- Playstation 3: Frequently I'm asked to justify the purchase of a PS3 in lieu of a 360, given the classic "but what about the games, man?" argument. Hey, you: take a quick peek at the Warmest Reception category. Shit's enough to make your console overheat, eh?
- Cloverfield Marketing Department: Hey- psst! Hey kid, c'mere. Come over 'ere, I got a nickel for ya. Ain't gonna hurt ya kid, I ain't gonna hurt ya, nobody's gonna hurt ya. Just wanna talk is all, wanna talk to a kid is like you is all. Hey, hey, don't worry, kid, it's cool, it's all cool. Here, look, I ain't armed or nothin', I just wanna talk, got somethin' I wanna ask ya. Now why don'tcha c'mere and get yer shiny nickel? That's right, kid, attaboy, that's a good kid- [WHAM] J.J. Abrams has taken off his mask and is smiling over you as you clutch your testicles in vain.
- Justice - Cross: FUCK the whiners. "It's not cool anymoooore", "Uffie's song is the beeeest", "Amy Winehouse is a heeero." Four capital letters.
paris.by.night: Yeah? Probably 'cause that shit shattered my bones.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Universal healthcare is tough shit. Throw a bone to the Vietnam war, will
ya. Gettin' cold in here.paris.by.night: Post Traumatic Stress: Waugh, wah-uh WAH-AW!
paris.by.night: Enough bones thrown?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Fun fact, kids: Every suburb in America contains a club called El Divino (PRINTED IN GOLD) where you have to wear a white shirt to get in (CAUSE DETAILS MAKE THE GIRLS SWEAT). Any brave souls gonna take Xavier and Gaspard up on their offer here? We're looking for a message.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Fact of the matter is, Justice has not been to every suburb in America. Far as I can tell they can keep their black shirts in the closet.
paris.by.night: Black shirts?! Dollars and cents, my good man! These gentlemen are the dollars and cents of french house!
paris.by.night: What does that make fuckin'... fuckin' Digitalism?
paris.by.night: HINT: It's an -ism!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Wait, Digitalism is still relevant?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Oh... I got yer number! Bait'n'switch for the bloghopper indie kids! You've been hoodwinked, folks.
paris.by.night: Exactly: no more relevant than Stalin, I'd wager, but there'll always be the red men from Cairo.
paris.by.night: Playing goddamn Xbox 360s.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Blu-Ray = Hillary Clinton?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Go ahead, draw up the rest of the metaphor. Here, I'll even leave the remaining fields blank so you can pretend to take credit for it.
paris.by.night: I'm not finishing shit! I'm not comfortable with that, you can't decide that based on a format war, you can't sugge--
Napoleon.In.Rags: ? = ?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Go! Chop that wood!
paris.by.night: So be it. Hilary Clinton = Burial. A=B, B=C, A=C. Suck it.
Amy Winehouse: HOLDIN YOOOUUUU
paris.by.night: Holy shit
paris.by.night: C=D ain't something I'm prepared to handle. You?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Let's uh... let's not take any options off the table.
Napoleon.In.Rags: I mean, I'm prepared to go all the way up to J = J = Abrams. (This is known as a "segue")
paris.by.night: Would you be willing to participate in a quick mock interview playing the role of Mr. Abrams?
paris.by.night: I've only really got one question.
paris.by.night: Are you the lonely man in the lonely tower, the lonely man with all the power?Napoleon.In.Rags: [A plot twist]
paris.by.night: ... Hello, Mr. Abrams? We're hitting a bit of static.
Napoleon.In.Rags: [A character is now dead]
Napoleon.In.Rags: [The character is no longer dead]
paris.by.night: Mr. Abrams, that was entirely inappropriate.
paris.by.night: I'd like you to apologize, Mr. Abrams.
Napoleon.In.Rags: [Hey, fuck you, customer]
Napoleon.In.Rags: [A plot twist]
paris.by.night: Looks like I've got my answer.
paris.by.night: [I set the phone down. Miss the receiver, don't ya know.]
Napoleon.In.Rags: Shit, I was out for a few minutes, wasn't I? What'd I miss?
paris.by.night: The most frightening phone call of my life.
Most charming in our eyes: Justice - Cross
Strongest Man From a God From a Machine
- Super Mario Galaxy: The logical continuation of two major trends: the advancement of a series through successive improvements and the growing disdain of fans longing for the Old Time. Go listen to some fuckin' Nirvana.
- No Country for Old Men: What's the most. You've ever lost. On a coin toss.
- Lair: For those of you ready to Ctrl-C + Ctrl-V your standard flame composed of equal parts "$hittf@gs" and "sixaxis", I offer you the following advice: Euclidean space has only three axes. Seriously, what the fuck!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Isn't she pretty!
paris.by.night: That she is. Not too pretty; not above criticism. I like that.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Pop quiz: How many axes are there?
paris.by.night: [A bold man leaps onto the stage, eyes ablaze with passion, screaming "SIX!"]
paris.by.night: [I stare into his left eye and remark 'I should only see half of you."]
Napoleon.In.Rags: See, that's exactly the thing. Anyone who's got shit to say about Lair is the bastard child of unmitigated expectations and unmitigated shame. I'm riding a fuckin' dragon, folks!
paris.by.night: Of course it's full of the things people love to complain about: they jump up and down screaming "this shit takes itself seriously!" Hah. As if to imply that, say, a lethal traffic cone from a blown reactor is a qualification? I could get that on the first Playstation.
Napoleon.In.Rags: I'm breathing fire and shit! FWOOOOOSSH! Out of the way, kids, I'm lethal!
paris.by.night: Looks like we're cooked, Mr. Harrison! Positively cooked!
Amy Winehouse: RIIIIIIIIDGE RACER!
paris.by.night: The race is about to get started, yes -- but what's this, a dragon on the road?
paris.by.night: Looks like we'll have to call The Man.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Stomp, stomp!
paris.by.night: What was his name again?
paris.by.night: Sugar or something?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Look, you can call him whatever you want.
Napoleon.In.Rags: All I know is he's the ultimate badass or something.
paris.by.night: Have you ever... seen him?
paris.by.night: I know I haven't-- what's this?? Good Lord He's On That Dragon.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Our only hope left is to trust in... wait, Mario?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Fuck, that can't be right!paris.by.night: Well I guess that's good in theory, yeah?
paris.by.night: I mean he can jump, and we're dealing with a dragon...
Napoleon.In.Rags: No, this is some scary shit here! Gimme the Old Time!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Gimme an NES, gimme a game that was good only due to novelty value and that has aged terribly, and gimme my big brother's acoustic guitar so I can play Come As You Are because I haven't even learned fuckin' power chords yet!
paris.by.night: Gimme...
paris.by.night: Gimme Back My Alcohol.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Bottoms up, boys! Ain't no use bein' sober when a dragon just set you on fire!
Most charming in our eyes: Lair
Most Vacuous Darling
- No More Heroes: This is a genre culture blog, after all! What's this I'm hearing, are you standing up to protest? "But this game's stup--" Oops, looks like you got cut off by TRAVIS TOUCHDOWN.
- Vampire Weekend - Blue CDR: Now this is one hell of an impressive feat, considering that everything is stacked against these kids vis a vis musical credibility. Fuckin' Ivy-League Afro-profanity flop-mongers don't even know when to use a fuckin' Oxford comma!
- Black Kids - Wizard of Ahhhs: The most unlikeable part of this is how much you like this unlikeable shit.
paris.by.night: Do we LIKE these things?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Oh, hey there. Listen: Marcel and I were planning to head down to Harvard Yard this weekend, maybe hit up Bartley's and find ourselves a poetry circle. Wanna come, fuckbag?
paris.by.night: Walcott, don't you know that it's insane?
Napoleon.In.Rags: Hear me out! Astley and Joph are probably gonna be there, and Joph's been telling me about a new piece he's working on. It's post-word. Massive shit, bonhomme. You in or out?paris.by.night: I'll stay the fuck out, thanks.
paris.by.night: I read Joph's annual coal reports and there are major discrepancies
Napoleon.In.Rags: You're not implying that he--
paris.by.night: Yeah, something like that.
paris.by.night: Something dumb like that.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Travis Touchdown, he always tells the truth!
paris.by.night: It's easy to tell the truth when you decide what truth is -- or are we giving Mr. Touchdown too much power?
paris.by.night: Whoa, whoa!
paris.by.night: I just suggested we were giving MISTER TOUCHDOWN too much POWER!
Napoleon.In.Rags: He's got a fuckin' lightsaber! You gotta watch yourself around that thing!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Wait... or is he the one that makes a derivative blend of synthpop and the fecal matter of the British Invasion?
Napoleon.In.Rags: I can never remember these things!
paris.by.night: What's worse: a band that comes from a social networking boom or a band that comes from That Site?
Napoleon.In.Rags: No, seriously: which is which?
Napoleon.In.Rags: You're not giving me an actual choice with these terms!
paris.by.night: Alright, I think I figured it out: No More Heroes hail from Myspace, Black Kids from P--
Napoleon.In.Rags: Hey, stop right there!
Napoleon.In.Rags: The point of the joke here is that No More Heroes is actually a video game, but think about it!
Napoleon.In.Rags: That's an outstanding name for a pack of purveyors of MySpace Rock!
Napoleon.In.Rags: Quick, what's the name of their first single?
paris.by.night: "(At Times) I'm Shot"
Napoleon.In.Rags: Impressive work. The most obnoxiously-named member of their Top 8?
paris.by.night: Amy fuckin' Winehouse.
Napoleon.In.Rags: Inevitable. And the band that picks them up as the opening act of a major tour only to dump them midway after realizing nobody cares about MySpace anymore?
paris.by.night: Band?
paris.by.night: Hah!
paris.by.night: Fuckin' Burial.
Most charming in our eyes: Vampire Weekend - Blue CDR
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