Watching it all I can think of is Michael Jackson and how he's becoming a Muslim and dying of some kind of secret lung disease.
Oooook.
So I need to talk about this asap.
Not Willy Wonka and Jackson, something else.
THIS.
So here's the thing.
I get it that Terry Richardson is talented and loved.
I also get it that models are pretty and make people think about sex and hedonism and excess.
I get that Douchey Fuckerson the Chauvanist Shitbag is in SOME circles seen as a talented film maker.
OK that's great, I can understand exactly who is going to look at this ad and feel invigorated.
They will immediately taste the sting of cocaine dripping down their throat.
They will get a koolguy boner and they will walk out onto the street, long strides in their 250 dollar industrial jeans and second hand motorcycle jacket. They will envision commanding all the pussy of the city.
Come to meeee pussy.
I, like Terry and Vincent and red headed models, I will rule my universe with my balls.
My one of a kind, super prominent figurative balls.
This is where you say, oh hi hater.
Yes I am a total hater.
But on the other hand...
I love vodka.
I drink it in excess.
It makes me laugh and it makes me feel like hot shit and it makes me funnier.
It makes me more interesting and more importantly it makes you more interesting.
So lets say I wasn't a hater.
Lets say I was an icon.
Lets say I was Terry or Vincent or ten times thinner.
I might actually love to do an ad for Belvedere.
So that is what my life is about.
Hating on people and having a hard time admitting that I would do the exact same thing if given the chance to sell out and revel in self-obsession and trend.
We shouldn't kid ourselves.
Par example...
why does facebook or myspace exist?
Oh because we all want everyone else looking at us validating our existence.
I can admit to this because I have a blog. A blog that is strictly about me for the love of christ.
Me all day.
Me all night.
Pictures of me stories about me people who hang out with me things I'm thinking about, ads that bother me on the subway.
I can hardly think about it anymore because Cokey my cat is kneading my stomach with her stupid paws.
And staring in my right eye.
So to get to the point.
Here's a list of things I want more or less of in the new year:
More black nerds. Less white rappers.
*When I say black nerds I mean real nerds who love anime and sci-fi, not short pants/Buddy Holly glasses koolguys in hiding.
More fat chefs, less skinny jean djs.
*When I say fat chefs I literally mean fat chefs.
Thats that new shit.
More gay senior citizens, less Dominican teenage boys in bedazzled gear.
*When I say gay I mean bordering on queen status.
More Ed Koch steez, less Ed Hardy steez.
* When I say Koch steez I mean exactly this.
*and this is the opposite of that.
Its all in the mindset.
More Jewish talk show hosts, less Tyty Baby Banks hosting anything at all.
More Gatorade and antidepressants, less cocaine.
More cats wearing booties, less small dogs wearing mock turtlenecks.
More for real dancehall beats, less of anything off of this album.
*Yes, I was really feeling it for awhile.
No, I do not want to hear you play this shit one more time on your guest dj night at Lit.
*Nor do I want you to ever play A Millie again.
It was fun while it lasted.
Move on.
More airport karaoke, less delays out of Newark.
More Chinatown, less Williamsburg.
More 'bear attacks city", less "dog bites toddlers face"
*violence is never funny or acceptable, but try to tell me that a giant black bear tearing down Wall Street would not be an amazing situation.
More Cosby Couples, less open relationships.
I'm asking for a lot.
Actually thats not the tip of the iceberg really.
I also want my friends in LA to move to New York.
Then I want LA to become it's own country.
I want a good pair of snow boots, and I want those snow overalls for grown-ups that they sell in Kmart and Kmart only.
I want really white teeth, and I want the entire Scorcese history of the blues dvd set.
Along with every season of Six Feet Under. Playing on a projector on my wall at all times.
Last but not least I want some more art.
From you.
I'll buy it.
I won't sell it if you suddenly get hyped because I don't play like that.
And I want happy holidays for all and at least a million dollars so I can buy my apartment and fix the pipes.
I mean that literally, there's no "fixin the pipes" joke to follow.
Much love much hate much everything its yin yang you know.
Last but not least, more polaroids.
(this boy is the whipped cream of humans)
PS my entire Year In Review post will be polaroid heaven.
See you there cronies!
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