I guess they’ve had hot air blown up their skirts long enough, and now they’re blowing it back. Or something. The one dead front and center looks like she’s trying to drop something like it’s hot.
As someone on that thread observed, “But isn’t it hilarious that when these women think about Trump, their first thought is exposing their sexual parts?”
Lead singer of the Cranberries Dolores O’Riordan has passed away.
Dolores O’Riordan, lead singer of Irish rock band The Cranberries, died suddenly on Monday. She was 46.
O’Riordan died in London, where she was recording, publicist Lindsey Holmes said.
“No further details are available at this time,” Holmes said, adding that the singer’s family was “devastated” by the news.
The first Cranberries song that I recall hearing was “Zombie” in August or September of 1994. I kinda liked it, but it got so incredibly overplayed in such a short time that to this day I almost cringe a little when I hear it. Overplayed so much that the warehouse I worked in at the time is burned into my memory and resurfaces every time I hear the song.
They came to dominate alternative radio in the mid-to-late 90s. I was never a big fan of theirs, but I did like some of their songs.
“Dreams” was pretty good, although it was overplayed a bit as well –
“Linger” is decent enough, it’s good enough that I don’t automatically change radio stations when I hear it –
Radio stations couldn’t get enough of that one, either. the song just, uh, hung around for a long time.
But I would have to say the song I liked best was “Ridiculous Thoughts.” Don’t know why, just a catchy tune. Good opening, and she belts it out fairly well at the end, too –
Rest In Peace, Dolores. Didn’t know you well, but sad to see you’re gone.
Is it really 2018 already? Seems like that far-flung future year of 2000 just arrived. And every year since has been getting stranger and stranger. Dave Barry does his usual year-end review –
Looking back on 2017 is like waking up after a party where you made some poor decisions, such as drinking tequila squeezed from the underpants of a person you do not really know. (At least you hope it was tequila.)
The next day finds you lying naked in a dumpster in a different state, smeared from head to toe with a mixture of Sriracha sauce and glitter. At first you remember nothing. But then, as your throbbing brain slowly reboots, memories of the night before, disturbing memories, begin creeping into your consciousness. As the full, hideous picture comes into focus, you curl into a ball, whimpering, asking yourself over and over: Did that really happen?
That’s how we here at the Year in Review feel about 2017. It was a year so surreal, so densely populated with strange and alarming events, that you have to seriously consider the possibility that somebody — and when we say “somebody,” we mean “Russia” — was putting LSD in our water supply. A bizarre event would occur, and it would be all over the news, but before we could wrap our minds around it, another bizarre event would occur, then another and another, coming at us faster and faster, battering the nation with a Category 5 weirdness hurricane that left us hunkering down, clinging to our sanity, no longer certain what was real.
Personally, I thought 2017 was just about the Most Entertaining Year Ever!
I don’t know if this will post with a December 31st date ’cause WordPress is screwy…
Hope you all had a wonderful 2017 and have an even better 2018. Here’s some music for your New Year’s Eve party!
Just listen –
That’z some talented clowns.
Don’t do it
when you stick lasers up your
Guess what’s happening now? Well…
A commenter posted this at Vox Popoli yesterday, but I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas with something so… so… I don’t even know what it is. The thread is here and the comments are quite amusing.
So bold! And it’s gender neutral! That’s very important!
I really don’t understand what trouble this will cause for Trump, or what “awareness” will be raised, other than awareness of which way to point a burning beam of light. But any excuse for retarded behavior while calling it “art.”
Ass As if anyone needed more proof that the left is totally talking out of their…
Swiped from here… enter the Ouroboros Cafe –
The Tea Terrace, based in House of Fraser’s Oxford Street branch, has become Europe’s first location to deliver the “Selfieccino,” which features an image of customers’ faces on the frothy topping of their drinks.
…The process takes around four minutes before an image is presented on the froth, ready to be photographed and sent to all points via social media before drinking, and costs around 5.75 pounds. ($7.5)
”Due to social media, the dining experience has completely shifted,“ Ehab Salem Shouly, owner of The Tea Terrace told Reuters. ”It’s not enough any more to just deliver great food and great service – it’s got to be Instagram worthy.”
Because, you know, it’s nothing if it’s not Instagram-worthy!
The customer becomes their own singularity, sucking themselves into themselves.
And the Christmas bells that ring there
Are the clanging chimes of doom
Well tonight thank God it’s them
Instead of you
I’m sure most of you remember this song, the one that kicked off years of “Something-or-other-Aid” singles and concerts…
Apparently that song has not, uh, lived out its lifespan just yet. Totally swiped from Ace Of Spades HQ –
Supposedly — this sounds made-up to me, but whatever, supposedly — someone’s making a movie called Do They Know It’s Murder?
The premise is this: at the recording of Band Aid’s charity single “Do They Know It’s Christmas?, a fellow Brit rocker (or hanger-on) is murdered.
To make sure the single is finished without incident, Bob Geldof must suddenly put his detective skills to use — you know, I guess maybe he actually solved the case of the girl who shot up the school in I Hate Mondays or some bullshit — and find the killer before they lose the studio space.
If that’s real, I’ll totally see it.
If that’s a punking — well played.
To quote birthmoviesdeath.com –
We need to make peace with the fact that this film will most likely have an entire ensemble of actors made-up to look like ‘80s Brit pop stars. Oh, and one of those recognizable ’80s musicians is getting murdered?
Folks, I give you my most anticipated film of the decade.
I have no idea if this is real. But if this hellspawned monstrosity of awful tastelessness and wrecking-not-very-cherished-song-memories-from-the-80s is real, they have my ticket money.