2016 has been a difficult year, in particular for music. This year witnessed the loss of David Bowie, Leonard Cohen, Maurice White, Sharon Jones, and Prince, to name a few. It sort of begs the question: God does realize that Justin Bieber, Chris Brown, and Kanye West are still down here, right? More proof that God wants to see us all suffer—Drake still has a flourishing music career, too.
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It’s election day, better known as an opportunity to sleep in, show up late to the office, and pretend like you voted on your way in to work.
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While perhaps not as impactful upon my impressionable young mind as Fruit Islands cereal, Dinersaurs remains another top-tier, long-lost breakfast cereal from that heyday of the mid- to late-80s when Reaganomics made anything possible and America’s food industry was hard at work achieving unimaginable heights of processed food euphoria.
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Fruit Islands is my Rosebud. It represents a lost childhood innocence that I shall likely never reclaim, and I have a Proustian relationship with this cereal such that as I write this, I can actually taste, ever so faintly, these Cookie Crisp-shaped pieces, hear the satisfying crunch as each “island” succumbs to the force of my clenching teeth and feel the resulting shrapnel tearing through the tender flesh along the roof of my mouth.
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In the opening to his cover of Patti Smith’s “Rock n’ Roll Nigger,” Marilyn Manson screams “I was made in America, and America hates me for what I am. I am your shit, you should be ashamed of what you have eaten.” At the risk of comparing a doughy windbag ass-clown to an iconic rock n’ roll star, truer words might not be spoken of Donald Trump and his presidential campaign which, while stoking the ire of a vast bipartisan contingent of the American public, has also inspired a groundswell of fanatical support from some of the darker recesses of the American landscape most often regarded during flyovers between New York and Los Angeles.
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Last month I mentioned that I recently traveled to an extended family reunion, and while the fact that this reunion took place in Florida probably says all that needs to be said about my family, I thought I would share some reflections on the experience with you nonetheless.
First, allow me to provide you with a little insight into how we get down at my family gatherings because these events feature a little something called Kirkland-brand Bourbon.
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Some of you may recall and others of you may neither remember nor care, but I taught high school on the west side of Chicago for almost 10 years. Teaching inner-city high school presents all kinds of unique challenges, not the least of which is having to pretend to be enthusiastic when your students show you ultrasound pictures of the fetus presently gestating inside of them.
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When I’m not trying to induce alley rats into fighting over a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup behind my apartment, I actually like to read. It’s all a part of being unemployed and wearing glasses, and I recently came across an article that described how there is only a 2% difference between the genomes of humans and chimps.
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Contributor Holly W. recently traveled to Asia on assignment for BannedCast. Things went awry in spectacular BannedCast fashion, and we are presently in contact with authorities in Vietnam as we continue to attempt to locate her. Because she still owes us $25 for those Crocs she bought on the corporate account that she claimed were necessary for trips to the beach in the Philippines as part of her “job duties.”
Ever wondered how your next door neighbor has more Twitter followers than Rihanna? The answer is quite simple, really: In the truest of American spirits, they bought them.
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