In the almost five months we’ve been live, we’ve published 610 posts. That means newcomers may have missed a few chances to laugh or get mad and tell us to kill ourselves. Never fear! I have picked a few of my favorite posts from the vault.
this abstract pretty well follows my artist statement mad lib
"Stemming from this multidisciplinary background, I became interested in the synergy between design and technology. I am fascinated by the ways that evolving technologies can enrich art and design. My work is compelled by the exploration of a balance between aesthetic value and technology with logical structure."
what all my "last night" posts would realistically look like
I show up at Sarah Heuer’s house and she greets me by saying, “Hi Becky, you look like a chola, let’s go work on that ponytail.” Jay Gabler is sitting on the couch drinking beer from a receptacle that is yet another new size that we aren’t sure what to call.
I spend too long “invigorating” my ponytail and suddenly they want to leave and I haven’t yet “got it in” properly with the hard alcohol. I notice Sarah putting on tiny socks, one pink and one green and think, “So that’s what’s under those epic 4-inch boots.” I take in some cheap rum and then the cab has arrived.
We get to First Ave/Club Jager/ Some Secret Warehouse and pick out “soul mates” for one another who we may or may not go on to harass. Sarah’s posse of devoted men emerges and buys us drinks. We try to smoke cigarettes but the bouncer is like, “No drinks outside.” We chug them and decide this place totally sucks, time to leave.
We take a cab somewhere that also sucks and I make a friend outside the club while smoking. I will never talk to that person again. We get to a quieter bar that doesn’t reek of weed and I see “guy with a French name,” “blonde guy,” “that guy who looks like an anime.” We are past names now. Time to call Lew.
Lew Cabdriver (that’s his personal brand) shows up as usual, and I might sit in the front seat because we’re really good friends these days. He might even tell me about his personal life, which I know is strictly against the Lew Cabdriver policy.
I get home and smoke cigarettes in my car and then fall asleep watching Ally McBeal.
You can and should send us your new records, tapes, CDs, flash drives, amateur pornos, books, comics, experimental novellas, pipe bombs, Dinosaur Jr. fanzines from 1996, recipes for carnitas and adorable hand-made hats. The thing is, we lost all our dough in a Red River ponzi scheme (I went all in on Room 710! I thought I couldn’t lose). So between my alcohol budget and my narwhal-horn dick pills, splurging for a PO box was starting to sound like a bad deal, especially when the only thing that we got that was actually worth listening to was that Cavedweller CD we got back in 2006. So now, drop that shit off at The Side Bar. For reals. If you buy the bartender a shot, there’s a good chance we will actually get it.
If you think we suck or you think your Spoon-lite Austin boy band got a bad rap, let us know. After all, we are Misprint Magazine, and we have been known to make mistakes. This is especially true since our staff of “fact checkers” is actually just one dude who sits around South Austin in a baja doing whippits and watching Ghostbusters II on TBS all fucking day. So if it turns out that we didn’t have all our facts straight when we reported that your sweet metal club was getting replaced with fancy sailor cabana bar or you think our grammar sucks, drop us a line or just talk shit about us on your dumb blog. We can fucking take it.
If you want to write/draw/promote/distribute/etc. for Misprint, let us know. Just remember that despite this glamorous world of making non-stop dick/beard/squid jokes and fantastic ‘scene’ credibility, working for Misprint really just brings you a host of non-intimidating enemies from mid-level local bands and a hollow, forlorn sense of despair. Honestly, working for Misprint is probably even worse than that soul-sucking gig making sandwiches at Delaware Subs, and at least there you’re getting high and getting paid. But if you think you’ve got some writing/design chops that never really got to shine at your community college literary magazine (or you’re a nubile teenager with access to a shit ton of prescription drugs), hit us up. Maybe we can get drunk and ignore rock bands ”
If Misprint Magazine was a boy, he would be my soul mate
“We love giant squid, huge submersible cranes, unruly beards, ‘zines, comics, typography, experimental long-format metal, the movies of Arnold Schwartzenegger (especially Total Recall), breakfast tacos, Lone Star beer, Pimm’s No. 1 Cups, Snake Plissken, centaur gangbangs, recorded music and occasionally, (despite what you may have heard) live music. We care about producing things made of paper, because some things are just better that way. We do not, however, care about your band.”
The bill’s sponsor, Sen. Warren Limmer, R-Maple Grove, said the amendment is needed to prevent “a small group of politicians or judges to define marriage” and cited a recent poll sponsored by the Minnesota Family Council that showed that three fourths of the state’s residents want the opportunity to vote on the issue. “When I think about it, why shouldn’t they?”
i was disappointed with existentialism when i read all those books in high school. i thought the whole movement would be like “fuck all prescribed beliefs. fuck ‘morality.’” instead though they couldn’t resist creating their own systems of morality. WIMPS. plus sartre’s belief that everyone is where they are in life because they want to be there seemed kinda republican. gross.
Basically get to morally justify doing whatever you want.
Whenever someone asks you a question about a topic like politics, religion, art, etc., you get to start your response with, “Well I’m an existentialist, so…” which automatically makes you seem like an…