I’m absolutely fascinated by the Lawrence Welk Show.

Hear me out.

It’s totally square. It’s totally uncool. It’s completely Wonder Bread with mayonnaise. But it’s also what was really going on during its era, which was the late 50′s through the early 70′s.

We all want to think that we’d have been the cool ones. You totally have bought a first edition of Coney Island of the Mind, right? Probably not. You’d have been watching Lawrence Welk, and driving your American made sedan into the city, because you would have wanted to be Mad Men, not a dirty damn hippie.

So when I saw this on YouTube (probably linked from BoingBoing), it blew my mind.

How absolutely fucking hilarious is this? It’s something that would never happen today, because any PA on any television show could tell you what toking means, and was probably out in the alley demonstrating what toking means just minutes before you asked. But in 196whatever? It wasn’t in the vernacular.

So here’s when I watch this, I picture some teenager, trapped in the house, being forced to watch Lawrence Welk by his parents. And maybe he’s a kid that’s kinda on the edge, leaning away from white bread America, listening to the rock & roll & growing his hair long. And maybe he’s heard the real version of this song, and maybe he knows exactly what it’s really talking about. What’s going through that kid’s head? I would die.

Lawrence Welk thought the song was a spiritual. It’s such a great example of the divide between the everyday & the underground, but we don’t look back fondly on him or his show.

Which is a shame, because that dress she’s wearing? Pretty hot.

A visual essay of logos for women’s health/support/lifestyle type groups. (via Consumerist)

Here’s what I learned about women:

• Women like to dance.
• When women dance, they like to raise their arms above their head.  This is very useful when YMCA is playing.
• Women have long, flowing hair.
• Women often have to jump over things.
• Women like to tip-toe.
• Women like pastels.
• Women raise their hands & wait to be called on.
• Women like to hug.
• Women live in Florida & Nebraska.
• Women have vaginas. And big hips.
• Women sprout trees from their arms or head.
• Women like hearts & flowers & affirmations.

I hate this woman shit.  Where’s the logo for the woman with piercings in her face & tattoos, who drinks whiskey & curses?  Which of you broads wants to join my support group?  We’re not Earth goddesses, we’re not gonna dance & hug & celebrate our vaginas (although they’re awesome, don’t get me wrong).  It’s ok if your hair is short – mine is too.  We’re not going to turn into trees or get in tune with the lunar cycles.  We will not ovulate together.

What the fuck does our logo look like?

I am terrified of spiders.  Especially those white house spiders that seem to flock to me.  As a species, they’ve recently fallen in love with my car.  See if you can guess where this story is going.

Yesterday, as I’m driving to work, I notice something out of the corner of my eye.  It’s a spider, climbing up its web.  It disappeared into the glove box.  Great.

So I go to work, and then to class.  I again see the thing scampering across the passenger side floor mat.  Awesome.  Because now I know it’s going to take a walk up the inside of my windshield as I’m driving home on the Kennedy.

True story: That happened to me once as I was driving north on Lake Shore Drive.  There was some serious screaming.  Fortunately, it was during rush hour, so traffic was moving slowly & predictably.  And I know Lake Shore Drive by heart.  The spider made it up the entire windshield, and started crawling onto the car ceiling.  There were tears.

My plan was to make it to the Addison exit without crashing, and go to the police station on Halsted.   I was not in my right mind people.  It was the best I could do.

But the spider turned around and crawled back down the windshield into the vent.  And then I turned the heat all the way up & cooked that fucker.

Back to last night.  I was driving home down Logan, and saw that the spider was now doing a lap around my steering wheel.  Oh Jesus Christ.  I managed to turn off Logan without killing anyone, and got the car into park.  I hopped out just as the spider made a jump & landed on the seat.  IT WOULD HAVE LANDED ON ME. I found some loose paper & squashed it.

Oh, and the soundtrack to this moment?  “Every Little Thing is Gonna be Alright.”  I’ve never been a Bob Marley fan, but I appreciated his words at that moment.  And I’m sorry to the commuters walking home from the L stop who were perhaps a bit alarmed by the hysterics.

To conclude the day, at about 11:30 I walked into a spider web outside my building.

I wish to express my appreciation of Maker’s Mark.

Some pansy-ass, piece of shit NPR blogger is trying to muscle in on my Rahm Emanuel for mayor action. Fuck off NPR blogger. Get your own thing, asshole.

And by the way?  Do you know why my post is funnier?  Because I use the fucking curse words, douchebag.

[Expletive]?  Seriously?  That shit is weak.  Real fucking weak.

If you’re going to pick a fight, make sure it’s with a group of people who lack the muscle tone to inflict any real injury.  This, combined with a disproportionate sense of importance, make Brooklyn & Chicago hipsters an excellent target.

So bravo to you, Allyson, for sparking an outrage that’s filling the void now that Pitchfork & Lollapalooza are over.