Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All

Do you know these guys? I guess they're a big deal. At least, that's what all the people that make things a big deal have been saying, that everyone considers them to be a big deal. As the hype monster eats itself.

They're a hip hop group made up of teenagers out in LA that call themselves that name, Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All. It's a pretty charming name. They rap about hating their dads and smoking weed and raping zombies and skateboarding and stuff, which is pretty much what every teenager would rap about if they could rap well. I think the reason they are what everyone on music blogs is talking about is because they rap about violence but it's like, kind of a joke, maybe. Also, of course, they're good at rapping and the music sounds nice. But also the violence thing.

Thanks, Government

Alright District of Columbia Department of Motor Vehicles, you win. Yesterday the license plates on my car were stolen. I filed a police report and this afternoon went to your office to get replacements. You charged me ten dollars (which is kind of silly, when you think about it), but issued me new plates and a new registration card in less than five minutes. I spent more time looking for a place to park. I only got a chance to read one page of my book and none of the magazine that I brought, expecting an extended stay.

So well done, bureaucracy. You helped me out this time. I'll likely soon forget it, but thanks.

Voting Rights

I voted this week. Did you vote? Good. You should have. Hopefully everyone reminded you to, as they should have done. Voting's pretty good, right? Freedom and all that. Democracy! Something our grandparents and forefathers fought for in the trenches in Germany or wherever. Yeah, man. Voting.

I voted at a high school a block or two away from me. School was in session, because it was 9:00 on a Tuesday, and the kids seemed pretty annoyed that a bunch of 20-somethings who have lived in their city for a year were coming to vote to gentrify it more and make their neighborhood too expensive to live in. That's what I assumed they were thinking, at least. I don't really know for sure. But that's the vibe I got as I locked my bike up to a signpost outside. Or, really, that's just the guilt I gave myself.

But yeah, I voted. I'm a registered independent, though, so I didn't get to vote in the District of Columbia's Democratic primary, which is where the mayor actually gets chosen. And DC doesn't have a voting member in Congress, as you may be aware, so it didn't really matter all that much, anyway. But I still went. I filled in a few bubbles with a number 2 pencil at a rickety plastic booth, but I did it. I got the sticker afterwards to prove it. I wore it on my jacket all day long.

The process made me a few minutes late to work, though. And all the results were pretty overwhelming -- usually the incumbent won by a margin of at least 10:1. So it didn't really matter, I guess, which bubble I filled in. Briefly, I thought about writing in "My Dick" for mayor, but I figured that democracy is too precious a thing to make dick jokes about. Right? Isn't it?

I don't know. But voting kind of sucks. I probably won't do it next time. Except I like the sticker.

Andrea And Julian Get Drunk And Discuss Politics

Welcome to a new feature, in which Andrea and Julian will discuss things over the internet, probably while drinking alcohol. First up, it's election night in America! Change is coming! The voice of the American people!

Andrea: Oh good. This looks like it is going to be awesome. I am so glad I got wine. Are the Dems going to lose the Senate?

Julian: No, I don’t think so. I mean, most polls are saying no. But everyone has predicted the GOP would take the House already.

An Open Letter To Taylor Swift Concerning Her Status As A Celebrity And The Fleeting Benefits Of Morality

Dear Taylor,

Congratulations. You're doing great. Everyone loves you, you're super charming and, especially since that Kanye West debacle, you own a very special key to the nation's collective heart. Way to go.

But you're getting up there in your years and will be 21 this December (can you believe it?), so odds are the whole "gangly, over-eager teenage sweetheart" schtick you've got going for yourself may have its days numbered. Not that it's a bad schtick by any means -- it won over America, so it's got to have something going for it -- but we're a petty culture with little patience for goodie two-shoes 20-something female pop stars. I know, I know, it's sexist and age-ist but these are the realities we're dealing with. Soon they're gonna want to see your chest and the tabloids will start talking about how you're a huge cocaine addict or are probably pregnant or something. It's too bad, it's not fair, but that's just the way we treat our celebrities after a while. Sorry.

So here's some advice: Beat 'em to it. Start making out with models -- men and women alike -- at after-hours clubs in Hollywood, shave your head and buy a leather jacket. But don't change the music. Keep that the same, just re-do your public image to beat the internet trolls at their own game. Come out of left field and give 'em all what they never expected but will never stop gossiping about. Call it a celebrity pre-emptive strike or just call it being 21 years old. The nerds at Oh No They Didn't will never know what hit them.

Anthony Bourdain And The Life I Don't Lead

Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations is playing on Netflix's Instant View. I've been watching it a lot. Which begs the question I often ask: Why isn't that my life?

What's good about Anthony Bourdain is that he talks about food while talking about culture, or talks about culture while talking about food. He uses something universal -- eating -- to talk about the specifics of a culture, which is a rare talent. Also, he's pretty charming and adventurous, which is a plus. And a lot of the show is just food porn. But mainly the culture/food thing. I think that's something.


(also, have you ever googled "food porn"? You get some weird results)

Anyway, I wish I had that job, is what I'm trying to say.

Lost Causes

Good NYTimes piece today about how Chris Coons, Christone O'Donnell's opponent in the race for Delaware's vacant Senate seat, is pretty much running as the "look how crazy Christine O'Donnell is" candidate. Not that it takes much work to make her look crazy, of course, but it's still notable. And he gets a lot of help, too, from the section of the American public that cares about political races and has eyeballs.

But I'm interested more in O'Donnell than in her opponent. Really, there's nothing she can do to save herself in the court of public opinion at this point. After her history of denouncing masturbation, lying about which school(s) she went to and then the whole witch thing, if word were to come out that she actually spent a few years saving dolphins and decided to drop out of the race to spend her time fighting AIDS and making rainbows, political junkies would still accuse her of running from the public and being nut-so. She's done for, is what I'm saying. Beyond hope.

The same is true for Myspace. Over the last week or so they rolled out a new logo that, actually, doesn't look all that bad, but because it is Myspace and Myspace is too old and passe, bloggers and people who spend their time on the internet caring about Myspace's logo made a lot of fun of it. Not because it was stupid, at least not anymore, but just because it was stupid once and it now continues to exist. Like O'Donnell or New Coke, once it's done it's done.

Pack it up and shut 'er down.