Week in Review: It’s Time for Some Guiliani-Loving Madball Fans to Step Up to the Plate


Credit: Rebecca Smeyne

In the week we worked in this church, paid our penance, and gave our blood, Lil Wayne and Pharrell said “Yes.” To which Young Dro and Yung LA responded, simply, “Woah.” And Diddy wept.

TV season at Sound of the City has come (is it the cold weather?), and though The City remains insanely boring, American Idol is back, and so are the drag queens that populate Real World Brooklyn. And add T.I.’s Road to Redemption whenever he finally goes to jail and this unlikely reality TV show airs.

Andrew Dice Clay has gone through 26 different mattresses fucking girls who aren’t fat.

Reagan Youth returned. So did Lissy Trullie, the Handsome Firs, and Jonathan Richman, who hates technology. Count Biggie Smalls here, too, maybe?

Recommended weekend reading: Sam McPheeters’s fantastic Crucifucks/Doc Dart/26 piece in Vice, the Blake Lethem story in Complex, and Christopher R. Weingarten’s impossibly quixotic Twitter project.

Andrew Wyeth has died. The New York Times may die. George Soros, on the other hand, is totally OK. The Vivian Girls played, as did Hey Willpower, and the Department of Eagles’ Daniel Rossen thinks the banjo is dangerously misused.

Bones’ Beat went outside and spent time with Christian Jankowski’s Living Sculptures, Everett True DJ’d ATP Australia, and Pulp Fictions reviewed Steve Aylett’s The Caterer, Edward Gorey’s The Recently Deflowered Girl, and Takashi Nemoto’s Monster Men Bureiko Lullaby. It’s that last seductive word we’re focused on. Let the holidays begin–we’re back on Tuesday.

This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on January 16, 2009

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