New York City, baby.

Thursday, April 01, 2004

Blubox Gets Loathsome

Step one. Read this entry from the list of 50 Most Loathsome New Yorkers by the editors of the New York Press:

James Frey

IT STILL BOGGLES the brain that so many fell for this brawny brat's 2003 rehab memoir, A Million Little Pieces. Clearly there's a huge audience starved for dimestore, parodic Hemingway machismo. And Frey, the self-proclaimed "greatest writer of his generation," is the man to give it to them. He boasts about getting in real old-time fistfights with his fellow junkie patients and about beating a priest almost to death for daring to touch Frey's very masculine thigh—classic 1930s retro-prose, homoerotic and homophobic at once. His characters are as anachronistic as his writing.

Step Two. Read these excerpts taken from the same article by the editors of the New York Press:

If only Andrew Dice Clay could have jumped out of the front row with two sets of brass knuckles.

There's no other way to say this: The "fab five" are the most annoying faggots we've ever seen on television.

Lester Bangs would have vomited down this guy's shirt before shaking his hand.

Now say you don't want to see Angelina Jolie smash his nuts into five easy pieces.

It's that Lipton has become so obsessed with full-penetration starfucking…

Just because you've gone to Arkansas and fisted a cow…

She handed the reins to Choire Sicha—yes, folks, that's pronounced "Cory", and yes, it's a dude—who turned Gawker into an unreadable circle-jerk..

We knew Leonard Albert Kravitz was a lip-glossed prima donna who spent two hours a day touching himself in front of a full-length mirror…

Or maybe he was pounding his pud or taking a nap…

You win, dick.

It’s hard not to root against this smirking, center-left prick…

Hey, Gene: Suck our cancer sticks.

When not crooning school-girl poetry (see "We Are All Made of Stars") or desecrating classic punk songs between hissy fits on stage, the techno prophet cum vegan ethicist of the early 90s is schooling credulous fans on a wide range of contemporary issues.

It should shock us that the bitch still has a job.

Donald Trump's contribution to the war on HIV consists of having his supermodel prostitutes tested before going in bareback.

Flocker became the first person on Earth to formally codify the disgusting ethos of the self-hating, self-castrating consumerist vanity craze known as metrosexuality, in which men frantically unload their disposable incomes to become high-octane transvestites.

Is there a heart still beating beneath that tight, leathery exterior? Or was it replaced with a bionic annoying bitch machine?

Hemingwho? Hemingwhat? Yep, our brains are boggled.


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