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Monthly Archive for January, 2009
The truth of it? Who knows.
Either way I stand by my hopes for a Tom Cruise appearance.
OK, maybe not “perfect,” but definitely “really good” or “good enough?” — whatever — Here’s the “leaked” official Coachella lineup (via Ryan Seacrest’s Blog of all places).
Lots of faves and peeps playing. Guess one more way to make the festival recession proof is to actually have good acts play.
Still don’t see a Sean Penn replacement though.
Maybe they could have Tom Cruise dress up as Maverick and have him drop some Scientology knowledge between headliners on the main stage. Throw the ghost of L. Ron Hubbard up on the jumbotrons and have them do some next-level interactive Dianetics spoken-word shit.
Fuck it — They could throw E-meters and Narconon booths out on the field and get stressed-out, fucked-up festival-goers “clear” and off drugs before they even reach the parking lot.
No more subconscious chatter about your dead pet guinea pig crippling your ability to form meaningful relationships, no more time, money and precious life force wasted, spent late nights dancing half-naked by the pool after the E you took turned out to be acid and Daft Punk left your brains splattered all over the Mojave tent canvas. No more body thetans. No more Xenu.
Just you and the “Eighth Dynamic.”
We met like low-rent international spies under the cover of a Robek’s umbrella on the corner of Wilshire and Detroit and left hoisting invisible trophies of useless knowledge…
Thanks to Christopher Smith for not only pointing out the amazing, bow-legged, beared, Flintstone jacket-wearing tranny that lumbered by when we went to lunch the other day…
and passing along dated documents with information relating to a long-awaited Rock-a-Fire Explosion documentary, a Danzig/Shakira youtube mash-up and some other junk I missed, but educating me about the one Wired article I didn’t read this month.
CLICK HERE to see one more reason why homie doesn’t flinch at the mic when hate-filled, gun-toting hillbillies are abound.
Heard the name mentioned on some scary weird Christian radio broadcast when I was driving the other day and had a hard time believing it actually existed, but lo and behold here it is: http://www.modelsforchrist.com/
What they claim to be: “We are a global community of professionals who are seeking to honor God as we navigate the unique opportunities and challenges within the fashion industry.”
Honor God? Please! By doing what? Selling sex and clothes and cars and booze and pouting and smiling and drinking for free, dancing all night, not eating carbs and being taller and more attractive than most people?
It’s been a while since I brushed up on my Biblespeak, but I swear the New Testament said something about God making us in his image. Or maybe he just made them in his image.
Is God totally fucking hot? Is he strictly editorial or does he do runway too? What about Fashion Week? Is he available and where can I get a copy of his comp card?
Maybe Jesus doesn’t love you unless you’re a 6’2” half Russian/half Senegalese hard body with a penchant for blow and Prada pumps.
Just putting this out there, but with regards to the seven deadly sins, I think Models for Christ, unless they encourage models to ugly themselves up and work for free, probably have the following sins covered.
LUST: As in fucking other models or celebrities or portraying an image that would make people want to fuck you.
GLUTTONY: As in downing too much Pinkberry on a date with a hedge fund douchebag (whether or not you throw it up later), doing too much bad coke in a meat-packing district nightclub bathroom stall, buying or having somebody else buy you more pairs of shoes than you can wear in a lifetime, taking too much Rip Fuel, or letting too many agents or photographers fuck you when you’re high on E.
GREED: If Starbucks paid more, you’d be working there, let’s face it.
SLOTH: Unless Models for Christ are the most socially responsible and proactive posse of models on the planet and spend the 29 days a month they’re not shooting out of bed, not getting high, not staring at themselves in the mirror, not dicking around on Facebook, not trying to break into acting, not fucking rich guys or sitting on their couches watching “Bromance,” and are either at school, studying, working some regular, everyday non-beautiful person job, or down at the local soup kitchen dodging Staph infections, I think it’s pretty safe to say that in the life of any successful model, there’s going to be a decent amount of sloth involved.
WRATH: It’s well documented that cat fights break out at castings, fittings, backstage at shows, whatever. That’s what happens when everybody you know has slept with everybody else you know and you’re all fighting tooth and nail to get hired so you don’t have to “host” at Nobu anymore.
ENVY: As in “oh my God, your tits are perfect!” Or “dude, Hunter’s abs are so ripped.” We move on.
PRIDE: This one I’m not going to lay on Models for Christ alone. How fucked up is it that we still place such a high value on how a person looks? Totally fucked up. You’re to blame. I’m to blame. We’re all to blame.
I know “ugly” people sure. Hang out with some. I’m sure some people find me repulsive. But if you think I’m the guy you should set up with your “nice” friend, you’re barking up the wrong tree.
Call me crazy but I actually have to be attracted to somebody to date them or do them. And unfortunately I, like you, have been programmed by modern media and advertising to find certain physical traits attractive on people and others repulsive. If this was the 16th century, sure I’d be lovin’ up some plus-size honey because plus-size meant well-fed and well-fed meant rich and big ladies were hot back then.
But times have changed. It’s Cameron Diaz not Camryn Manheim and, though I’m not really into either, if I was forced to choose, you best believe I’d be locked up in the Chateau Marmont for a night with that latter. Though if I had to instead spend that same night on a set directing one in a role it would most definitely be the other way around (see “Happiness”). So there! I said it. I’m just a shallow, superficial, sex with “attractive” girls only-wanting/having motherfucker, but I’m also not the one claiming to be “for Christ” either.
I’m feeling inspired today though. Ready to confront the past, to strike out and make steps towards a better future for us all. Maybe it’s the lingering Obamamania, but I guess it’s never too late to start anew. So if you are an unattractive, overweight, hairy, limbless, acne-ridden, acne-scarred, or hair-lipped lady hit me up and let’s make out.
Screening February 27th at Landmark NuArt. Sure, I know it’s only January 21st, but don’t worry, I’ll remind you again.
Here’s the trailer…
For more info check out www.scottwalkerfilm.com/blog
