Here is an Arrested Development-inspired band name: Dad Likes Leather. It is up for grabs. No need to thank me.
Hell Date: This godless piece of teleshit isn't nearly tough enough on its victims. OK, the dwarf in the little devil suit popping out to deliver the news that, yep, "You're on Hell Date!" is pretty fucked-up, but the meat of the date adds up to rather mild discomfort, at least when one considers the scope of human suffering. Seriously, has anyone on this show ever genuinely feared for his/her life? Better, more deeply fucked ideas to follow.
I'm still not entirely clear what "lumberjack chic" is, but The Walrus has compiled a gallery of expensive Canadian doo-dads. I also don't know anything about photographing expensive doo-dads, but I believe that particle-board backgrounds class up everything.
Readers of 2008, let me tell you a bit about yourselves. 45 percent of you believe in elves; at least three of you are reading this in sweaty socks that rise up too high and emphasize your calves, which is funny because your calves are flabby and do not need to be shown off or further insulated; you represent five legally recognized counties; all of you were involved in extracurricular activities and/or sports in kindergarten; and you'll all get kick-ass reader-appreciation gifts if the current season of Celebrity Rehab With Dr. Drew ever comes out on DVD.
Once the USB turntable is all set up at WBC headquarters, we'll commence acquisition of audio for Untimely Ript, a blog celebrating random garbage from the bog of forgotten vinyl. More crude stick-mutants and whatnot once outside logistical consultants finish work on our scanner.
