A special (midnight!) thank you to girlfriend of ibiteryoureyes for pointing out this injustice – Time Out New York’s latest magazine issue that calls for hipsters to die.

You know, TONY, I have two beefs with you.

  1. While falling short of stealing my idea, you stole my hipster hatin’ thunder (the sort of thunder that likes loose fit jeans!), and that upsets me because…
  2. You pulled a goddamn hipster-ish stunt in doing it. I scanned and skimmed and perused your articles, TONY (not Soprano). And I noticed something that seemed interesting – they’re all silly articles that seem to say even less than they weigh. You know, like a hipster’s clothing, a hipster’s tone of voice, a hipster’s art, a hipster’s sister (hipsta sista!). So, like, in calling attention to these silly willies, you, uh, kind of implicate yourself in their…silly willy ness. Silly, silly willy illy TONY.

Here’s the thing and there’s its shadow – by paying so much attention, and devoting an entire issue to these peoples, you are giving them exactly what they need and want. You know, attention, something that they didn’t get in high school. Especially not from your writers, who at the same spot on the ol’ maturation timeline, were too busy writing everyone’s yearbook profile, or writing an investigative in-depth feature article column about the girls’ soccer team.

That’s right. You were looking for cool, TONY, and you found it. Everyone at Yesterday’s Salad is cooler than you, cooler than all the hipsters, and every girls’ soccer team everywhere.

That’ll teach ya to steal muh thunda.

TONY? (Not Soprano!) …like a close-up picture of yo mama and yo papa bumpin the boogy…


Can you blog without the internet, or is this just keeping a horribly insincere and muddled journal? I’m certainly not setting before my fellows a true and accurate image of man. No matter; Dash is a-travelling today, trading in his Davis Square Dandyism for Hyde Park haunts and Wilmette Willows. In order to get a good fare home I flew JetBlue to New York where I currently sit at the dawn of a four hour layover. Worse, my promised free internet has yet to materialize. Who knows when this will be posted. The flight itself was nice. The much vaunted Direct TV service is hindered by the fact that there’s never anything good on morning TV. The highlight was the XM radio. There’s just something about taking a dip with Lucy and Ethel in the morn. Overall, JetBlue kind of seems like the H & M of airlines: highly fashionable, reasonably priced, but lacking substance. Basically, no airline is a real airline until they fly to London. Still, no matter what, JetBlue is a hell of a lot better than skybus.

But the real subject of today’s post is my continuing mission to watch every best picture and director nominee of all-time. Recently, Nate braved the Chinatown bus (and weird Harvard professors) and came to Boston to finish watching 1989 (1990 Awards). Here’s what I thought:


Crimes and Misdemeanors. I really enjoy this movie, but less and less so on repeat viewing. Given the film’s weight, I also find myself surprisingly more drawn to the Woody Allen character than to Martin Landau (who gives a great performance). When I first saw C and M, I was more impressed with Landau and Woody (the director’s) daft switching between the film’s light-hearted elements and pulsating seriousness. This time around, the Woody Allen character was the standout. His character’s sadness is much better realized and immediate. This time, Landau’s actions felt overly rash and poorly thought out. Match Point doesn’t have these problems. Crimes and Misdemeanors without the (misdemeanors?) Woody Allen type, Match Point focuses on the tormented lover, fleshing him out, and improving that part of the story. Match Point is really a model for late-career artistry: revisiting what has come before with the skills of a life-time. Match Point probably deserves to be on the list; C & M certainly does. A-/B+
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