See My Thong, Bitches

I came across this flier last week and meant to post it IMMEDIATELY, but the past few days have really gotten on top of me and I put it off until now. It might be the most shining example of effete collegiate white-ness I've seen in a long time. Seriously, if ONE drunken, late-night mooning stirs you to author such high-minded nonsense, at least make an attempt to use proper punctuation and capitalization... unless, of course, e.e. cummings wrote this letter, in which case all is forgiven.

PS: "You need to read a book about how to look hot" is my new go-to insult for the remainder of 2010.

OBSERVE:



"this is addressed to one individual, then two groups of people:

-the woman who directed the statement, "you wanna see my thong, bitches?" at my sister and i on friday, may 7th at 1:31 am on the sidewalk of mass. street.

-the group of four-five women with her (cohorts).

-the general public

i hope this small effort makes it obvious how serious i'm considering the confrontation between myself and the director of that hideous statement. she did hike her dress in the next moment, showing me her explicit choice in undergarments. the rest of the situation was my shower of words, expressing the need for her to go home and read a book, then her rebuttal of, "you're ugly. you need to go read a book about how to look hot."

this is no time for us- first as people, second as americans- to be parading around our consumptive, idiot nature. you are entitled to fun, but you aren't entitled to misuse your drunken joy: by directing the word 'bitches' at women who haven't earned an insult, by baring your bottom, or by making yourself translucent with your rebuttal. your mind simply should not allow it. i've educated myself since graduating high school: i've managed to assimilate the facts of the world into my lifestyle. my plea is this: if you know anyone who would behave so, rip down this paper and show it to them. they've made an enemy."

The Secret Histories

I'm working on a post about our trip to the GLORE PSYCHIATRIC MUSEUM a few years back, but it's taking me a while to get all of the pictures together. To tide you over until then, here are some scans of various crazy ramblings I've found posted around town.

(NOTE: I tried and tried to dig up my favorite flier, LAWRENCE MEMORIAL HOSPITAL HARVESTS ORGANS FROM REST HOME PATIENTS, but it seems to be lost. Maybe I was finally so disturbed by it that I threw it away. Or maybe it's just piled under a mountain of my obsessively-collected crap. Either way, until that flier surfaces, this post has a definite TO BE CONTINUED attached to the end...)

I found this gem folded into the pages of our local weekly, THE PITCH, one foggy autumn morn. I actually kind of relate to the author's point of view-- I hate the typical "Music Showcase" format, and the idea of Masonic Conspiracies has always held a certain appeal. This person took those threads and knotted them together quite nicely, I think:

(click to enlarge)




This next one was the first in a series of home-made newsletters that appeared at the Replay on a weekly basis for several months last summer. The phantom author was never identified, but I kept several of these missives as research material in my ongoing quest for a Higher Truth.

(I particularly enjoy the stamp in the upper right hand corner-- they actually took this to City Hall and paid to have some clerk authorize it before distributing it around town! Some people have all the luck...)




And this final piece is but a small section of a much larger handbill. The opening paragraph here sums up the entire rest of the page, so I cut it short-- the real delight isn't the stream-of-consciousness rant about HOMELESSNESS VERSUS THE SYSTEM (another point of view which I totally agree with)-- it's the handwritten addition the author made near the top of the page: WHAT WAS PAST AROUND YOUR BAR? HIS NAME WAS DOUG. Considering the bar in question was the Replay Lounge, I hope you went to the clinic and got yourself checked out the next day, Doug.



TO BE CONTINUED...