My New Hero is a Toddler in a Tiara

Guys, get a load of this little lady. Girl's got POISE and CHARISMA. If I ever get on TV, this is what I'm going to do.

Clam Jam #holyshititshot.

And for those of you who read the headline, I'm upset about not putting an apostrophe in that.

But all my concerns and heat sicknesses are blown away by this ..... smokin' summer jam

addendum 7:00 roch: and oh by the way, this too....

Clam Jam #26: Pea Green Bote

Holy shit we're walking around Six Flags AS WE SPEAK (thank you, timed posts) listening to this through shared iPod headphones and frilly-folly-frollicking through the roller coaster lines without a care in the world, except let's not let the Diet Coke get too warm, or the cigarettes too unavailable.

Summer time fun time! Hooray!

Clam Jam #25: Tell me how many years the classical era lasted, and you get 1600 points.

Just remembered that time I saw the NYC Ballet perform to Debussy and wept my eyes out more than I ever having after watching a chick flick, after watching a kitten get saved from a river, after watching a homeless cripple walk again.

This is the first symphony playing it on video that popped up after the old google mcsearchinstein. Are they the best? No. Is this song one of the best? Yes. Ever.

WARNING: Making Videos This Cute Is Prohibited By Law

Omigodz, it's red pandas snuggling through the snow.






If you do not watch this video until the very end you are a) soulless b) going partially blind, or c) destined to have extremely unattractive children. Godspeed. And Godredpandas.

Clam Jam #24: Best One Yet?

Galt Macdermot, oh me oh my how I love this song.

 

Go, go, go and listen to more here: http://www.galtmacdermot.com/downloads.htm

Click on Shapes of Rhythm. It's totes the best. Literally, I went and priced out a record player for this album. Just sayin'.

Flagrant Click-Mongering Headline of the Day: Social Apps Lead to RAPE

No seriously, this article from Gigaom is claiming that those little apps on your little internet phone are going to lead someone to forcibly insert their genitals into your genitals, or at the very least stalk your genitals. Maybe rub up on them a little.  So WATCH OUT.

But the real kicker here is what comes next in the story. Basically a "calm down, calm down guys" reassurance that while, yes, location-based apps can lead to very creepy, rapey things, it's nowhere near as bad as the Catholic church!

"Banjo CEO Damien Patton responded that 'more people have been harmed by the Catholic Church' than the popular social networks."

So we should all take a chill pill (preferably a rufie). Letting people know what bar you're at: ok. Meeting with a pastor behind closed doors: doomsday, for your genitals.

Apparently Patton and Newspepper.com founder Hermione Way "clashed Monday on a panel discussing privacy at Monday’s Social Loco conference." I hope this spawns more debate--maybe a "Which is rapier?" tumblr,  with two photos side by side. First up: 

YOU BE THE JUDGE.

Clam Jam #23

Well, that was short lived, wasn't it? Trying to to keep the clam alive while things go gettin' all crazy again. (fairy tale stories in the works though, for realz!)

Clam Jam #22: Ava Luna, Get Into It

So I'm about a year late into the game on these guys. Typical. Whatevs. Video below but then listen to all their music right now on their site. Hooray Ava Luna!
 

Old School Cartoons are Cray

Kids these days, amirite? The cartoons they're watching just have no understanding of the OVERWHELMING COMPLEXITY OF LOVE AND HAPPINESS AND LONELINESS AND TERROR.

Not back in the dzay. Back then, they understood that kids need to just MAN UP, and face what life is throwing at them.

Check out this super old Felix the Housecat from 1919. It's so cute! You love it so much! And then, SPOILER ALERT: it ends in tragic suicide over unwanted bastard children. No joke. Check it out:



Aside from being the bee's knees, this 1932 Betty Boop cartoon is also completely terrifying. Just wait for the ending: You're all "holy hell, what's happening with that baby?!" Kids, don't do drugs.




Jump forward a few years again to 1942, and the cartoons were all about the war. Could you imagine if there were cartoons about Iraq or Afghanistan like this now? That would be wild. This cartoon has obviously been banned, along with other wild examples like the totally not offensive or propagandizing at all PopEye episode "You're a Sap Mister Jap." (But now with NDAA 13 who knows...)




Um, ok actually maybe I take all this "different eras of cartoon creepiness" stuff back because dear lord almighty this next cartoon just ruined my day, and it's from 1986. I'm a little confused about how it can even BE, and what happened to all the kids who actually saw this on TV? Probably eating people's faces in Florida or something. Also probably Janeane Garofalo.





Wait... WHAAAAT?! I am sinking into existential hell now:





Alright, so I take it all back. Cartoons these days aren't any less scary. Shit. They're just scary in technicolor preposterousness. I need to get out of here. Moral of  the story: all of our innocent child minds are doomed.

Clam Jam #21: EMI, You Go to Hell

Alright, hold the phone. This little clam is a little upset.

Here I am, on a lovely Saturday, trying to post up a simple clam jam to represent the crazy tazmanian wind storm of housecleaning that I'm about to stir up before leaping out to frolic in the concrete jungle.

What song is purely representative of said housecleaning party? The Buzzcocks' "Why Can't I Touch It." No doubt.

So off I went to find a youtube video, to share the music with the world, in an age where sharing is not a right or a privilege but a completely assumed and inherent part of life. Imagine my shock and dismay when I saw this:

GAH I can't even embed a code to the video. Screengrab:

EMI, you are the neanderthal of media, and like the neanderthals you should just lay down and die in a frigid ice age--coming from the cold, cold hearts of all of the potential fans you alienated with your inability to adapt to sociocultural paradigm shifts. Just die. Darwinianly.


Ok... mind fuck. Just tried to go to the EMI website to try and pull up some tidbits I could use as hate-ammo, but alas! This:

You have got to be kidding me. No way in hell am I entering that god forsaken website.

Now listen, I know that this whole fight-technological-progress-and-cling-to-old-intellectual-property-models-to-keep-making-money-in-the-same-way-we-always-have-despite-the-fact-that-the-way-people-consume-media-has-completely-changed-forever thing is an ethos shared by pretty much all major corporate powers.  They are big and unwieldy and bureaucracy-laden and well, even if a bunch of good people are trying to change the way things work from within, it's just not going to happen over night.

A) Allow me to please remind you that it is the year 2012.

B) I hope to god that in their stick with the status quo decision making process, they are at least talking about the fact that cordoning off media makes all of Gen Y hate their brands and their businesses a little bit more, every single time. Not wise, folks. Just not good business.

Ok done. Did that even make sense? I don't know, but I have some laundry to do.

Do youself a favor and go listen to the song on Spotify. For now, live version:



And fuck you I'm out.

Olympic Dress-Up

So the 2012 Olympics are just around the corner, and I am psyched. Mostly I'm all, "OMIGOD Gymnastics!" but I also dig the swimming and the track and field stuff, too.

But most importantly, really, is the xenophobic, nationalistic pride you get to display all. the. time.

Fuck you Usain Bolt, JAMAICA IS GOING DOWN! USA! USA! USA!

And if you're going to be drunk and screaming about your patriotism, you obviously must look the part.
Here are a few things to stock up on while you're waiting for the Olympic showdown to kick off on July 27th:

Holy moly those last ones really are the winners, but I'm digging that variation with the shorts pockets too instead of the now seen-everywhere this (which is also still pretty sweet): 

So go out there and spend some Amurrican dollars on some real Amurrican shit (most of which is probably made in Camburrdia), and get head-to-toe JAZZED for the Olympics.

I can't wait.

UPDATE 6/4: Oh my god, add this to the list times 12.

Clam Jam #20

Today I'm coming at you with a double feature. Free the Robots deserves it.

Part I: Diary

Oh the sweet, sweet payoffs. This song is totes worth the wait.

Part II: Listen to the Future

Put this in your earholes for two seconds and Voila! You are a Class A, super cereal, bona-fide badass. Congratulations. You are winning at life.

Moonrise Kingdom: So Good!

Yesterday night we went to see Wes Anderson's new film, Moonrise Kingdom. Would anyone like to go with me tonight? Because it was so good!

I'm not a big movie-goer, so I say this in comparison to films that were new and interesting approximately 5 years ago, and a sparse selection of offerings on Hulu that were made between 1972 and 1987. So... you know. Not the best reference!

I was with some people of quite reputable opinion, however, and they all agree when I say:

This movie was shot beautifully. We walked out with a ton of one liners, which I will not try to butcher for you here. The script was fun and light and fantastical, with real issues and honest motivations and, well, god damn, it was just a job well done.

In short: do yourself a favor and go see it.

And afterwards we can totally play Wes Anderson bingo!

Special Edition Clam Jam: R. Kelly Has No Money

Is this not the most boot-leg video in the world?

R. Kelly yodeling in front of static screen grabs of the alps... yup, time for the world to end. Zombie apocalypse, it is time.

Bath Salt Guest Blog

While you're all busy preparing for the pending zombie apocalypse, a few words from dear friend Scottimus Delbangorrific the Third:

Bath Assaults: The Apocalyptic Gas Station Drug Epidemic That D.A.R.E. Totally Warned You About 

A potent new form of LSD has hit the black market in recent years; one so potent and so clearly LSD that it isn't even actually LSD, despite the fact that every major media outfit is implying that it is!  No, friends, this new LSD is not LSD, but rather bath salts.  Bath salts bought from a gas station that, contrary to common media phrasing, have nothing in common with LSD.  Now, excuse me for a moment, but I don't think it's sensationalist in any way to say that these powerful new LSDs are the greatest gas-station-centric threat mankind has ever faced.  

Don't believe me?  Guffaw.  If you won't listen to my authoritative voice convince you in its smooth, velvety baritone (use your imagination), please allow this fine gentleman to chew your ear for a moment.  Literally!:

Police in Miami are still baffled by what transpired Saturday afternoon on the MacArthur Causeway's off-ramp to Biscayne Boulevard, where a naked 31-year-old Rudy Eugene was foundconsuming the face of another naked man. ....

Fraternal Order of Police President Armando Aguilar has since changed the substance of influence to the stimulant Mephedrone — AKA "bath salts" — citing similar attack in the area that were carried out by users of the drug.

- Gawker.com

A naked homeless man in Florida under the influence of these bath salts actually ATE ANOTHER MAN'S FACE RIGHT OFF HIS FACE -- except for the guy's beard, which I guess is like the dry crust on the white bread that is the human face.  

Seriously though, just ate the dude's face right off, lickity split.  When police asked this hungry hungry hobo politely to stop, he looked at them and growled and continued his face-feast.  Then they shot him 500 times in the organs, which honestly they should've just done in the first place for once, and I'm forced to wonder why that brief conversation even took place.  

Could this mean there may be an awesome zombie apocalypse looming on the horizon?  I'm not going to commit to an opinion on this.  Although when the roving bands of flesh eating homeless come for your children, don't say I didn't warn you.  Also, do yourself a favor and don't look at the photos of the victim unless you like getting puke all over everything within a four foot radius.  These pictures, right here.  Don't even think about it.

In other news, an anonymous source of the Daily Clam, who totally is not me, nor can you ever prove it was me, reports that he was tricked into doing bath salts by a cabal of sketchy hippies in some ramshackle flophouse this one time, and can confirm the overwhelming bloodlust and blind destructive mania one experiences when these bath salts are ingested (typically through the nose part of one's face, making mephedrone an especially difficult drug for victims of mephedrone-based face cannibalism to enjoy for just a multitude of reasons).  While our "source" didn't actually eat anyone, for better or worse, it's reported that he was quote "very enthusiastic" about the prospect.  

ED.UPDATE: Holy shit you guys, it's here. The Zombie Apocalypse is actually here. Check out this log of all the wild face-eating going on down in Florida. New motto: stay the fuck out of Florida. Also, tomorrow's to-do list: 

- get a gun; learn to shoot steady  
- buy liquor
- zombie movie lunch and learn 
- stretch
- stock up on canned tuna and baked beans 
- call your mother 

This photo is probably 1/3 as horrific as the pictures of the guy who ACTUALLY GOT HIS FACE EATEN OFF. I do not want to know. 

Clam Jam #19

Hey kids, we're bringing back the clam jam! Today is all hot and sweaty and smelly and city-like, so.... Ghostface.

And the clam is back. Simple as that.

Color, and Then a Frog Ring. No Reason.

Check out these people being all like "YEAH!" about color. It's pretty... groovy, I guess, would be a fair description.



So how crazy is it that right after I watched this video, I saw this lamp in a totally unrelated catalog? I think the people who made the poured paint pedestals should immediately turn them into lamp posts. That would be the coolest.


You know what's also the coolest?


Obviously I love everything about this frog ring, except the $5,500 price tag. That's totally offensive, Lucifer Vir Honestus. Go suck an egg. Your name is quite fitting, for you are the ring devil. Is that seriously a giant block of real turquoise? I'm going to go to Toys 'R' Us, where they have little rubber animal figurines -- no, scratch that, I'm going to find an ERASER in the shape of a frog and superglue it to a plastic ring. Boom, same effect. Plus, I can totes do a crossword. How does that egg taste now, Luce?

This message has been brought to you by the end of the day after a long weekend. 

Meta Gif Internet Lolz

Can I make a collection of the best gif collections? Is that allowed? There's already so many amazing sets out there, I figure why start fresh from the bottom of the aggregation ladder?

I'm doing it.

Ric Flair. WOOO these are awesome.

Also, can we just take some more time out to appreciate Ric mother fucking Flair? I mean, his shoes cost more than your house.

Alright, back to the gifs. Next I present.... Mr. Put the Bunny Back in the Box himself, Nicholas Cage.

I happen to be an actual member of that there Cagealot Castle. Several months ago I signed up specifically to get a gif of Cage diving through a window to escape an airplane explosion in the second half of ConAir. I could not find that gif. It was upsetting, but I became initiated into a fine subset of humans over at the castle de la a lot of Cage, who have put together a vast collection of weird shit dedicated to the man. So, silver lining. Keep up the good work, you Cageaholics.

Today, when I went back to find said gif set, I also find THIS horrifying blog of nightmares and tears, which is apparently new and active, and did I mention horrifying and tear-filled?

But it's ok, because right as I was about to rip out my eyeballs with fear and rage from seeing that site, I found this:

Holy mother of god, it is the best gif of all time. 

While basking in the light of that hot, hot piece of smooth sexy gifness, a question arises: Why is Nick Cage's oeuvre so exhaustively turned into gifs? And why has no one done the scene where he dives through those windows like a mad man in ConAir?! My investigation continues...

Let's see, what's next. Kitten gifs? Nah, too easy.

N*SYNC GIFS!!  These are so intense. Pop stardom really is all about the close-up, huh? Also, please note the makers of this blog would like you to Njoy the gif. Ndeed I will.

The natural progression from here is oh my god spice girls gifs! Obviously. But those ladies were a bit more pre-internet, and hence don't have as much going on. How about one for good measure:

Aww, do your thing ladies. They are slamming all kinds of things in all sorts of directions.

Alright, I'm about to get epilepsy right now. More to come? Probably.

I Am Upset About The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby is one of the greatest books ever written. F. Scott Fitzgerald was brilliant. These are two American cultural facts about which almost everyone can agree.

Can we also all agree that Baz Luhrman's film adaptation of the story is going to completely ruin it?

Odds are there will be more debate around this. I would like to say immediately that I stand far on the right: Yes. Watching this movie will completely destroy your romanticized perceptions of The Great Gatsby's scenes, settings, and characters. Do not watch.




For starters, the movie is being done in 3-D. That's literally enough for me to flip a top-hat-shaped lid over, but I'm going to try to move on to more salient points.

THE SOUNDTRACK!!!! ARGHHH Whyyyy?!?!

Hopefully this is just trailer show gunning, and the movie itself stays a lot more period piece and a lot less cling-to-modern-pop-culture-to-attract-young-droves.

As a book, The Great Gatsby smolders. But it looks like this movie is all sparks and flash. Screaming scenes. Sex scenes. Standing and drinking in cars as they drive over bridge scenes. (Credit where credit is due: I am super psyched to see more of the recreation of NYC skyline circa 1922.) And doesn't Meyer Wolfsheim have a Yiddish accent? Come on, people.

Nick's perceptions of the Gatsby parties were always that of the reserved observer.. He noticed the women's clothes, their almost imperceptible gestures  the faults and the facades. In the trailer we are bombarded with fireworks and glitter and over-the-top raucous. Where is the restraint? The angst? The pent up emotions held close to the chest?

I'm not seeing it.

Maybe it's a smart play. Maybe the movie is all East Egg subtlety, and the trailer is all West Egg show -- and we the audience are the fools buying in to The Great Gatsby's party. I hope so.

Seeing as this is just the trailer, I'll try not to judge too much. (Uh, too late.) But I will read the book one last time before inevitably watching the movie and possibly ruining my perceptions of the whole thing.

And I will totally, totally, play this online version of the NES Great Gatsby game and say "Good job, old sport!" no matter what.

By Request of Iain Mackay... MORE CLAMS

Irena... this is supposed to be in your housewarming kit, which is on the way! ... as soon as I find a box of the right shape and size for shipping. But when someone requests more pictures of clams, well, I just can't deny them that.

Behold:

(For the record... I made this shit up on the spot for you. Lyrics are coming in the mail too.)

Crime Doesn't Pay, Except Maybe When It's Counterfeiting Money

Have you guys noticed an influx of counterfeit money in the city?

I don't know if this is a legit thing happening, or if there's always been a lot of fake money around and it's only new to my radar. All I know is I have seen a lot more counterfeit money over the past few months in the Bushwick/Bed-Stuy/Crown Heights area than seems normal.

My initial reaction is Sweet! I hope I'm witnessing some awesome plot that can make my life slightly more reminiscent of movies like Blow or... Blank Check? Classic.

But wait! It turns out having a bunch of counterfeit money around is exceedingly annoying. Last time I got a fake $10, it took me a while to notice. (This, despite the fact that it was perfectly crisp and clean, marked 1950, and had a lopsided outer border by a margin of about 1/8". I am clearly not a big-time money handler.)

I ended up fumbling with it in an MTA ticket machine for 15 minutes before coming to the conclusion the machine was broken, then almost got accosted by a cab driver for trying to give him the fake bill. "I didn't know! But thanks for the tip. I'm an idiot. This is clearly a fake ten. Good night, sir."

But now what am I supposed to do?! I ain't got no monies, yo. I was just an innocent victim given a worthless ten. Starbucks can handle this issue much better than I, I thought, so I slipped it over to a hapless cashier and went on my way.

But wait! It turns out that sometimes you are not so lucky pawning off those bills. In fact, sometimes when you don't even know you're pawning off one of those bills, you can get handcuffed on the spot and sent down to the precinct.

Case in point: my superintendent went to buy a new lock at the hardware store with a fake twenty, and the store owner called the cops. Now he's sitting in some hole of a cell with a bunch of other dudes, fighting over who gets to use the toilet, and I'm sitting here in my apartment with no lock on my front door. (Attention all robbers and thieves: please don't come to my apartment building today.)

Did my super know it was a fake twenty? According to him, no. I guess in a purely technical sense the truth is 50/50--but it doesn't even matter.

I didn't notice my ten at first, and was flinging that thing around all careless and whimsy free. What if I had gone into that hardware store? Would I be jet setting to a weekend in the slammer?

And how about when I did know? I still needed that money! At that point, I had just been officially robbed, but in a much worse way than actually being robbed. What am I going to do, tell the cops? Best case scenario, they take the money. Worst case scenario, they arrest me for having counterfeit money.

This is a lose-lose situation, folks, and I find it upsetting.

What's more upsetting is a question that must be brought up:
Is it more likely that my 30-something West Caribbean superintendent would immediately get sent to jail for using a fake bill than me? Methinks the answer is yes. And methinks this is a great misfortune. And methinks that maybe that is a bit of a counterfeit money pun.

I open the floor to you. But meanwhile... dun dun dunnn.... I think I may have found the culprits:

Looks like this problem just got a whole lot cuter.

I bet it's these sneaky kittens who own this sketchy safety deposit box in Long Island filled with counterfeit money. It's always those god damn cats. And it's always god damn Long Island, amirite?

For more, a list of 10 famous counterfeiting schemes in the 1900s. Spoiler alert: it ends with a woman who was burned at the stake for counterfeiting, after being hung. I repeat: they hung her, and then they burned her dead body. That is a harsh one. You kittens better watch out.

Moral of the story: check your bills, son.

Buy Some "Art" From a Man Who Maybe Stabbed His Girlfriend 183 Times

I said maybe, alright? We don't know. The state refuses to give this man a DNA test. You can read about it on Gawker, with words from death row inmate Brett Hartmann himself.

But what Gawker missed out on is that this guy's "art" is actually a bunch of horrible, embarrassing tchotchke craftwork. Too bad he's not selling on Etsy, because you know Regretsy would be all over his case. (Also, please don't tell Brett Hartmann I said any of this, in case he is exonerated and then comes over to my house to chop off all my toes and stab needles into my eyes.)

Some art:

Some disturbingly shank-like art:

Some art that scares me because oh my god I totally painted a seal just like this in 4th grade and holy shit does that mean that some day I'm going to snap and go on a violent rampage?: 

Officially creeped out. Go see the rest for yourselves.

These Are a Few Of My Favorite Things

Hey remember me? Remember us? It's been a while, so let's get this self-indulgent 2012 party started with some things I like. (As opposed to most of the time, when I'll just be moaning and bitching about things I don't like.)

 Thing I Like #1: New York City in the 80s 

 Shit was ballinnn! And tuff. And fresh to deff.  (I think now it's just like flossy or something.)

People who chose to live in the city back then were making a real decision, weighing the pros and cons in a much different way than people have to do now.

CONS
 Today: the rent is 2 damn high.
 1980s: I will be surrounded by knife-wielding muggers and heroine addicts on 70% of the city's corners.

PROS
 Today: you can be anyone you want to be and do anything you want to do in the city, so long as you know the right people and the right places to hang out.
 1980s: you can be anyone you want to be and do anything you want to do in the city, absolutely anywhere, even if that entails breaking the law, because no one gives a fuck.

 So... toss up. Let's take a walk down Memory Lane and mull those ideas for a minute.

These kids are dripping with boombox pride. Forget all that hard 'n' scary stuff I was talking about before. This is just adorable. Sadly, in today's city, these kids would probably be the victims of stop and frisk and that boombox would be confiscated faster than you can say "flip the script." Damn.  

For more subway photography, check out this collection from Bruce Davidson. 

Also these! I just can't get enough: 

Man, are those trains not kind of horrifying? In the best way ever? 

Plus, at the time the graffiti was being done by the likes of Scharf and Basquiat and Haring, so, like, whaaat?! 

Clearly awesome. 

Ok, what else? 

Thing I Like #2: Sitting Down on Cool Things Made for Sitting, and Sitting Down on Cool Things That Look Like They Are Not Made for Sitting, but Actually Are 

Like this Molletta Bench by Baldessari E Baldessari! 

I hope that this thing opens and closes so, so bad. Look at that perfect-sized head hole! 

On a more traditional note, the Antelope Rocker by Ernest Race. Throw back! 

Not only does this chair make me want to read more in that charming, breezy, springtime Dove commercial apartment sort of way, but it also goes pretty well with the creepy dream I had last night about having a baby. Yeesh. Watch out, gentlemen. 

(Note: this does not go well at all with my love for 1980s New York, so I think we're safe.) 

Oh hey! Speaking of which, you know what chair does go really well with my love for 1980s New York? Blarrrr!! Bwraaaarrrr! Ack! Alack! Glurblaaaghh: 

This chair from BRC Designs' Risen in 30 Days Collection looks like something one might pull up from the East River after a particularly gruesome week of NYC's 1989-1990 murder spike. I also can't help but think of Paris Hilton. Anyone else, or is that just me? 

Alright, well let's end this chair nonsense on a lighter note. Oh no wait, let's not. Bone chairs! 

These stools made out of old cow bones by Ama Darko Williams will get your living room yelling "Yippe-kay-yay, mother fucker!" and "Pew-Pew! Pew-Pew!" Metacarpals up. 

You know what? Let's not end this chair nonsense at all. In other news.... Jesus Christ Someone Make The Swing Car by Hans Brockhage In Adult Sizes Immediately: 

This is one of the prouder moments for the Germans, wouldn't you say? Sorry I couldn't hear you, I was too busy swinging back and forth in my climby ladder chair car. 

Ok, ok, one more and then onto Thing #3. Let's breathe a fresh sigh of slightly nautical relief and appreciate the Corliss chair by Dunn. Ahhh.. 

Oh and PS - Jessica Carnevale's Puffy Dining Chair is totes a clam: 

Thing I Like #3: Rainbowy Things 

Spoons! 

Puke! (I guess?)

Bridges to nowhere! (Totally!)

Jello? (Show me how!) 

Bike Wheels! (Hey - that's pretty resourceful!) 

Phew! Hopefully that was enough non-sequitur madness to whet everyone's whistle for what is about to be the most-likely-quite-temporary-and-disappointing revival of The Daily Clam! No promises. Just dreamz. 

Got something you love? Tell me about it and I'll make the most totally smashing killer photo round-up, plus probably some awesomely terribly photoshopped collages to boot! Want to add in a cat? Boom--your cat's eating skittles. Want to get some sweet typography involved? Presto! Expletives, riddled throughout. 

LMK, K? THX! BBQ!