Off the bat, I’ve seen hundreds of awesome performances from dancers, with nearly every theme one can think of...but, I’ve never seen the A Clockwork Orange theme. What inspired you to choose the milk bar as a setting for your final performance?
There were quite a few scenes from A Clockwork Orange that I incorporated into this performance. The infamous Korova Milk Bar is one of my favorite scenes from the movie—it’s the first time you get a good look at all of the droogs, Alex included. I thought about how I could put that on stage and what better way, than to have my droogs pour milk all over me?
Is it coincidental that "Axel" is an anagram for "Alex," from the book/film?
Completely coincidental—quite funny how that worked out.
You ended up in a kiddie pool, covered in what appeared to be milk. Was this real milk? If so, how was the clean-up process? If not, what was it?...
BAES Fried Chicken will burn to the ground under mysterious circumstances, but we will all know it’s actually the petty and vengeful spirit of Ash St. Saloon, wreaking havoc from beyond the grave. Any future attempt to sully the piss-and-heroin-drenched hallowed halls of Portland’s downtown music scene will be met with a similar fate. Stay away, trust fund entrepreneurs—you have been warned!
Lizzo will be virtually unheard of among the white hipster music aficionados. They will have since moved on to the latest pop star that checks off several of their marginalized communities’ boxes in one sweep. It should be noted, that in 2021, that same darling pop star w the hipsters declare their new favorite will also be forgotten.
The Network will not reunite to tour their debut (and only) album and it will be a goddamned shame...
You are done with relationships. Who isn’t? This is 2020, get on the poly-bus, download Tinder, have some dates, make the sex and stop worrying so damned much.
Mike, I know you’re reading this, so deal with it.
As full disclosure, I’m a 39-year-old lady who was in a committed relationship for 15 years. Let’s do the math. Given that my relationship ended in 2019, that means I haven’t dated since 2004, when Tubgirl was still a thing. After an amicable dissolution, I decided to dip my old, haggard toe into the online dating market. Here’s what I’ve learned...
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It all depended on what you did with the hand you were dealt. Some hands were better than others, of course—but, like it or not, you were in the game.
Mariah opened the door to the taxi and tossed her beat-up canvass rucksack inside. She hopped into the backseat, upbeat and energetic. Her hair was unkempt.
"Hi, how are you today?"
"So far, so good." replied the driver.
She pointed.
"See that guy? He’s coming with us."
The man-of-the-day pushed open the glass door and sauntered out of the U-Haul office. He gazed side to side, looking cool, but his cheap sunglasses hid furtive eyes. He slid into the cab next to Mariah, then acknowledged the driver...
They say a bartender acts as a therapist. So,
I decided to make it official. My only credentials
are listening to hundreds upon hundreds
of people’s problems, over more years
than I can admit. Let me wipe the bar down
for you, put down a fresh coaster, then pour
you a drink. Pull up your stool and tell me all
about it. Remember, I’ve heard it all. If you
have a question, please email DiscountTherapist@
Yahoo.com. You will remain anonymous.
Also, you get what you pay for...
I’m eating a weed chocolate bar right now. It came in a package that included a barcode. I purchased it with a credit card, from a store next to the police station. Legal weed is wonderful...unless, of course, you plan on smoking it. Have we forgotten what we came here to do? Bong rips. Blunt hits. You know, pot. The shit hippies fought for. The stuff that "is just a plant." And, yet, here we are, recharging our Millenial devices and smoking oil from a nail. Did we forget about the boomers who came before us?...
Every generation has, at one point in their early 40s, uttered these words.
Naturally, this sentiment can be written off as a natural byproduct of old age. But, aside from boomers being boomers, it’s important to note that pop culture (specifically music) is unique, when compared to things that evolve without making the elders angry. For instance, take food. We may have more options than our grandparents did, in terms of vegan, gluten-free and organic choices, but for some reason, you don’t hear older folks talking about how "steak used to be good" or "these damn kids and their tofu." This is because, aside from flavor-of-the-minute trends (no pun intended), the meat-andpotatoes basics have not only stuck around, but they’ve gotten better. If "red meat" was a genre of food, the classics are still getting airplay and the up-and-comers, like fake meat and ass, are active and welcome...
Yeah, I know—an article about New Year’s resolutions. Real original. But, this isn’t about what I’m doing (or even what you’re doing). It’s about how to present yourself as though you have grand and glorious dreams, which you will fulfill in the next year. You won’t, of course, but the point is to impress your friends and strike fear into your enemies. Now, your hollow boasting on social media can 100% one-up your friends. We’re not talking of the ridiculous-but-practical shit, like most people have. Oh, I’m gonna lose 50 pounds. Oh, I’m gonna get healthy and stop smoking a dozen cigars a day. Oh, I’m gonna look up my long-lost grandma and go visit her in the old country, after seeing one of those genealogy sites. No—none of that garbage. You’re gonna tell everyone— but not do—one of the following. Bonus points if you actually do it, but, come on, it’s a New Year’s resolution. Nothing ever comes of those. Instead, you’re just gonna make everyone jealous of your dangerously bold ambition. Tell your friends and family that this year, you’re going to...
The waitress sat alone, tucked into a booth in the far corner of the 24hour diner. Often, the restaurant bustled and buzzed with throngs of late-night diners—drunk and in search of sustenance to ease their transition into an inebriated sleep. But, tonight, the diner had remained mostly empty and though she could have used the tips, she was quietly grateful for the lull. She stretched her legs, her toes barely able to reach the bench on the other side of the table and rested her small, weary feet. Steam rose up from her coffee cup. Two packets of sugar—just enough cream. She watched the color swirl and lighten from nearly black to ruddy caramel. Delicately, she swirled just the tip of her petite pink finger into the mug and gave a little stir. She brought her finger to her lips—red, full and cherubic—and let it linger there, while she slowly slid it between them and gave a long, satisfied suck. She bit down and paused. The diner smelled heavily of maple syrup and bacon—she took a deep and deliberate breath in and closed her eyes, for just a moment. As she opened them and scanned the empty diner,
a deliciously deviant thought crept through her mind...
