Wonder Toe

WonderToe
Originally uploaded by the management.

The management would like to point out the serious camel toe on Wonder Woman. Of course, she doesn't notice because that belt has cut off all feeling below her waist. Too bad she didn't tie anyone up with her lasso of truth during this episode. They would have been forced to tell her she was sportin' some major 'toe.

"Someone take these dreams away"

Ian Curtis
Originally uploaded by the management.

Intense thespian and very british guy Jude Law is apparently the leading candidate to play Ian Curtis in an upcoming biopic. Oh man, a movie about Joy Division in the wake of 24 Hour Party People is, like, the best idea ever. And if anyone can pull it off, Jude is our boy. You know what else we need? An INXS biopic! Auto-erotic asphyxiation is so hott right now!

Rumspringa!! Redux

The management caught most of the two-hour (!!) premiere of Amish in the City last night. Despite serious audio problems, the show's astounding quality and weighty social import were abundantly clear. Once again, the UPN is on the cutting edge of televised edutainment. Also abundantly clear is the fact that Amish people are better than the rest of us. Or at least, better than the six "normal people" sharing the Real World-style house with our four rural heroes. As demographic captures go, these six are a real treat: there's "the retahded asshole from Beantown," "the preachy vegan bimbo," "the astoundingly obnoxious, soulless, horrible gay guy," "the really nice Black girl from South-Central LA," "the leather-skinned, beat-down, ultra-trashy fashion chick," and "the really nice guy who's totally hot and will definitely deflower an Amish girl/guy." Favorite character so far is the cute, bikini-clad Amish girl with the mysterious cold sore. All in all, this is high-concept stuff. The ultimate irony is that the girl from the hood relates with the Amish kids on a fairly meaningful level, simply due to her economic circumstances. Everyone else is a buffed-up piece of turd. In other words, they seem perfectly at home on television.

Learning to Love Satan

DemonologyLesson
Originally uploaded by the management.

The management tutors underpriviledged youth in witchcraft and demonology. Another Step on the path to true Gothness. Extra-special thanks to jalapeño for the photo.

Bad Moon Rising

A foul, black mood has descended over the management. Perhaps ironically, this brooding, goth outlook is due in part to the fact that I can't go to the Cure show this weekend. I've only had tickets for three goddamn months. Does anyone else think there's a curse on Randall's Island?

Here's a sulking teenager's selection of doleful sourness. Dig out your copy of this. Then maybe this. Then watch some of these. And you might even want to read some of this.

On the bright side, Bowie is still alive and kicking. He won't be back to work for a while yet, but he has made his first public appearance since the surgery. Welcome back, Zig.

"It tastes so good when it hits your lips!"

If things keep going like this, I may find myself sharing a room with one of the Olsen twins at a nice, relaxing detox facility. Just kidding. I could never pay for one of those places. I see myself drying out somewhere a little more... affordable. "Oh, hey. This is my sponsor, Runs with Two Horses."

The Heavy Metal BBQ was a rousing success, from fist-pumping anthems ("Reigning Blood," "Ace of Spades," etc.) to corn on the cob with chili-lime butter (thanks Matt). By far the most rewarding moment was the group shotgunning of the beers to the dulcet tones of Mötley Crüe's Shout at the Devil. Then it was on to MisSHAPES (of course) for much dancing and sweating. Our metalicized outfits were a big hit with the ladies for some reason, and some girl blatantly grabbed a handful of my ass and then smiled at me. I felt so deliciously violated. The wife seems to like it, too. From now on I'm wearing Metallica t-shirts and studded bracelets everywhere I go.

The title of next Star Wars film has been released. Episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. Apparently it barely beat out Episode 3: Tarnishing the Legacy and Episode 3: The One with Ewan MacGregor Full-Frontal Nudity.

Finally, after repeated shout-outs and much hype, here are links to the William Shatner cover of Pulp's "Common People" (from Teaching the Indie Kids to Dance Again), and the Postal Service cover of Phil Collins's "Against All Odds" (from Stereogum). Enjoy!

Rumspringa!!

The bad news? It's pissing down rain, I'm stuck at work, and tomorrow's Heavy Metal BBQ is looking like a wetter affair than I'd hoped. The good news? I'm rocking Wire's "I Am the Fly" and eating a slice of chocolate-swirl yogurt pound cake.

Turns out the Amish have this tradition called rumspringa, wherein a 16-year old is encouraged to experience life on the outside, smokin', drinkin', blasphemin', etc. The vast majority then return to the faith and the Amish community. In their infinite wisdom, UPN is capturing the rumspringa magic with a show called Amish in the City. Amish teenagers in bikinis? You bet! Thank you, UPN, for giving the honkies something to watch other than WWE Smackdown. Personally, I just want to watch this all day.

For all the comic book nerds (Oops! I meant to say "fans.") out there: it seems that Hollywood has decided to totally clusterfuck yet another of comicdom's sacred moocows. After the utter disappointment of Hellboy (Oh shut up. It sucked.), and the fucking travesty of having Keanu "Why do they fill those boxes with earth?" Reeves play John Constantine, the mistake file gets that much fatter with Darren Aronovsky (Pi and Requiem for a Dream) set to direct The Watchmen. Let me guess... it will star Heath Ledger, Chris O'Donnell, Alicia Silverstone, and Matthew Lillard. Will this film end with Jennifer Connolly on the business end of a giant black dildo as well?

The Hippest New Jive on the Streets

To begin with, the management wishes to express its ("my"? Whatever.) sincere apologies for subjecting readers to yesterday's depressing, soul-searching post. It won't happen again.

And if anyone knows how to get free, easy-to-use image hosting that works with Mac, please speak up. The whole Picasa/Hello Picture Sharing thing won't work anymore due to some insidious firewall/IP adjustments made by those killjoys in the IT department.

Finally, after running into a seriously hung-over friend of mine on the subway this morning, I got to thinking about some of the hip slang that the kids are using these days. Caleb is the king of the hipness, and he was my inspiration. Much of it was covered (i.e., "made up") by the authors of The Hipster Handbook, but there are a few choice tidbits that some of my compatriots break out from time to time that deserve a closer look. So let's look at some standouts, shall we?

deck

It's important to start with this one, because it was blatantly fabricated by Robert Lanham, Bret Nicely, and/or Jeff Bechtel, the authors of the aforementioned get-rich-quick scheme... er, "book," entitled The Hipster Handbook. I am a card-carrying hipster, and I'm sure you are too. And not only have I never used this word, I have never heard it used. I have seen it in print once. In the hipster book. Totally made up. How cynical can you get?

jump off

Not to be confused with the prepositional verb that refers to actually leaping from a surface. As far as I can tell, it means something is going to be really fun and there will likely be lots of alchohol and/or coke present. This one can be used as either a noun or an adjective. That is, you can attend a jump off, or you can describe said event as "the jump off." This is one of my favorites, but I can't bring myself to use it because people would just roll their eyes. A certain level of suaveness (or blackness) is required here.

holla

Also "holler" (for honkies with no clue), or "challah" (for the Jews). This is one of the "ironic" lifts from black people (sorry, "hip-hop culture") that you just can't get away from. From "holla at your boy" to the I-like-that or I-agree vibe of simply yelling "HOLLA," this has that multiple application thing going for it, like "dude." I only use "holla" in print. I never say it out loud.

steez

Literally, "style." More accurately, it means "in the manner of." Like to go bow hunting? Then you do it "Ted Nugent steez." LK uses this one, and it's one of my current favorites. As with "holla," white people talking like black people = funny.

hottness

I add the extra "t" because at work we used to call very attractive people "hott." The more Ts you use, the hotter the individual. "Hottness" is pretty obvious. It basically breaks down to "goodness." Most often used with "the," as in, "Where is the hottness?"

gay

Also used in "rated T.G.," or "totally gay." Despite reasonable and well-founded protests from the staff of tobyspinks ("Things aren't gay, people are."), this remains a favorite from childhood. Using "gay" in place of, say, "lame" to describe an object or phenomenon is so hot right now.

rad and awesome

In keeping with the retro-childhood vibe, I am using these two to death and I don't care. Saying "rad" and "awesome" is both rad and awesome.

banned

No longer in favor. Formerly approved of, but currently disliked. Full credit to malibu stacie and tobyspinks for this one, which I am also abusing at the moment. Someone piss you off? Restaurant you used to like going downhill? They are SO banned. Has the additional charm of being reversible through use of the term "hired."

Got another one? Submissions are always welcome and credit is given where due.

A final thought: have you seen the New York Department of Labor's new subway ad campaign? "Got an opening? We'll help you fill it." That's it. This is posted all over the city! Awesome.

What Does It All Mean?

Now that *bitter defeat* has been redesigned for the new millennium, the management has completely run out of things to discuss.  Popular culture seems only to recycle the same shit ad nauseam.  Personal revelations are few and far between.  And recent technical developments have robbed me of the ability to post images on the site.  This leaves only links, like this one.  But is that all there is?  Insofar as a Web site can experience an existential crisis, you are bearing witness to a real doozy.  Maybe these guys were onto something; trapped in a world not of their making, they strove to make a better life for themselves.  That might be the only chance we have.

HTML form colors suck!

The new, improved *bitter defeat* was designed on a PC. Unfortunately, what appears as a cool slate blue on the PC appears as a fruity, shocking violet on a Mac. For those Mac users out there, the site HAS NOT been hijacked by a 14-year-old girl. The management will attempt to get this "straightened out" sometime next week. In the meantime, get in touch with your feminine side.

Finding Bobby Fischer

Did anyone even know that international chess champ and rabid Jodie Foster fan Bobby Fischer was wanted by the U.S. State Department? Apparently he played a chess match in Yugoslavia once, which is apparently illegal. Who knew? Well, he's been picked up by Japanese officials for trying to travel to the Philippines on an expired passport. What a devious criminal. It's that calculating, chessy brain of his, always staying three steps ahead of the crack Japanese immigration team that has probably not been looking for him at all. But now... checkmate, mothafucka

In other dangerous criminal news, the queen of tasteful place settings herself, Martha Stewart, has been given an earth-shattering 5 months in a white-collar country club (plus 5 months house arrest and 2 years probation) for violation of various SEC regulations. Now if she had been, oh I don't know... let's say "poor and black" for instance? And let's say her crime involved $4,000 instead of a few million. How much time would she serve then? I'm guessing the easy answer would be "a lot more than she is now." I can at least understand why poor people commit crime. Stuff like hunger, lack of education, you know... all those "liberal excuses." What the fuck is Martha's excuse? How about those poor, uneducated Enron executives? Grandmaster Flash was right. It's all The Man's fault.

The Great American Novel? Fuck that!

One nice thing about The New Yorker is its ability to endure a couple of weeks on the bedside table, in your bag, or next to the toilet without becoming outdated. When I finally got around to the "Summer Fiction Issue," (from three weeks back) I was greeted with "Blocked," Joan Acocella's brilliant article on writer's block. I rarely read fiction, and I'm not what you'd call "well versed" in literature, but I've always been fascinated by the idea of writing a book. Can you have writer's block if you've never written anything? I guess that's just a self-deluded way of saying you're not a writer in the first place. If you've never tried to cook, you don't just have an early case of chef's block. Anyway, the article was inspiring because it mentioned a number of great writers who just sat down and wrote... just pushed out whatever all the time and then cleaned it up/compiled it/threw it away later. They considered it an exercise, much like getting up and jogging in the morning. ("I'm not a fat, lazy piece of shit. I just have jogger's block.")

It's funny that, at least in years past, people actually tried to write the Great American Novel—the sprawling, transcendent, definitive literary touchstone of a generation. Now it seems writers are more concerned with writing the sardonic, self-indulgent, snidely outrageous memoir of that month. I want a piece of that action. Of course it would consist mostly of exaggeration and outright fabrication, as my life is nothing if not dull, but that doesn't strike me as a problem. Come to think of it... Isn't that what I'm doing now? Blogging is exercise. From now on, *bitter defeat* will contain only the deepest of thoughts and the wittiest of remarks about my exciting fake life.

It's about goddamn time!

The legendary Mal Evans archive, a holy grail for Beatles archivists the world over, has reportedly been found... by some Aussie who bought a suitcase at a flea market for $37. Who pays $37 for used luggage? Who sells used luggage without looking inside first? Why do I find the whole thing so damn fishy? Mainly because it didn't bloody happen to me. Anyway, it's potentially great news for any Beatles fan because the archive includes some completely unique recordings that were thought lost forever. It's also good news for flea market used-luggage retailers, who are sure to do quick business in the next few weeks.

Speaking of moments whose time has come, Courtney Love, she of the bizarre personality and warped body, has finally been placed in an "institution." Her lawyer isn't being any more specific, but that level of brain fracture will only land you in one kind of facility: the kind where big Native Americans throw sinks through windows in order to gain their freedom. I smell a TV movie starring Britney Murphy!

The management has no comment today, with the following exception...

FUNNIEST LINK EVER?

You be the judge. I stole this from Ultragrrrl's site, so all credit is due. BTW, the audio is VERY important and it might get you fired from a really corporate workplace. And you're welcome.

Did anyone get the license number of the weekend that ran me over??

Ouch. My. Head. Hurts. At the risk of turning this into a MisSHAPES fan site, I'm gonna give it up once again to whoever runs that party. Sure, I was forced to leave by the DJ's decision to play Underworld's "Born Slippy" at 3:30 a.m. A stupid rookie move if ever there was one. But he also played "Crash" by The Primitives... an obvious yet totally unexpected treat that rocked the house. It was time to go anyway. I was such a wasted mess that the drugs weren't even working anymore (maybe I should be glad... I could've ended up like this guy).

The spousal unit hooked me up with Bloody-Mary healing when I awoke (at 2:00 p.m.) on Sunday. I had to drink myself right back into fighting shape so I could yell at the TV while our friends tried to watch Six Feet Under. I enjoy interacting with the television. It's fun to tell people how stupid they are, how big their tits look in that top, or how Alexis is totally going to slap them across the face any minute now. Speaking of TV personalities, Weezie from The Jeffersons died. Is Marla Gibbs next!?! Anyway, this was all a long-winded way of saying Sweet Jesus on the Cross I am so fucking hung over.

Democrat Lovefest!

As David Cross put it, "I'm not saying all Republicans are racist, sexist homophobes, just the people they elect into office to represent them." Maybe that's why they're not cool with all the Kerry/Edwards man-love.

Bowie Mortality May Be a Reality

According to the health and science editor at tobyspinks.com, David Bowie does not have different-colored eyes. "One pupil is larger than the other giving that illusion. This condition is called anisocoria." One depressing step closer to debunking the indestructible-Bowie theory.

"Give me a new heart or I'll eat this sodding baby." 

Scariest News EVER

David Bowie had an emergency angioplasty. DAVID FUCKING BOWIE. If Iggy Pop dies, we'll be sad but not surprised. If Paul McCartney dies, we'll wonder why he wasn't the first to go. If Lou Reed or Keith Richards were to die, no one (including them) would notice for months and they'd keep making public appearances. They might be dead already, really. But Bowie? That's not happening. Sure, he was so whacked on speedballs that he hardly remembers recording the Ziggy Stardust album, sure he had to flee to Berlin to kick his massive coke habit, but so what? His eyes are two different colors, which, as anyone will tell you, means he is invincible. This heart surgery thing is seriously distressing. Could Labyrinth have been a sign of weakness?

Take Me Out

The management needs to strap on some dancin' sneakers and rock out to the superfun sounds of MisSHAPES this Saturday. Hopefully there will be ample time after Master Pimp T. Jazz's house-warming party. A photo on the MisSHAPES Web site (see below) clearly features The management and Sugar D on the dancefloor last month. LK is presumably propped up against the wall just outside the frame. Or he was molesting young ladies near the restrooms. As noted before, it was prime hottness and attendance is recommended.

The management and Sugar D sighted at MisSHAPES, June 12. 

One... last... caress

Attention! Glenn Danzig gets punched out! Thanks to Stereogum for the initial sighting, and lots of other mirror sites for carrying the video. This could be worse for his image than the brilliant Aqua Teen Hunger Force episode in which Danzig moves into the house next door.

"Please stop punching me, Jack, c'mon, c'mon!" Did Jason Von Bondie really want the world to know how badly Jack White whupped him? Jackie boy finally talks about the beating he put on his former pal. 

I got a new toy, o-we-oh!

New stuff is rad.

Here are some new things: I read The Da Vinci Code last week at the beach. It was a giant piece of shit and I feel dirty all over. The worst thing about the experience is the fact that so many Americans found this Michael Crichton-esque page-turner to be a source of intellectual epiphanies. Kids, it's fiction. BAD fiction at that. A 10 on the suck-o-meter.

I am rocking The Killers' new album, Hot Fuss as I write this (thanks to rave reviews from Ultragrrrl). It's great. Heavy 80s vibe... reminds me of a cross btw Interpol and The Faint. [speaking of which, apparently the new Interpol album has already leaked onto the internet... a full 3 months before street date. Ouch.] The new !!! album, Louden Up Now, is hottness as well. What else? Got tix to the Little Steven's Underground Garage Festival show at Randalls Island... Iggy & The Stooges, The New York Dolls, The Strokes, The Raveonettes, Mooney Suzuki, and a bunch more. I'm as happy as a little girl.

Saw Spiderman 2 last night. It was deeply wimpy. Tobey is a very adorable guy, but the teary eyes got old by the third or fourth anguished closeup. Inner turmoil is overrated.

Wanna battle Bush, Rumsfeld, and Voltron with the help of Hulk Hogan, He-Man, and Mr. T? Of course you do. Do it here. Via The Black Table, see the best/worst faux-Eastern European electro weirdness on the planet. Mary Kate and Ashley Olson have been dropped from the Got Milk? campaign... most likely because they have other white stuff on their upper lips already.

A ray of hope?

Could it be that even the conservative Rehnquist court can see through the Bush administration's various attempts to subvert due process in this country? Check out Chisun Lee's article in the Voice about the Supreme Court's rousing 8-1 bitch-slap of the administration's illegal "enemy combatant" detentions. Only straight-ticket republican (and notorious "pubic hair 'n' Coke" imbiber) Clarence Thomas dissented. You know you're making poor legal decisions when the only justice behind you is a sexual miscreant who was appointed by your dad. You know the worst thing about Thomas? He took the seat that was vacated when Thurgood Marshall retired. Talk about shoes too big!

Initial Onset of Urban Malaise Underway

First subway commute in 11 days was unpleasant, to say the least. Stomach contents almost spilled onto Metropolitan Avenue due to the combination of high humidity and no trash pickup on holidays. Work excruciating. Not enough energy for verbs. Attempt to absorb full week's worth of Gawker, The Onion, Pitchfork, The Black Table, The New York Times, and The Village Voice led to general disorientation and agitation. My body is confused. Why, it wonders, have I not yet been fed a cocktail? It is after noon! I should have had a refreshing cocktail by now, it insists. And my beautiful tan has dissipated in a mere 48 hours.

Man was not meant to live like this. Have you ever taken a moment to actually look at Brooklyn?

Thoughts like these are a symptom of what experts refer to as Urban Shock Syndrome, or USS (also known as Vacation Termination Anxiety). Recommended treatment includes a gradual weaning from afternoon cocktail consumption, increased exposure to sunlight (as permitted by thick filth-haze in the air), and frequent ingestion of deep-fried coconut shrimp. Patient will gradually come to accept the wretched state of urban life and skin will return to a more natural bluish-white. Failure to treat these symptoms can lead to a more serious condition known as Tropical Denial Syndrome. Symptoms include a sudden ability to tolerate the music of Jimmy Buffet and an increasing desire to purchase Teva sandals.

Shot of the day: Redheaded Sluts

In our continuing report on summer at the Delaware beaches, the management sits among the pimply, headset-wearing online Doom players on a beautiful day. Actually, my basketball sits at my feet and I'm about to engage the locals in a lovely game of "that's not how we play in Brooklyn, Chad." But first: last night's house band and shot report. The venue was (if memory serves) The Rusty Rudder. Or maybe it was The Lighthouse. It doesn't matter. All look the same. All populated by fratty types with some serious desire to hear some Hootie, bro! The house band? CHORDEROY!! The shot? Redheaded Sluts (apparently some combination of Jagermeister and a chambourd-type fruity liqueur)!! Chorderoy, the most inventively spelled cover band NEVER, rocked the house with Dave Matthews Band and Kool & The Gang covers. Natch, "Play that Funky Music (White Boy)" was rocked. Which was made all the more special by the band's black lead singer(?). Redheaded Sluts had a fruity bouquet, and a finish that was indistinguishable from Robitussin. Drunkenness factor after two Redheads and three Lite Beers from Miller? Negligible. Totally cool to drive. Wife drove. Wise decision despite wife's ingestion of "mai-tai" indistinguishable from Kool-Aid.

Time on computer running out. Daylight wasting. Time spent thinking about work: 0:00. Time spent thinking about Six Feet Under episode missed: roughly 4 mins. Time spent missing New York: 2:00 (due to no possibility of seeing Euro Cup 2004 semifinals here).