“HBO is teaming with Will Ferrell and Adam McKay’s Gary Sanchez and actress Lizzy Caplan to develop a comedy series project based on actress/writer Julie Klausner’s memoir I Don’t Care About Your Band. The project is eyed as a potential starring vehicle for Caplan, who is coming off Starz’s cult comedy series Party Down. The book, a gritty but comedic look at what it’s like to navigate the dating world in your 20s, chronicles Klausner’s experiences from her preadolescent sexual awakenings through the unsavory details of sleeping with a gallery of losers throughout her 20s.”—Yay Julie!
That doesn’t even count Dan’s Cafe, which is a total shitshow and I obviously need to go. But one of the four above has to be overrated, right? I need to be somewhat sober to go to the national zoo and gawk at the meerkats.
I’m sure most of you have heard of the Tucker Max book “I hope they serve beer in Hell”. I read it a while back, not my favorite in the world but it was an interesting read. Never saw the movie (I heard it kinda sucked). Anyways somehow I ended up on his mailing list and found out his new book is…
Tucker Max lives in Austin?!? I want to hunt this dude down and challenge him to rhetorical spar-off. I’m not claiming I could take him, but damn would it be entertaining!
I have not read the books (I would like to though) but I did watch the movie. Tucker Max might be an ass hole but only a dumb ass would fall for his lines.
I never got the impression that women have sex with Tucker because of his negs. Just a limited judgment from stories I’ve heard (most notably the story from Lemondrop), he’s a trophy fuck. A “used bowling trophy at the salvation army” trophy fuck, but still… women should know by now what they’re getting from Tucker at this point. Rampant misogyny and mediocre sex.
“…a leak informing us that our tax dollars may be being used as seed money for a protection racket associated with a narcotics-trafficking enterprise is a good leak to have. And the checkpoint incident is, again, only one report, from one day…
Over all, the documents do not contradict official accounts of the war.
One should pause there. What does it mean to tell the truth about a war? Is it a lie, technically speaking, for the Administration to say that it has faith in Hamid Karzai’s government and regards him as a legitimate leader—or is it just absurd? Is it a lie to say that we have a plan for Afghanistan that makes any sense at all? If you put it that way, each of the WikiLeaks documents—from an account of an armed showdown between the Afghan police and the Afghan Army, to a few lines about a local interdiction official taking seventy-five-dollar bribes, to a sad exchange about an aid scam involving orphans—is a pixel in a picture that does, indeed, contradict official accounts of the war, and rather drastically so.
But after more than eight years at war, how carefully are we even looking at Afghanistan? The Times had a piece in Sunday’s paper on the strange truth that our expenditure since 9/11 of a trillion dollars on two wars has barely scraped our consciousness. Fifty-eight Americans have died in Afghanistan so far this month; one of them—Edwin Wood, of Oklahoma—was eighteen years old. Maybe the WikiLeaks documents will make those numbers less abstract…”
The weird thing about the public response to Afghanistan is that it has been, from where I stand, remarkably reasonable. People probably aren’t paying any more or less attention to it than they are to anything else, but if there’s a lack of outrage, it’s easily attributed to the fact that there is no good answer for people to unite behind. It’s a clusterfuck that there’s no way to win, but there’s also no easy way to get out without plunging the whole thing into an even bigger shitstorm, somehow. Apathy is a reasonable response to this. We were able to get out of Iraq, honestly, mainly because we stopped caring about it, and in the absence of attention we could withdraw from combat operations without people making a big fuss. The same thing might need to happen in Afghanistan. I kinda hope that we just start drawing down on our forces around the withdrawal date anyway, but I’m not entirely sure how much these leaks help that effort in a practical sense. Awful, depressing things happen all the time, often with our tacit or explicit consent, but without any obvious way of not doing them. Afghanistan sure seems like one of those things.
The reaction to this has been interesting, especially in light of the awfully heartbreaking non-reaction to the Post’s series on intelligence last week. Some people are championing it as a new Pentagon papers, some are jadedly arguing that it doesn’t tell us anything new, and others are claiming it doesn’t go far enough. Few want to accept it as just another news story, which maybe it is; or, maybe, it’s a whole bunch of news stories that haven’t come out coming out all at once. But even doled out over years, I’m not sure how much impact this information would have had.
I agree with this, particularly the bolded. It was a good moment for liberals to act like the fiscally responsible ones and could have called the GOP’s bluff on whether they would shed redundant intelligence agencies or not (quick answer: they wouldn’t). Of course, we had a weird racism discussion to deal with and the Post story is boring in comparison.
And the craziest thing? He thinks he’s a gem. You might remember him saying “We should be getting more women, we’re nice guys” and me freaking the hell out because 1. He’s not nice and 2. I don’t want to be associated with that term. At least as the only reason I’m Single.
First, #1: he’s not nice. He’s a guy who occasionally does nice things. He’s paid for my drinks many times before, offered to go grab food while he’s out. During his interview, he offered us his car to drive around, his food, and his ladyfriends (which was just creepy and should have been way more of a red flag). He’s desperate to do nice things to make up for the flaws that inevitably scare people away.
#2: Kids, don’t settle for nice. Do something, add value to your life, whether it’s something redeeming and interesting or something cliché like being the asshole who only plays an acoustic Wonderwall cover, but be something MORE than nice. Because being branded as nice just means that there was no other more valuable trait to peg. On the report card, it was “A pleasure to have in class”, i.e. didn’t stir shit up, kept head down, did work, caused no headaches. Forgotten by the end of the summer. If that’s all you expect out of life, fine, but don’t carry it like a badge of honor.
He got his stuff packed and moved as soon as he got back from a week long visit to Long Island. I can’t go into specifics, but it was a pretty bizarre and tragic set of events. No idea how to process it, and basically, I’m at the point of “okay, it’s over now, so let’s move on!” But even that isn’t certain, since he floated the idea of moving back to Hoboken once he gets his life in order. I responded with something like “but the city is great!” and he moped about how a start-up partner of his bailed on the project suddenly and then threatened to sue for copyright and now his entire NYC social life is apparently dead? But he hates Hoboken?
God, I don’t know what to think. In a few months I’m gonna get a message from him saying “HEY KEV IN YOUR HOOD WANNA GET CRUNNNNK?” and it’s gonna be like “oh fuck”, because really, I can’t go for that (no no). This was my first time dealing with serious bro culture, the type that reads “The Game” and is pretty crappy with women. He was constantly oblivious to his own mistakes with regard to his ex, never taking the hint of them blocking him on facebook and I eventually saw first hand how it was when he accosted her roommate at a bar (answer: she looked like she saw a ghost). I played therapist and offered life lessons, like “no, you can’t stalk her new boyfriend on facebook”, and “no, he doesn’t look like you and please never ask me that again” and “no, you can’t use the $15 telescope to spy on naked women” and “yes, you can take a lady out for a nice date even if you already fucked her that night you met her at the bar”. He sorta got it. I never saw him break out the telescope, although he claimed he would use it as a prop to make out with women on the roof (“it’s a CVS telescope” “they don’t know that” “oh”), and as far as I know, he stopped trying to talk to his ex’s friends.
I guess I could have done things differently, but good gravy. I don’t like getting into fights with anyone, let alone someone who is capable of and probably would consider taking a dump on my bed.