I Want to Throw Up on Kimya Dawson's Shoes

Having just seen Juno and having loved it, I am pissed off at having to accept I can never watch it again because the music is just so fucking annoying. Kimya Dawson, whose music (both solo and with the Moldy Peaches) is featured vomitously often, is one of those chicks you just know owns "Play-Doh" t-shirts and thrift-store underoos. Beneath the 'fro and multi-piercings, I sense she's just another half-assed indie chick who likes to dress her voice as a little girl to earn the neo-pedophile dollar. Nice market to corner in such a subversive way, isn't it, Kimya? Twice the credit for getting your music in a film about a pregnant teenager. You just can't ask for a better synthesis of product/target-audience marketing, can you?

I miss Junkie Courtney Love. She was chugging Oxy's and Jack before Kimya Dawson used her first organic cotton tampon. She would beat Kimya up with her own acoustic, steal Kimya's ginseng cigarettes, and sell them back to her at twice the price Kimya paid for them in the first place.

When did indie chicks stop being bad asses and all turn hybrids of Patsy Ramsey and Suzanne Vega? When are the barbed-wire, watch-me-bleed types coming back?

Post Haste

The Washington Post has a lovely little database that allows us folkses to see for our selves who voted when, on what, and how.

This is as handy as a midget with a broom. And I ain't lyin'.

Click for The U.S. Congress Votes Database. Also, if you find yourselves wondering who is paying to get their gal/guy in the Big Chair, you may want to check out the kick ass little site known as OpenSecrets.org.