Recent Adventures! / Good News For Lawrence.com Deadwood Lovers!/ Plus, a Replay Prom? / And Dr. X Weighs in on the American Idol Finale!

Strictly for research purposes, of course, Richard boarded a car full of Larryville farmers, environmentalists, and parsons for a trip to see prominent food activist Michael Pollan (of Omnivore's Dilemma fame) speak at the Unity Temple on the Plaza in KC. Indeed, the church was an appropriate venue, for we were there to absorb the wisdom of our guru and spread his good word, along with 1200 other forward-thinking citizens. "You're a modern shaman," shouted an audience member at one point, imploring Pollan to make his next book a tome on "consciousness-altering" plants. Pollan spent most of an hour telling us that we were fat and gullible and offered practical wisdom such as: "It's best to avoid any product you've seen advertised on television."

Chip: "When I read Pollan, I think to myself, yes, sure, this makes sense. But I still end up ordering the chicken-fried steak."

But don't think that all of Richard's time is spent in such high-minded educational pursuits. On a recent Quinton's evening, the following things were seen and heard:

--Three sorostitutes wearing identical T-shirts with the Icelandic flag on them, talking loudly about doing shots in the shower (together?).

--A waitress wearing a "Where the Wild Things Are" T-shirt complete with an illustration of the beloved children's classic. Richard believed her to be a true fan of Sendak, perhaps eagerly awaiting Spike Jonze's upcoming big-screen version of the book. Chip believed her to be largely unaware of the source material and that the "wild things" were "a reference to her titties."

--local oddball Guitar Mike, most often seen on the streets or the Replay patio, talking to a group of frat boys on the deck (drug deal?).

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For those of you reeling from the loss of the Lawrence.com Deadwood edition, some comfort can be found in the fact that much of the material is being absorbed into the LJ-World's Thursday "Pulse" section. And this includes the "Style Scout" (now retitled "What You're Wearing...").

Truly it's great to be able to hear Q&A's such as this again:

"How would you describe your style?"
"Sophisticated big-game hunter haute couture (aka haute Countach)."

Also returning is the popular "Townie Guide To ________." This week's topic is Memorial Day and Jennifer Arin ("part-time barista...full-time crimefighter") explains which beer is best for the holiday:

"Pabst Blue Ribbon. Dude, the colors on the can are red, white, and blue."

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Most local hipsters almost certainly did NOT attend their own proms (or attended in such a state of ironic distance that they might as well have not attended). But this week brings them another chance: The Replay is presenting an "Enchantment Under The Seas" charity prom benefiting Women's Transitional Services.

Richard: "Somehow, this seems appropriate. The prom, with its suggestions of true love, primarily exists so that young people can get laid afterwards. The same is true for the Replay. Not for nothing did it earn its nickname of 'the pre-lay."


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The boys are too hip for American Idol, but luckily our friend Dr. X is here to address the mainstream today with a lengthy guest-column exploring boring Kris Allen's "surprise" victory over unpredictable gay frontrunner Adam Lambert.

"Frankly, I could give two shits twice about whether Glambert fucks men or produce (because he's so very 'edgy' and shit -- he could make a veggisexualism popular, ya see). *sigh* Kids and women who shameless crave for gay men, who, very politely remind them that they have zero interest in them sexually, are professedly stupid.

There. I said it. It needed to be said.

And why? Because I'm sick of listening to idiot comments saying that the Kris Allen is too milquetoast or that Glambert was robbed. No. Listen fucktwats: Glambert CAN sing. He merely chose not to week after week. He has great range... and a screech that he slaps onto every song that makes me cringe because the fucker does have talent... but he insists on ruining it with his screech.

Likewise, guess what ya genius bitches. See, when I use bitches -- it's both cool and derogatory. When others use bitches, you sound like a bunch of punk as bitches... lapping up my nipple sweat, lookin for a ride. Fuckin hit the bricks, ya unwashed hobos. Back to the score: Guess what genius bitches: the AI -- it's on fucking FOX. You know, the same fucking FOX that is run by a corporate CONSERVATIVE media wonk. How does it surprise you that the fanbase who watches AI... you know, families and shit, would vote for the clean cut kid who sings with consistency?

Fucktards. Word. Even MORE so... uh, the judges were in the bag for Boyliner EVERY. FUCKING. WEEK. Even the lowest common denominator who would watch AI weekly doesn't like to be told to like something... And they took the Glambert and told him to hit the bricks, shitty.

Now, the irony here is that Dr. Fuckin X really oughta pull for the Glambert.. because if someone would just beat the fucking snot out of him until he stopped screeching -- he'd be the bomb fucking yo-yo. Problematically, when you take a song like U2s "one" and remove the sincerity from the message and make it all about Adam Fucking Lambert -- you miss the golly-god damn point.

Whem you try and pass off the Jeff Buckley version of "Ring of Fire" as your own invention, same with Gary Jules' version of "Mad World": your a bitches, bitches. Kid's got mad skills... and too-tight pants. I once recognized him as a bad attempt at trying to be a cross of Freddie Mercury (irony: they bring in Queen to play with him) and the lead singer of The Darkness... but I have now come to realize that he's just the reincarnation of the would-be career of the leas singer of mutha fucking Steelheart.

What -- you music bitches don't remember Steelheart's classic 80's power ballad "I'll Never Let You Go"? Look it up, shitstocks. It's Adam Fucking Lambert's playbook.

Now. Enough. Your bitches lost, megabitches. The Conway boy's mad-following of 10 year olds and religious junkies network was stronger than the lazy-ass network of the princessy-pop stylings of the Lambert fan. So, YOU bitches blew it. Not the Glambert. Not the transition Gokey network which likely gave Allen the 2 to 1 number he needed to WHIP THAT BOY'S ASS... YOU blew it.

Y'all bitched up like a buncha jaded, dateless wonders... lusting after a chubby-thighed boy who has about as much use for you as I have for a fucking pink tutu and a ridding crop salad.

So shutcha cake holes, and go cry off your frustrations in therapy. Bitches.

And to the anonymous fuckah that has my back: that's lovely... but Dr. Fucking X fights his own gimmick infringement -- get to the back of the line to stroke his junk with the rest of America.

--The Bitches Bitch has just fucking way-laid you with his awesome throbbing cock of power and destiny. Sword-fucker!