My [Long-Awaited] Coverage of Beach Sloth’s Coverage of My Coverage of Beach Sloth’s Coverage of My Coverage of Beach Sloth’s Coverage of My Coverage of Beach Sloth’s Coverage of My Coverage of Beach Sloth’s Coverage of My Coverage of Beach Sloth’s Coverage of ‘2AM Interview: Buttercup and LK’
I’m back up in this. Maybe you forgot that Beach Sloth and I were elbow deep in covering coverage, but I had to take a sabbatical to attend to my unholy, three thumbed baby, Meat Confetti. My baby was delivered without incident, and since then I’ve popped out another, much smaller, satanic baby. But I’m not here to talk about myself. I’m here to talk about 3 of my favorite people. Beach Sloth. LK Shaw. Buttercup McGillicuddy. [Or Stephen Michael McDowell, I’m not entirely sure of what he’s calling himself these days, but he’ll always be my Buttercup.] [Actually, I really am here to talk about myself, but I’ll try to squeeze in 2-3 mentions of those other cats.]
The internet never stops. And while I’ve been in meat-related exile, my cohorts have been churning away, cranking out piece after piece. In that past month, Beach Sloth has covered approximately 7325 chunks of alt lit and 3736 blocks of music, blogged so hard his computer melted from the hot&fresh-ness of the original content. Buttercup and LK have released a couple collabs called ‘Sprezzatura’. They are just bizarro. I love when things get bizarro. I could never do what LK and S&M&M’s do in ‘Sprezzatura’. I cannot write while other people watch. [Guy in the balcony screams ‘you can’t write regardless, get off the stage’. That’s hurtful, guy in the balcony. Why are you going to hurt me like that?]
Even though I’ve been gone, things haven’t changed too much. LK is still decades ahead of America thanks to her UK roots. The US is still trying to come to terms with dubstep. From what I’ve heard, the UK is currently riding strong on the wave of Flgruhsjtjjtx. Flgruhsjtjjtx is hard to describe. It’s basically the soundtrack of the Aztec gods raining fire down on a rave in a glowstick factory, and that’s a beautiful thing. LK may be the peak of relevance in alt lit, but she hasn’t quite gotten a grip on ‘an internets’. It’s ok LK, I don’t understand internets either. LK recently opened up another Shabby Doll House franchise. You should stop by, it’s full of beautiful words and beautiful pictures by beautiful people.
Buttercup [Stephen?] has released so many things I can’t even begin to keep up with it. Mr. Buttered-Cupperton-Swain is deep in the infomercial game. I heard he channeled the ghost of Billy Mays to help sling his book Treees. You’re playing a dangerous game, B-Cups. I summoned the ghost of that Slap Chop guy a few months ago and he won’t stop following me around. Wait, he’s not dead? Breaking Update! Apparently I misunderstood what a ‘ghost’ is and how to ‘summon’ one. Calling an excommunicated Scientologist from a phone in a Waffle House and asking him if he’s free does not fall under the label ‘seance’. My bad. BC Powder, keep plugging away. Maybe one day I’ll get caught up.
So there, I’m back and I’m confused and I guess I’m back on my meta coverage grind.
