Continuing the trip into the slightly thin forest that is 1994’s classic metal albums, we come to maybe the most brutal and genre-defining of them all: Darkthrone’s Transilvanian Hunger.
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The latest installment VBS.TV's Shot by Kern is an in-depth, behind-the-scenes look at how the master coaxes seemingly shy girls-next-door like Amelia here out of their underwear and onto green velour couches, where he gets up close and personal with their crotches and areolas. It's also about the double voyeuristic irony of having someone shoot Kern while he's shooting Shot by Kern. Think about that while you watch the newest episode.
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Bernard Kerik, a man once called an American hero, is in the news again today. In addition to serving as police chief at the time of 9/11, Kerik trained the Iraqi police-force following the 2003 invasion, and was once nominated by President Bush for the job of Homeland Security Secretary. This nomination, which would have been the highlight of any career in public service, ultimately served to cause his downfall. During the vetting process, a proverbial shit-ton of skeletons came out of his closet. Among them: Kerik employed an illegal nanny (who doesn't?), had extramarital affairs, and took hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of bribes. Apparently, these things are frowned upon.
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Last night, on the way to Catch for my usual Thursday night of averageness, I spotted an animal-made monument that will surely go down in the annals of Hackney past – a perfectly vertical log of dog shit. Check it out up there. Look at it! It's Hackney's very own Stonehenge. Stoolhenge, if you will. The local council should put a perspex box round it to protect it, like they'd do with a grotesque Banksy creation. Go and check it out for yourself. It's a little over half-way up Goldsmith's Row, towards Broadway Market.
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We get a lot of stuff for free, especially our online editor Alex. He used to have a job in the “music industry”, and I think labels and PRs assume that he still cares about music (he doesn’t). They continue to barrage him with an endless hailstorm of free CDs, singles and super-special-extra-rare-pre-releases and demos which Alex dutifully chucks into a big box under his desk. This box is deep and heavy and is encroaching on Alex’s leg-space, so he’s asked us to give away its contents to those who can answer one skill-testing question.
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I’ve come six times today. Whatever. No big deal. My vagina currently feels like a piece of five-week-old deli meat and I’m finding it slightly difficult to walk, but it was totally worth it for those beautiful, magical, short bursts of ecstasy. God, I love porn.
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So, if you weren't really bored of hearing about Wavves, you'd probably be wondering what Nathan Williams was doing before all the hype, backlash, stage breakdowns and fights with Black Lips that followed. Well, he was playing in a pretty good "tropical psych-folk trio" called Fantastic Magic and he dressed like like he played in Devendra Banhart's backing band. They played a bunch of shows, released a CD-R, a tape and a 7", and then split up. So what happened to the other members of the group? Well, two of them, specifically Matthew and Sundar, became Heavy Hawaii.
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We aren’t the first magazine to ask: What if you put fashion students’ wildest flights of fancy on ordinary people going down the shops? Nor will we be the last.
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Shambles comes pretty close to describing the state of Proud galleries at the end of the night.
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Ok, let's cut the shit here. Working in the "sex industry" fucking blows. Suicide Girls get to have hairy armpits, and it's fun to put your picture up on onlyundiesclub.com, but that's playacting.
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Who knew all it took to become the entire world’s BFF was an undershirt, some markers, and a little dose of Radical Honesty?
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If you're a psychotic murderer who needs to dispose of body parts across town, dressing up as a Godspell unicycle mime on his way to work is a surprisingly good option. The unicycle case will fit the average-sized kid and people tend to assume the smell is just coming from you.
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There’s a chance that as I type this my wife might be pregnant. Despite what I may have told you before about being eager to have a child, I’m considering asking her to get an abortion.
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Shot on location at the lovely Firing Line indoor shooting range in Pearl River, New York
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