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Posts tagged lk shaw
Attention Australian: Beach Sloth now owns your country. Australia is the world’s leading exporter of terrifying animals that want to kill you. As a supervillain, obviously, I approve of Australia’s endeavor to become the world’s #1 Most Metal Continent, but I’m letting Beach Sloth have it. Australian zoology guides are actually just rebranded D&D monster manuals. Unfortunately for the insane people that willingly live there, I will be taking all of your terrorbeasts. I don’t want any of them endangering The Sloth. He’s slow. I don’t want any of your six-headed knife-breathing chipmunks catching him. [The six-headed knife-breathing chipmunk is a real thing, right? Wikipedia says so.]
I feel a deep compulsion to help dead computers. Computers don’t judge. I just googled ‘why does this cough drop taste like a dead hobo soaked in lemon Pine Sol?’ and the computer I’m using didn’t say a word in protest. [I’m coming down with something. I don’t want to be an alarmist or anything, but it’s probably sloth flu. I’m a walking/floating pandemic.] Beach Sloth has a grudge against smartphones. I can understand where he’s coming from. My ‘smart’phone has crashed numerous times when I needed it. [to listen to bubblegum dance-pop] Dead smartphones definitely don’t belong in the Horsehead Nebula. My first thought is the Crab Nebula. It doesn’t look like a crab. Smartphones aren’t actually smart. But I’m open to suggestions.
The 80’s happened. Everyone agrees. Most alt litters weren’t around for the 80’s, and if they were alive, they probably weren’t aware of it. But that’s ok. ‘Miami’ Beach Sloth was there. He experienced the 80’s hard enough for everyone. Baltimore may be America’s most indifferent city, but Miami is the America’s most 80’s city. That’s an empirical fact. I did the research so you didn’t have to.
Beach Sloth and I, we get it. We ‘get’ music. I’m a supervillain that occasionally vacations as a ghost. He’s an internet sloth that blogs about music. If any two people are in a position to say something about music, it’s us. Our official opinion on music? It’s pretty cool. If I’m ever blogging, unseen, from inside your house, obey the sloth and put on some ‘chill tunes.’ If you hear three moans followed by two knocks, put on something more upbeat and weird. Maybe some Tipper or Opiou. Your house will get really weird, really fast, and I may even teach you how to ghost.
Stephen Michael McDowell dropped ‘I Liked a Lot of Music in 2009 but Apparently Didn’t Like Myself’ the other day. I opened it last night expecting the typical 10-30 pages, but, no. Stephen doesn’t believe in the typical. It’s 89 pages. It’s even more hefty than Meat Confetti VOL 1 and it was written by one [wonderful] person. I’ve only read a bit of it so far, but I can assure you that at one point Stephen proudly exclaims ‘IT’S FUCKING SHARK WEEK’ with no context. Does a statement like that need context? Hell no. Do you need to check this out? Hell yes. As for LK, she’s finishing up the cabinets in the new Shabby Doll House. I hate waiting for new installments, but I know this one will be great. I think Beach Sloth has another piece in it. He’s an SDH darling.
I have some IRL friends in Baltimore. I may go visit them soon. If I’m up there I may show up behind some Baltimoreans with little to no notice. So for the foreseeable future, everyone one in Baltimore should be on Murdoch watch. It won’t work. No one knows what I look like. But maybe it will calm the people [and rats] of the city. Be warned, Baltimore, you’re about to meet your supervillainy quota for the year.
Beach Sloth boo666ted the Cosmic Parade. Meat Confetti is accepting for an issue of just criticism [We really want you to be critical of something and send it to us.] And last time I checked, I’m still charming.
This title is truly getting out of hand. I haven’t let Beach Sloth in on the fact that this massive title is part of one of my ever-evolving world domination plans.
Here’s the Sparknotes version:
1. Continue the endless cycle of coverage
2. Allow the title to grow uninhibited
3. Beach Sloth/Murdoch LaMarche crossover meta-coverage takes up more internet space than all the porn
4. Everyone’s mind is assaulted with the ubiquitous meta-blogs
5. Mind control via subliminal messages
6. [The magic happens]
7. World ‘Mutherfuckin’ Domination by Murdoch ‘Motherfuckin’ LaMarche
The thought of a faceless supervillain with a beautifully fun name might worry some people out there. Stop that. I’ve got your back. And I mean it. Not like that pansy Barack. I’m more sincere that Matt&Rob and I can out-party both of them with both kidneys tied behind my back. Will my forthcoming worldwide empire be a nonstop totalitarian party? I know, you see ‘totalitarian’ and immediately think ‘1984’. Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s ‘Relax’ was released in 1984. Was Orwell predicting my rise as the supreme party overlord? Yes. Yes he was. Get ready world. I’m turning earth into one monstrous 80’s synthpop music video. Maybe that isn’t enough for you to support my ambitions. Maybe you want some details you can really sink your teeth into. Beach Sloth gets a constant supply of [working] computers. Beach Sloth is my minister of propaganda. NASA is repurposed to do one thing: send rockets carrying dead computers to the Horsehead Nebula where they can ride wild space horses until the end of time.
Beans. Maggie Lee has a blood vendetta against beans. It’s a well known fact that refried beans are the Ed Hardy-wearing, bottle service-ordering, private jet-instagramming, trust fund-squandering assholes of the legume world. I support Maggie’s bloodlust. [and poetry] In response to Beach Sloth’s suspicion that I could have been there: Beachy, I’m everywhere. People reading this right now, the blog is coming from INSIDE YOUR HOUSE. But it’s cool. I’ll just chill in your crawlspace/attic eating peanut butter. I officially endorse peanut butter. [Peanuts are the hardworking, blue collar backbone of the legume world]
LK&SMM were [are?] in New York recently [now?]. I wasn’t. That was very disappointing. I love those crazy kids. Stephen even offered to hand deliver a copy of ‘Treees’ to me. Lucy looks like a Canadian remix of one of my IRL friends. Those 2 statements alone are reason enough for everyone to read every word they’ve ever written and to be their friends. IRL people don’t get remixed enough, and books damn sure don’t get hand delivered by their authors enough. Diane, new genre idea: deep house remixes of IRL people.
Baltimore is a hotspot. Baltimore doesn’t get enough respect. I feel like rebranding as BAlt.Litimore would help its street cred. Stephen/Buttercup is a master of rebranding and a Baltimore golden child. I met John Waters in a coffee shop once. Feel like if Waters&McDowell got together they could get Baltimore the respect it deserves. S&M&M, go hang out in a coffee shop [I don’t remember which it was, but it was in Baltimore.] until you see the true King of Trash. Beach Sloth is right. Baltimore is the kitsch central command center. Dan Deacon is from Baltimore. Music doesn’t get much kitschier [or fun] than DD. [Also, I met Dan Deacon at a skate park once, and he somehow looks even creepier when you’re face-to-face.] I seem to have a talent for meeting unearthly semi-celebrities. If you ever see me in person, I’ll just have to assume that you’re some weird internet star.
Cosmic Parade: Touching you ways you wouldn’t expect, but really seem to like.
And the MEAT CONFETTI situation is getting critical. Submit your critical pieces to us.
Beach Sloth is still breaking his computer in. A new computer is a lot like a puppy, it pisses everywhere when you first bring it home. Thankfully, the new Slothmachine’s shower of liquid gold is lovely [comparing his blog posts to piss, even metaphorically, sounds insulting, but I promise that is not my intention] and at the peak of ‘relevance’. Alt lit has been buzzing with talk of ‘relevance’. As two anonymous internet things, are Beach Sloth and I truly relevant? You bet your ass we are.
External hard drives are the iron lungs of our polio stricken internet personas. If it weren’t for my external drive and Google Drive, I wouldn’t exist online. [In other news, if you want to buy me a computer, I won’t stop you.] Every time an Alt Lit computer dies it lives on in the heart of a nebula.
LK Shaw-nuff was at LITerally UnderGround Sunday. It was game changing. Words were read. Boosts were boosted. Beans were refried. The spreecast was ‘poppin off’. You should check it out. [Full disclosure, I haven’t watched it yet, but knowing the lineup, I don’t hesitate to preemptively call it earth shattering.] Beach Sloth covered it. [he actually watches/reads things before he writes about them.] LK has allegedly met Beach Sloth. Beach Sloth’s physical existence is like reverse Tron. He’s an internet program scanned into the real world. One day, Lucy may get the #rare opportunity to meet me IRL. I’m very scarce. Even more scarce than the Beach. I don’t have impersonators yet. I just introduce myself using different names whenever I talk to people.
Stephen Michael McDowell [Buttercup McGillicuddy in my heart] was also at LITerally UnderGround. It really bums me out that I couldn’t make it, but a supervillain’s work is never done. I had a friend order ‘Treees’ for me recently. I don’t know when it will arrive, but when it does I can guarantee that I will right at least 17 words about it. I can go ahead and speculate on what a few of those words will be. ‘Damn’ ‘Miraculous’ ‘Seriously’ ‘Unexpected’ ‘Can’t’ ‘Stop’ ‘The’ ‘Tears’ ‘Of’ ‘Joy’ ‘Life’ ‘Is’ ‘Beautiful’ Thanks Stephen. [From the future]
The UK/US genre war is still going strong. The US needs to create some completely original genres. You can do it Americans. I believe in you. I live in all of America right now [I won’t say where I’m originally from {Hint: it’s the moon}] I guess some of the new genre burden is on me, but unfortunately for music fans everywhere, I was recently bitten by a mosquito and I’m scratching my leg with my toes. Ball’s in your court, Americans.
This blog will never ever end. Beach Sloth even wrote a song about it. But in Murdoch news, Meat Confetti is actively accepting for VOL2 and a volume of criticism. And Moon Temple and I have started the Alt Lit Sci-Fi publication Cosmic Parade and it’s accepting your sub-missions right now.
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.
Beach Sloth gave me a mega-boost last time I was in Brooklyn. I was trapped between humanity and ghost-y-ness, the only solution being a cigarette, and the sloth came through. I don’t even think Beach Sloth smokes, but he’s always carries cigarettes around with him in the event that some supervillain in an altered state requires one. He’s a good guy. And these were good cigarettes. We’re not talking about Mavericks. Beach Sloth had Parliaments on tap. Beach Sloth keeps it classy. [Overpriced = Classy] Thank You Beach Sloth
George W. Bush II is causing a lot of people stress these days. Not me. He might be an asshole, but I’ve gotta give his lineage credit. The Bushes are rolling deep in some old school villainy, and if Dick “The Machine” Cheney doesn’t have a lair on a volcanic island, I don’t understand the world any more. Beach is right, I will provide everyone with a Buick Le Sabre once I take over. The Le Sabres will be white and come with a free pair of fuzzy dice and personalized airbrushed license plate. [I know a guy that works at a carnival]
[Okay, not so much ‘works’ as ‘hangs out behind the Ferris wheel taking grainy, candid pictures of grown men holding funnel cakes.’ But that’s his calling, who am I to argue with that? I was called to supervillainy. Regardless of his fondness for man-on-funnel cake action, guy can get me the hook up on airbrushing]
Little Danson Man. Ted ‘Bridge’ Danson III. I didn’t make that up. Ted Danson’s middle name really is ‘Bridge’. Or maybe that’s his underground streetfighting name. The Bridge is bringing the beatdown. I pledge that once I’m supreme overlord, I will bring ‘Bored to Death’ back. Not just in 8 episode season. The new, revamped ‘Bored to Death will broadcast new episodes every weekday, all year long. Soap opera style. You might worry that daily ‘Bored to Death’ episodes will make the show get a little stale. Well shut up, I’ve got the finer points of this plan worked out. It will be ‘fresh to death.’
LK Shaw, our landlady at the Shabby Doll house, released a new little ebook ‘Measure my waist with a Measuring Tape in a car park on a hot day (and I will try not to write a poem about it)’. I really loved this book. You should soak it in. Like an anthropomorphic sponge hungry for quirky poetry ebooks by Canadians with English accents. That’s an oddly specific need, and it doesn’t get addressed much, but LK is here to fix it, you lovely little sponge-people.
Buttercup is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met via internet. He’s found the secret to being nice. Don’t Give A Fuck. He’s turned that secret into an entire philosophy, DGAFISM. It might sound too elaborate to even begin to understand, but Buttercup has a nifty little guidebook to help you on your journey to end all of your fuck giving. I heard he’s branching out to selling the book and information packet [a $600 value] for $19.95 through 4AM infomercials on basic cable. But you’re ahead of the curb, you can get this book [a $600 value] for free thanks to the magical goodwill of Buttercup.
Beach Sloth submitted something to my unholy baby, MΣΔ✞ CΘNFΣ✞✞I. I had this baby with 2 other bizarro freeks. I can’t give too much away, but Beach Sloth’s submission might have just gone and changed the game up. You could be a part of this. Send something to us. We want your [anything you made]. And, yes, it will be stomach-turningly weird. Beach Sloth and I can promise you that.
[And, Beach Sloth, your bling is straight off-season, bruuuh]
Beach Sloth had a big weekend. He had a birthday and a party based on that birthday. The party shook the earth. Brooklyn will never be the same. Brooklyn has seen just how party a sloth can get. Beach Sloth set the partying standard for all future sloths. Maybe his kids will pick up his party legacy. There’s still hope. I believe in the Beach Kids.
My rule of the world is highly anticipated. I’ve hired Beach Sloth as my official hypeman. He’s working the internet, getting the crowd pumped, waiting for the overthrow. George W. Bush II is an ass. Don’t trust him. If he’s ever on a ballot, and, unsure on which candidate to pick, you considering giving him your vote, don’t. Write in Murdoch LaMarche. Election may not be my ideal method of gaining control of the masses, but you’ve gotta work with what you’ve got. But that’s only a last resort.
Ted Danson is a great guy. I might give him a position in my cabinet of villainy. Have you seen him on CSI? He’s hilarious. I’m not a CSI fan, but I watch it just to see Teddy Dans. Bored to Death was good, too. Beach Sloth and I have eerily similar taste. If I wasn’t aware of my true identity, I might think that I am Tyler Durden to Beach Sloth’s Edward Norton. He’d definitely be Edward Norton in this scenario. They’re both good guys. I’m definitely giving off more of the Tyler Durden vibe. Sure I’m a supervillain, but I can still use my villainy to help people. Not the standard M.O. of villains, but I’ll defy a convention. Breakin’ rules. That’s what being a supervillain is about. Seriously, how great would Ted Danson have been as every character in Fight Club. Really great. That’s how great.
Buttercup, LK, Beach Sloth and I are all in the newest Shabby Doll House. It’s pretty groundbreaking, and I feel qualified to make such a statement; I’m a shabby doll. Beach Sloth even covered it on his world renowned blogspot. I won’t get into all the dirty details, but this edition has bodies, sporks, drugs, gay porn, and New York on deck. That’s some high quality subject matter. (The illustrations are fantastic too)
Buttercup had to take a break from fighting the chili to make hypnotizing gifs to go along with his piece. They’re highly effective. He wiggled his way into my subconscious and convinced me to send him $5 to buy more cigarettes. Bcup and I are both avid cigarette consumers. We like to eat while we smoke because we are the Kings of Trash. Buttercup has been quoted admitting that his ideal state would be “colors-of-benetton-american-apparel-and-vintage-leather-only ‘dress really nice’ and like, idk some really expensive italian glasses but eating like cookie monster and smoking like a hooker in the 60s.” That’s the dream, Buttercup. That’s the dream.
Toronto is a city. I’ve never been there. I hear it’s ‘bustling’ ‘innocuous’ ‘Canadian’ and ‘a destination.’ All of those make Toronto seem like a wonderful city. But LK Shaw had to head to New York. She’s very busy. She’s getting her skrilla up. Other Canadians are ‘hatin’ because LK, as she puts it, ‘stacks paper to the ceiling and floats on 20” chrome.’ Rooms in the Shabby Doll House aren’t free. Some people pay in words, others help finance all those paper stacks and chrome. LK played songs for Beach Sloth at his birthday bash. They were beautiful. I wish I could admit whether or not I was there to witness them firsthand.
Did you miss Beach’s birthday bash? You know what would make up for it? Buying ‘I Want to YouTube Down the Rivers of America’ for the low, low price of $9. Beach Sloth lives in increments of $9. All sloths do. That’s just how they get down. But, sometimes, $9 just isn’t enough. The man has sloth-kids to feed. Buy his shirts. And while you’re throwing out free money, give some to Buttercup and LK. I may be a supervillain, but I’m a supervillain with a heart of gold. I am ‘The Super Boost Villain.’
******666******666******666******666******666******666******
Velocitractor Beauregard, Feözsz Zszöef, and I are MΣΔ✞ CΘNFΣ✞✞I. We’re accepting submissions for the first issue through August 31. Full call for submissions is here. Get weird.
******666******666******666******666******666******666******
Beach Sloth & Co. were determined to ‘party like a blog star’ and their goal was met, hands were shook, bros (nongender specific) were hugged, lit was read, songs were sung, and lives were changed.
The crowd on the roof began gathering at the designated time of 8PM. After 15 minutes or so everyone began to wonder where the birthday sloth was. We were certain we had the right rooftop, so we continued to wait. No one was surprised by this lack of punctuality, sloths are slow, even that kid Jeremy I went to middle school with who pulled his penis out every time a bell rang knew that. Everyone in my class dreaded fire drills. To this day every time a cell phone with a bell ringtones goes off, I think of Jeremy’s penis, bouncing around the classroom. But Jeremy wasn’t there that fateful night, or maybe he was, I don’t remember hearing any bells.
After 37 minutes of waiting (I own a watch, I’m a professional) there was an ominous screech, everyone looked in its direction and saw a figure swinging from the next building over on a rope. I have to give it to him, Beach Sloth knows how to make an entrance. Beach Sloth is holding up remarkably well for 39, but 39 in human years is only around 23 sloth years, well within the ideal range for alt lit.
An entire alt litter of URL people appeared IRL. Guillaume Morissette. Lucy K Shaw. Santino Dela. Steve “The Cockman” Roggenbuck. Spencer Madsen. All on deck. All ready to make their word offerings at the 3 toed feet of the sloth god. Would he be pleased? Of course he would. The sloth is benevolent and the sloth is longsuffering.
Santino Dela made his verbal sacrifice first. And, holy shit, that man can talk. I thought his twitter was intense. This is the man that wrote 100 poems in one day. And even more impressive, they were actually good. I was so entranced by his wordsmithery, I forgot to check my watch for an exact time, but I’m fairly certain he read nonstop for 6 days because he created an entire “boosted fricked the frick up” world out utter nothingness. And then he rested, and all the guests said that it was good.
LK was on deck next. She is a famous Canadian musician. Did you know Canadians made music? Now you do. She kicked out the jams and pumped up the juice. Lighters were waved during one particularly soulful number. The roof was nearly caved in from the foot stomping of the crowd during another. Everyone had to take breather after that set. LK brought the funk, slapped us in the face with it, and then gently set the funk back down in its original resting place.
Once everyone had recovered from the Funk Slap, Guillaume Morissette read.He was literally carrying a baguette and a bottle of Pouilly-Fumé Coteau des Girarmes, smoking three cigarettes, wearing a beret, and sporting a mustache through the entire reading. It was the most french thing I’ve ever seen. But he pulled it off. After he read and finished smoking/drinking/eating his cigarettes/wine/baguette/mustache/beret France’s image in American was permanently uplifted.
Chants of “666…666…666…” began to fill the air and Steve Roggenbuck rose from the shadows in his infamous Pikachu helmet. Steve’s reading was exactly what everyone has come to expect from a Roggen-reading. Chakras were fricked, cockboys were boosted, Satan was praised. Steve didn’t let the crowd’s adulation faze him. He finished in a timely manner, picked up his macbook, sat down, and continued to live his lief.
Spencer Madsen was supposed to finish the reading, but he had already fallen deeply in love and absconded. After the festivities were over we were all informed that Spencer’s love was actually a Taco Bell Doritos Locos Taco. Don’t worry Spencer, we’ve all made that mistake. Some of us many times. Even though Spencer wasn’t able to read for himself, his cat took over, reading passages from A Million Bears. And that cat went hard in the muthafuckin lit. I’ve never heard a cat read with such fiery passion. Spencer, don’t ever forget this, you raised that cat right.
And then, the readings were over. The party continued to rage (responsibly). Beach Sloth felt thoroughly loved, and when he crawled into his [whatever sloths sleep in…a tree, maybe?] he felt a profound peace. He had done it. He had won at IRL.
Beach Sloth. He is in the process of financing his third eye. Third eyes are expensive. This third eye serves many purposes. Primarily it’s used for keeping up with alt lit, but lately it’s been dedicated to unscrambling the puzzle that is my true identity. He and I are true ‘bros.’ Riffin’. You up for some reggae tonight, bro? Beach Sloth is.
The end of the world doesn’t concern Beach Sloth. He’s prepared. He’s got an iPod loaded with his ‘Armageddon It On 2012’ playlist. Through my underworld/shadow government connections, I’ve gotten a sneak peak at this magnificent playlist, and let me just say ‘wow.’ It’s a metaphysical journey. Is it autonomous? Is it transcendent? You bet it is. If I weren’t playing the long world domination game, I’d kick off the apocalypse right now, just to blast this playlist into the ear holes of every creature on earth. And I already know their response, they’d scream in unison, ‘Holy cocksucking Christ! My face is literally melting off of my skull, but Beach Sloth picked out some damn fine tunes for this occasion.’
Mongolians. Charles Bronson (the actor) was Mongolian. I don’t think that’s true, but I just watched Bronson, and they called him Mongolian. If you haven’t seen it, watch it and you’ll get a pretty clear idea of what I believe the Mongolian infiltration of alt lit will be like via Charlie Bronson’s (the prisoner) rampage.Will it include diehard dedication to novelty mustaches, nude fighting, and psychotic monologues? I sure hope so. Seriously, watch Bronson. I know I’m a little late on the Bronson Bus, but I just came off surviving The Dark Knight Rises, and I’m deeply in obsession with Tom Hardy.
My love for Tom Hardy aside, this chili situation really must be resolved. Buttercup needs your money. He’s too polite and busy indiscriminately punching bowls of chili to ask, so Beach Sloth and I are asking for him. Chili is serious business. I once watched a swarm of chili rise up out of its bowl and devour an entire family and their minivan. Chili will chase you and your loved ones through the street. Chili: it’s wild in the streets (runnin’ runnin’). Chili knows no fear. Buttercup is here to give chili a lesson in fear.
LK Shaw may have a milkshake that brings all the boys (even the vegans) to her yard, and majestic landscaping that keeps them there, but her greatest accomplishment yet was her acoustic collaboration with a wild raccoon. That’s the kind of musical genius that can only come out of Canada. Raccoons are known throughout Canada for their righteous, face-melting chops. LK is truly ahead of her time. The world needs more alt lit lady/nature’s bandit jams.
LK’s beautifully maintained yard sits in front of her shabby doll house. This is no ordinary doll house. It’s full of those weirdo alt lit types. Residence in the SDH is another thing that binds Beach Sloth and me. He’s been holding it down there for a hot minute, and I’m moving in on July 31st, and I’m bringing a cabal of incredible (and much more talented/interesting) people with me. Check that shit out, son.
I gave Beach Sloth some of the inside ‘deets’ on my grand scheme. This is highly hush hush, but I trust the Sloth. Put your faith in the Sloth, he will never betray you nor forsake you. Thank You, Beach Sloth. And, yes, I am working on ‘stepping up my online game’ but I’ve been busy setting up sleeper cells throughout most of Eurasia. But the URL game will be stepped up. And that’s a supervillain promise.
***6*** ***6*** ***6***
This weekend is Beach Sloth’s birthday bash! There’s going to be a life-changing party.
8PM. Saturday. July 28. 2012. The rooftop. 345 Eldert Street. Brooklyn. New York. USA. Earth.
All those crazy alt lit kids will be there. You should be there too. Wish Ol’ Beachy a happy 39th. Will I be there? Maybe. Anything is possible. Will you see me? Probably not. I’ll be in disguise, in the shadows. Watching. Plotting. Birthday Bashin’.
Beach Sloth and I are both firm believers in the power of online anonymity. But Beach Sloth has a slightly less rigid adherence to its tenets. I am a cyberghost. I exist in the kerning of alt lit. No one has ever seen Murdoch LaMarche in person. Someday in the future someone most likely will. Anything that can happen probably will happen. A private investigator could probably unearth my true identity, and one brave soul has set up a fund to hire one to get to the bottom of this. His name is Beach Sloth and if you make a nominal donation to the “Find Murdoch’s True Identity Fund” via paypal, he’ll send you a copy of his lovely chapbook. He has assured me that all proceeds are going to this worthy cause. (None of that is necessarily “true”, but you should buy his book anyway.)
But this is not a manifesto about my most secret of identities or a fundraising drive, this is coverage of Beach Sloth’s coverage of my coverage of Beach Sloth’s coverage of “2AM Interview: Buttercup and LK”. Beach Sloth was glum regarding his lack of online coverage, and I, being his confederate in confidentiality, sensed his chagrin, and filled that void. In addition to ‘I want to YouTube down the Rivers of America’ devouring his time and energy, Beach Sloth is far too humble to write something as self-serving as coverage of himself. Despite my general goals of supervillainy, I saw a golden opportunity to kick him a little boost.
Alt lit is in dire need of accents. Accents breed legitimacy. Alt lit’s in the process of acquiring a wider array of accents, including Mongolian. The Mongolians are working on their cementing their national brand right now, but that’ll be done soon. Prepare yourselves for an onslaught of Mongolian chapbooks.
Currently there is hearsay that Buttercup is amassing an army to overthrow the chokehold chili has on humanity. Buttercup is a very busy man. It’s not easy having to explain the origin of your name to every person you’re introduced to, but Buttercup rises to the challenge. With so many conflicting explanations for this name floating around it’s hard to determine which is true. Well I followed the leads, I called in some favors to a few dirty cops, and I got to the bottom of this mystery. Now, please remember, this information is strictly on the “DL” but before become the internet phenom he is today, Mr. McGillicuddy was a member of the crime-fighting trio The Powerpuff Girls. Along with his sisters, Blossom and Bubbles, Buttercup dished out the ass kicking daily. Buttercup had a split with the other Powerpuffs due to creative differences, and completely rebranded himself, but kept his name so he would never forget his Powerpuff roots. Powerpuff roots are the strongest kind fo roots.
LK Shaw has her own dark hidden past. After her long run as the star of I Love Lucy, she went into the rap game. Yes, that’s right. The LK actually stands for Lil Kim. Shaw is obviously short for Shawty. But like Buttercup, the game got to be too much so she fled the spotlight and rebranded. LK and Buttercup are masters of rebranding. Was LK involved in killing Biggie? Probably. I’m not saying she pulled the trigger necessarily, but…she probably did. I cashed out on favors with dirty cops investigating Buttercup, so I couldn’t dig deeper into this conspiracy, but I’m certain the evidence is there. Somewhere.
Miller High Life is the Champagne of Beers. Alt lit is the Champagne of Literature. Next time you’re reading some alt lit, break out a 40 of the High Life and you’ll truly be living the high lief. But remember to pour some out and shed a single tear for all the cockboys Steve Roggenbuck has lost while on his quest to LIVE MY [miller high] LIEF.
Alt lit is full of URL anthropomorphic creatures. Contrary to popular belief I am not an anthropomorphized creature capable of using the internet. I am a supervillain. The gazelle is pure misdirection. The wide array of nonhuman URL presences keeps things interesting. Beach Sloth calls out Sea Cheetah. Recently rumors in the alt lit circles have been circulating of a pay-per view death match between these two nemeses. My money’s on the Sloth. I forsee a Tortoise&Hare/Ali&Foreman crossover with Beach Sloth riding the slow and steady ropeadope train to victory junction, all the while protected by the armor of his Twitter ratio.
