If you are ever in the spoiled, lucky position to watch television for a living, it would be wise to avoid tabulating the length and frequency in which you spend in front of the TV, your mouth agape, crumbs speckled along the edges of your shirt collar, your head pliable as a block of left out cheese. There is no accounting of this time without courting depression. Save those feelings of regret and inadequacy (I could have been doing so much more with my time! you lie to yourself) for when your cable bill—which is still $200, still a complete a shock after all these years—arrives in your inbox. But [...]
You may recall Fortunate Teens Party With Morrissey, 1994, artist Derek Erdman's imagining of an unlikely incident with the miserablist pop sensation. The folks at Insound are offering two exclusive further works from Erdman: Three Quarters of Joy Division Win Big at OTB, above, and Mark E Smith Writes 417 Royalty Cheques Every Year. When we finally sell this website for a shit ton of money, I am so commissioning Pete Shelley Angrily Destroys A Fruit Machine While A Bemused Howard DeVoto Reads Camus.
"That’s the NBA we will get in December: One where every bit of action is, for the viewer, shot through with ambivalence. We will love it like never before, while wondering if, just maybe, no one’s having quite as much fun as they once did. We could be projecting, but ultimately, most of what we see in athletes is an attempt to come to terms with what we need them to be. We love this game and yet now we—or the players, or folks paying them—kind of hate everyone. Including ourselves." —There are twelve people in the world, the rest are paste. Many of those twelve are Awl pals, [...]