Episode 110: Fletch with Dave Schilling
Dave Schilling (writer for Thought Catalog, Vice, Hipster Runoff, and Machinima) has a serious discussion with professors Dave and Julia about the goofy Chevy Chase comedy: Fletch. The Academics explore the career of Chevy Chase, prostate exams, moon rivers, dads, celebrity doppelgangers, the Chase vs. Murray debate, divorce, male pattern baldness, and Doctor Who for some reason. It’s all pretty complicated, let Friday Night Film School fill you in.
Hosted and Created by Julia Prescott & Dave Child
Music by Paul-El
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Direct download of episode here.
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11:53 am |
September 28 2012
| 1 note
Excerpt from novella in progress, titled ‘A Talking Rabbit Asks for Change’
“Why are you calling me?”
“I just think that we can both agree that a solid, respectful boyfriend is just what Shelly needs at this juncture. She’s been hurt by cads, brigands and bastards for too long.”
“I actually don’t feel that Ms. Horowitz needs to be dating. She’s displayed an aversion to commitment. She describes herself as a ‘lone wolf.’ Why would I counsel her to engage in behavior she herself finds abhorrent?”
“Look, let me be completely frank with you, Dr…?”
“Dr. Francis Bleeker.”
“Can I call you Fran?”
“You can call me Dr. Bleeker or you can hang up.”
“Dr. Bleeker it is then. What I want to say here is that I think Shelly is hiding an inherent loneliness. It seems foreign to you, but it’s obvious to me. She just needs to be loved.”
“Loved by you?”
Schwartz fiddled with a pencil that lay precariously on his desk.
“I am making a concerted effort to woo her, am I not?”
There was an ominous silence on the other end of the phone.
“Your ‘effort’ to woo Ms. Horowitz amounts to you pestering her therapist. What would you like me to do about your particular problem?”
“Simply put, I would like you to nudge her in my direction.”
“That was not ‘simply put,’ sir. I don’t even know what you mean.”
“My name is Schwartz. You can call me Schwartz.”
“You may. Anyway, I just want you to explain to Shelly how important I am to her. She listens to you more than she listens to me.”
“What role do you play in Ms. Horowitz’s life exactly? Co-worker? Former lover? Old schoolmate? Frustrated best friend?”
Schwartz put the pen down and stood up.
“I think I’m her soulmate. That’s what I am.”
“Mr. Schwartz, have you considered the fallacy of the soulmate theory? You truly believe that one person exists on this earth for you?”
“Of course I do. Monogamy is the cornerstone of our democracy.”
“Mr. Schwartz, I have to go now. I enjoyed our discussion, but I have already said far too much about Ms. Horowitz. I fear I have even violated her rights as my patient by even talking to you. Please do not call me again.”
He hung up.
“Dr. Bleeker, I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation. Shelly needs me.”
Dr. Bleeker was taller than Schwartz expected him to be. He looked like former Los Angeles Lakers coach, Phil Jackson in that he was tall, gray of hair and wore a bemused grin on his face at all times. He appeared far more relaxed than his phone voice.
“Mr. Schwartz, I would appreciate you leaving now. Do you realize how peculiar this is? I could easily call the authorities.”
Undaunted, he strode farther into the room. His hand hovered over the desk phone. He looked into Dr. Bleeker’s eyes and confirmed that he had never killed a man. A killer has vacant eyes. He knew from spending most of his youth following rabbis to prisons across Northern California. Schwartz had been religious since he was 8, and prison outreach was how he expressed himself.
“I can help. That’s all. I can help her. I just can’t help her unless you explain to her that I can help.”
“Have you tried talking to Ms. Horowitz? That seems a far more logical path to your goal.”
“I’ve talked to her. She stares at me, nods her head and pretends like she’s listening, but she’s not. She’s somewhere else the whole time we’re talking.”
“It could be that she’s not interested.”
“If she isn’t, then you can talk to her, explain that she should be.”
“Relationships do not work that way, Mr. Schwartz.
Dr. Bleeker arranged papers on his desk. He scanned his e-mail. He stood straight and true in front of Schwartz.
“What you lack, Mr. Schwartz, is reality. Your world is full of delusions, false inferences and a general inability to properly socialize. I have learned this from interacting with you a grand total of 20 minutes.”
Dr. Bleeker handed Schwartz a business card. He gently escorted him to the door.
Martin waited a full week to open his mail. He would often be tardy paying bills. They would come on a Tuesday, but he would not open the mailbox in his house until Sunday. Martin’s girlfriend, Dorothy, was out of town on a book tour. She was in Sacramento, after having been in San Francisco before that and Portland before that. Sacramento was the smallest town on her tour, and Martin was sure she was unhappy there.
With an empty apartment at his disposal, Martin ate fast food, watched pornography on TV, played bongos, carved the word ‘PAIN’ into the wall, then painted over it, drank a bottle of wine a night and entertained the idea of fucking another woman.
An average night of solitude left Martin exhausted. He texted Schwartz to come by. Schwartz said ‘no.’ He was trying to get ahold of Shelly before it was too late. Martin was sure it was too late. It was Sunday, which was Mail Day. Martin checked the mail on Mail Day. There was an Urban Outfitters catalog with an 80 pound woman holding a rotary telephone on the cover, the latest n+1, a jury summons, Domino’s coupons, a solicitation from the Yale Alumni Association and an overdue water bill.
Yale wanted donations for a new library. Martin was not sure what was wrong with the old library, other than it was old. Martin sat at his computer and began composing an e-mail to Dorothy. “I would like very much to see you soon. You have not called in awhile. This worries me. I would appreciate if we could discuss your distance from me, both physical and emotional. I called your mother and she said she had not heard from you either. How is Sacramento? Is it anything like Oklahoma? Please write back soon. I forgot to water your plant. It’s dead. —Martin”
Martin hit send. He opened n+1 to an essay about the American prison system. He imagined himself in prison. He had large muscles and a tattoo of a monster truck on his back. It would be a real prison tat, so he imagined it getting infected. Martin decided he didn’t want to go to prison and he closed n+1.
He wrote a check for $1,327 to Yale, then tore it in half. He smoked a cigarette and called Schwartz.
10:35 pm |
May 13 2012
Seems like a good time for you to catch up on all of my older Thought Catalog articles, doesn’t it? I thought so too, which is why I have supplied you with this highly effective link:
It’s all there…except for ‘Lana Del Rey Responds to Her Critics.’ That’s at Hipster Runoff:
OK, bye. Also, you’re welcome for that dreamy photo of me.
2:31 pm |
March 19 2012
| 4 notes
I Want to Date You Online: SPECIAL UPDATE - ‘Kendall’
After posting that the updates were over, a woman specifically asked for our transcripts to be posted. You are all very lucky to be getting more content from me. I hope you know that.
Also, I would like to point out how good ‘Kendall’ is at promoting my work.
I want to date you online, too
Thu, Feb 16, 2012 at 9:18 PM
Hello, Mr. Dave Schilling.
Real world dating is the worst. I hate actually having to be around people. Such a misanthrope.
My name is Kendall and I from the boonies of Indiana. I dislike shaving my legs or really any part of my body, so this could work out perfectly. Eating that whole log of brie isn’t gross and I am completely prone to doing similar things. Such as today when I ate an entire sleeve of Thin Mints even though I hate mint. It’s cool if we’re lard asses though because we’ll never actually meet.
I’m totally open for Skype chatting. We can chat casually and if our libido is especially high, we can say dirty things. My Skype name is [SKYPE NAME REMOVED].
This could really work for us.
P.S. I’m the Jewiest Jew you’ve ever met.
Fri, Feb 17, 2012 at 1:41 AM
I happen to love Thin Mints. This is a major plus for me. I haven’t downloaded Skype yet, but I will. Do you have Gchat in the interim? I’m looking forward to talking to you more. It may not be as edifying to the libido at first though, so I hope you don’t mind.
Fri, Feb 17, 2012 at 2:46 AM
I probably do. I have an Android phone so I technically have a g-mail account I never use. I’m oh so loyal to hotmail, you see.
The libido was a hypothetical for your benefit. I really don’t need those …compulsions… fulfilled. I mean, my right hand is with me everywhere I go…
It be 5:45 AM exactly and I’m already blasting Wu-Tang. So hard. So thug. So OG. (I’m the ODB as you can see.)
Fri, Feb 17, 2012 at 3:03 PM
Good point. I mean, I also have a right hand to make use of too.
Sat, Feb 18, 2012 at 8:30 PM
I’m sure that our right hands would make beautiful babies. Of course, the point kind of is that they don’t.
By the way, I’m [EMAIL REMOVED]. There is no ring to that. But yes, we can party down on Gchat.
I don’t know if this will have the same heartbreaking effect on you as it did on me (probably not — I doubt you have any emotional stock in him), but this: http://www.thesmokinggun.com/buster/mike-lombardo-fbi-probe-761245. I was so appalled…
So, uh, how many other girls are you dating online at this point?
Sat, Feb 18, 2012 at 8:49 PM
Yeah, our right hands will never meet if we do this right.
I’ve never heard of this guy before, but that’s the dark side of the internet. Your ability to reach out to people can be used in less than savory ways.
On that ominous note, I believe I am officially talking to around 5-7 women right now, with varying degrees of interest on their part.
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 12:14 AM
I know. He was one of my favorites. I had a bit of an idolatry thing going with him… I have a picture with him of the two of us wearing fanny packs. I need to dig that out. And by that I mean get off of my lazy ass and go to my desktop (which is unplugged after some remodeling in my defense) and find it on iPhoto.
Didn’t they contact you first? I’d think that they’d all be salivating at the idea that they could have such a prolific online significant other.
Speaking of which, I’m going to go google you now. Heh heh heh.
Oh good golly gosh it is late. I need to stop watching trashy movies and go to bed. Have a good morning!
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 11:18 AM
They are ALL salivating, and I can’t blame them. ;)
Let me know how the Google search goes!
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 6:36 PM
How It Should Have Ended is so funny! I really did like Lord of the Rings. I could tell you why that wouldn’t work, but I won’t bore you. And The Social Network. And Inception. And Weird Science. Etc.
I’ll watch Hottt Newww Videooo!!! w/ Dave Schilling soon and report back. I like the number three as well.
Glasses do make you look smarter.
I can’t find this infamous Lana Del Rey article. I want to read it!
You can’t be the #1 Cyber Creep. I am.
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 6:40 PM
The LDR article is on Hipster Runoff. http://www.hipsterrunoff.com/thought-catalog-lana-del-rey-responds-to-her-critics.html
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 6:46 PM
By the way, was I the vague sex solicitation for cyber sex? I wasn’t serious. And I want my alias to be Zelda Fitzgerald.
Also, we have yet to use Gchat. I’m really looking forward to eating copious amounts of guacamole and not feeling guilty about it because you can’t see me.
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 6:50 PM
It’s not that offensive. Just honest. Actually, that makes it more offensive. Doesn’t matter. It made me laugh. [EDITOR’S NOTE: This is in reference to the Hipster Runoff article]
Sun, Feb 19, 2012 at 6:59 PM
Glad you liked it! Feel free to add me on Gchat any time you want.
TO BE CONTINUED…on Gchat.
1:09 pm |
February 28 2012
| 8 notes
I Want to Date You Online
After 27 years of agony, I have finally pinpointed the source of my frustration. This took a great deal of introspection and thought. I made many charts, diagrams, flowcharts and PowerPoint presentations to support my thesis. I will not bore you with the facts and figures of this revelation. I will only offer you the fruits of my struggle.
There is one element that all of my failed relationships share. Examining all the many variations of womanhood that I have been familiar with, but a single thread carries through all of these dalliances.
They involved a heavy amount of physical intimacy.
We have to go on dates, hold hands, kiss, make love, see movies, take walks, have meals, go to IKEA, share toothbrushes, figure out the best position to sleep in, agree on an ideal temperature for the room, meet each other’s parents and watch interminable Downton Abbey marathons.
Invariably, either one or both of the participants in the union grows tired of the intrusion upon their personal space, or worse yet, the relationship devolves into co-dependency and passive-aggressive behavior. That’s right, Elizabeth! you gave me that copy of ‘White Noise’ by Don DeLillo because you know I hate that book. I can’t even sell it, and you also know I can’t just throw it away. I can’t throw away literature, no matter how bad it is. You are cruel and you know me too well!
Pardon that digression. More to the point, I believe that we live in an age where no one has to actually meet to be in a meaningful relationship. I have friends on Facebook I have never met. People subscribe to my YouTube channel in countries that don’t even have English as an official language. Why can’t I have a girlfriend I’ve never met (or one that doesn’t speak English) too? The internet allows people to communicate in a substantial fashion without messy things like ‘sharing a bathroom’ or ‘verbal exchanges.’ We can go on Gchat/AIM/Facebook Chat/Skype/etc. and be just as ‘close’ as we would be in a normal relationship, except we won’t actually be close to each other at all.
It’s not enough to try to meet a real girl via the internet, because most of them end up wanting to be in the same room as me, and as I have mentioned previously, ‘that boat don’t float.’ I recently went on an OkCupid date with a very attractive Asian woman. She’s mature, employed and loves Woody Allen, ‘Ghostbusters’ and Murakami. We seemed perfect for each other and had very pleasant conversations on OkCupid regarding a myriad of subjects of mutual interest.
Then, we met for coffee.
I almost fell asleep in my macchiato. We spent an hour discussing her parents’ favorite vacation spots, which were, in order,
Didn’t get to 5, since I bailed on the rest of the date, but it was either Japan or Guantanamo Bay
I can’t subject myself to the pain and disappointment of human contact anymore. Come on, ‘girl’ (‘girl’ being a general term used to denote my potential online lover). Let’s ‘make it official’ on Facebook. Let’s send each other cute YouTube videos of dogs farting. I have so many E-cards for you, baby.
If this arrangement sounds worthwhile to you, please e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org or follow me on Twitter @dave_schilling. We can start slow. We can ‘poke’ each other, maybe follow each other on Pinterest. Nothing major. I do have a few caveats to this, though. Do not apply to be my ‘internet girlfriend’ unless you can accept the following conditions.
You Must Enjoy Listening to Me Say Things Like This:
‘I am eating a log of brie right now. I did not even know brie came in logs. When I saw it in the deli section of Ralph’s, I knew immediately I had to try it. It’s not very good. No flavor, really. I think I am going to eat the whole thing. Is that gross?’
This is the level of discourse I am most comfortable with on Gchat. This is not to say that I will not engage in more substantive discussions with you, but seeing as the vast majority of my day is spent working, this is usually the most you will get out of me. Your response to this sort of conversation is vital. If you shame me into thinking it’s wrong to eat a whole log of brie in lieu of an actual meal, then I will slowly grow to resent you. I will see you as the Great Oppressor, (aka, my mom, the cardinal sin of any woman). You are better off saying ‘do what you want, but that seems excessive.’ The shame should be subtle, and you should strive to reinforce my need for independence. Mom, if you are reading this, I would appreciate you considering the same plan of attack.
It’s OK for You to Hate Your Body, So It Must Be OK for Me to Hate My Body:
We are not going to have sex. You don’t have to worry about your weight, height, the amount of body hair you have, how you smell, what outfit you wear, etc. Through this arrangement, I have removed one of the biggest impediments to sexual satisfaction for a human being. Do you have a cleft lip? I do not care. How about a limp? Immaterial. That is not to say that this would be a sexless situation. I will leave Skype, FaceTime, and other video chat options on the table, but it is not required. Our bond is more than just a corporeal one. Our love lives in 1’s and 0’s.
Once we begin chatting or sexting or what have you, I would expect you to not mind if I get heavy. You never have to touch me, so it shouldn’t be a problem. I will not mind if you gain a few pounds. After all, both of us will be spending even more time online chatting and leaving funny Gawker stories or music videos on each other’s ‘Timelines.’
You Can Live Wherever You Want:
Long distance relationships are fraught with complications, primarily because most couples require physical contact on a semi-regular basis. Since we would be dating online, we would never have to worry about missing each other’s physical presence. Neither of us would be required to uproot our lives and move for the other person. You wouldn’t have to pay to fly to Los Angeles to see me, nor would I have to pay to fly to Columbus, Ohio or whatever strange place you live. If you keep 17 cats in your basement that you feed Captain Crunch cereal 4 times a day at 10:30 AM, 11:15 AM, 3:45 PM and 11:27 PM, you will not have to change that lifestyle for me. I might pass your contact information on to the producers of the hit A&E reality series, ‘Hoarders,’ but they will be the ones to try to change you, not me.
I Will Be Sad if We Break-Up:
I will listen to Creed’s ‘What’s This Life For’ so much. So much.
I Would Like to Livestream Our Wedding:
The online community will have an interest in our success as a pairing, since we will be living our lives on our computers and everyone in our ‘Extended Network’ will see what we do. As such, I believe it wise to give our ‘fans’ something to ‘like.’ They will want to experience this blessed event with us.
Per our agreement, this wedding cannot take place with both of us in the same room, so we will have to simultaneously livestream from 3 locations. Location #1 will be your house, apartment, flat, bungalow or trailer. Location #2 will be a synagogue, church or mosque. Bear in mind that I am Jewish and would prefer a traditional Jewish livestream. Location #3 will be Bar 107 on 4th Street in Downtown Los Angeles. That’s where I’ll be.
For the afterparty that you won’t be at, since we can never meet.
If you think this is a joke, you are wrong. I am serious about this. I have tried everything. Blind dates, meeting girls at parties and bars, OkCupid, eHarmony, book clubs, friends, friends of friends and the like. I have come up short in all cases. This is my last option.
Send all pertinent information to email@example.com or follow me/DM me @dave_schilling on Twitter. You will find that I am very responsive and sensitive, especially on the internet. I am here for you. Will you stay exactly where you are for me?
4:09 pm |
February 13 2012
| 2 notes
9/11 Essay On Thought Catalog
Yeah, it’s there too. Not just here, but also there. It’s both here and there at the same time.
10:46 am |
February 7 2012
| 1 note
My Interview with Alternative Celebrity, Max Black
In the weeks since the ‘controversy’ over my Lana Del Rey piece, I have spent a great deal of time trying to come to terms with my relationship to fame. For a brief moment, I was a barnacle on a sinking boat’s hull, which is a feeling I usually only have in relationships with women.
This is a feeling I want to have more often. I want to be a part of something. I want to bond with a celebrity, but I want that celebrity to be my friend before they become famous. I don’t want to deal with the emotional volatility, social pressure and unlimited sources of money/power/sexual gratification that come with fame. I just want to be in the presence of a transformational figure, an artist with a clear vision.
I have spent the last two hours searching the internet for such a figure. I believe I have found him after an exhaustive Google search for ‘genius artist.’ He is a musician that goes by the name ‘Max Black,’ which I quickly discovered is a pseudonym. There was a philosopher named Max Black, but he’s dead now. That renders him incapable of assisting me in my journey toward artistic clarity.
This non-dead Max Black ended up being very helpful. I engaged in a 30 minute Gchat conversation that spanned numerous topics of interest. When we were done, I had a new sense of clarity regarding the Lana Del Rey phenomenon, my own struggle with notoriety and the nature of existence. I believe that Max Black will lead the next great musical revolution. If I could describe his music, it would be a cross between the aggressive dance-punk of LCD Soundsystem, the chillwave nostalgia of Washed Out and the aesthetic taste of a young ABBA.
You can find his music here:
And his Tumblr blog here:
I have organized our discussion by topic. The transcript might read as strained, but I assure you that Max Black and I are not only artistic peers, but we are also best friends forever (aka ‘BFFs’).
Dave Schilling: How did you get started in music? What’s your story?
Max Black: You want the real story or the story my publicist came up with?
DS: The real story.
MB: I attended Academy of Art University in San Francisco. I majored in Digital Video Production, with a minor in Sculpture. All of that cost me $300,000 after interest. I tried to get work directing music videos, but I was told that my work evoked a ‘young Helen Keller.’ I’m not familiar with a director named Helen Keller, but I imagine that was not a compliment.
DS: Where did making your own music come in?
MB: Well, I figured if I was going to direct music videos, I could just make my own music and then direct the videos.
DS: Do you have any videos yet?
DS: What artists have influenced your music the most?
MB: I listened to a lot of My Bloody Valentine, Gang of Four, etc. More contemporary artists include Neon Indian, Childish Gambino, Toro y Moi and M83. My tastes are very refined.
DS: What’s your favorite My Bloody Valentine album?
MB: God, there are so many…
DS: Actually, there are only two.
MB: Two is so many. I like them all.
DS: Tell me more about your record, ‘The Rockafire Implosion EP.’ How long did it take to produce?
MB: 3 days.
DS: You produced 5 songs in 3 days?
MB: Garage Band is a great program.
DS: Is the DIY aspect of your work a major part of your persona?
MB: Yes. I like to think that I am a DIYer. My mother loaned me the money to buy my MacBook Pro, but I went to pick it up from Best Buy all by myself.
DS: What’s your favorite track on the EP?
MB: ‘Mexican Sandwich,’ because it makes me nostalgic.
DS: Does it make you nostalgic for anything in particular?
MB: No, that would be foolish. The point of music is to be universal. The song is supposed to make you nostalgic for general things, like sunshine, VHS tapes, eating sandwiches, summertime, the beach, your black lab, Scrappy who was run over by that Metro bus when you were 12. God, there was so much blood everywhere. You know, general things everyone can relate to.
DS: Your song, ‘Brad’s Head Revisited’ is about your first same-sex encounter. Do you consider yourself bisexual?
MB: I don’t like labels too much, though I do use the term ‘bisexual’ in the song. I believe sex should be about the free expression of emotion between 2 hot people. Well, they don’t have to be hot, but that’s preferred. Also, it doesn’t just have to be 2 people. Much like Girl Scout cookies, I say ‘the more the merrier.’
DS: Do you eat a lot of Girl Scout cookies?
MB: Of course. My little sister, Kimmy, is a Girl Scout. We share a room, so I’m always getting hooked up by her. She’s got a ton of boxes under her bed.
DS: You are not famous. No one knows who you are, you are broke, you live with your mom and you haven’t sold any records. Does this bother you?
MB: No. I’m famous with the right people.
DS: I’m not sure what that means.
MB: Look, some people are more important than others. As such, I cater to important people.
DS: How many Tumblr followers do you have?
DS: And all eight of them are important?
MB: To me, they are.
DS: So, what you’re saying is that you decide who is important, and then those people that you decide are important decide that you are important.
MB: No, you have it all wrong. The answer is, I am famous.
DS: I guess my question is how do you define fame?
MB: My definition of fame is so complex that if I explained it to you, your head would explode little chunks of crazy all over the floor and ceiling of your apartment.
DS: But doesn’t that just mean that fame is totally arbitrary if there is no established benchmark for fame?
MB: Yes, fame is arbitrary. That’s what’s so great about it. I can literally say or do whatever I want as long as I have enough time and money to throw at my art.
DS: Do you consider yourself a narcissist?
MB: No. I’m just ‘highly motivated.’
DS: You write all of your own music? No samples?
MB: That is correct. I considered using some samples. Specifically, “Who Let the Dogs Out?” by The Baja Men. No one was more enthusiastic about that than my mother. My mother paid for the record, and she felt like sampling that song would help me book more bar mitzvahs.
DS: What stopped you from using the song?
MB: My father is a lawyer.
DS: Do you feel like you are honest with your art? Does your work come from a place of truth?
MB: I would never lie. I have never lied in my life, expect about finishing ‘Anna Karenina.’ That book sucked. There’s a guy who wasn’t authentic. Tolstoy liked to talk about denial of the self, but let me tell you. That beard was a fashion statement that he was very proud of.
DS: Where did the name ‘Max Black’ come from?
MB: I took two words that are awesome and put them together to make a name.
DS: Are you aware that there was a philosopher named Max Black?
MB: Only vaguely. I think I came first.
DS: You most certainly did not.
MB: I think you have your facts wrong.
DS: No, I actually don’t.
MB: I was the first musician to be called Max Black. That must count for something.
DS: You have chosen to remain anonymous, unlike so many of your contemporaries. Why? Are you afraid that the spotlight will become too intense?
MB: There is certainly trepidation on my part. I see what has happened to Lana Del Rey and I cringe. I’ve decided to go the opposite route. Whereas Lana Del Rey is a real person named ‘Elizabeth Grant,’ who invented the persona of Lana Del Rey, there is no real person for me. There’s only Max Black. Max Black is not real, therefore any and all criticism of Max Black is pointless. Why would you criticize someone that isn’t real? That’s like critiquing the moral choices of ‘Chandler’ from the NBC sitcom ‘Friends.’ I feel that I am very much like ‘Chandler,’ but also not at all. I’m a mystery.
DS: Will you ever unmask? Will the world ever know your name?
MB: There’s no name to know, as I said. I’m a mystery.
DS: But I’m talking to you right now. You have an e-mail address and you recorded an EP. Are you sure that I didn’t just make you up as a part of an elaborate hoax?
MB: You’re ruining the mystery.
12:16 pm |
January 30 2012
| 1 note
Hipster Runoff Exposes Dave Schilling/Lana Del Rey ‘Conspiracy’
The full post is here: http://www.hipsterrunoff.com/altreport/2012/01/lana-del-rey-thought-catalog-publicist-conspiracy-post-removal.html
In addition, allow me to share my response to the controversy surrounding my article’s unceremonious deletion:
Of all the bad press that she’s gotten in the wake of her ‘performance’ on Saturday Night Live, I think it’s amusing that she (or her publicist, or both) chose to attack my article. It was a clear piece of satire. Is the real Lana Del Rey like the ‘Lana Del Rey’ I wrote about in my article? I don’t know. Probably not. I’ve never met her before, but I do know the public persona she projects, which I thought was fair game for parody in the United States. Apparently, that is not the case. Her publicist has not contacted HRO, Perez Hilton or any other pop culture blogger to my knowledge, yet I was singled out.
More to the point, am I to blame for people with bad reading comprehension skills being unable to separate fact from fiction? Especially when there is a clear byline attached to the piece? “BY DAVE SCHILLING” is as clear as possible, plus Thought Catalog added a disclaimer stating unequivocally that it was NOT written by LDR. I don’t think I am to blame for that. I am still unclear how anyone in their right mind could mistake my article for ‘truth.’ I hope LDR bounces back from all the harm I’ve done to her career and sells a billion MP3s on iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, Napster, MP3.com, WalMart.com and other fine retailers. She deserves it.
3:01 pm |
January 19 2012
| 2 notes