Give it a Rest, Miley Did A Decent Cover of Led Zeppelin

And I feel qualified to say this, because I am a former Led Zeppelin diehard. Continue reading

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What Happened on TV Sunday Night? Dexter, Newsroom, Breaking Bad, and Crotch Rot

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I’m doing my best to come back from a post-amazing hiatus.  To do that, I spent a lot of time watching TV last night.  And then I watched more today.  Don’t ask me how I kept my five year old niece out of the room while I watched Dexter.  It wasn’t pretty.  Either way, four things were on television last night, and I intend to run them down for you in a rapid and haphazard fashion consistent with someone who is still dodging a five-year-old looking to play spaceship with my laptop’s new hard drive.  Here is what I watched from Sunday night in order of best to worst.

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Getting “Catfished”

Manti Te'o, far too trusting not to be trolled.

Manti Te’o, far too trusting not to be trolled.

In the online age, knowing someone’s identity is no longer a given. We live between two worlds now, one where people are who they are in real life, and one where people may be anyone on the internet. Aaron Sorkin said it best on an old episode of The Colbert Report: “Socializing on the Internet is to socializing what reality tv is to reality.” The internet is where you get to alter, edit, and create reality.

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Hip Hop Squares

I had MTV2 on in the background purely by chance, because I generally can’t deal with the loads of horseshit that come out of music networks.  Because of VH1, MTV, and the like, we all have to deal with syphilitic reality stars infecting our television sets.  They need to invent condoms for flatscreens, seriously.  I was playing solitaire and trying to figure out which brilliant mind decided arbitrarily on thirteen cards for each suit.  I thought back in the days cards were invented, people thought the number thirteen was out to get them.  Like if you turned thirteen some specter would start throwing rocks through your windows.  Thirteen place settings at a table meant all your food would turn into horse manure.  The thirteenth’s floor of any hotel always had the nastiest bed sheets, so they made people forget it existed.  But anyway, I happened to catch Childish Gambino in one of the corner squares, and seeing as Donald Glover is brilliant at just about everything, I started paying attention.  What I discovered is an enjoyable treat.

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