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Morning, folks! I normally do this thing on Mondays, but over the weekend I saw a trailer for The Human Centipede and have spent the last two days reconciling my sense of the world with the existence of such a film.
Speaking of horror flicks, the BP’s live feed of the ruptured oil well is pretty harrowing. Hank Steuver at WaPo pens a “review,” drawing such comparisons as Andy Warhol’s The Empire State Building and the smoke monster from Lost. The BP oil rig at the epicenter of the crisis is called Deepwater Horizon—which is exactly what James Cameron would have called the Hollywood adaptation. On the other hand, while the monotonous, inexorable gushing of civilization’s lifeblood into the cradle of nature might jibe with Cameron’s environmental sensibilities, it’s not exactly his speed. I’m waiting for the Werner Herzog voiceover.
On a more wholesome front, it’s about time children had their moral compasses calibrated by a Jewish cowboy sheriff!
Speaking of cowboys pushing morality lessons, Neil Young played Constitution Hall on Monday. Dave Malitz at WaPo has a review of the show, in which Young reportedly kept banter sparse and confusing and sang mostly new songs that the audience could not sing along to. Then again, Neil Young hates his audiences.
From farther down the folk lineage: Tallest Man on Earth covers “Graceland.” And Blitzen Trapper is packaging its forthcoming album, Destroyer of the Void, with beer coozies. Look for my review of that album, and possibly the coozy, next month.
In case you missed it: Farhad Manjoo wrote last week about Google’s effort to end the infuriating inconvenience of syncing your mobile device to your music library, and Apple’s coming attempt to end the problem of limited disk space by letting iTunes users store music online.
What a time to be alive, my friends. May your workday be as coyly ironical as Paul Rudd’s. Godspeed!