We hope y’all enjoy our new direction here at le Pship.
So, Warners is now making available all sorts of goodness from their 1970s-ish archives, available to be burnt-on-demand for the videodisc disc-format.
What’s not to love? The newest Magnolia is a triumph, and has me circling back round Molina’s stellar last decade. As always, live shows are about the VOICE. It’s a haunted voice.
‘Looks like this is as close as we’ll ever get to a one-stop shop for one of my 10 fave-ever gtr warriors.
In case you, like me, have overlooked this glorious My Bloody Valentine ep in favor of the two big LPs.
Pretty much driving my current vinyl-purchasing, this list. Just scored Shoes, Plimsouls and Nerves albs over the wkd: further proof I’m turning into “That Guy.”
When Kighl confided in me about his Entertainment Weekly habit, I should’ve come back by owning up to my weird new penchant for the “Rebooted” Newsweek. It’s shit like this, ha ha, that weirdly strokes my fancy. Can I recommend something like a ToiletHose for the New, Weird America?
Deep down, Americans have always known that wiping their rears with dry paper is ineffective; a classic survey showed that half of TP users spend their days with “fecal contamination”—anything from “wasp-colored” stains to “frank massive feces”—in their underpants. And yet we continue to mock the bidet, the Frenchest of innovations, as froufrou, risqué, de trop.