As previously threatened, here is Liza Minnelli’s interpretation of Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It),” which was put together for the Sex And The City sequel. I… I just don’t know if it’s camp, or meant to not really be listened to outside of the context of whatever scene it’s in, or just the end product of a lot of really bad decisions by people drunk with consumerism-driven power. But I will say this: One of the thoughts I had while listening to it was, “Hmm, so, is this better or worse than the Chipettes’ version?” I still can’t decide the answer to that one, especially with the way the bridge sorta collapses! [Via]

“There are certainly good reasons to discourage incest.”
-That’s Salon, just really bringing it home in the “What Is The Deal With Gay Twins Having Sex With Each Other On Camera” Department. If you can get past the teaser-”Twincest… What is it?” Um, um, lemme guess, is it… twins having incest?-then many pleasures/horrors await you.

BREAKING NEWS UPDATE: We have just received word that an “icing” in fact has taken place among bros at Goldman Sachs. Our original statement of this morning that no icings have yet taken place at Goldman has been altered; we regret the error and also, wow, are you kidding? And here is the Wieden-Kennedy interoffice memo that is oddly pro icing. Suspicious! [UPDATE: Um, that memo has just been disappeared from the Voice’s website. SUSPICIOUSER. ANOTHER UPDATE: here’s the cache of the memo.]

It’s a very special day today: Pac-Man, perhaps the world’s most popular arcade game, turns 30 years old. We checked in on IM with Pac-Man himself to see how he was celebrating the big event.

BALK: Hey, buddy, happy birthday.
dotmuncher80: Dude, don’t even. I’ve spent all morning trying to forget about it.
BALK: Hahaha, I hear ya. Turning 30 can be rough.
dotmuncher80: Dude, the only thing worse than actually turning 30 would be to hear one of your long-ass speeches about how hard it was for you when you turned 30 A MILLION YEARS AGO. We get it: You’re old and depressed and you love talking about yourself. You know what? The rest of us have feelings too. We just don’t go around making sad little blogposts about it.
BALK: Uh, okay.
dotmuncher80: I’m sorry. I am. That was harsh. You’re right, I’m having a hard time with it.
BALK: You want to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to share.
dotmuncher80: Yeah, lick my left one, Dr. Freud. I don’t need your
dotmuncher80: Wow. Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry. DUDE. I am SO MESSED UP BY THIS.
BALK: Talk to me.
dotmuncher80: Well, first off, I don’t even HAVE a left one. I am just a tiny yellow circle with a pie-hole. Not exactly something that you’re thrilled to see staring back at you in the mirror every morning.
BALK: You’re one of the most recognizable figures in the world!
dotmuncher80: Have you seen me LATELY? The thing you never think about with aging until it’s too late is how all that muscle turns to flab. I’m a fucking OVAL these days.
BALK: But you get plenty of exercise.
dotmuncher80: I’ll let you in on a little secret: None of us move as quick as we used to. The other day Blinky had me stopped in an alley in the upper left and I was like, “Fuck, this is it,” and I hear the dude WHEEZING. I was like, “You wanna sit this one out?” and he goes, “Dude, you don’t even know.” We are all running out of energy.
BALK: The power pellets don’t help?
dotmuncher80: You mean the speed?
BALK: I thought they were just “power pellets.”
dotmuncher80: Dude, they’re speed. I am a 30-year-old SPEED ADDICT. Real accomplishment there. What a wonderful life I’ve made for myself.
BALK: You’re scaring me. You’re not usually this bitter.
dotmuncher80: Well, you know, what the fuck is there to be chipper about? I mean, sure, when you’re a kid, you’re running around with the wind at your back knowing nothing is ever going to catch up to you. You’ve got dreams, you’re full of potential, the whole world is there for the taking. And then one day you realize you’re trapped in a fucking maze and it’s eat or be eaten until you die. I should throw a fucking parade about that?
BALK: Surely your girlfriend makes you feel better.
dotmuncher80: Oh, MS. Pac-Man? Lemme tell you something, dude, she may act like she’s all about that feminism trip, but when it comes down to it she just wants to get married and have babies like anybody else. And she’s not even being subtle about it anymore. “You’d better be looking for a ring,” she told me the other day. Fuck knows where’s she’s gonna put it. Maybe on that goddamn bow of hers.
BALK: I thought you two were doing so well!
dotmuncher80: Oh, I dunno, it’s FINE, I guess. It’s comfortable, I mean. We’ve been together for so long at this point I can’t see us splitting up or anything. I mean, I’m THIRTY. Who’s gonna want an old Pac-Man?
BALK: 30 is the new 20.
dotmuncher80: Shut up is the new don’t try to calm me down with the world’s most boring cliché.
BALK: Okay.
dotmuncher80: Sigh. See, I hurt your feelings. That’s what I do. I run, I eat, I hurt the people who care about me. I’m no fuckin’ good.
BALK: Come on. I know it seems a little bleak, but that’s to be expected.
dotmuncher80: Some days I hide out in this little corner in the lower right and just cry. I mean, thick, terrible sobs. The guys don’t even bother coming around because they’re too embarrassed, I guess. You know what my biggest joy is?
BALK: When the pretzel pops up in the center?
dotmuncher80: You’re a laugh riot, asshole. Dude, I’m speaking from the HEART here. Or whatever, the center yellow core. Mostly I just close my eyes and imagine how peaceful things will be when the game is finally over.
BALK: I think maybe you should get some professional help.
dotmuncher80: Fuck that shit. What are they gonna tell me that I don’t already know? Life’s an endless series of painful events and then the quarters run out. Until then you just roll along and deal with it the best you can. THIRTY, man! Jesus Christ, who would have thought?
BALK: Are you, uh, doing anything to mark the occasion?
dotmuncher80: Q*bert is taking me out for drinks.
BALK: Is that the best choice? Q*bert’s ALWAYS depressed.
dotmuncher80: I know. Somehow it makes me feel better about myself. Also, you know, there’s alcohol, so that’ll keep me from wanting to pull my plug for a few more hours at least. Drinking is maybe the only thing that makes me feel like “insert coin” might not be the most horrible phrase ever.
BALK: I wish I could say something to cheer you up.
dotmuncher80: How old are you?
BALK: 37.
dotmuncher80: And what do you do for a living?
BALK: I’m co-editor of the Awl.
dotmuncher80: Hahahahah.
dotmuncher80: Hahahahahaha.
dotmuncher80: HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA.
dotmuncher80: I’m sorry, that’s terrible.
dotmuncher80: But I totally DO feel better right now.
dotmuncher80: Okay, later dude, I gotta go chase down some ghosts, or whatever the fuck kind of blippy confectionery bullshit they’ve got me chasing after this time. A Pac-man my age should not be eating so much sugar, I’ll tell you what. Anyway, catch you around. Thanks for the chat, it really helped!
BALK: Happy birthday.
dotmuncher 80 has signed off
BALK: [Sobs.]

by Fratboy Slim

From time to time, we offer free editorial space to common folk with something to say. This is one such time, in which a fratty bro of our acquaintance explains what exactly is going on with bros. Spoiler: It’s not good!

You may have heard about this new thing the kids — white males in their 20s, mostly — are doing? DRINKING SMIRNOFF ICE, AGAINST THEIR WILL, AT RIDICULOUSLY INOPPORTUNE TIMES. Seriously.

The rules are simple: hand a Smirnoff Ice (the warmer/more disgusting the flavor, the better) to a friend (your “bro”), and he must get down on one knee and chug the malt beverage, regardless of location and situational appropriateness. HOWEVER. If said friend happens to have a Smirnoff Ice on his person, then the bro who initiated the battle has to chug BOTH Ices.

This is known as an Ice Block.

The obvious questions:

WHERE DID THIS START?
According to this interview with one of the founders of Bros Icing Bros, an online compendium of photos of Bros getting Iced, “While Icing started in South Carolina at some of the frattiest schools in the union (College of Charleston, Wofford College) it has now spread nationwide. Current hot spots are New York, Texas and other Southern fraternity-dominated schools.”

The url for BrosIcingBros.com is registered to Jim Greg of Atlanta.

DO PEOPLE WHO ARE NOT IN COLLEGE — WHICH IS TO SAY, PEOPLE WHO THEORETICALLY HAVE ACTUAL RESPONSIBILITIES AND WHO ARE EXPECTED TO NOT BE DRUNK 24–7 — ACTUALLY DO THIS THING?
Shockingly, yes. While commodities traders at Goldman Sachs don’t appear to be chugging Ices at their cubicles (yet!), the phenomenon has so far invaded laxer corporate environs. [UPDATE: An icing at Goldman Sachs-on the premises, no less-has just been confirmed by an employee that asked to remain anonymous.] A friend at Vice reports that someone brought a 24-pack into the office just this morning. Bros have been Iced during early-morning meetings at IAC’s CollegeHumor office. I’ve also heard of this going down at advertising agencies, including Wieden+Kennedy, the Portland-based giant behind Nike.

WHY SMIRNOFF? ARE WE SURE THAT THIS ISN’T A CLEVER STEALTH VIRAL MARKETING CAMPAIGN?
Smirnoff Ice, like most malt beverages, has long been considered among “feminine” beverages, despite the attempts of advertisers to change this perception. (Sorry, Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Still not buying it!). So I guess the joke is, in part, “bros chugging girly gay drinks, ha ha”?

But no, this doesn’t appear to be an in-house guerrilla marketing campaign. For one thing, in all the icing videos, commentary is issued about the disgusting state of Smirnoff, and an icing is usually greeted with “fuck you.”

For another thing, alcohol companies tend to dance very carefully around the subject of binge drinking. Take, for example, Miller Lite’s new “Vortex Bottle,” which has rifled neck-grooves that serve no other conceivable function other than to facilitate the flow of beer into the drinker’s mouth. As Slate’s Seth Stevenson points out, the ad for the Vortex Bottle “doesn’t explicitly mention this benefit (I have to imagine there’d be some dicey liability issues involved in advertising a way to get drunk quicker), but if the bottle truly serves this purpose, word will soon spread.”

Elsewhere in the interview with the founder of Bros Icing Bros, it is mentioned that people have been iced “while driving cars.” Probably not the behavior a liquor company wants to be associated with. As Ricky Van Veen, the co-founder of CollegeHumor who has taken to walking around his office wearing a fanny pack that holds one Smirnoff Ice as a pre-emptive Ice Block, says, “The last thing Smirnoff wants to do is encourage drinking games/binge drinking.”

Still, you can never know. I’ve left messages with both Smirnoff as well as with its ad agency, JWT, and I will update if they respond.

So basically, if someone hands you a 24-oz, room temperature Green Apple Smirnoff this weekend, it is your duty to take a knee and chug it. Even if you are a lady bro. FOR AMERICA. The more you know.

Fratboy Slim is a bro in New York who doesn’t want to lose his job for writing about the joys of icing bros.

Today, the New York Post engages in a little bit of its every-so-often “but what about the children (of celebrities)” teeth-gnashing with an extended look at how shoe manufacturers are marketing shoes with one- to two-inch heels to young girls — like, pre-K young. The peg for this piece: A picture of Suri “The Most Photographed Child In America” Cruise wearing what look like a pair of Minnie Mouse-inspired Mary Janes while being toted around by her dad. The predictable Post commenter response: “Suri looks ridiculous. Sounds like she rules at home. No recent photos of her. Maybe she is recovering from cosmetic surgery. She is 4 now. Never too young to start.” Is it a sign of my jadedness that I’m saving my weary outrage for when someone decides to pair them with the Daisy Duke diapers?

Soon human office workers will not have to put on their pants or get up from their cubicles to attend meetings. This fall, a company called Anybots will start selling a robot called QB that is designed to attend meetings, on-site tours, or probably any other gathering or presentation that people can’t or don’t really want to be at in person. It looks a little bit like a vacuum cleaner or push-mower with video-camera eyes and a hat with a screen on it. (Or, as Scientific American notes, Olivia Newton-John.) A lazy human can control a QB over the internet from the comfort of his or her own desk. One can see what the robot sees, hear what the robots hear, and talk or shout at colleagues through a speaker on the robot head. There’s even a laser pointer to point at stuff.

Scientific American editor Larry Greenmeier took a QB for a remote test-drive through Anybot headquarters and made a very entertaining video of it. (It’s funny how he instinctively uses a robot voice when speaking to another QB he encounters.)

This Metafilter thread in which two young Russian women who came to the States with a murky promise of “employment” as “hostesses” at a club in Brooklyn and were eventually diverted from that plan is pretty compelling reading, if simultaneously terrifying. (Especially when one thinks about all the people who are in similar situations, but who don’t have friends that are hooked into large online communities such as the linked one.)

A felonious feline-sorry, it’s early-in Chandler, AZ, stole a neighbor’s green card on a recent nocturnal foray. Presumably the neighbor was immediately deported. Arizona! Good lord.

“Marriage is like water. You have to drink it. Swinging is like wine. Some people feel it’s delicious the first time they try it, so they keep drinking. Some people try it and think it tastes bad, so they never drink it again.”
—Ma Yaohai, a resident of China who has been sentenced to three and a half years in prison for what the government calls “crowd licentiousness,” i.e., engaging in group sex. The 53-year-old Ma was a member of swingers’ clubs who held some 18 orgies in the two-bedroom apartment that he shared with his mother. China’s laws against sex acts involving three or more people are punishable by prison terms of up to five years.