Coming soon: “About 21 percent of children in the United States will be living below the poverty line in 2010, the highest rate in 20 years, according to a new analysis of children’s well-being released Tuesday.”

Also: “Virtually all the progress made in the family economic well-being domain since 1975 will be wiped out. Families, schools, neighborhood and community organizations, and governments continue to cope with budget cuts and the loss of jobs, producing the anticipated ‘lag time’ in economic recovery.”

Any good news?”Of all of the Key Indicators in the Family Economic Well-Being Domain, the health insurance indicator will be the least negatively impacted by the current recession. The main reason is that health insurance coverage for children is substantially impacted by public programs, such as the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP) and other publicly financed health care programs.”

Foundation for Child Development’s study estimates that approximately 90% of American children will have some access to health insurance, which is good, because what with the poverty, food insecurity and emotional trauma associated with continuing parental unemployment, they’re going to need it.

“Applying foundation can be hard to get right, but makeup professionals say that a little practice pays off.”
 — Dear women, is this Times tidbit true

??? Is “foundation” a particularly “hard makeup” to “apply”?

In case you missed it, DC The Brain Supreme and Steve Roll’N of Atlanta rap combo Tag Team have denied Internet suggestions that a young Barack Obama appeared as an extra in the video for their 1993 hit “Whoomp (There It Is)”. The disavowal seems solid, but I am still awaiting any official word on the more credible rumor that the future president made a cameo in the crowd scene of King Sun’s 1990 anthem “Be Black.” He’s in there, I just KNOW IT.

For reasons complicated and uninteresting, I found myself driving a car around the Lower East Side yesterday morning, looking for a parking spot. Stopped at a red light at Canal and Eldridge, singing along with Soundgarden’s “Fell On Black Days,” which Matt Pinfield was playing on 101.9, I saw a man walking down the street carrying an axe. It was a large axe, not a hatchet. He held it in both hands, handle across his chest, the wide, sharp wedge of it’s blade glinting in the sunshine on an otherwise normal day.

He was a normal-looking guy. A little beefy, tight polo shirt, black wrap-around shades. People passed him on the sidewalk and no one ran away or crossed the street to avoid him. But I wondered what they were thinking. It’s the type of thing, you wouldn’t blink an eye if you were out on a country road in Columbia County. It’d be just a guy heading over to a friend’s back yard, going to get some firewood. But this wasn’t there. And sitting in my car on Canal Street, there was only one thing to think: Huh, that guy’s going to murder somebody. Here we are, on this lovely spring day, and the next person who walks by-maybe that old lady, carrying a bag of rice-this guy in the sunglasses is going stop, turn slowly, no emotion registering on his face, and raise that axe up and swing it like Braveheart and chop her head off. I pictured blood and spilled rice as Chris Cornell wailed from the speakers about the unknowability of fate.

Of course, nothing so dramatic happened. At least not there in front of me. The guy stepped from the sidewalk, crossed Canal at an angle, dug his keys from pocket and opened the backseat door of a very normal-looking red car. He put the axe inside and went around to the driver’s side. The light changed and I drove on to Essex Street, where I made a left and watched a calico cat scamper down a fire escape that was tangled with wires hanging like vines from the building’s roof.

It’s cool, living in New York.

“This is just as much a disgrace as the ‘White-Only’ signs put up during the civil rights movement.”
 — Men who are against a woman’s right to an abortion will use any metaphor they can imagine to justify trespassing on private property!

The “Glee” Season Finale: Illuminate Your Own Banality

by Halle Kiefer

I’m just going to go ahead and tell you up front that I wept during last night’s season finale of “Glee.” Images appeared on my television screen, my eye perceived them and certain parts of my brain were stimulated, thus causing my tear ducts to activate, OKAY? So, if you need to read a well-thought out and mature critique by someone who didn’t cry like a dumb stupid baby at multiple points during this show last night, well, this is not a thing for you to read.

I really liked the finale! Which is not to say that it was some paragon of excellence; it was just very effective, given largely to the fact that like many humans, I cannot see other people cry without starting to cry myself. And DAMN, was there a lot of crying last night. Good lord! There was crying like 10 minutes in, then on and off until the very end. 48 minutes of shiny tired eyes leaking onto puffy lips and sallow cheeks. And that was just in my living room (L)!

Just as the Mayans predicted 2012, we the audience used the sun and the moon and common sense and logic to foresee that beautiful disaster Sue Sylvester would be one of the celebrity guest judges for the glee club’s Regional competition, at which the club needs to at least place to keep their funding. Which presents the question: can Wardrobe please just order color-coordinated tear-away capes for Sue to throw over her shoulder while cackling for next season? At this point she has all but tied Principal Figgins to the railroad track.

The gleebians are appropriately bummed by this news, as they have all picked up on the subtle hints hidden in the past 21 episodes that Sue is the gangly iceberg to their RMS Fab-tanic. I appreciated the cute little scene showing us exactly how Quinn and Puck ended up parents-to-be. How many teenage girls grown adult women are at this moment fantasizing about being wrapped in Puck’s arms, sipping on a wine cooler as he whispers in their ear, “You aren’t fat”? I’ll tell you: at least one.

Fast forward 8 months and Quinn is as big as Mercedes’ house (seriously, could we not had one second of Mama-cedes, or, praise be to our Lady Diva, even a Grama-cedes?). Schue throws a pizza party for the kids to nominate picks for Regionals, but they all just stare blankly at the quickly concealed pies. There is nothing sadder than an unenthusiastic pizza party. Not one thing. Tina talks about how her only friends were her parents, but now thanks to Glee she is banging Artie like 24/7 (I’m extrapolating here); Mercedes points out that her ex Puck and Santana will pretty much pretend she doesn’t exist if the club disbands (“She has a point,” Puck agrees thoughtfully). Distracted by her long-lost biological mother and the whereabouts of her dads, last seen 9 months ago traveling west, Rachel wants to go around and have everyone say what they liked about glee club, and then I’m like WAAAAAAAAAAH! The kids pretty much IMMEDIATELY throw in the towel, and Schue is close behind. Finding out that Emma is dating her dentist (while asking her if they have had sex yet, which, hello, GROSS and INAPPROPRIATE!) (Also, no, of course not! She has to get a new ascot from a fresh hermetically-sealed pouch every morning; do you really think she can go past second-base without going all Small Wonder and have smoke start billowing out of her ears?) and just generally lifting his head up and looking around and realizing his life is in complete shambles after the end of the school year, Schue drives home defeated, only to have to pull his POS car over to the side of the road across from the waste treatment center or where have you because he is sobbing so hard, and I had to loudly announce to no one that I must have gotten something in my eye and my contacts were bothering me and did someone have a cat in here earlier?

Well.

Luckily Schue is inspired by Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” playing on the radio and, after a terrifically underplayed smooch, Finn and Rachel are back together and on board to do a Journey medley at Regionals. I’m honestly not sure how show choir works, but maybe they should have been working on this routine for longer than 4 days? Is that crazy? Seriously, did someone have a cat in here earlier? They must have, because all this water is streaming out of my ocular cavities AND IT CAN’T POSSIBLY HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS SHOW.

Wisely we cut to competition, where we learn our four celebrity judges are singer Josh Groban; diva Olivia Newton-John; anchor, ass-clown and former object of Sue’s desire Rod Remington; and of course author of the upcoming best-seller “I’m a Winner and You’re Fat,” Ms. Sue Sylvester! New Directions is soon called to the stage, by an announcer who carefully, specifically pronounces the team name as “Nude. Erections.” So, is the joke at this point that the name is so clearly a dirty pun that no one needs to directly address it? Because if so, loooooooool.

So the stage fills with Nude Erections, who belt out “Faithfully,” a medley of “Any Way You Want It” and “Touchin’, Lovin’, Squeezin”-and of course, “Don’t Stop Believin’.” This whole number is excellent, as Journey is a Tremendously Great American Band. What is Steve Perry up to? Let’s get him on Glee; he almost certainly needs the money! Besides the intrinsic goodness of the songs, we get to see the entirety of the performance, which is so perfectly cheesy and choreographed and Bump-Its your mom bought you at the mall spot-on. As soon as they leave the stage, Quinn OF COURSE goes into labor. O women, you can’t take them anywhere without their water breaking! Babies be crownin’! Quinn’s mom shows up as her daughter’s amniotic fluid is hitting the floor, apparently realizing that she actually does love Quinn and doesn’t want to be a horrible sack of waste after seeing that her daughter can perform a superior jazz square.

The glee kids all run to the hospital with Quinn, except for Rachel who stays behind to see Vocal Adrenaline perform “Bohemian Rhapsody,” complete with white baby grand and spats. I personally didn’t care for the parallel drawn between Quinn pushing out a baby and Jesse pushing out high B flat AT ALL. “Bohemian” is an incredibly long song and after awhile it was like, okay, we get it: “mama,” “sometimes wished I’d never been born at all,” etc. O, BUT QUINN’S LITTLE BABY’S FATTY FAT CHEEKS! That little widget could not have been more adorable. Gentlemen, start your Kleenex!

Meanwhile, back where my heart is, who knew Olivia Newton-John was the demon bitch of my dreams? She really turns out to be Sue of the Midwest Regional Show Choir Championship! We are through the looking glass, people. And I hate to be like, o, I don’t know really know who Josh Groban is because I don’t listen to radio music, but in complete honesty, I do not know who Josh Groban is. I’m looking up his songs right now, and it is not clearing things up for me.

He is hot though! He also has his priorities straight when it comes to Sue: “I have two questions. One, are you single? Two, how about those Nude Erections?” Sue busts into the voting room (“Right this way to the voting room, Mr. Groban! You won’t be needing any pants in there!”) declaring “Newton-John, you are dead to me.” Sue is filled with sinew and vinegar, ready to crush Will Schuester’s dream like the destroyer of worlds that she is, only to have Olivia, Josh Groban and Rod (by the way, Freddie Mercury is ROLLING in his grave at the suggestion that he would sleep with that guy. Seriously. Ew!) gang up on her and her small-town Ohio school, all of them deemed “underachievers with delusions of grandeur”. Yipes! The truth hurts, especially when you are an insane megalomaniac working as a high school cheerleading coach. “Kiss my ass, Josh Groban,” Sue rages ON MY NEW RING TONE, but it seems that in this episode, like in real life, famous people’s decisions count more than ours, and Vocal Adreneline takes Regionals.

I would just like to say, when this episode started I was about 9,000% sure that 1) Quinn and Puck would keep the baby and 2) New Directions would win the competition. And neither of those things happened! Well played, writers! The only downside is that lady creep and Vocal Adrenaline coach Shelby gets to adopt cutie baby Beth! I mean, you know she only swooped into the hospital to grab that baby in her talons after her other daughter Rachel told her Quinn was giving birth. When Rachel suggests the two coaches combined to lead New Directions as a means to get close to bio-mom, Shelby says, “I can’t do this anymore.” DO WHAT ANYMORE? Nothing? You can’t do any more of that? But that’s your forte! She was like, “Uh huh, Uh huh, what now about a baby? CAW CAW! *swoop!*”

Super-bowed and uber-broken, our glee kids slink home after placing a dismal third, and prepare to just lay down and DIE now that glee club is over. Klassi Bratz doll Emma isn’t taking this lying down, however, and as she lets the redhead in her OUT, Will grabs her and tells her he loves her. And I felt nothing, below the neck or above. Because we haven’t seen them together in a Glee-ennium! The kids gather up bundle of damp sticks Schue and serenade him with a lovely rendition of “To Sir, with Love,” tears streaming down all of their faces into their brave little smiles. As a precautionary measure I put my goggles on, so my shirt wouldn’t get bleached from the salt in my tears. Then I just put cut a hole in a tarp to put over my head when the goggles filled up and tears started squirt out the side all over the place.

Which is exactly what happened when Sue’s monster heart grows 3 sizes and she courteously blackmailed Principal Figgins to not shut the glee club down. LOL! Like, you guys, THE DRAMATIC TENSION OF THE SHOW, IT RESTS ALMOST ENTIRELY ON SUE’S UNLIMITED BLACKMAILING ABILITY. “Do you know how this sexual blackmail works?” Sue inquires as Figgs In A Blanket warns her that he’s not going to take any more of her monkeyshines. Ah yes, the sexual blackmail. Wouldn’t be a “Glee” finale without a call back to a simulated date-rape! No, it would be some other show’s finale entirely! Maybe “Friends.” Sue begrudgingly admits that she admires Schue’s insanely personal investment in the New Direction’s success, and finally puts into words what I had been feeling on and off this entire season: “I am seriously going to puke in your mouth.”

The audience sees that in a fit of rage-love, Sue had voted for New Directions as the winners of Regionals. But they will never find out about her kind soul because that woman is like a stone castle filled entirely with Peeps! Schue finishes out the season with a poor man’s (poor in every sense of the word!) version of Israel Kamakawiwo’ole’s take on “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” which, hmm, was a little semi-climactic after we got the mental image of Sue vomiting into Schue’s mouth, which is now on a forever loop in my head.

So dang, that was a long season, right?! This season had like 8 seasons worth of storylines in it (remember when Kurt was on the football team?!?) (barely!). To me the finale offers a good microcosm of when “Glee” works and when you want to cover your face because it is so forced and embarrassing. Given that I have psychic abilities and/or have watched a television show before, I was assuming Rachel and Finn’s inevitable reunion was going to be like watching two good-looking puppets experiencing violent mood-swings at each other, like a more fabulous Miss Piggy and less expressive Kermit (which I mean as a joke, because I am actually very invested in that particular Muppet relationship). But refreshingly, they really brought the emotion. And so subtle! When Rachel kisses Finn on the stairs, there is no flowery exposition or declaration like I was dreading there would be. It was just a sudden, most likely Lipsmackers-flavored kiss, followed by lots of awkward smiling. JUST LIKE IN ACTUAL HIGH SCHOOL!

And then when they followed it up with “Faithfully,” which is now on my short list for my walk down the aisle, it wasn’t painfully over the top. It was dramatic and fun and sure, cheesy as hell, but cheesy in a sweet way, not a sarcastic or unreal way. (And I know from sarcastic; I have to have the bile pumped out of me biweekly or else I’ll explode.)

Now, I’m not saying that “Glee” is anything more than essentially a soap opera with dance numbers. Nor am I saying that it has to be! But it’s clear the show can and does give us these little, shiny moments of pure entertainment. They are sprinkled throughout the entire season, and typically happen when the writers and director let their characters express real frustration or anger or lust or whatever they might be feeling through bombastic, show-stopping musical numbers. These are the kinds of spectacular emotional outbursts that we unfortunately just aren’t allowed to have in real life. Fantasy Kurt might be tap-dancing under a giant lighted sign of his name, but Real-Life Kurt is probably just angrily shoving things in his book bag before hiding in a bathroom stall until he can stop crying. HOWEVER, when the show tries to have real emotion intermixed with snide jokes and cartoony characters and THEN attempts transcend reality with musical numbers… ERROR. DOES NOT COMPUTERER.

So I guess what I’m trying to say to the writers is, as a professional seasoned critic of this season of one show, STOP TRYING SO DAMN HARD. Take a knee! Draw in a deep breath and back away from the sailor cap. You have set up soooo many storylines and characters this year; now imagine next season if you let those characters grow and change. If Mercedes is going to develop an eating disorder, let her just have that eating disorder! If there’s a gay character, you don’t have to be like, “And now he has a little tiny hat and an all-white room and he loves Barbra and now he has multiple books of fabric swatches and a sassy big girl as a friend and then…” on and on and layer upon layer upon layer ON TOP OF his actual plotlines and relationships.

The moments that work (Quinn giving up her child, New Directions losing Regionals hard-core) did so because they seemed real. I don’t know; maybe it’s just where I am in MY LIFE, but I just want to see these characters explore reality a little more. Trust me, I can handle a plot that lasts more than two episodes, or learn a lesson that doesn’t end with a 15-minute morality speech. The fact is that right now Sue, who is literally a manipulative sociopath, is by far our strongest constant. I don’t really have a problem with having a hell spawn as our narrative anchor, but maybe next season we can find out what happens when everyone else is allowed to explore their character/world too, rather than just make everyone put on a scarlet latex nun habit to make a plot point.

So overall, I am satisfied. I’m sated. I’m excited to spend the summer not having my eyeballs dry out ever Tuesday night trying to put my fear and pleasure into words. I would like Dunkin’ Donuts to sponsor me to this write this review, as they make everything I do after midnight possible. But more importantly, what do you all feel about it? Am I over-thinking everything? Is Glee really just a hollow shell of a show filled to the brim with tweezed eyebrows hairs and empty bottles of Proactiv? Am I just mad with Dunkacchino fumes? Are you going to watch it next year? Does it change your decision either way to know that one Mr. John Stamos will be guest starring as Emma’s dentist boyfriend? You guys? I’m going to miss you over the summer. You and Jane Lynch. Mostly Jane Lynch, but also you. “But I should’ve been gone/ Long ago, far away/And you should’ve been gone/Now I know just why you stay” See you in the fall!

Halle Kiefer is going away to have her “exhaustion” treated.

Musicians’ Names I Commonly See Misspelled on the Internet b/w Musicians’ Names That, Weirdly, I Almost Never See Misspelled on the Internet

by Michaelangelo Matos

Musicians’ Names I Commonly See Misspelled on the Internet

1. apl.de.ap
2. Pat Benatar
3. Brandi Carlile
4. Belinda Carlisle
5. Andrae Crouch
6. John Fogerty
7. Bill Frisell
8. Ghostface Killah
9. Nona Hendryx
10. Susanna Hoffs
11. Chris Isaak
12. Rickie Lee Jones
13. Chaka Khan
14. Kool Moe Dee
15. Alison Krauss
16. Cyndi Lauper
17. Meat Loaf
18. Lyle Lovett
19. Barry Manilow
20. Sarah McLachlan
21. Natalie Merchant
22. Alanis Morissette
23. John Oates
24. Jeffrey Osborne
25. Lionel Richie
26. Minnie Riperton
27. Smokey Robinson
28. Nile Rodgers
29. Tom Rowlands
30. Schoolly-D
31. Gil Scott-Heron
32. Bob Seger
33. Ed Simons
34. Elliott Smith
35. Donna Summer
36. Tracey Thorn
37. Ronnie Van Zant
38. Dionne Warwick
39. Hayley Williams

Musicians’ Names That, Weirdly, I Almost Never See Misspelled on the Internet
1. Aaliyah
2. Art Alexakis
3. GG Allin
4. Billie Joe Armstrong
5. Erykah Badu
6. Adrian Belew
7. Bill Berry
8. Lindsey Buckingham
9. Edwyn Collins
10. Shawn Colvin
11. Sam Coomes
12. Ani DiFranco
13. Missy Elliott
14. Bryan Ferry
15. John Frusciante
16. Art Garfunkel
17. David Gilmour
18. Marianne Faithfull
19. Justine Frischmann
20. Eddy Grant
21. Petra Haden
22. Kathleen Hanna
23. Jools Holland
24. Josh Homme
25. Michael Hutchence
26. Chrissie Hynde
27. Oran “Juice” Jones
28. Paul Kantner
29. Ira Kaplan
30. Carole King
31. Kerry King
32. Cris Kirkwood
33. Curt Kirkwood
34. Natalie Imbruglia
35. Lemmy
36. Fred Maher
37. Shane MacGowan
38. Stephen Malkmus
39. Aimee Mann
40. Doug Martsch
41. Melle Mel
42. Freddie Mercury
43. Giorgio Moroder
44. Bob Mould
45. Dave Mustaine
46. Harry Nilsson
47. Gary Numan
48. Laura Nyro
49. Van Dyke Parks
50. Gram Parsons
51. Liz Phair
52. Phranc
53. Guy Picciotto
54. Prince Be
55. Tupac Shakur
56. Pete Shelley
57. Judee Sill
58. Ricky Skaggs
59. Tjinder Singh
60. Barbra Streisand
61. Neil Tennant
62. Pete Townshend
63. Lars Ulrich
64. Paul Westerberg
65. Ya Kid K
66. Thom Yorke
67. ?uestlove

Michaelangelo Matos reposts images at thediscography.tumblr.com and lives in Brooklyn.

Although Caitlin Flanagan has sketchily rewritten history (the teen pregnancy and abortion rate was much higher in the 70s than it is now!), her lament about “the coarseness of contemporary sexual culture and its impact on the souls of teenage girls” is still emotionally true, writes… Ross Douthat.

“I was scared when I was in the cell. I was thinking what if it all goes bad and it all gets blamed on us?”
-Drummer Ben Wadlock recounts the ordeal in which he and his bandmates were arrested for human trafficking after British “customs officers discovered four Vietnamese immigrants hiding inside their speakers.” It was later determined that the band-named Criminal Mind-had no knowledge of their cargo; the police have detained their Czech driver.

Ice Cube was on Jimmy Fallon’s show a couple weeks ago and before taping began, he joined the house band the Roots to warm up the audience with a live version of N.W.A’s 1988 classic, “Straight Outta Compton.” Drummer Questlove put a video of the performance up on his Twitvid account last night. It’s of a very different feel than the original. The Roots’ MC Black Thought and guitarist Kirk Douglas wear suits (!) as they handle Ren and Eazy-E’s verses, respectively. And the avoidance of profanity is jarring. (Black Thought raps that he’ll “find a good piece of mush/And go up in it,” which is far more offensive, actually, than the real word that goes there.) But still, as it’s own thing, musically, like Questlove says at the end, Damn, that shit was dope.