Nothing Tastes as Good as Diva Feels
February 11, 2010

I’m pretty sure this Snickers commercial isn’t quite what Kate Moss meant when she said her life motto was “Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”  But I’m also pretty sure that if there’s any truth to this Snickers commercial, Kate Moss is some sort of all-knowing Magic 8 Ball made out of hungry orphans’ tears and the occasional carrot stick:

It should go without saying that I think this ad is brilliant, and I feel like having a Snickers to reward all that cleverness.  That, and my inner-fat girl’s on her heavy-flow day.  But it’s also worth mentioning that if the gist of this ad is that making like Ms. Moss and just saying no to solid food holds the power to magically transform you into Aretha Franklin and/or Liza Minnelli, isn’t this ad actually about the importance of NEVER EATING AGAIN?

Sure, I recognize that–what with my weaknesses for cookies, Bloomin’ Onions, McDonald’s, anything you can deep-fry or smother in gravy or preferably both, as well as most anything found the snack aisle at Duane Reade–I probably can’t even muster up enough hunger pangs to transform me into an excessively bitchy Judy Garland impersonator.  Still, I’d like to believe that with enough will power (there’s is not enough will power in the world, but let’s pretend), I could become so hungry that I’d become the diva equivalent of sending Liza Minnelli and Aretha Franklin through a telepod.  At the same time:


Add Some Music To Your Day: The Morning Mix
July 28, 2009

From the mind of Shmathan…

What do you when life’s gettin’ you down?  I find that the Beach Boys say it best: “Your doctor knows it keeps you calm/Your preacher adds it to his psalms/So add some music to your day.”

And in that lyrical spirit,  today I will continue to bring you my musical musings.  Now, I am no Brooklyn hipster to be sure, so perhaps I am not the greatest authority.  I’m sorry, but I find ironic t-shirts and plaid short-sleeve button-downs to be passé, and am positively mystified by the concept of skinny-jeans that require one to be a eunuch to squeeze into.  Plus, my sense of self-worth is based on actual accomplishments rather than merely being the first to know of the latest Hot Hot Heat knock-off worming its way through the city’s musical underground. Finally, I am too musically omnivorous for the pretentious myopism of the Brooklyn elite.  Sure, I have a respectable vinyl collection, consider the The National to be my favorite band, and knew Vampire Weekend when they were still playing parties at Columbia.  However, my playlist is populated not only with Indie darlings like Band of Horses and Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos, but with a broad swath of the musical world ranging from Aretha and Whitney to Travis up through Springsteen and Buckley.  Plus I haven’t renounced Death Cab or Wilco for becoming too “Mainstream” and love Coldplay even though, as Ben says, they’re the rock band for soccer moms. However, I think my largely uncritical, simple love of music gives me a refreshing perspective.  Consequently, it will be my goal today, and in future posts of the same vein, to draw our lovely readers’ attention toward music, new and old, with which no person should be unacquainted (either as a recommendation…or a warning).   So without further ado, let us dive into today’s topic: The Morning Mix.



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