The Gaslight Returns! / LJ-World Cover Photo of the Week / Chip Reports from the Country Stampede!

With the disappearance of the Wakarusa Festival and the closing of the Gaslight Tavern, it's been a tough year to a be a hippie in Larryville. But good news is on the way. The rumors are true, readers: the Gaslight Tavern will officially reopen this weekend under new ownership (it's now owned by Outlaw Jake, of Outlaw Jake and the Chain Gang)! Outlaw pledges to bring in the same kind of twangy shows the venue is known for. Yes, once again, hippies will have somewhere to go on Monday nights after Free State closes!

But what happened to the proposed upscale shopping and dining district that was supposed to emerge along the riverfront in lieu of the Gaslight, giving rich people from the Westside a new place to stroll around checking the apps on their Iphones ("I can make it sound like a flute!") while drinking 11 dollar coffee? Presumably, that plan went right down the shitter with the rest of the economy.

See you at the Tavern!

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We poke a lot of good-natured fun at the local newspaper's tendency to adorn their front pages with photos of cute baby foxes and adorable hedgehogs, but this week they've redeemed themselves with a major story on Vitamin D deficiency and how it can be replenished through simple summertime sunshine. Here's the photo, of college students sunbathing at Highpointe Apartments (click to enlarge and ogle):
















Chip: "That girl does not look deficient in any area at all."

(and lest you think that we're the only ones stuffing a copy of the LJ-World under our mattress this week, take a look at the on-line talkback section, where folks like "woodenfleaeater" have flooded the comments section with posts such as: "There's some days I just wish I were a yellow and orange beach towel.").

Richard: "Why, oh why couldn't the LJ-World have gotten a photographer out to that skinny-dipping incident at Melrose Court last week?"

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While he's yet to send in a full report, Chip did send us one intriguing photo from the weekend's Country Stampede Festival in Manhattan (yes, it says "Cougarville homegrown no silicone").




Chip: "The sign is true, as best as I could tell. Everything I squeezed felt 100% natural."

This Week In Kansas News: A New Poet Laureate! / Plus, Recent Adventures! / Also: The Return of the Boys' Hollywood Report!

The state's third poet laureate will take the reins this week as Larryville's own Denise Low hands off the position to fellow Larryville poet Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg (obviously, no one outside Larryville writes poetry unless it's about cowboys and rhymes). Let's take a look at a few lines from Goldberg's "Self-Portrait as Woman Who Loves Her Body for a Moment":

"the curve of my belly,
the hips weary of insults when they surge
across the days like prize-winning horses."

Chip: "When I attempted a provocative comparison between women athletes and horses at Quinton's, I received a slap from an angry redhead. Yet when this woman compares an old lady's ass to a showhorse, she is rewarded with a prestigious position. It's hard to understand."

Cl.thier: "With any luck, I'll be the state's fourth poet laureate, and my work is far sexier than Goldberg's.

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After a month's absence, Chip returned to Larryville this weekend and headed straight for Quinton's, where he deemed the summer waitresses to be "second-tier at best." Outside the establishment, Richard spotted a woman taking a picture of her child in front of the Quinton's sign. The boy appeared to be about twelve, and one can imagine he'll tack the picture to his bedroom wall and spend the next six years dreaming about the kind of pussy he'll pick up at Quinton's when he's a drunken frat boy.

Down the street at the Replay, the audience at the early Sunday show was unexpectedly serenaded between acts by wandering troubadour Lance Fahey (pictured below, on accordion) who had transformed Cash's "Ring of Fire" into a song about PBR's. Richard pronounced it "the single most exciting moment in downtown Larryville since we won the national championship."

[photo by Sir Egging, Esquire, of Eudora]
















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In this occasional series, the boys consider new developments in the world of pop-culture. Today's topic: the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' recent decision to expand the number of Best Picture nominees from five to ten.

Richard: "Well, I suppose that Paul Blart: Mall Cop now has a legitimate chance at a nomination. This is pretty much the death knell of American cinema."

Chip: "I hope Hotel for Dogs isn't overlooked."

The LC's Local Blog Pick of the Week! / Plus, The Return of the Weekly Box-Office Report! /Also: Sunday Kickball Coverage!

As serious bloggers themselves, the boys feel it's their duty to keep up with other local blogs. Now that "Drunken Concert Reviewer" has ceased working, our current favorite is Katy Seib.l's "Kansas Couture," a fashion blog by a stylish local 20-something. In an edition of "Style Scout," Katy describes her own fashion preferences as "High-waisted stuff in general, plaid, neckties and bows, and gray. I'm also into oxford booties right now" and her fashion influences as "The Sartorialist, Maggie Gyllenhal's style in the movie "Secretary", and Wes Anderson movies.". You can enjoy Katy's blog at

www.lawrence.com/weblogs/kansas-couture/

In a recent blog entry called "fedorable," Katy includes a charming picture of herself in a fedora along with the provocative question: "So what do you think: fedora do or fedora don't?"





















Chip: "I say totally 'do,' if you catch my meaning, and..."

Richard: "No, no, Chip, this is not an edition of "Babes We'd Bone." Katy might well be reading right now, and if so, Katy, we apologize to you for whatever Chip was about to say, unless of course you're into some sort of sexy Indy Jones-style fedora roleplay, in which case so are we."

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Despite charges of racism and universally scathing reviews (Peter Travers calls it the worst of the decade), Michael Bay's new Transformers film is slated to rack up a staggering $201 million by the end of today. Did the boys love it?

Chip: "My favorite part was when the little robot humped Megan Fox's leg, because that's something we all want to do."

Richard: "And when she straddled and caressed that motorcycle, we all wished we WERE that motorcycle."

Chip: "Those jive-talking, illiterate, violent robots were also hilarious. When we saw that in Forttt Scottt, everyone said, Oh my God, that's JUST like inner-city Springfield!"

Richard: "And don't forget the scene where the robot crashed into the Chinese guy's house and the soundtrack suddenly switched to the kind of plinky-plinky piano music that's been the symbol of Chinese stereotyping for many decades. The film was nearly as funny as a Michael Richards' stand-up routine."

Chip: "Oh, and what about when those gay dogs were fucking and the father says 'You'll see a lot of that in college.' It's funny because it's true."

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If you're one of the few local hipsters who does not play kickball on Sundays, you almost certainly have a team you root for each week that contains a lot of friends with whom you've hoisted PBR's. For us, that team is the Eastsiders (many of whom skim this blog on occasion) and tonight they get the honor of facing Sacred Sword in the prestigious "game of the week." Sacred Sword, of course, is known for their swordplay and sorcery while the Eastsiders are known for taking the game outrageously seriously. This should be a battle for the ages, readers, and we wish good luck to the Eastsiders (as long as they bring extra PBR for us).

LJ-World Animal Story of the Week / Plus, Recent Adventures!

If it's Larryville, you can bet that someone is writing animal-related editorials at any given time. Here's an excerpt from one:

Jackie B writes:

"This morning, one of your workers pruned the maple tree in front of 805 New Hampshire. He blatantly ignored the fact that there was an actively occupied bird's nest in the branch he chose to cut off and discard. This is a reminder that this is in violation of the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (noted below), for which we believe the City of Lawrence and its employees should be held accountable."

Chip: "In Forttt Scottt, we'd have said, 'Ah well, he was just doing his job,' and let it pass. In Larryville, this guy is going to jail, at best, if he's lucky enough to escape a public stoning by angry liberals."

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With so much of this week devoted to nostalgia (return appearances by "Babes We'd Bone" and "Country Corner"), there hasn't been a lot of time for updates concerning the boys' real-life adventures. Chip, presumably, is at the Country Stampede in Manhattan right now, trying to impress the ladies with his goat-roaping techniques, but Richard has been making his usual rounds in Larryville this week, mingling with the locals at the Mexican Fiesta (where people stand in line in sweltering heat on the concrete for as much as an hour to eat a taco in order to be "part of the community") and at the Felt-A-Palooza talent show (where Larryville's Felt Show puppet-writers STILL haven't learned how to write a single funny joke for their amazingly-designed puppets).

But one of the most memorable moments of the week was when Richard, ordering a beer at the Replay, was approached by one of the rednecks who sometimes sneak into the place during the early Sunday shows before the hipsters arrive. He insisted on telling Richard a joke, which went as follows:

"A guy walks into a bar and says to the bartender, 'I'm gonna fuck the hottest girl in the bar tonight.' The bartender, skeptical, says, 'And how can you be certain that's going to happen?' To which the man says, "Easy. I'm a serial rapist.'"

Our feminist readers: "Oh my God! Did you blow your rape whistle?"

Richard: "I didn't have it with me. But I told him that (a) we tended not to go in for that kind of humor at the Replay unless it was presented with some sort of obviously satirical purpose and (b) his joke still paled in comparison to one of the most outrageously offensive jokes I've ever heard, which was also told to me at the Replay and resulted in about thirty-seconds of silence from the listeners before someone said: "I'm going to be telling that joke for the rest of my life."

Chip: "Can you tell me that joke?"

Richard: "No, or else we'd lose at least half of our 26-person readership. But it began with this question: 'How can you tell if the girl you're with is too young for you?'"

Readers, we'll leave you to fill in your own punchlines.

Today's Hipster Pick (Complete with Obligatory Michael Jackson References) / Also: Recent Concert Reviews

Readers, it's a safe bet that, even as we speak, local hipsters are organizing a major musical tribute to Michael Jackson that will likely include: Drakkar Sauna reworking the upbeat "ABC" into an eerie funereal march; Black Christmas performing an extended 40-minute version of "Thriller" featuring a video installation of zombies and war footage; and a "secret" headlining appearance that serves as the long-awaited reunion of beloved late-90's local funk act Jesse Jackson Five.

But that's a few weeks down the road. In the meantime, you'll have to be content with yet another performance of "Secret Diaries," an all-star hipster tribute to the music of Twin Peaks (featuring, naturally, Ms. Suzannes Johannes singing the Julee Cruise parts). This "fully orchestrated" event is emerging from the Taproom tonight and headed for the big stage (down the street at the Jackpot).

Richard: "As much as I know about the work of David Lynch, I'm almost certain to get laid here, but I'm a little afraid that I'll pick up some freaky chick that wants me to call her Laura Palmer or something."

Chip: "This post is too esoteric!"

Richard: "No, I don't think The Esoteric is involved in the Peaks show."

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As we predicted early in the week, the "secret" Phoenix show at the Record Bar on Tuesday was perhaps the hipster event of the year, attracting a line that reportedly stretched around the strip mall with people still being turned away. The boys, obviously, are far too hip to trek over to KC for such an event, so we're left to rely on the Pitch's concert review of this French buzz band.

Any band opening a show such as this is both lucky and doomed (massive exposure, but in a room where everyone wants you the fuck off the stage immediately). Pitch reporter Jason Harper takes the easy route and opts to slag the opener, Brooklyn's Amazing Baby (even including a moderately amusing Dirty Dancing reference):

"At one point, the singer boy polled the audience about which was the best barbecue joint in town, and many in the crowd were foolish enough to respond. He may as well have asked us to show him our buck teeth and Toby Keith albums... Baby was done by 9 p.m. -- 30 minutes after it started -- and then went and put itself in a corner."

Harper happily boards the hipster-train and praises Phoenix, however:

"However diminutive, these birds brought a big, bright sound, bouncing into "Listzomania," the leadoff track from their newest, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix like boisterous kids jumping on a bed after school before their parents get home. The crowd mirrored the band's enthusiasm; many had been waiting for this moment for hours."

Richard: "In the last sentence, I assume he's referring to the literal hours the hipsters waited in line, but he could just as well have been referring to the amount of time most people in the crowd have actually known this band existed."

Nostalgia Week Continues at the LC With The Boys' Country Corner! / Plus, Larryville (Lazily) Tries to Set a "World Record"

There aren't a lot of events around these parts that cater to true rednecks, but Manhattan's annual "Country Stampede" music festival is one of them. It kicks off today, with an evening performance by Creedence Clearwater Revisited (the kind of nostalgia act that bears little resemblance to the original beloved act and probably contains, at most, the third cousin of John Fogerty or something.) The event draws huge crowds, and you can expect that the 100 degree temperatures combined with copious amounts of Jack Daniels will lead to numerous stabbings and wife-beatings (which is perfectly fine with officials, apparently, although the peaceful Wakarusa hippies with their hula hoops and their one-hitters just had to be chased away).

Saturday's headliner is a major one: Tim Mcgraw. His new album drops later this year, but we have a sneak preview of the lyrics of one of the new songs, called "You Had To Be There," a powerful story about a young man confronting his father in prison about the father's absence during his formative years. Let's take a look:

"And you'd have to go back, and teach me how when i was nine
Cause my mama couldn't throw a ball even if she had the time.
I should have been learning how to fish, instead of learning how to smoke.
I bet if you'd of whoopped my tail, i'd never thought it was a joke"

Richard: "As in many country songs, McGraw's endorsement of 'old-fashioned' family values also necessitates the embrace of gender stereotypes (women can't pitch) and patriarchal domination (the young man, disturbingly, longs for corporal punishment, to have his tail 'whooped'). In our glimpse of the young man's juvenile delinquency ("learning how to smoke") we realize that the sins of the father are, indeed, visited upon the child. This is a powerful work."

Chip: "McGraw is right. It needs to be the fathers who beat the children. If you pass through Forttt Scottt's Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon, you'll see that it's mostly the mothers doing the 'whooping', since they are the ones who do the shopping."

Cl.thier (we think, taken from the comments section, writing as "Jennie Finch"):

McGraw's lyrics, besides being riddled with powerful identity assumptions and grammatical blunders, raise another question: if the boy is able to seek out peers or role models to teach him to smoke, why not peers or role models to teach him how to throw a ball? Perhaps more problematic, if the mother is incapable of throwing a ball because of her gender, then shouldn't the boy, because of his inherent masculinity, just naturally know how to throw a ball without having to be taught? McGraw seems to contradict himself - are cultural practices like ball-throwing inherently masculine, or are they learned masculine behaviors?

I also found the "tail-whooping" desire strangely homoerotic, given the father's own imprisonment in an environment where "tail-whooping" takes on an entirely different meaning. Is the song ultimately the boy's complaint that the father's absence has played a role or is the determining factor in the boy's sexuality? He can't throw a ball and he yearns for a "tail-whooping" given by a male authority figure. In the hyper-masculine world of country music (ignoring, of course, Rascal Flatts), these traits are basically code for "gay". So, should McGraw be praised for his portrayal of an openly-gay speaker, or is this just a veiled way of saying deadbeat dads turn sons gay. Perhaps McGraw's "The Cowboy in Me" contains more of McGraw's homosexual undertones. Hmmm. Country music is so...deep...and penetrating. Deep and penetrating - that's how I like my male country singers.
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Perhaps jealous of Forttt Scottt's recent Guinness World Record for laying the most pennies on the ground, Larryville is feeling the need for a record of its own. On July 8, the city will attempt to host the world's largest ever community workout. However, Larryville's record is not going to be as "official." The LJ-World explains:

"Organizers of LiveWell Lawrence contacted the Guinness Book of World Records to make them aware of the event, but found too much red tape to pass in making it an official record at this point. Rather, the community is declaring it a world record, challenging other cities to organize a bigger event."

Chip: "If the organizers are too lazy to fill out a couple of forms, I have no real confidence that this is going to be an effective workout."

Important "Townie" Events of the Day / Plus, the Triumphant Return of "Babes We'd Bone!"

Two events today should lure "townies" out of their homes and community gardens and onto the scene. The first annual "Pioneers of Local and Organic Foods" ceremony is at Liberty Hall, honoring "the folks that have been working hard for sustainable food before sustainable food was the thing" (Lawrence.com). Awards are slated to go to Free State Brewery, Local Burger, and The Merc, perhaps along with some good-natured competition regarding whose veggie burgers are the best.

Chip: "That's funny because there's no such thing as a good veggie burger, much less 'the best.'"

Later in the evening, at Harbour Lights (which was long considered a townie-bar until a recent hipster immigration), Lonesome Hobos take the stage. Lawrence.com describes them as "More a collective of old townies than a "band" per se."

Richard: "It's a great description, and one that can easily be applied to any number of local 'bands.'"

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Readers, we've had a lot of columns that come and go here over the years, but few have been as divisive as "Babes We'd Bone." Many of our feminist and church-going readers felt that the series was out of place, departing from our usual satirical thrust in a lazy effort which simply presented pictures of pretty women in various states of undress. Others, such as Dr. C and Cl.thier, praised the series for its power to induce boners. Our intention, however, was never primarily provocation or titillation, but rather information (about various women we'd bone, given the opportunity).

Today's subject is Isla Fisher, who, according to Entertainment Weekly, "combines dizzy femininity and no-nonsense verve in the manner of a classic screwball heroine." She's romantically linked to Sacha Baron Cohen (Bruno!), suggesting that she has excellent taste in satire and would probably enjoy spending an evening with the boys. Take a look, followed by commentary.




















Richard: "Our friend Beth once offered an entertaining blog where she tried to determine if various women were either 'hot' or 'cute.' I believe she deemed Isla Fisher to be 'cute.' Such distinctions matter little to us. What matters is, we'd bone her."

Chip: "I find her so pleasant that I actually went to see 'Confessions of a Shopaholic.' Full confession: I found it quite charming! The nice thing about this particular photo is that you can see her panties."

"Secret" Hipster Show of the Week / Plus, the Boys Consider HBO"s New Show About Large Penises

If there's one thing hipsters love, it's insider information, so speculation has naturally been running rampant this past week over which band was playing the "secret show" at the Record Bar this Wednesday. Rumor had it that this would indeed be a nationally-touring buzz band (as opposed to yet another reunion of a beloved local band that's barely been broken up for a year or yet another "last show ever" from a band who already has other shows listed on their Myspace). And, with the help of some rather obvious hints, most hipsters guessed correctly: the no-longer secret show will be...French indie-rockers Phoenix, a band which, by all accounts, is poised for breakout success with their new album Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix.

Pitchfork gives the album a very solid 8.5 and says: "[lead singer] Mars is breaking up his words and meanings into smaller and smaller fragments. His isn't a self-congratulatory, indie-nerd triumph, though, i.e., Mars isn't being cryptic to be an asshole. He's getting better and more sophisticated as his band discards anything-- an outro, a bridge, an extra hi-hat hit-- that could be deemed superfluous."

Chip: "This illustrates the problem with most current music: bands are discarding everything that sounds like music."

Richard: "One of the hardest things to discern in indie-rock is whether the singer is being cryptic just to be an asshole or whether there's a larger purpose. Pitchfork has done us a major service here in answering this question."

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Beginning this Sunday, HBO will air a new comedy series called Hung, the story of a high-school teacher with a very large penis.

According to a recent NY-Times article: "HBO is banking on this show to become a breakout hit. Not just a niche-market gem like “Flight of the Conchords” or a critical (but ratings-challenged) darling like “In Treatment,” but something that speaks to the national mood, a “Sex and the City” for both sexes...".

Perhaps the show will catch on; perhaps not. At any rate, it's certainly provided a lot of amusement for reviewers across the land to fill their reviews with puns that use the words "cocky" and "ballsy" to describe the character and the show, respectively. Do the boys plan to watch?

Chip: "As an exceptionally well-endowed man myself, I think it's high time we see ourselves represented on television as three-dimensional characters with thoughts and feelings...as well as real big dicks."

The NY-Times, piece, however, suggests that the show may ultimately alienate male viewers who possess...let us say, smaller packages.

"The writers have turned a penis into a plot device. What’s more, judging by the first four episodes, they advance the theory — fact? myth? — that bigger is better, risking the alienation of a sought-after segment of television viewers: men who are average in every way."

Richard: "Average men don't watch HBO. The necessary demographic here is wealthy women who wish their husbands and boyfriends had larger penises. Basically, the same audience who watched Sex and the City."

Your Monday Photo Blog / Plus, Tonight's Hipster Pick / Also, The LJ-World Article of the Day!

Before the place was overrun by kickballers, a band of Arkansans called Cletus Got Shot graced the stage for the early show last night, leading local hippies on a rousing sing-a-long which featured this chorus:

"Come on everybody, let's fire upon the post office,
Come on everybody, let's burn down the school."

Chip: "See, when you've got liberals singing a tune like this, it's funny and everyone enjoys it. But if you had a conservative bluegrass band up there singing about firing upon the abortion clinic, no one would find it amusing. This is partly because we all know that liberals lack the courage of their convictions but mostly because we know bands like this are too stoned to gain access to high-grade explosives."

Richard: "Chip, please, it's too hot outside to expect people to parse this sort of satire. Let's just enjoy some pictures from the show. Click to enlarge."




In this picture we see a guy smoking a pipe. Surely you'll agree that it doesn't come off as an affectation. In fact, he looks like he was born to smoke it.










Isn't it hipster-rule #6 that you never wear a T-shirt with a venue's name on it when you're actually at that venue! (but it's okay, in this case, because he works there).











Most people think that hipsters are uninterested in anything besides the release date of the next important album, but someone found time to draw some nice pictures of chickens and baby chickens on one of the tables.









Some consider the Replay a bit of a dive, but don't you feel that these three new hanging plants in front of the stage really tie the room together?**

*Lebowski reference
*Photo taken by a stoned companion who was aiming at the ladies but somehow managed to capture the true flavor of the venue.







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If you can't wait till mid-July, when the Transmittens return, for a dose of adorable electro-pop, you'll certainly want to consider Bachelorette's show at the Jackpot tonight. Their bleeps and blips are coming to you all the way from New Zealand, so surely your lazy ass can make it downtown.

Let's see what Pitchfork thinks of the band:

"Retro-futurism's a durable and persistent pop culture trope, currently burning up the design world on every front from mid-century modern-inspired furniture to steampunk fashion. But unmoored from original context and free-floating in the past's imaginary future, it's style, not substance."

Cl.thier: "This is a music review, not a dissertation, you pretentious twits!"

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The LJ-World knows that its readership often needs a break from hard-hitting stories about skinny-dipping arrests, so today brings a front page profile of the downtown hot dog stand. The story (titled "Hot dog vendor enhances downtown flavor") is as coated in nostalgia as a good hot dog is with mustard and relish, and if it doesn't make you want to head downtown and mingle with the citizenry, you probably don't truly love Larryville. Here are a few choice quotes:

"The man known as Toad, the unofficial gopher of downtown, played a game of who could bark the longest with a dog in a locked car."

"On this day — no matter what the headlines said in the newspaper — the big story downtown was that Craig Nowatzke got a haircut."

"Then there was the day that a good part of the afternoon was spent talking about the guy who was walking up and down Massachusetts in a skin-tight, full-body rainbow suit, topped off with a hat with a plume."

Chip: "I wonder if both Toad and that skin-tight rainbow guy is Dennis?"

Sunday Kickball Coverage / Plus, Angry LJ-World Editorial of the Week!

As usual, tonight's "game of the week" should be a strong one: Mad Greek vs. Red Lyon. The Greeks, of course, are known for their habit of slinging their patented "flaming cheese" in the faces of their opponents ("Oompah!), while the Lyons are the elistists of the league, refusing PBR altogether in favor of five dollar pints of Boddington's.

But the real treat tonight comes after the game: the official Kaw Valley Kickball Party at the Replay! Sure, there's an "unofficial" kickball party every Sunday at the Replay after the game of the week, but tonight's will feature a special performance from the Ad Arkestra Arkestra, who will themselves presumably be playing kickball on various teams earlier in the evening. For those of you who might be unhip, the Arkestra is the side-project of beloved local band Ad Astra Per Aspera, and it's pretty much exactly the same thing except maybe slightly weirder.

The event is rumored to require a secret password (in order to keep non-kickballers out), but don't be deterred if you really want to attend: there's a good chance that the password is "PBR."

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An editorial by concerned citizen Ray Pence in today's LJ-World takes issue with the offensive name of a local band. Here's an excerpt:

The band calls itself “The Tards,” and advertises itself with imagery confirming its name is short for “Retards.” This isn’t cute or cutting-edge... it’s unacceptable in any community, particularly in progressive Lawrence...This isn’t a call to impose political correctness or to silence free expression. It’s a demand for respect and responsibility that’s long overdue. The band members should reconsider their self-presentation."

Richard: "Judging from the band's proud Myspace boast that they have the 'most retarded page on Facebook,' I doubt they're going to reconsider their approach anytime soon. And the first sentence of Pence's editorial suggests that he may be a little mentally slow, himself. Take a look:

"As a showcase for local alternative music, the Bottleneck in downtown Lawrence can't be beat."

First off, Pence, the word 'alternative' lost all musical significance more than a decade ago and no self-respecting hipster has entered the Bottleneck in at least five years* given their exorbitant ticket prices and penchant for shitty jam bands."

*with the possible exception of the Okkervill River show.

The Eight Culinary Wonders of Kansas! / Plus, Where to Go Today If You Love Hedgehogs / Also: Look Who's Twittering!

It's the weekend, readers, a time when our four person readership dwindles to one, at best. Still, we try, so very hard, to keep you informed.

A list released yesterday declared the "eight culinary wonders of Kansas," and two Larryville restaurants received this prestigious honor: Free State Brewery and Wheatfields.

Chip: "Where is Quinton's? Once again, it's like the judges failed to even consider how the caliber of waitress' titties impacts the dining experience."

Richard: "A lot of Larryville foodies are crying in their duck-fat french fries right now because Dempsey's didn't make the cut."

Other restaurants on the list included Chicken Annie's (lumped in with the numerous other legendary chicken shacks of south Kansas), a place where Chip, for some reason, eats spaghetti with his fried chicken.

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Owing to the important work of young Judson King, domestic hedgehog ownership in Larryville has skyrocketed this year. Today brings a chance to show off your own hedgehog at the Midwest Hedgehog Show in Shawnee. Here's what the Pitch has to say:

"What animal has been more maligned over the past two decades than the poor, suffering hedgehog? The pitiable mammal has been the subject of hedgehog-flavored potato chips in Britain (true!) and has been anthropomorphized as a corporate video-game mascot... Hedgehogs will be judged on appearance, they will compete in the Hedgehog Games, and the general level of hedgehog awareness will be raised."

Chip: "If my hedgehog gets out of line, I'll turn that fucker into chips."

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We haven't played "Look Who's Twittering" in awhile (partly because it's one of our least popular features here). Even so, Richard likes it, and he's the one who writes this stuff. Let's check in today with Liberty Hall's Twitter feed (www.twitter.com/LibertyHall). Here's a sample post:

"We would LOVE to get Food, Inc., but it's a limited release today and we're basically a third run Art House--it might be a while"

Richard: "See, they don't even strive to be a second-run arthouse. If I owned the place and had the cash, I could turn Liberty into a place people actually enjoyed again. In the meantime, I'll skip Liberty's screenings of Easy Virtue (which will probably attract about a dozen old people this week, total, until Anvil: The Story of Anvil fucking finally opens next Friday!) and go see Year One at the multiplex instead. I like this review from The A.V. Club:

"There are dick, fart, poop, pee, and body-hair gags, all time-honored subjects served up almost completely wit-free. (Okay, Cera hanging upside down and peeing on his own face is a little funny, but Black picking up a piece of shit and eating it is just tired.)"

Chip: "If this film wasn't so blasphemous, it would play like gangbusters in Forttt Scottt."

This Week in Local Crime: Cops vs. Skinnydippers! / Plus, What to Do Tonight!

The most discussed story on the LJ-World website yesterday was the arrest of two young women and a man (aged 20-22) for daytime skinnydipping in the pool of Melrose Court apartments along Tennessee Street.

Chip: "I hate to speak ill of the local authorities, because they do many fine things, such as chasing the Wakarusa Festival hippies out of town and allowing basketball stars to whip out their dicks with impunity on campus elevators. But arresting two sorostitutes for public nudity just seems to go against all that is good and holy."

Richard: "I walk by my apartment's pool eleven times a day just on the off-chance that such an event might occur."

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Obviously, the Cowboy Indian Bear show at the Replay is the place to be tonight (and if you're worried that the band does not include a glockenspiel, relax: they do!). But there are plenty of other opportunities this evening before the band kicks off around midnight. Here are a few we recommend:

Solidarity Revolutionary Library is hosting a poetry-reading which includes "local rebel without a cause and peacock guru Chance Dibben."

Richard: "If he reads a single poem that is NOT about peacocks, I will be severely disappointed."

Meanwhile, down the street, an art collective called The Cobra Gang takes over the Love Garden for an evening of art and music by Fag Cop: "15 Cobras will come together to blow the minds of any Cobra hater." (LJ-World).

Chip: "Most Cobra haters won't be there."

And Be Moved Studio presents "Antheros: An Evening Of Haptic Awakening," an evening of dance and movement during which "Alice Streurwald will lead a community ritual honoring the summer solstice at 7:30" (LJ-World).

Chip: "Only in Larryville can you prominently advertise a pagan ritual. Unless it involves those skinny-dipping sorostitutes, count me out."

Cowboy Indian Bear / National "Dump the Pump" Day / Plus, Who is "Summer's Hottest Bachelor" (Besides the Boys)

Readers, did you ever wake up with a burning need for a new local band to love passionately, just for a few weeks, until you discard them like a used sorostitute and pretend it never happened in the first place? May we suggest Cowboy Indian Bear? Coming off a few weeks of buzzed-about local shows, the band gets a weekend Replay showcase this Friday, along with the Roman Numerals (a band most of us discarded about a year ago).

Chip: "Isn't their name a bit politically-incorrect for the sensitive climate of Larryville? Shouldn't it be 'Cowperson Native-American Bear.'"

Let's take a look at some excerpts from a recent Pitch article about the band:

"Let's get one thing straight from the get-go: There is no Cowboy, there is no Indian, and there is no Bear. 'Cowboy Indian Bear is a superhero who manifests himself through our music.' explains Marty Hillard..."

"As the EP proves, there's also a certain feeling you get with a new band — one of brotherly Bear love."

"We don't do this so we can get drunk as fuck and hang out at bars and hit on groupies," Bruns says.

Richard: "What is wrong with these guys?!"

See you at the Replay.

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As part of National Dump the Pump Day, which encourages people to hop on bikes and public transportation, Larryville's ever-troubled bus system, the T, is offering free rides all day. Will the boys wait in the scorching summer heat at their local busstops for these perpetually late, brokedown behemoths, one of which mysteriously caught fire last week (although, naturally, no passengers were on board at the time)? Don't count on it.

In the LJ-World talkbacks, OneEye_Wilbur makes almost exactly the same joke Chip was slated to make here:

"a great way to turn a losing transporation system into a bigger loser."

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People magazine failed the boys again this week by not choosing them as "Summer's Hottest Bachelor," going intead with Gossip Girl's Chace Crawford (we'll include photos below in a vain attempt to lure women readers back to our blog...Beth, we miss you! are you out there?). Crawford beat out such better-known stars as High School Musical's Zac Efron and that pussy vampire kid Robert Pattinson from Twilight.

Richard: "I wish People had a contest for most fatherly, rich, and smart-looking bachelor!"

Chip: "I honestly think I'd have had a chance this year if I lived in a bachelor pad that was just a bit swankier. The ladies don't like getting banged at Berkley Flats.

The LJ-World's Animal Story of the Week / Plus, Another Installment of "The Changing Face of Downtown Larryville"

Primarily, we write for an audience of one these days: Cl.thier (who enjoys stories about Jenny Lewis and Richard's wacky adventures on the town).

But rumor has it that a few of you other sons-a-bitches read quietly and enjoy reports about animals, so let's turn our attention today to the LJ-World's always-fascinating Opinion page. Now that Larryville progressives have secured important rights for urban chickens and domestic hedgehogs, they are needing a new issue to rally behind. How about...bears?

Charles Wyttenbach's piece called "Shared Blame" begins with this intriguing sentence:

"As I read the article entitled 'As bear population rises, so do run-ins with people,' it became evident that not just the title but the story was slanted to place all blame on the bears."

Chip: "Oh, this is just like a local liberal to always take the bears' side. If a bear were to break into my apartment and rob me--which I expect will soon happen, given the recent rise in crime here--these liberals would say it's my fault that I didn't have a bear trap. Well, guess what, liberals: I do have a bear trap!"


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Not to be outdone by the TapRoom's lovely new wrap-around patio next door, the Sandbar has opened their own snug little smoking porch. Sure, it only contains one LandShark-beer table shaped like a surfboard, but that's plenty of room for three sorostitutes to sit and slowly lick the salty rims of their margaritas while the hipsters next door give them sidelong glances, peering into a world they've never known...and never will.

The LC Concert Review: Jenny Lewis/Deer Tick

There's a certain kind of white-trash sorostitute who shows up at concerts by the new breed of literate-redneck rockers like Drive-by Truckers and Deer Tick. These girls may not necessarily distinguish between Deer Tick and, let's say, Kid Rock, but they sure do like to get hammered on Jaeger! During Deer Tick's opening set last night, the young lead singer requested assistance from someone who knew the chorus and wouldn't mind coming up for a singalong of Mellencamp's "The Authority Song," and a young lady named Katie was quick to volunteer. Now, readers, it soon became apparent that Katie must have had the song confused with something else (probably Dave Matthews), for she did not know a single word of it. But what she lacked in lyrical proficiency, she more than made up for in dancing skills. Prior to last night, the boys believed that all sorostitutes possessed an innate sense of rhythm ("They certainly do in the bedroom, if you catch my meaning"--Chip), but this girl's moves were more akin to "a full body dry heave set to music" (Costanza). She ended her stint on stage by performing a handstand, kissing each band member, and heading toward the back of the room to puke on the bathroom stairs ("I bet her father is very proud of her"--Chip).

But my horny readers are mostly interested in the night's main event: Ms. Jenny Lewis. As you know, Jenny is one of the holy trinity of sexy indie hipster chicks (Neko, Zooey, Jenny) and she fulfilled her role last night with an energetic performance and flowers in her hair like the world's hippest hippie chick. Perhaps Richard's boner kept him from getting a great photograph, somehow, but we'll leave you with this picture of Jenny harmonizing with fellow musicians Barbara and Danielle (click to enlarge, peruse, print, and keep under your mattress).






The LC gives this concert four expensive Bud Lights out of four (since it was held at the fucking Granada).

Percopalooza: An Evening at the Replay with the Percolator Crew (A Photo Blog)

While the Replay's kickball team was being kicked around mercilessly by the elegant martini-lovers of the Eldridge, a magical evening was underway at the Replay Lounge, which held a fundraiser for Larryville's most eccentric art gallery (Chip was unable to attend, but Richard made a donation in his name and signed him up for the Percolator's mailing list).

While words and pictures can't do the evening justice, you all chose not to attend in person, so you'll have to make do, won't you?

First off, the Percolator folks defaced the Replay's lovely new mural with signs involving the evening's raffle contests.














But what could you win in this raffle? Well, first off was a nice picture of a fox. But the true prize of the evening was this "Farnsworth Bicycle Construction," which was demonstrated on the dance floor. Yes, that's Scary Manilow and Ms. Curvacia Vavoom from the Spooklights as the emcees of the evening.



















The Danny Pound Pound offered up a blistering set of countrified rockers, but it was hard to concentrate with this mysterious and terrifying picture of a clown in front of the band.
















After Pound's set, Mark Hennessey, of legendary local rock band PAW, read "some poems about cannibalism" which used the phrase "delicious ass" a lot. But one line from a more tender poem stood out in Richard's mind:

"The dog met the word 'dog' and kissed."

Cl.thier: "My God, I wish I'd written that!"

We don't have pictures of the poetry, because Richard was too riveted to photograph it.

As we conclude, you're probably saying to yourself, Sure, it seems sufficiently quirky, but how important could this event really have been when I haven't even seen former mayor Boog in these pictures? Don't speak too soon, readers!














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Indie boys across Larryville today surely woke up this morning with a boner for something besides the new Dirty Projectors album. Yes, Jenny Lewis returns to town tonight to coo sweet nothings into our ears. Will this finally be the summer that she spots Richard in the crowd and makes out with him? Doubtful, but let him have his dreams, damn it!

Today in Larryville / Plus, The North Side is Coming to the West Side!?

For those who enjoy amazing displays of athleticism, the local kickball games are not your only option of the day. The town's second annual Ironman competition is underway at this very moment at Clinton Lake. The event draws participants from all over the country, most of whom wait till after the swimming, running, and biking to enjoy a PBR and a smoke. Will Chip win this year?

And in downtown Larryville an event is slated which we all knew was inevitable. Yes, the epicenter of musical hipness (Replay) and the epicenter of artistic hipness (Percolator) are forging an unholy hipster alliance in a Replay benefit to raise money for everybody's favorite quirky art gallery. Percopalooza promises music, poetry readings, an emcee, as well as: "Door prizes! Photo Booth! The famous make-it table! Clown paintings! Zines! Win a Farnsworth Bicycle Laboratory construction" (Lawrence.com).

Richard: "If all goes as planned, I'll be painted like a clown, reading a 'zine, and drunk on PBR by nightfall, at which point I'll ride home on a Farnsworth Bicycle construction, whatever that means."

The importance of this event aside, however, Larryville's true hipsters will likely be across the street at tonight's "super secret surprise show" at the Jackpot. But the surprise has leaked as of today to the general (unhip) public. The rumors are true: after a decade, legendary local hardcore band Coalesce is performing again! Don your t-shirts (which many hipsters have never stopped wearing) and join them tonight along with fresh-faced hipsters the Rooftop Vigilantes. Lawrence.com assures us that "Singer Sean Ingram's throat is coated with a fresh coat of RAAAAAWRRR."

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In bar-related news, Johnny's Tavern, a NorthSide institution known for its burgers, pizza, and bar brawls, is opening a second location on the West Side (in the former home of JB Stouts). As we know, everyone west of Kasold is as boring as they are rich, so you can expect the new Johnny's to feature lacrosse tournaments on the television and a lot of discussions about how the patrons really should support "the downtown" but the new Wal-Mart is just "so darned convenient."

Recent Adventures / Plus, Weekend Local Crime Update!

It's a confusing weekend for local hipsters, since both the Replay and the Jackpot have been taken over by a hardcore punk festival whose bands all have Death in their names and whose attendees believe that Grizzly Bear and Dirty Projectors are for pussies.

Therefore, in need of a new venue, Richard found himself last night at Henry's Upstairs for an art opening, surrounded by kickballers, one of whom (a local vicar) suggested that he might be able to play for the inferior Friday night leagues but probably lacked the athletic prowess for Sundays. Suddenly defensive, Richard insisted that he was as capable as the next guy of dressing like Pooh Bear and getting blitzed on PBR on Sunday afternoons, thank you very fucking much.

The indignities continued later when an attractive young woman of 23 told Richard that he looked "fatherly, rich, and smart." He told her that one of those three things might be the truth (hoping that she'd decide he was rich). At any rate, it didn't seem like the kind of promising beginning that would lead to her taking Richard home and screwing him silly. But things looked brighter a few moments later when the woman launched into a drunken tirade about how men her age had "no idea how to use their dicks." At this point, a less stunned Richard would surely have taken this opening to brag about his own majestic cocksmanship and remarkable staying power, but the moment quickly passed as the woman was accosted by one of those young men of which she had spoken. To get him off her case, she launched into an elaborate fantasy which involved telling the young drunk guy that Richard friend's Brian (who cut an imposing figure with his bald head and inscrutable expression) was her uncle, a figure with ties to the local mafia who owned half of Lawrence. Richard, intrigued, believed that this roleplay would undoubtedly transition into the woman and her equally atttractive friends taking Richard and Brian home for an evening that involved sailor costumes and "safe words." But instead the women opted to leave Henry's and head for Wilde's Chateau to hang out with their "many gay friends." Richard went home alone, perhaps looking fatherly and rich but not feeling particularly smart.

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If it's the weekend, readers, you can bet there are a number of back-alley muggings and knife fights going on. Two KU students and a Jimmy John's delivery driver were robbed late last night along the student ghetto of Ohio Street.

Such events always lead the LJ-World talkbackers into a frenzy. Lawrenceguy40, the resident conservative, blames the event squarely on President Obama.

"Tell people the government will give them all they need and when they don't get it this will be the result. Expect more of this as Barry O promises more freebies and cannot deliver."

Chip: "I hate to be the one to say it, but he's 100% right."

Larryville's Crime Wave Continues / Plus, Local Hipster Makes Good! / Also, Tonight's Hipster/Hippie Destination

Readers, it seems that the recent surge of bizarre local crimes has continued into the summer. This week brought a daring daylight robbery of a WestSide Mr. Goodcents sandwich shop, a place that has about as many customers as Buffalo Wild Wings (about six per month). But the crime-of-the-week, without question, is the book vandalism case at Watson Library. Here's the scoop from the LJ-World:

"Kansas University officials are conducting a worldwide search as they look to recover thousands of dollars worth of pages stolen from books that date back to the early 1800s. At least six large, rare and valuable books have been vandalized over the last two weeks at KU’s Watson Library. Valuable artwork, maps and other large prints were ripped out of books, the remnants left scattered throughout the library, including a women’s restroom."

Richard: "I think the only possible explanation for this is a band of sophisticated international art-thieves working their way across the Midwest. It's really infuriating, and I plan to make like Robert Fucking Langdon* and put an end to this."

Chip: "More likely the culprit is just a local sorostitute who finds art bewildering and is furious about the 'D' she received in Ms. R's 8:00 a.m. art history course."

*Robert Langdon is the hero of Dan Brown's DaVinci Code, which you hipsters would know if you ever read anything besides Chabon and Franzen.

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Most hipsters know Eric Melin from his Scene Stealers film site on Lawrence.com

Richard: "It's good, but it's not as good as this film site: www.nogonfilm.blogspot/com

But did you know that Melin has now won the KC Air Guitar championship title and will advance to the finals in Washington D.C. in August? On his blog, he is currently seeking fashion assistance for future performances:

"Oh, and, P.S. If you anyone who can help me with a better stage look, let me know. I wore a sleeveless Nigel Tufnel green skeleton shirt to the KC event and another guy was already wearing the same shirt. Ugh."

Richard: "A true hipster would never have made that mistake. Obviously, we all own that shirt."

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There aren't many events where hipsters and hippies can come together in harmony, but tonight's midnight screening of The Big Lebowski may be one of them.

Hipsters love the Coens' ironic juxtaposition of hyper-literate dialogue against a blue-collar bowling alley backdrop ("Say what you will about the tenets of National Socialism, Dude, at least it's an ethos."). And hippies love the surreal dream sequences and constant weed smoking. Surely both groups can bond tonight over a White Russian and perhaps a few tokes in the alley behind the theater.

The Dude abides, readers! I don't know about you, but I take comfort in that.

The Boys Consider Larryville's New Outdoor Film Series / Plus, Letters From Our Fans!

Following two successful summers of outdoor noir, Larryville will mix things up a bit with this season's outdoor film series, which kicks off tonight. This summer's films: the comedies of Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn.

Chip: "Never heard of 'em. And I still think the turnout would be better for contemporary films. I mean, it's not like we don't have great romantic pairings at the multiplex today. They could screen, for instance, that dog film starring the girl from Friends and that guy who tried to kill himself. Amazing chemistry there."

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And today we check in with our readers. Here are a few of their thoughts:

"As a young boy living in Larryville, I looked forward each week to reading the exploits of Harry Lupus. Finally, we had a hero I could relate to. Unlike those pussy Twilight vampires, who barely even kill people, and that Harry Potter (oh, look at my wand!), Lupus seemed to live in a world that was familiar to me, full of people boning each other. And that pudgy bear-kid, K!p, he was real funny! I enjoyed the dick jokes a lot. And when the guy called Dr. X wrote his installments, my mother wouldn't let me read it, so I had to sneak under the covers with a laptop. She said that Dr. X was "depraved." I don't know what that means, but he sure used a lot of big words in between all the "fucks." I miss Harry Lupus and I hope he returns."

Sincerely,
Timmy



"In my sorority house, when we aren't stripping down to our bras and panties for ticklefights or screwing frat boys, the girls love to sit around, naked, and read the Twilight vampire series. I pretend to enjoy this as well, to keep those bitches from teasing me, but what I really enjoyed was Harry Lupus. Unlike that brooding Edward in Twilight, Harry was a guy who wasn't afraid to take what he desired, which was Muffy. Oh, I loved picturing myself as Muffy during the sex scenes, even though the boys who wrote the series obviously had no real insight into creating a believable female character. But now Harry is gone and I suppose I have to keep reading the Twilight books. They don't even fuck until book four, for goodness' sake! It's so unrealistic. I mean, personally, I never even date someone until AFTER I screw him!"

Sexily,
Alison


"I enjoy the stories about kickball."

Best,
the Eastside


"There used to be a delightful little series here called 'The Boys' Country Corner.' Whatever happened to that?"

Poetically,
Cl.thier


"There's a major art vandalism scandal happening on campus and you haven't even reported on it yet. What am I supposed to do? Go to the fucking Journal World for real news? Don't make me laugh."

Artistically,
The Percolator


"While I'm living at home in Forttt Scottt during the summer, I'm scared to check the blog on my parents' computer, because they might figure out that Chip is based on the real me and not be pleased with the things I say, even though I didn't exactly say them in the fashion to which they are attributed to me, if at all. Could you please e-mail me the entries which deal with Quinton's."

Anonymously,
Chip

The LC's Video Game Report! / Best of Style Scout

Readers, it's the first Wednesday in a long while without Harry Lupus, and at least three of you will miss it. The rest of you, who claim to read but never actually comment, can just relax and enjoy the summer without fear that any adolescent monster fiction will interrupt your daily dose of hipsterism (at least until we begin our new series about a young hipster zombie trying to make his way in a town very much like Larryville, which we call "Scaryville").

Today let's think about video games, a subject the boys, admittedly, know very little about, since we have much better things to do than sit around practicing our Wii golf strokes (insert your own masturbation joke involving "strokes" here). But a new game, so controversial that its backing companies keep pulling out (another sex joke?), has caught our attention. It's called "Six Days in Fallujah," and it's an ultra-realistic take on the 2004 Iraqi battle (although leaving out the actual American soldiers that died). Quite naturally, some are worried that the game "trivializes" the battle, turning loss of life into a fantasy. How do the boys feel about it? Can the game succeed?

Chip: "Oh, I know plenty of rednecks who think that shooting Iraqis is very cool. They'd totally buy this game, except most of them long ago sold their X-Boxes to buy meth."

Richard: "Well, Americans have proven again and again that they aren't willing to engage with intelligent big-screen depictions of the war. I mean, will any of you readers, besides myself and Chip, be buying a ticket for Kathryn Bigelow's supposedly amazing film The Hurt Locker this summer? Or will you be seeing Transformers eight times instead? But I do think this game might work. As Kip suggests, there are plenty of misguided 'patriots' out there who'd enjoy it, not to mention the random misfits who enjoy these 'first-person shooter' games without really distinguishing between whether they're shooting aliens or Iraqis."

Chip: "I'll be buying SIMS 3 instead. I love creating little Smileys and seeing how many people I can fuck."

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At the LC, we work hard to synthesize the best hipster information and present it for you in a compact form. Today we offer some of our favorite recent entries from Lawrence.com's ever-popular style scout.

First there's Abby Woody, who favorite trends are "Collectivism, not shaving, dog ownership, feathers." (Chip: "Great, another hairy communist! Would it kill these hippie chicks to shave their legs? I mean, there's a certain point where these women just get too hairy to bang").

And how about Brock Potucek? His favorite trends: "...the Madchester look, as well as the 90210/Blossom trend." (Richard: "Beth, what's the Madchester look? Without you in Lawrence, we're more unfashionable than ever! Although I suspect King Tosser could explain this to us as well!").

But best of all is Zac Bennett, who explains his tattoos: "I have a 18th & Vine tattoo and an Al Hirschfeld drawing on my forearm, a Harry Potter quote on my other arm, and the symbol for the Legend of Zelda on my hand." (Chip: "I'll bet this guy gets laid like crazy!")

And we'll leave you with this from Mr. Bennett (along with his picture):

"I try and look kind of sharp. My clothes are always well-fitting and I try to wear a lot of bright, bold colors."

Pitchfork Loves the Dirty Projectors (of course) / The Power and Light District Hates Jazzy Jeff! / Plus, a Weather-Related Drinking Game for Locals!

Hipsters, perhaps you're waiting to see if Pitchfork truly loves the Dirty Projector's new album before you head down to Love Garden today to pick it up. Rest assured, they love it! The album has received a 9.2 (keep in mind that Grizzly Bear's recent masterpiece only received a 9.0!).

Here's an excerpt from Pitchfork's review:

"I don't quite understand what Longstreth is going for with the song's whale-plea mantra, but when it sounds like this-- so gigantic, so effortless, so unbelievably catchy-- I could really give a fuck. It's pure bliss, tension that results in glorious release."

Richard: "This review almost comes right and out and says that these critics are literally beating off to their favorite hipster bands. Of course, we've known that for some time."

Chip: "When I want to beat off to a record, I'll stick with something sexy, thank you very much. Maybe Al Green. Or the Jonas Brothers."

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Since it first appeared, KC's upscale Power and Light District has been plagued with charges of racial profiling due to their dress codes which prohibit baggy clothing and other potentially "gang-related" accessories (local liberals have nicknamed the venue the "Power of White" district). This past Saturday, an event occurred which has truly fanned the flames: DJ Jazzy Jeff's set was mysteriously cut short fifteen minutes in and he was escorted from the stage. His claim: the officials didn't want him to spin rap. The venue's claim: Jeff's sound guys refused to conform to the proper levels and were about to blow the system. Mounting evidence suggests that the event is not as racially motivated as it first appeared, but it has produced a wealth of on-line commentary that's sparking a much-needed debate about racism in the KC area. A blog has even sprung up that is solely dedicated to the issue: www.fuckpowerandlight.blogspot.com/ It's written by a "white dude with a job that's never been to the P & L and isn't planning to."

Hip-hop websites are also abuzz. Here's a comment from someone called E-Rhymes:

"First of all BITCHES, Kansas City is the home of TECH N9NE!!!!! Nuff said! We are HIP-HOP!!!! What kills me is the racism that exists in these venues like THE POWER AND WHITE DISTRICT! Its bullshit! DJ Jazzy Jeff should never have been treated like that but thats the cards that these racist muthafuckas is dealing out in KCMO. I love my city and I wont let you bitch ass internet thugs blasphemy the 816 aka Killa City. Real talk. We the next to blow and on the real we already have! Tech N9ne is THE #1 INDEPENDENT ARTIST! And we got more to come from Heet Mob to Mon-E-G we are HIP-HOP! E.RHYMES KC REPRESENTER IM OUT....."

Gfadfb has experienced the profiling firsthand:

"i fuck with the power and light heavy and its not a club its a big ass mall like place with resturants and clubs in it its very nice but they have been racist from jump i get VIP at the nicest club there all the time and me and my crew dress right for it every time and 6 or 7 outta 10 times they say we aint dressed right but theres so many ways to get in that we always make it in and i drop $800 or more every night i do it there so they need to stop hatin..."

What do the boys think?

Chip: "The problem is that the district sends mixed-messages: we do want a diverse crowd; we don't want a diverse crowd. Make up your mind! Forttt Scottt handles this problem by being completely upfront about it: we make it very clear, often through violence, that there are certain places that the blacks and the gays and the Mexicans simply shouldn't go."

Richard: "Perhaps they simply kicked him off because he sucks so much without the Fresh Prince."

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During this time of year in Larryville, there's a good chance your favorite programs are going to be interrupted due to important weather alerts. On a recent LJ-World talkback, the following drinking game was proposed to help viewers stay entertained and drunk during meteorologist Katie Horner's frequent interruptions. We reprint it here with no further commentary simply because we find it funny (and potentially very useful!):


The Katie Horner Drinking Game:

Sometimes you need a drink to get through nights like these. The tornadoes! The hail! The ego!

If Katie's wearing jeans, it's clearly casual day. All players must be in their underwear.

If Katie mentions a watch or a warning of any type, hold tight to your drink and sip nervously.

If Katie tells you it's hailing in you area, run outside to freshen the ice in your cup.

If Katie speaks directly to your children, give them a heavy dose of cough syrup. (If you don't have kids, drink it yourself.)

If Katie says "Tonganoxie," everyone passes their drink to the person on the right and chugs.

If Katie says "Take cover," top off your drink. It's gonna be a long night.

If Katie talks about being scared for you life, chug.

If Katie asks the audience to email her rainfall totals or storm damage reports, take a crazy party pic and send it to her.

If Katie references Newschopper 5, take 5 gulps.

If Katie announces a tornado warning, fire up the blender and make some pina coladas.

If Katie talks about Doppler coupling, make out with the person to your left.

If Katie walks off screen, take a long, steady chug until she returns.

If Katie talks about peace of mind, drink.

If Katie tells you you're in the clear, the game ends.

If a tornado actually hits your house, move the party to KCTV5 and get Katie drunk with you!

The LC Recommends a New Hipster Band to Delight You! / Plus, Kickball Scores! / Also, The Boys Play a Round of "Look at This Fucking Hipster"

Hipsters, by now you've surely listened to Grizzly Bear's Veckatimest upwards of two hundred times, and while it's still perfect, perhaps you're in need of something new and not quite as well-known (according to the NY-Times, Grizzly Bear have now ascended to the "highbrow mainstream," making them much less hip).

Allow us to recommend a band called Dirty Projectors. These excerpts (from the NY-Times and Pitchfork) should easily make our case that this should be your new favorite band before you hear a single note.

"The artwork of “Bitte Orca” features Mr. Longstreth gazing into the eyes of Friedrich Nietzsche." (NY-Times)

"Previous Dirty Projectors albums have been heavy on concept; “The Getty Address,” from 2005, is a “glitch opera” loosely about cultural imperialism, told through Don Henley and the Aztec people." (NY-Times)

"...many of the songs grew out of playful experiments. For the lyrics to “Stillness Is the Move” Mr. Longstreth had Ms. Coffman watch the Wim Wenders film “Wings of Desire” and write down lines of dialogue that intrigued her; other lyrics were drawn from an Excel spreadsheet of hundreds of pop clichés." (NY-Times)

"The last Dirty Projectors full-length, 2007's Rise Above, reimagined a Black Flag hardcore classic as an art-jazz cave painting." (Pitchfork)

The new album, Bitte Orca, drops tomorrow. The album cover is pictured below. See you at Love Garden!



















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In a shocking upset during last night's Game of the Week, the relatively unknown team called Screamers defeated Free State Brewing 21-1. There's only one possible explanation for this: the Free State Brewing team was completely and irrecoverably drunk by the 9:00 game time.

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LC-supporter and fashion maven Beth recently turned us onto a fascinating website called "Look at this fucking hipster" (www.latfh.com), which offers pictures of hipsters in their natural habitats accompanied by amusing captions (basically, the same kind of shit we've been doing here for years without an audience). Let's play a round of latfh today using photos from last night's Replay show. Yes, it's a new feature that shows why it's probably better if the LC remains relatively private. If you see yourself or your friends here, we don't mean any particular harm.




An attractive goth chick and a young woman dressed like your grandmother are either bonding over their coolness or preparing to make out.












Life imitates art as this hipster strikes a pose in front of the Replay's new mural. Do you think he works at Ace Hardware, or is he just a fan?











This hipster chick has some sweet dragon tattoos on her back and some funky glasses and we'd totally bang her.

Biker Update! / Plus, Sunday Kickball Coverage

Since you lazy hipsters never read on the Sabbath anyway, let's just look at some pictures together.

As we reported last week, the City Fathers successfully kicked the hippies out of town and celebrated by hosting a Harley Davidson Rally this weekend, knowing that, unlike the hippies, the bikers might actually spend money in downtown businesses other than the head shops. Even Buffalo Bob's Smokehouse, which hasn't had a paying customer since Vermont Street BBQ opened up, got in on the act with this banner:















In this next photo we see what's known as a "motorcycle mama" waving to the crowd during Saturday's parade along Mass. Street. The boys were scared to wave back, however, suspecting that the bikers would leap off their Hogs and stomp them into the ground.
















Although Larryville police looked the other way this weekend and allowed the bikers to run rampant all over town, some pigs from Top City, luckily, stepped in to administer the necessary nightstick beatings. Will the bikers stick around for tonight's early Replay show? Will the place turn into another Altamount? Stay tuned.
















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If it's Sunday in Larryville, you're probably polishing your kickball shoes and icing down your PBR right now. As you can see from the Kaw Valley Kickball's Twitter feed, quoted above, there has been a major problem so far this year with hipsters tossing cigarette butts on the field. Can't you fuckers wait till after the game to have a smoke?

Tonight's "game of the week" should be a good one: Screamers vs. Free State Brewing? Will the Screamers scare away the brewers with their patented battle shrieks? Will the brewers adhere to the "aluminum cans only" rule or will they carry around glass growlers of Copperhead Ale like a bunch of hill-country moonshiners? See you at Hobbs.

Recent Adventures / Plus, The Important Finale of The Cougar!

With so many quirky cultural events to choose from in Larryville, it's sometimes hard to tell if you're choosing the most "important" ones to attend. One way of being sure is to see whether former Mayor (and proponent of "Dada Day") "Boog" Highberger is in attendance. Boog was spotted cheering on El Santo's battle with the monsters at Liberty Hall's recent "lucha libre" night and also in the crowd at the hippie store Beyond the Door for last night's performance by legendary folk/experimental jazz artist Eugene Chadbourne. Richard must indeed be moving in the right circles.

Beyond the Door, which sells hippie clothing and incense and posters ("in Forttt Scottt, we call this stuff paraphernalia and lock people up for it"--Chip), is owned by a lovely hippie chick named Sherry, who dances around and hugs her favored customers (such as Boog and the little old lesbians from the Replay). For this performance, she even provided free kegs from Free State Brewery for any man, woman, or child who desired it. Chadbourne delighted the crowd with a set on guitar, followed by a set on the banjo (including a song mostly composed of bird noises), followed by a fifteen-minute encore in which he used an "electrified grabber" (of the sort one might pick up leaves with) to produce unusual sounds while grabbing various items such as: a stool, posters on the wall, a hippie's shoe, and a roof beam, which finally produced a screech so loud he deemed it a fitting end to an evening which Richard described as "Absolutely vital art."

Richard: "The grabber quite obviously symbolized his music's power to bring us all together, to 'grab' us in an embrace far removed from the 'mainstream.'"

Chip: "Some of the noises the grabber made were funny."

---

The Cougar ended its season on Wednesday with a moving finale in which Stacy, torn between two cubs, was forced to make a difficult choice (Chip: "Again, this doesn't make sense. A real cougar would just keep and fuck them both."). But before the final decision, the cubs had to meet Stacy's four children (which was somehow just now happening although they've all been living under the same roof for seven weeks of the show). In the end, Stacy chose (naturally) the cub with whom she had the strongest "physical bond," and the episode ended with the cub's proposal of marriage, which she accepted. Presumably, they lived happily ever after (or at least until the cameras stopped rolling).

Richard: "All in all, the show was fun and the cougar was hot, but I probably won't watch another season unless they move it to HBO and show some titties on it."

The LC's Controversy Corner / Plus, The Changing Face of Downtown Larryville, Part III (A Photo Essay); Also, Where To Go Tonight If You're a Hippie!

Some say the LC plays it too safe, sticking mostly to boner jokes and hipster-bashing, to which we usually say: Fuck off, hipsters. That's what makes us laugh. But occasionally we do find ourselves drawn into the edgier issues of the day, such as PETA's intention to capitalize on the recent murder of controversial late-term abortion provider George Tiller by erecting billboards around Wichita which read "Pro-choice? Choose vegetarian?"

Chip: "Am I the only one who sees a clear difference between someone killing another human being and someone who enjoys a nice bacon sandwich on occasion?"

Suprisingly enough, Chip, even many of the most rabid of Larryville liberals, judging from the on-line talkbacks, feel that PETA's timing may not be ideal. But let's avoid the extremes of outrage and support for the moment and leave you instead with this thoughtful on-line comment from someone called "notyourmom":

"I love my dog very much and certainly consider him a companion (even though he didn't get much choice about the relationship). However, If things got really hard and there was nothing else to eat, I could absolutly eat my dog."

---

So far in this new series which focuses on downtown innovations we've reported on the TapRoom's new smoking patio and the new mural at the Replay. Today we consider the new "shaved ice" stand at the corner of 10th and Mass, just across from the Replay.

Richard: "Given their proximity to the Replay, I'm surprised they don't offer a PBR-flavored snow cone. But what I like to do is just get a cup of plain ice and take it into the Replay and make my own. Now all it needs is a funny name and everybody will be doing it."

Chip: " Ice is not the only thing that's better shaved. Pornography has taught me that women need to be bare...down there, if you catch my meaning."

Dr. C: "I prefer my romantic chasms to be savage places that run athwart a cedarn cover."















---

If you're a hippie who's sad about the loss of Wakarusa this weekend, perhaps you'll want to stop by local hippie store Beyond the Door's free performance by legendary eccentric Eugene Chadbourne tonight. After all, you'll probably be in there anyway, stocking up on bongs and patchouli.

Lawrence.com says: "Eugene Chadbourne is an infamous figure known to play banjo, guitar, electric rake, plunger and other homemade devices. He's played on albums with Camper Van Beethoven, They Might Be Giants, The Violent Femmes, and more during the course of his four-decade music career. The squeaky-voiced singer has also ventured into avant-jazz, free improvisation, rockabilly, and acid-folk during that time, touring the globe and releasing more albums than Frank Zappa. Needless to say, tonight's show should be straight outta Crazyville."

Richard: "I plan to be there and I may even eat one of the 'special' brownies."

Bikers vs. Hippies! / Plus, Larryville's STD's! / Also, What To Do If You're Not Hip!

Readers, it's the first weekend in June, which for the past few years has meant that hordes of hippies from all fifty states have descended on Larryville's Wakarusa Festival for a weekend of camping, shitty jam bands, and illegal drugs. But that's no more. This weekend the festival rises anew (like some drug-addled phoenix) in Northwest Arkansas' Mulberry Mountain. And what does Larryville get instead? We get a "Kansas Harley Owners Group 2009 rally." Yes, the bikers are coming.

Chip: "It's really a shame the biker rally and the hippie festival couldn't overlap, because I'll bet these bikers would have killed a lot of those hippies."

Maybe not, Chip. According to yesterday's LJ-World, this seems a kinder, gentler bunch of bikers: "A long time ago, you got a bike to go visit the bars. These days, we have a lot of meetings that end up at ice cream shops. We realized we like ice cream" (LJ-World).

Richard: "It sounds like these particular bikers would have been happy holding hands with the hippies and sharing a waffle cone. My God, I wish Wakarusa were still here!"

With the help of Lawrence.com and other sources, we'll do our best to bring you some coverage of the Wakarusa Festival this weekend.

---

A new report from the Kansas Health Institute reveals that Douglas County (home of Larryville) is the 27th healthiest of the state's 105 counties. Our main problem: binge drinking and sexually-transmitted diseases.

Chip: "Well, when you've got a college town with a veritable cornucopia of easy pussy, you're going to have some minor STD's passed around like a common cold. Some would say it's worth it. I mean, have you seen those Quinton's waitresses?"

---

In our new feature, "What To Do If You're Not Hip," we strive to offer some weekend tips for those of you who might be boring, or perhaps saddled with a family and in need of a different kind of fun that doesn't involve freak-folk bands which begin their sets at 1:10 a.m.

A prime opportunity this weekend is just a short drive away: Old Shawnee Days! The annual festival, said to attract more than 100,000 vistors a year, will feature a concert by perpetual favorites Night Ranger (did you hear Cl.thier's nifty new cover of "Sister Christian" at last week's gig? He'll be in Shawnee!) as well as a performance by the World Champion Lumberjills, "an all-female lumberjack team that will compete in the power 'hot' saw race, ax throwing, Jill and Jill cross cut sawing, underhand chopping, chainsaw carving, and log rolling events" (LJ-World).

Richard: "Actually, I'll bet there will be a few hipsters taking in Old Shawnee Days. They'll be singing along ironically to Night Ranger and performing the Monty Python 'Lumberjack' song while the Lumberjills do their logrolling."

Finally, Dr. X's Harry Lupus Finale!

Readers, it's been a long time coming, and after today you hipsters can relax and enjoy a summer of kickball-related stories and not have to worry about encountering any important and demanding metanarratives again until the fall.

But today...here's one for the fans. If you can stomach the opening scenes where a bear and K!p make love, you'll find some of Dr. X's best meta-work yet, such as this description of the story's fans: "these busy shits usually just skip directly to the swearing and plot holes so they can type witty ass fuck afterwards."

And don't forget that today brings another important finale: The Cougar. Surely this episode will allow us to see Stacy mounting her chosen cub and riding him off into the sunset?

Now, it's Lupus time!





..."What?"

"Yah, that's about it right there. I get into the galley and all I see is this mottled Grizzly laying a very furry boner to that dumpy kid in overalls who used to hang around the docks flicking rocks at gulls. Remember him? Looked like a cross between a dumpy rock and a Chia?"

"Why was the bear fucking him?"

"Well, how the hell would I know?"

"Well what kinda fucking story is that?"

"It's the fucking thing I saw. What do you want? Graphic details about how the bear stripped the K!p down to his sexy underthings, greased him up in his own bear Juices and slipped him a very polesnake up into the darkest crevasse not unlike a very little mini bear was burrowing into his winter snuggie for a long Winter's hibernation? Except there was no hybernation here -- there was the stank of matted bear shit and sweaty fuck of a 800 lbs fucking Ursus arctos horribilis (No. I didn't make that shit up. Go to fucking school and read your bear texts... Unscientific shits.) laying his steady claws deep within K!p's... oddly sweaty, turgid and relenting flesh. Like he was breaking for the cornholing he was getting from a bear. Like it was all his body could ever know of physical love. Come to think about it... it was pretty disgusting. Even just documentingthe entire thing gives me the lonely boner. Ya know that sorta half and half affair between stiff and limp. I sometimes call it flippy dick, ya know, because you can--"

"Can we get back to the bear fucking?"

"Fuck geez. Fine."

"So... again, why was this bear fucking K!p on a boat? What the hell was he even doing on a boat?"

"Ya know, I often wonder about that myself as K!p is not one prone towards water... though I'm told he oft enjoys taking a vessel out to wri--

"NOT K!P, THE FUCKING BEAR!?!"

"Oh, sorry. Got a little confused what with this sudden shift to this almost Hemingwayesque lack of exposition or even name markers. I mean, everyone knows I'm scruffy, right?" Scruffy asked. "Oh, nice. Thank fucking you, author-shit. Make me look like a fucking asspony and drop... anyhow.

"I dunno. From what I'm told, the grizzly is largely indigenous from the banks of Alaska all the way down through the Pacific Northwest... Hey did we ever establish where we are, geographically-speaking?"

"Uh, no I think we elided over that bit and went directly to pop-references and picture of bitches in stocks."

"Huh. So... no one's questioned how we became a port town all of a sudden?"

"Nah. these busy shits usually just skip directly to the swearing and plot holes so they can type witty ass fuck afterwards. Seriously, check this shit out:

--but I have one question said...
"Did Lardass have to pay to get in that pie-eating contest?"




--and also: is Harry still part of the Lupus series?

May 27, 2009 10:55 AM"

"Who the hell is Lardass? And who in fuck is Harry. Maybe harry was the bear... you know: Harry the Bear? That sounds like some sorta meta shit... eh, from a two year old... but wait a second. I wonder if Harry..."

In the distance, a bell rang signaling that it was time for old Scruffy to shove off again.

"HO, HO, HO... wait a second old man. I don't give a shit what the exposition says. This fucking thing has been dragging on for like a month already. Give up the details."

"Eh, but what about my boat?"

"Hold on. Hey. Hey you. Writer guy. Hey, look the fuck down here."

ME?

"Yes, you. Who the fuck else would I be talking to?"

WELL, YOU WERE TALKING TO SCRUFFY THE SEA DOG THERE--

"Yah, and what fucking sense did that all make anyhow? Seriously. I thought this shit was about vampires and werewolves?"

WELL, THERE ARE ALL THOSE ZOMBIES IN THE BAR.

"Oh, you mean the invisible bar currently floating in the white spaces of the imagination because you wrote no fucking setting. Shit, at least we had pictures last time. Now, I'm just a disembodied dialogue floating on the fucking screen."

WELL, SOME OF THE RESPONDENTS WERE COMPLAINING THAT WE WERE GETTING BIT OFF COURSE. AND THEY KINDA MISSED THE WHOLE CONCEIT ABOUT THE MISBEGOTTEN SAILOR, AND THE BOAT METAPHOR ETC. WE WERE GOING FOR A SORT OF 'BREAKING BAD' APPROACH -- YOU KNOW -- WHERE EVERYTHING IN THE MASTER NARRATIVE IS ALSO VERY SYMBOLIC ON AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT LEVEL.

"Do you seriously expect anyone to buy that hipster bullshit?"

HIPSTERS DON'T OWN TVS. THEY ONLY WATCH WHAT'S ON THE BAR SET AT THE TAPROOM. AND IT ONLY GETS ONE LOCAL CHANNEL OUT OF TOPEKA.

"Touche. Shit. Can we get back to matter at hand: Write Scruffy five more minutes so he can get to the goddamned point of this thing. Please."

WELL, I MEAN... CL*THIER IS GETTING REALLY BORED WITH THIS WHOLE THING, AND I THINK HE WOULD PREFER US TO MOVE ON TO THE KICKBALL COVER--

"Fuck Kickball. Cl*thier is probably listening to the new Dave Matthews CD that dropper yesterday. Hey speaking of what in shit is a GrooGrux King anyhow?"

IT WAS THE NICKNAME FOR LEROI, THE SAX PLAYER. HE DIED LAST YEAR DURING THE RECORDING SESSIONS, SO THE BAND DEDICATED THE ALBUM TO HIM.

"Any good?"

FAIR. GIVEN THE UNDER LYING CIRCUMSTANCES AND ALL. P*FORK GAVE IT--

"Ok, fuck Pitchfork. Let's get back to the point: The Cl*th is in his jim jam room getting his shit down learning the chord progressions on half a dozen new tunes that he'll likely incorporate into next week's show at the Yacht Club''

YOU KNOW, IF YOU GO TO THE STALLS -- YOU CAN OCCASIONALLY SEE LOCAL CELEBRITIES JUNK WHEN THEY PISS. BECAUSE EVEN LOCAL ROYALTY HAVE TO PISS WHEN THEY DRINK BEER.

"You are a sick and weird fuck, you know that? What kind of animal would strike up a conversation with someone at the urinal so they could check out their shit?"

WELL

"I don't want to know. Here. Let's simplify: Give Scruffy the Shitsack here five more minutes. Have him explain his shit. Get us out of this complicated metafuck of a narrative. ...would it behoove you to fucking get a werewolf in here?"

WELL, HE'S COMING, YOU SEE, THE REMAINDER OF SCRUFFY'S DIALOGUE EXPLAINS WHERE HARRY HAS BEEN THE ENTIRE TIME.

"But you were not going to show that."

RIGHT. IT'S A VERY TWIN PEAKS MANEUVER.

"Season one or Season two?"

OH. SEASON ONE. SEASON TWO SUCKED ASS. EXCEPT FOR THE LAST EPISODE.

"Yah that was pretty... FUCK! Will you please fuck off and let him end the fucking story? Jaysus. AND WHY THE FUCK AND I SPEAKING IN AN IRISH BROGUE NOW? AND HOW DID I START TALKING LIKE DR. X FUCKING X. Wait a minute? Who the fuck is Dr. Fucking X?"

YOU ARE.

"What?"

And it was true. Scruffy's mysterious bar croney was the elusive Dr. X (Fucking was just his first name near as we can tell). X did not realize it, but as he tied to escape with the bitches, a swell o'ertook the boat, capsizing it and taking the bitches off to where ever floaty bitches go (their silicon-enhanced breasticles not only kept them afloat but repelled shark attacks as sharks do not favor plastic. Why you say? Well check this shit out why: http://cavernsmeasureless.blogspot.com/2007/08/breasts-in-film-and-beyond.html). His ass had washed ashore, and, typically, he dragged his loathesome carcass into the nearest bar and set up at a stool. Though the chaos (and loss of his flippy bitches) had left him with no memory of the incident... or of his life prior to his arriving in the Harry Lupus Dimension--

"Wait, wait, wait. Hold your fucking expository bullshit up for just one second. I'M FUCKING DR. ?"

DR. FUCKING X, ACTUALLY.

"How can I be Dr. X? No, wait. If I'm fucking Dr. X, who the FUCK are you?"

... YOU WANT ME TO UNWRITE YOUR STUPID ASS?

"No, I'm just saying: If Dr. X arrived here via some kinda... Wait how the hell did he arrive here in the first place?"

*SIGH* LISTEN, EVENTUALLY, WE WERE JUST GOING TO WRITE YOUR CHARACTER OFF A LA THE BRITISH VERSION OF "LIFE ON MARS" WHERE YOUR STUPID ASS HIT YOUR HEAD, FELL INTO A COMA AND YOUR EXPERIENCES IN THE HARRY VERSE ARE COMPLETE BULLSHIT BECAUSE THEY TAKE YOU OFF THE VENTILATOR AND ALL THIS SILLY SIT WITH WERE BEARS AND FUCK NEVER HAPPENED BECAUSE IT MADE NO GODDAMN SENSE TO BEGIN WITH.

BUT THEN, A FUNNY THING HAPPENED. DR. C

"Who the fuck is--"

DON'T WORRY ABOUT WHO THE FUCK IS DR. C. HE'S JUST DR. FUCKING C. DR. C CREATED A LOOPHOLE, DID YOU SEE LOST? NO, WAIT... HOW COULD YOU HVE SEEN LOST... LOST DOESN'T EXIST IN THE HARRY VERSE YET. DR.C CREATED A LOOPHOPE WHEN HARRY AND K!P LEFT THE BOAT... AND SOMEWHERE/ HOW KIP HAD BECOME A WEREBEAR WHOSE ASS KEPT TEARING HIS PANTS EVERY TIME HE GOT HORNY (WHICH CAUSED A TRANSFORMATION... WHICH CAN OCCUR BECAUSE THERE'S NO ESTABLISHED MYTHOLOGY CONCERNING BEAR TRANSFORMATION, YOU SEE). AND AN AMUSING ANECDOTE OCCURRED WITH K!P GETTING ELASTIC PANTS AND SUCH... SO WE RE-WROTE THE OVERALL SCHEME OF THINGS TO KEEP THE UNIVERSE AS IT WAS BECAUSE WE DIDN'T WANT TO BLINK OUT THE FACT THAT WE HAD A WEREWOLF AND AN AMUSING SIDEKICK WHO NOW HAPPENED TO BE PART BEAR.

PLUS WE HAD A GOOD TIE-IN WITH THE FINALE AND ALL TO THE NEW GRIZZLY BEAR RELEASE WHICH PITCHFORK TELLS US--

"Ok, Ok... fine... fuck it. Whatever. Can we just finish the goddamned story so I can poof out of existence or what the fuck you literary jackasses have in mind. Cripes. this is the most super contrived bit of bullshit I have ever seen. Oh wait. I have no eyes as I'm just fucking text... so I guess I can't see shit.

"Nice writing there, bitchcakes"

...YAH, YOU DIE AT THE END OF THIS NARRATIVE.

As Scruffy was released from sort of paralyptic time freeze where everything got really hazy... as if some sort of parallel time interceded into the reality of his own existence... he realized that the bell ringing was actually just the Good Humour Man. For he had sea water in his ears, and about five minutes more to tell his tale.

"Is it my turn to talk now?" Scruff said.

"Yes, Scruffy. Go Ahead." replied the narrator.

"Uh, what happened to that guy I was talking to earlier?"

"Hmm? Oh Dr. X. Dr. X fucked with Daddy. And when you fuck with Daddy, Daddy ducks you out of existence."

"So, uh... I just kinda talk to no one in particular?"

"Yes. And you better do it RIGHT THE FUCK QUICKLY or I will write you the fuck out of existence too."

"O. kay."

"Now, speak your fucking peace or be obliterfucked."

"Uh... anyways. So, there was a bear slipping sweet bear dick to K!p. Which seemed quite strange and out of character for a bear. On a boat. And then I recalled that bears are interspecies competitors who occasionally feel compelled to force mate in an attempt to keep their diminishing numbers up.

"Uh... and I reading this shit, right... because -- it doesn't make a lick of sense to

AND THEN SCRUFFY WAS BLIPPED OUT OF EXISTENCE FOR BEING A SMARMY BITCH WHO QUESTIONED NARRATIVE AUTHORITY TOO MUCH.

Sadly, now there were no more characters left to tell the tale, so the narrator had to fill in the rest of the plot. And at a rather fast clip too (as he needed to go water his garden before the contractor came over to help him install a fireplace!).

But, this shit almost works out better this way, anyhow as the omniscient eye of the narrator allows him to cut to the chase. Kinda like a shitty Dean Koontz ending where he just spills every fucking thing at the end in a nicely wrapped bow. Which also goes to show why none of his shit is made into movies.

Anyhow: apparently, on the boat. Harry, remember him, the eponymous protagonist of this little story, like K!p were asleep in their bunks after a session of hot made fuck (presumably with the bitches. Even the narrator does not know... nor cares to think about the idea nor sight of K!p moving his zaftig thighs or buxom rump in tune with the throes of passionate, missionary style fuck (with man, beast or the space between the mattress and the box spring... which, if one imagined hard enough, could be thought to be a gigantic sideways vagina... just in case you needed to shot that quick one off.). When the full moon came out in all its selenic majesty.

Harry, having the lyncathropic night terrors that came with his transformation... grew in the mass, size and hairy girth that one would expect with turning into a dog. Asleep, or perhaps now, the subconscious of the active werewolf, Harry Lupus considered a howl of longing and awakenedness... wait is that even a fucking word? Sure, now it is. The wolf was awake. And the wolf was hungry.

To his left, was a pudgy little ham named K!p.

Ravenously, Harry looked over in ways which could be deemed somewhat homoerotic... but really, bare in mind that Harry, again, is now the subconscious of the wolf... kinda like when Banner and Hulk switch in and out when he gets his cheese caught in the wind.

So, it's not like Harry wanted deep into fuck with K!p... but I guess if Harry is part of the wolf's subconscious... and Eating and Sex are more or less on the same line of neurons and shit... Hmm, this is getting far to Freudian. The wolf was gonna tear Kip's shit up and swallow him just as if he was Little Fucking Red.

But then, just as Harry's drooling snout was about to dive teeth first into K!p's fleshy exposed rumpus... Dr. X (before he was obliterated from the narrative) stammered in drunk on Santana DVX and could not believe the shit he saw!

"HOLY FUCK! WHAT IS THIS SHIT!" and such he would say.

Mostly he was surprised by seeing the boy werewolf about to consume his best friend and flunky, but, more realistically... he was also scared to save his own ass... which explains why he grabbed this bitches and headed off to wherethefuckever in the dinghy!

But, in that one lone vulgar moment of profanity, Harry snapped back to consciousness and thought about the homoerotic underpinnings of him putting his mouth on K!p... and that he was also going to eat and pass him through his lower intestines as well... and that shit was more fucked than he could stand.

Not unlike Sampson pulling down the pillars of Gaza, The wolf grabbed at both sides of his face and literally tore the fleshy wolf asunder from his body. Fortunately, you can essentially blow a werewolf straight to fucking hell and back... and the gooey shit will still combine unless you slip a little silver into the bucket. So, though Harry tore the hairy dermis from his body, he did not die... but that shit did hurt something serious!

The shock of ripping his own flesh clean off his body caused Harry to revert to his adolescent body and fall the fuck straight out of the room. Yet, in all this commotion, Harry flung his now severed wolf skin out of his hands... where it's bloodsticky under side stuck to K!p's body... pretty much in consistent pattern with where his arms and legs were.

See, all this shit is starting to make sense now, right: It's the fucking aborted Terminator: Salvation ending. Well, FUCK YOU, McGee -- we're using it! You snooze, you lose -- bitch!

Anyhow, K!p was covered in a wolf's skin, the bear got confused and fucked him straight away... and all the tearing and shit and the mixture of the bear jizz with the blood of the werewolf let to some sickass transmutations and K!p would be forever changed into a new species... that we totally own the copyrights to... so fuck off publishing world: the werebear.

And, now that we have explained how all of this has come together, season two can politely get on with the adventures of the Harry: the Boy Werewolf and his Andy Richter-like flunky K!p: The Werebear!

"NNNNNNNNGGgghhhhhHHHH, question."

WAIT. WHO THE FUCK IS LEFT TO ASK A QUESTION?

"We're the collective mind speak of the Hipster zombies. You can write us out of existence. we're like fucking cockroaches -- we don't die. Anyhow, we finished our discussion of the paragraph of the P*Fork review of Grizzly Bear so we just wanted to know why there was a bear on that boat in the first place."

...FUCKING HIPSTERS.

-The End-