Sparkle Diapers!

One of us (rhymes-with-Bailey) has a...potty problem.

Not in real life, not during tests, or job interviews, or in middle of dinner, but at the worst possible moment: the climax of a movie. Up she gets, leaves the sweet, succulent darkness of the theater and goes off to some dirty cinema bathroom...leaving her movie going partner-in-crime (rhymes-with-Fizz) to fill her in on what came to pass in her absence. It is as infuriating as Michele Bachmann and as constant as the sunrise...

Mad (Modernist) Men - Part Two

 Previously On TEAR IT DOWN...

Last week, we left you with an illustrious crew of Modernist poets in etherItaly minding their own Modernist business...

There was torrid romance ("Hey, hey! Henry Miller and Anaïs Nin...this is not a mature content blog...put that away!"), there were Irish fishwives (Jimmy Joyce won't leave home without at least three), there was machismo (For only one man can make us thoroughly comprehend the importance of being Ernest Hemingway), there was unrequited passion (D.H, we will always love you, even if no one else will), there was goodhearted medical advice dispensed (William Carlos Williams: the original House, M.D) and there were CATS EVERYWHERE. And yes, T.S Eliot was giving them rather impractical names. 

Then...a scream cut through the fragrant gloaming air...all were perturbed...but just who was it that made the high-pitched squeal...and why???

Mad (Modernist) Men - Part One

So, picture the etherScene: two committed and zealous (though some might say jejune) wee thought experimenters are trying with all our might to take things a step further and put some actual, real historical perspective on these flag tearing shenanigans... and then just as we're making headway, getting down and dirty with actual thoughts on how actual men and women who lived during the era in question might have actually torn down actual Nazi flags that they encountered...Ezra Pound plonks himself down at our table in the etherCoffee shop and starts infiltrating our veryveryserious discussion...

An Open Letter to Stephen Sondheim

Dear Mr. Sondheim,

I'm not sure if you're still draping yourself in sheet music these days, but I'm writing you in the hope that your retrospective tendencies haven't totally canceled out your interest in new material. See, I've had a fascination with a certain story for quite a while, and I know there's only one person who can do it justice: YOU. 

What's the story, you might ask? Well...attend the tale of Mussolini's body!

She Saved the World. A Lot.

There's only so long a gal (or gals, in this case) can hold out. In the immortal words of the Vampire Slayer herself: "Seize the moment, 'cause tomorrow you might be dead." While our love for the Whedonverse is no secret, we realized that we were dearly overdue for a TID tribute to the Chosen One. 

Did we hesitate because Buffy is such "a hell of a woman", as one vampire of chiseled jaw and peroxided hair might say, that we were afraid we couldn't do her justice? Perhaps. After all, there are plenty (if not as many as there should be) women who can kick ass - and maybe even a few who can do it while also being smart, thoughtful and hot. But there is only one Buffy Anne Summers (disregarding affronts to the canon such as this and, lord have mercy, this). She is an icon for all women - particularly those who came of age in the '90s - a strong, independent yet not invulnerable female leader who kicked paranormal ass for seven glorious, touching, hilarious, tear-jerking and wacky seasons (We are not among the Season 7 naysayers). With all this televisual baggage, could we do justice to a Buffy encounter with the flag? 

David Duchovny, Why Don't You Love Me?

In honor of the fact that we share an alma mater with his highness, the great David "Fox(y) Mulder" Duchovny and that alma mater's reveling in a weekend of celebrations dedicated to the great god Bacchus (a.k.a "Reunions"), may or may not have been responsible for the extreme belatedness of this post (please forgive us!) we decided this would be a good weekend to have David Duchovny step into our thought experiment and potentially tear down the flag.

As the seminal (no pun intended) celebrity to claim sex addiction as the reason for the near-breakup of his marriage and to enter rehab for it waaay back in 2008, David Duchovny is quite the trailblazer. Does this pioneer spirit translate into an ability to tear down the flag? You'll just have to wait and see...