The party for our Film Issue is tonight and if it's anything like the one for our last theme issue, which was all about photographs and people who shoot them, you will want to lissen up. We are holding a special contest for which the winner won't have to wait in line to get in. Whoever emails to this here address the best interview question for this guy (click for more) will get their name on the guest list and thus be able to breeze past everyone else who is scowling and complaining and trying to pull some scam in order to jump ahead. Just to be on the safe side, since there will only be one winner, you should still RSVP here though. UPDATE: Winner announced below.
You remember that last guy we interviewed, Greg, who had a lifetime of killer jobs rolled into one existence? We were hoping that finding one successful, super nice, multi-talented dude was just a fluke, and we could rely on the rest of the world to be like us, losers hardly working. Turns out, maybe the world is full of these success stories because we found another one. His name is Joe and besides owing a successful hardware store and creating a blossoming urban garden center, he runs around sidelines of WNBA games wearing a gigantic dog costume, pumping up crowds and turning on furries around the world!
I'll never understand film critics. How they can go on and on about some movie for like a million words and still manage to miss the main point of the film. Take Antichrist, for example: OK, yeah, it's pretty at the beginning, and then it's boring, and then Charlotte Gainsbourg snips off her clitoris. But the best bit, the truly great moment in this film, the bit that elevates Lars Von Trier in my eyes to where he already thinks he is, is the motherfucking talking fox. To use an adjective that isn't really an adjective but should be, it's totally Viking.
So you watched the Cute Show today and you know alpacas (Vicugna pacos) make loyal and low-maintenance meadow pets. If you get one of the outcast alpacas that has scoliosis or is funky in some way they are cheaper than a lot of pure-bred canines. Second to a baby skunk that has had its stinker removed, I think an alpaca is the greatest snuggler pet. So soft and with a custom saddle you can ride them too!
Upon the realization that we were nearing the end of a short and uneventful summer, my girlfriends and I decided a ladies’ trip to the Hamptons was in order. Luckily, my friend Roxy’s parents have a place there, so we made a last-minute decision to pile on the train and head east for the weekend.
Every city has one of those hidden heartwarming places basking in an awesome urban legend. In Vienna this is the Cats Café in the heart of the city, right next to our financial district, not far from the Kaiser’s final resting place. The café is said to belong to a cat, due to inheritance issues. It is rumored that the fluffy fellow is the heir of the café and lives there all the time, reigning supreme and flirting with customers. The walls are covered with cat paraphernalia and the jingle-jangle from the jukebox is mostly Cat Stevens, Pussycat Dolls or Tiger Lillies.
This perfect little island of escapism is asses to elbows with friendly people and of course this cat just hanging out makes everyone smile mildly. As for the inability of felines to pour drinks (those pussies, they’re afraid of liquids) and their general arrogance, we talked to the waitress of our new favorite place on earth (and brought the cat a bouquet of the finest cat food we could find).
How far would you go for fashion? About one-eighth of micro-centimeter, right, because who the fuck even says that? Well, how far would you go just for the sake of taking stupid photos with your friends?
With this weekend’s release of the new Quentin Tarantino movie, the obnoxiously-spelled Inglourious Basterds, much is going to be made about the ending. And that makes sense, because it’s bat-shit crazy. But much is also going to be made about Eli Roth’s character Sgt. Donny Donowitz, specifically his fetishistic method of killing Nazis by smashing them over the head with a Louisville Slugger.
“A newborn calf is looking at me. What does she know about her fate? How does she feel about these four walls, about panic or anxiety?” Jesus, that's pretty fucking heavy for a picture of a baby cow. But so goes the mind of Johan Emanuelsson, the 30-year-old son of a farmer, is currently breaking our hearts on a regular basis with his photos of everyday life, the countryside, pain, despair, dogs, and, yeps, cows.
Johan started taking photos at a farm after his twin brother, who suffered from schizophrenia, committed suicide there. A few years later he started working as Swedish photography icon Anders Petersen’s assistant, along with covering the afternoon milking, and now Johan is a bright and shining beacon of hope for everyone who likes harsh and beautiful photography.
Former farmer Karl-Åke Karlsson has been in the moose safari drive-thru business ever since he sold his domestic animals in the 1990s and got a moose. All tourists are requested to stay in the car. This rule does not apply to Karl-Åke. He is very much at one with the herd, and unlike you, he’s allowed to go up to them and pet them whenever he likes.
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