I think she must mean “Roadent.”
Anyhow, I shudder to think that anybody ever took him up on that…
The interviewer seems astonished to see a musician smoking (a cigarette, I mean), and that Terry Hall “looks mad.” Hall probably looked mad in his baby pictures.
The interviewer and Beckman both miss the “old” NYC, of course:
I said, “More people should get mugged so they know what New York is really fucking about!” Because these guys are walking around like it’s all sweet and like maybe they’d have some gratitude and humility if someone just worked them one day on Avenue C, instead of they went to a fucking fabulous cafe.
Weirdly, this profile doesn’t single out her better photos, like these:
Mark Steyn writes:
So the graph that has “absolutely nothing to do with Dr Mann” is listed on Dr Mann’s own CV as one of his published works. And, when Mann’s lawyers (John Williams and Peter Fontaine) state baldly that “Dr Mann did not create this depiction”, he is, by his own admission, one of the co-creators of said depiction.
Dr Mann may be kind to his dog and help old ladies across the street, but he is a serial liar.
David Harsanyi writes:
If you want to argue that Americans should alter the way they live and sacrifice some of their prosperity for security, you might be wrong, but please feel free to convince them.
If you’re arguing that prosperity itself is corrupt and man’s greatest economic achievements were a historical mistake, then your obsession with “sustainability” has warped your sense of morality.
As I was saying earlier, what if “plasma screens and seat warmers and teeth whiteners and apps… ARE the solution to ‘large-scale problems’ like ‘climate change’ or ‘reforming the financial system’ or…?”
Richard Klagsbrun reports:
Irrelevance can breed a certain type of desperation in some people, but Farber’s column in the city’s chief advertising outlet for prostitution, NOW Magazine, is a particular low.
In 1974, a 32-year-old Jamaican singer called Carl Douglas was hoping to release a single called I Wanna Give You My Everything. One afternoon, his label’s head of A&R announced that the single could come out as soon as it had a B-side, and asked his colleagues to sift through Douglas’s recordings for suitable candidates. He went to lunch, came back an hour later and was greeted by a defiantly absurd disco banger by the name of Kung Fu Fighting.
That executive’s response, Douglas explains today from his Hamburg home, was this: “JESUS CHRIST! This is a monster. We need a B-side for THIS. He’s going into the FUTURE!”
Carl laughs at the memory. That’s only fair: Kung Fu Fighting was released 40 years ago this month, sold 11m copies, won a Grammy, and hit No 1 on both sides of the Atlantic. Last year, the song topped the charts in China for the first time, and is one of the 50 best-selling singles of all time. It’s also the quintessential novelty single.
Except the “novelty songs” they focus on are more what I’d call “Ibiza” singles:
Those nonsense dance tunes that sometime wind up becoming ironic gay favorites.
When I hear “novelty songs” I think of Dr. Demento — domestic basements and bedrooms, not foreign beaches.