The Fab Four. The Mop-Topped Something-or-Others. Those dudes in the Chelsea boots and trippy band uniforms. Yeah, the Beatles. Guess what? Some folks think they don’t exist. The A.V. Club points out that this is determined by examining discrepancies in height, weight, ears, whatever. The point is, the Beatles weren’t real, and rock ‘n’ roll was created by alien robot simulacra. Apparently, aliens are everywhere anyway.
Maybe we should have all of our rock stars fill out captchas every time they appear on national television? Or, could an intelligent, robot-like alien accurately and quickly fill out one of these now-primitive tests of humanity?
Would Slipknot be able to accurately fill out a captcha? I don’t know — those masks are really big and probably make it a pain in the ass to see. At any rate, they can plan festivals, I guess, and call it Knotfest. Rolling Stone went ahead and assigned a photo story to Randy Johnson, the former pitcher for the Arizona Diamondbacks, among other teams. Knotfest is a pretty gnarly lookin’ place, and, hm, maybe even oddly sexy? Depending on what you’re into.
Sex is a powerful thing. It makes people fall in love. Helen of Troy, Romeo and Juliet, etc., etc. It also (mostly) makes people go crazy. (See: all romantic comedies). Sometimes, it makes people fall in love, go crazy, and commit murder. Such is the case in the story of Dorothy Stratten. This examination of her life — in which she was a Playmate, an actress, and then the victim of a murder — is grimly fascinating, and seems to have disappeared into the ether, along with all of the other horrible stuff that happens in the world.
I guess life is just weird when you sign up to be a public sex figure.