain/dick (Glass is 50 years old and lives with his wife in Chicago). Basically, both men are using different tactics to get into the pants of young women.

I hate Ira Glass's radio voice. This is what I imagine happens when he records his show: he has himself set up in front of a large vanity mirror with a microphone on it. He stuffs one cotton ball into each corner of his mouth. He has a metronome next to the microphone; when the metronome tick hits the left or right extreme, he speeds up his talking to the point where his words mush together and you can't understand a thing he's saying. When the metronome tick hits the center, his words are clearer and actually make sense. There's a small television showing a football game to the right of the vanity (he secretly likes watching sports, like the majority of the population, but because of his nebbish looks and overeducation, he feels the need to maintain appearances, and only watches the game in the confines of his private audio studio, while recording his show). His gaze wavers between the game and the image of himself before him, as he only half-pays attention to the audio recording he is meanwhile producing. Beneath the vanity mirror, a 23-year old girl is giving him a blow job. In order that the girl doesn't spill the beans to the world about Ira Glass's secret love for football and other mainstream sports, once the show is over, Glass escorts the girl to a special door to the side of the recording studio, behind which she is dowsed in liquid magnesium sulfate, which turns her body into fertilizer which Ira Glass will use in his organic garden.

Just listen:

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

better late than never

This is an overdue one.

And this guy isn't even popular anymore. But his legacy of shittiness remains, and I feel the need to describe my hate... for CONOR OBERST.



With a quivering voice that suggests "I was hatched from an egg on a cold winter night in 1975, in South Dakota. After my entire family died in a barn fire, I wandered from town to town, playing my mini harpsichord for whomever would listen. Now that I'm famous, I don't forget my roots; I'm way more pure than you and I demand respect," and an aesthetic that says, "I was admitted to a mental hospital for trying to actually become a dandelion," I have to say Conor Oberst is a dangerous piece-a-shit.

If you're not in love with yourself, you don't name your band "Bright Eyes." "Bright Eyes" is just as arbitrary a band name as "Clear Skin" or "Shiny Hair." It's subtle self-adulation.

Conor Oberst has that kind of face that says, "I will never belly laugh. I will never go out of my way to do a favor for a friend. I exist for the sole purpose of slowly dissipating my ultra-concentrated insecurity with periodic releases of seemingly earnest indie rock. We can't be friends, but I invite you to crawl inside my asshole."

Friday, April 10, 2009

ALSO

This topic of hate comes recommended to me by my friend Harish.

Anti-Gravity Yoga.



Crunch Gym in NYC has patented this new brand of "yoga" where you do different poses while attached to a silky white sling, and they're calling it anti-gravity yoga.

Nevermind the fact that conventional yoga is something that has been crafted over thousands of years, whereas gravity-free yoga was invented in some corporate board room 9 months ago and really has nothing to do with yoga except for the outfit you wear - people are totally buying into it. Yoga is a feeling, not a practice.

It's cool though. The people doing anti-gravity yoga are the same people who drink mass amounts of goddess dressing, use loofah sponge reusable tampons, and eat at that South African restaurant in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, al fresco, so that the people passing by on the sidewalk can see them and respect them.

N-O

I hate salsa dancing for a few reasons:

1. It's the one dance that, in order to be really good at it, you need to be heterosexual
2. Salsa music is like instrumental trance. It's not fun or interesting to dance to.
3. I can't figure out how to do it.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

I hate this woman. She wrote "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." She seems like the least fun person on Earth. I bet she drinks a gallon of goddess dressing every day.

Saturday, March 7, 2009

ooh

Something I hate:

The word "husbear"

google it.