This video is a hilarious spoof version of the Billy-Bob Thorton appearance on CBC radio with Jian Ghomeshi. I especially like when Shane Nelken (who is playing Billy-Bob), starts getting defensive at around 2:30 and asks host Tariq Hussain if he would have posed the same question to Sheri Lewis and Lambchop. It's pretty sick how this is the 3rd post we have on STSQ relating back to the infamous Billy-Bob Thorton and Jian Ghomeshi incident (some other posts, B-B parody & B-B is a douchebag). I can't wait for the next Canadian pop-culture reference to this, it's become a hilarious debacle for the ages.
Market Collective is happening real soon Calgary people!
NOBODY ever said this was gonna be easy, starting a reputable webzine I mean. The net is more complicated then maybe I thought at first, so many tools, so many networks. We're starting to get a handle on things though and I'm glad you're all on board, and still checking out the site as it evolves into what it's supposed to be, a creative culture magazine.
I know there a lot of you musicians out there who are waiting to see their stuff incorporated into the site. I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to doing much on that lately, but it's gonna freakin' happen soon, so don't stress out. I'm restructuring the way we do podcasts, it's still in a brainstorming phase, I don't wanna give birth to it before it's ready, or it could end up being... an ABOMINATION.
THE LATEST AND GREATEST
* Street artist GOONSWOOD makes good by popping up on STSQ
* Kyle Gallagher popped out another one of his cool-ass off-the-wall comedy posts called Dear 1990s Batman
* I ripped a little vid of George Carlin off my TV awhile back, check it out.
* Toronto's The Spill magazine was featured, let's help them on their quest to hook up with indie bands.
* Our latest featured band is 'The Radio Grifters'
FORMS & FUNCTION
* The biggest new develpment at STSQ lately is the BETA BLOG. It's still in the testing phase, but it works and the idea is simple. Use the submission tool on the beta blog to make submissions really easily. This way, we can feature more, like posts related to art news, links to other cool posts/ sites etc... All without disrupting the flow of the main page, which will still feature exclusively original works or in house features.
* Our Amazon widget is better. It now features only products released by, or featuring contributors of STSQ. If you've contributed to the page and have a vid, a CD or a book or something on Amazon, let us know about it.
* We now feature a few ads for music related gear and apparel and music distribution sites. If we don't feature at least a little advertising, I guess we'll never make a penny, that would be disheartening.
* We have a store now too.
TRIVIAL & MODISH MENTIONS
Our current theme is 'Contrast' so it's time to start sending in some contrasting works of art. Remember you can still submit anything you want, the theme is optional. Some people even say it's retarted, but we're keeping it for now because I'm stubborn and I need to go to bed.
Love and Cheers,
Swail
editor & webmaster
Screw The Status Quo
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. He's opted to try and sell it in the wildest and wierdest creative way we've ever heard about. There are custom packages of the album available for every budget and some of the things you can buy along with the music are downright hilarious and/or awesome.
Helena stood in her living room – in the exact centre of her living room – staring around at the walls, shelves and the single wall of windows. They were her favourite part of the entire apartment. Some were dirty, stained and even cracked or broken, but she and Karl were lazy people who hadn’t quite gotten around to fixing those yet.
They would someday, she told herself. Someday.
When they had first moved into the dive of apartment, wet behind the ears, straight out of their glorious academic careers, Karl had made a crack about all the sex they would have in front of those windows. This had yet to come fruition. Not just the sex in front of the window, but the sex in general. A fleeting smile touched Helena’s lips at the thought of having sex with Karl. It wasn’t so much that she wanted to … or that she didn’t want to … it was just amusing, in a kind of way. The sun beams filtering in from the outside were turned the colour of rust by the accumulation of filth on the windows. Beautiful. The sound of crunching gravel snuck in through those same spider web cracks, snaking up along Helena’s calves and thighs until they reached her ears.
The road below was empty.
She took a step closer to the sill, lined with candles allowed to burn too low, their melted wax molding them to the wooden ledge forever. Her palms pressed down into the wax, the heat from her own body changing and making a semi-permanent imprint therein.
The road was still empty.
She cocked her head to the side, listening, animal like, calm. The gravel crunched again as a large, boxy machine careened around the right-most corner of the street – just this side of out of control. Karl had never been a good driver. The Jeep – Helena thought it was a Jeep, she wasn’t quite certain – skidded to a barely there stop before the apartment complex. In a past life the building had been a factory, which was perhaps the only reason the two friends could afford to live there. This particular snippet of information also meant that it had no underground parking. Not that is mattered terribly, there had never been an overabundance of snow in the city. Street parking was not Karl’s favourite thing in the entire world and Helena watched through two sets of windows as he secured an orange parking break over the maybe-Jeep’s steering wheel. Her smile had returned, a true and complete smile, happy to see him home. The door to the vehicle and into the apartment building slammed shut in quick succession, creating a musical beat of their own.
Military grade boots on worn metal steps made a very distinct sound that always seemed a little scarier under the strength and weight of a male. Compared to Karl, Helena’s footsteps up the staircase sounded like bells ringing in the winter time. Not quite holy, but certainly delicate – innocent even. She trotted back to her standing place in the middle of the living room, examining their threadbare couch. It was a faded, burnt orange contraption they had found just lying there by the side of the road, begging to be heaved eight blocks, four flights of stairs to find refuge in their rather large living room.
We really ought to get rid of it, Helena mused.
Sometimes when she slept on it she woke up with small raised bumps on her body. She had a sneaking suspicion that mites lived in that couch, but they were too tiny to prove her point.
Oh, well.
The door creaked open sounding, as always, as though a murderer were about to enter and kill every inhabitant of the apartment. Every inhabitant being Helena. Karl stepped in, kicking the metal door closed with his heel and looking down. He shuffled to the nearest exposed area that could act as a shelf and lowered a heavy cardboard box filled with things that Helena swore she had never seen before. Karl’s eyes flicked up, taking in his roommate. He offered her a quick wave from his half-bent position. Helena waited for him to finish with his military grade boots and cross over to join her in the living room. She pulled her right arm free from behind her back, holding out a bright yellow sunflower.
Is this supposed to be a joke?
No. It’s to celebrate your inspired escape from academia.
Karl took the flower, sniffing it, keeping his eyes on Helena.
Thank-you, it’s nice.
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