this guy sucks
Back when I lived in Omaha, there was a blog everyone was aware of called This Band Sucks. I don’t think it’s up anymore. At the time, no one knew who ran it and everyone was speculating. It was absolute Gossip Girl level shit, but at a house show instead. The blog ripped apart local bands, and every time a new post dropped, people rushed to their laptops to read it.
I thought it was fucking genius. Bitchy genius, which is the best kind of genius. Watching overgrown babies, self-important men grow paranoid and edgy and some anonymous blogspot pulling the strings; it tickles me to this day.
I wish it had been me, wish I had thought of it.
There is no reason why I opened with this story. It’s not really a story, I guess, just a fact. This piece is not about Omaha, bands, or blogs. It’s not about public opinion or gossip, either.
I just wanted to tell you that.
Maybe I wanted to justify the byline.
Here’s my non-transition. Last night, I watched J*hn Mulan*y’s new post-rehab stand-up “Baby J”. I’ve never been a fan of the man; in fact I have written about my distaste for connected comedians or his best friend and billionaire N*ck Kr*ll a few times before. But this particular stand up bit of his intersects with other thoughts of mine as well, like narratives of celebrity trauma AND recovery myths.
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