“Waiter, There’s a paparazzi photo of Lady Gaga on vacation in my soup”
Late night talk show writing staffs around the globe rejoiced when it was announced that Rolling Stone magazine was planning on opening a restaurant chain. Music news hub site The Daily Swarm went with the straightforward snark of “Everything is served stale” to jab the Old Tie-dye Lady. We want to play, too! The waiter highly recommends the Hootie and the Blowfish Tacos and pretty much any of the nightly Bruce Springsteen specials. Stay away from the Jann Wenner special sauce. Come for the chicken wings, stay for the vapid Zac Efron interview. Even the menu has a Beatle on the cover every other week. Be leery of the Maxim magazine “massage parlour” across the street. When we said Rolling Stone would “eat their words” over that five-star review of Mick Jagger’s last solo album, we didn’t think they’d take it this far. “Backstreet Boys” isn’t just a clever name for the bus staff — it’s really them! If you’re the kind of person who likes your salad to get you really fucked up, the “fresh ground pepper” contains the ashes of Hunter S. Thompson. We were really happy with the Taylor Swift chicken finger platter, but Beyoncé’s potato skins is one of the best appetizers of all time!
Vatican Sez Thug Life OK (Gay Lifestyle Still Shameful Sin)
Being heathenistic non-believers who dare to not bow at the feet of some supposed omnipotent dude who isn’t even on Twitter, we’re usually only interested in “religious” types when their hypocrisy is showing or they do something adorable.
Happy Xmas, War is Over … Now Buy Some Stuff
A strange Web site popped up recently, timed to the 29th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder. The site lennontapes.com is offering a collection of fairly obnoxious studio meanderings (alleged to be Lennon) for only $10. A press release implores “Give Peace Another Chance this holiday season” by purchasing alleged vocal mic board tapes recorded shortly before Lennon’s death, sent in MP3 form on Dec. 23 as a “Christmas gift.” Not to get all “holiday” PC, but ignoring the Jewish, Kwanza and “old guys who couldn’t download a song on the ‘word-box-thing’ if his Viagra prescription depended on it” markets seems a little shortsighted. Though Yoko’s resistance to horrible things with which to associate her husband’s good name has dwindled dramatically over the past decade (every time a Beatles song is massacred in a Target commercial, an angel has a wing slowly, painfully sawed off with a butter knife), it seems impossible that the apparently unsanctioned site will even exist come the first day of Hanukkah. The real giveaway that these new “lost tapes” might not be legit is when John asks for a White Chocolate Frappuccino.