Angry Robot

hockey weblog

Oh wow. The hockey pundits. There’s never enough hockey talk on sportsfilter, after all. (via adampsyche)

little deaths, little births

I’m sorry to hear that stavrosthewonderchicken is leaving his bottle. But I’m happy to hear he plans to do something better with his time, as that would be better than great.

I’d also like to welcome the mysterious ÿ to the rodeo. Youdamannow, cowperson.


Portugal 1, Nickelback 0. (via

shitbag wine*

Finally, it’s here: the wine of choice for the downwardly mobile.

*And, yes, by titling this entry thusly I hope to cement my absolute dominance of google’s search results for shitbag. (But also, let me say: if you discovered this site by googling for “shitbag”, let me know. I’ll come over to your house, kiss you, and then make sweet love to you until the morning sun comes bombing through the window like a drunken fighter pilot.)


Are there any rude numbers? I think 9 should be considered a swear. Mr. P. and I were toying with this: “fucking 9, man!” It sounds great. Even just yelling “niiiiine” as loud as you can is pretty fun. — Then again, yelling anything as loud as you can is pretty fun, isn’t it? It’s like being a baby again.

violence, the great democracy

I stumbled across the transcript of G. W. Bush’s June address to West Point grads, and noted this passage:

Enemies in the past needed great armies and great industrial capabilities to endanger the American people and our nation. The attacks of September the 11th required a few hundred thousand dollars in the hands of a few dozen evil and deluded men. All of the chaos and suffering they caused came at much less than the cost of a single tank.

Is war, like publishing, music, film and television, being ‘democratized’? This is the term we use when the tools of an industry become suddenly accessible. Steve Jobs: “Final Cut Pro has democratized professional video editing by bringing the capabilities of a $50,000 editing bay to everyone for under $1,000.” (Apple to win daytime emmy) Sept. 11, however, was not predicated on technological change but rather a mental change amongst the ass-bastard rat-fuck terrorists who decided to target the US at home rather than abroad. That, and their techniques were unprecedented. Although terrorism itself has always been cheap (and therefore ‘democratized’), and people can generally stab, shoot, burn, or bomb whomever they want if they don’t concern themselves with the consequences , this particular effort was above and beyond your average terrorist attack, I think we can agree. Not that it was war, but still.

The point, then: can industries be democratized through profound mental shift, and nothing more?

branded animals

Consider that enterprising entities could alter, say, a ladybug’s markings via shadowy genetic manipulation. How long until Coke® brand doves are seen on city streets? Gatorade brand cheetahs seen racing through traffic? How long until Pepsi-sponsored guerilla geneticists unleash Coke brand raccoons and shithawks? How long until the infringing vermin are put down for being living, breathing trademark violations? How long, I asks ya?

tragic ta-tas

Poor Kitten Natividad. Talk about your typecasting: some of her films include Tittilation, Tittilation 3, Big Busty 3, Bodacious Ta-Tas, Famous Ta-Tas, Best of Big Busty, Thanks for the Mammaries, Ten Years of Big Busts 2, Big Boob Lottery, Wild Wild Chest 3, The Double-D Avenger, and Fresh Tits of Bel-Air. Ladies – think of her before you get that boob job. Those things hang on her like – well, like a couple of severely overweight albatrosses.

RIAA, mp3s, and such

Great thread on MeFi about the RIAA’s perpetual battle with digital music distribution. Dig it. (Boy, that guy “D” sure seems like he knows his shizznit.)

touching people

Cra-Z videos from Vice mag. King‘s right, the Orson Welles rushes are motherfucking un-fucking believable. (sorry, too much Wolf lately)

in the future it will be California

Summary of the last 5 years of climate research in Canada = bad, bad news. Water shortages in summer = a) higher risk of contaminants, b) reduced hydroelectric output; meanwhile higher temperatures = increased AC use = increased power consumption. Reduced output + increased consumption = brownouts. Throw imminent hydro privatization into the mix and hmmm… California party in Ontario, Enron-style! (here‘s the actual Environment Canada document)

free culture

Take 30 minutes, and get a concise, emotional summary of the threat copyright poses to free culture in the information age, courtesy Lawrence Lessig’s presentation from OSCON. (via a.wholelotta)

bilbo by nimoy

World’s Greatest Music Video? (QT file)

what a title:

that to study philosophy is to learn to die. Read at own peril.

happy bank holiday!

I’m trying to figure out how to celebrate this particular holiday. Should I take out my bank card and kiss it? Burn all my bank statements? Go to the ATM and withdraw, deposit, withdraw, deposit? Surely there was something worthy of celebration that didn’t yet have its own day. I’m thinking Michael Moriarty Day, Clean Genitals Day, hell, This Shit is Heavy Day. Or, National Day of Hot Pantsing.

theban mapping

This site is so unbelievably well-made it turns Egyptology into a fucking nonstop high-octane thrill ride. Wow. Made by Second Story, who must be the elder gods of web design. (via MeFi)


Nikki Sixx writes:

One night, after waking up and drinking all day, Vince and I arrived early for a show at the Whisky A Go-Go. When I walked in, a jock with feathered hair sneered, “Who do you think you are? Keith Richards or Johnny Thunders?”

I didn’t say a word. I grabbed his face and started smashing it into the side of the bar, shattering glasses and covering the counter with blood. The bouncer walked up to me, and, instead of kicking me out, smiled. “Cool, dude,” he said. “We’ll get you some free drinks for that. Do you mind if I call you Muhammad Ali, Sixx?”

He walked Vince and me upstairs, and we continued swigging Jack Daniel’s. But while I was getting a hand job from a girl at the bar, Vince slipped away. … It wasn’t until later that night, when I was leaving the club, that I found him passed out underneath a blue Ford Malibu, with his feet sticking out the side like a car mechanic. I dragged Vince home, where we found a girl handcuffed to his bed. Though Tommy was nowhere to be seen, she was one of his victims, the daughter of a famous athlete. I saw her recently, working on the pirate ship at Disneyland. It was good to see that she was still around handcuffs.

From The Dirt, the Motley Crue autobio, which is clearly the Word’s Greatest Book.

I’m only a hair-metal fan in the ironic sense, but nonetheless this glorious tale of four tight-pantsed heroes who wrestle with a cruel world could very well make me a Crüehead. To me the interesting one is Nikki Sixx, and in fact he’s now writing on the web: Rock n’ Roll Diary, part of the band’s official site. (he talks about Red Bull and Bukowski, the creative process, and vibrators). But it’s also cool to hear Tommy Lee say things like, “one of these days I’m going to have a fucking leopard. I want one on my couch just chilling when I get home from a tour.”

Oh, and stories about Ozzy Osbourne snorting ants and lapping up his own urine are always welcome. Always.