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Ear Harvest

by Nick Antosca

Kool-Aid Flavors of the Go-Go ’90s That Never Quite Made It

by Mike Drach

Polish Fact

Rank on Reporters without Borders'
First Worldwide Press Freedom Index

(October 2002):
24 (two-way tie with Spain)

Learn a Foreign Tongue!

Habla Español!
Los talentos de Andy Richter se pierden totalmente en "Quintuplets."
Andy Richter's talents are completely wasted on "Quintuplets."

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Literary Hogwash
Wednesday, April 19, 2006   |    Fiction

Inspired by Sean Combs, Musicians Rush to Launch Fragrances

by Mary Phillips-Sandy

Diddy: Unforgivable.
A breathtaking fragrance that says sexy, rich, unique, and passionate. The soul of Unforgivable is slightly dangerous and explosive, yet cool. “Life without passion is unforgivable.”

Stephen Malkmus: Incomprehensible.
A conduit fragrance that says recorder grot, wounded-kite. Dental surf combat, get out those hardhats. The soul of Incomprehensible is a little electric (??). “Sherri, you smell different.”

Chan Marshall: Unprofessional.
For that special date when you plan to burst into tears and run from the table before the entrees arrive. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do this.”

Morrissey: Inconsolable.
Imbued with the delicate scent of teenage insecurity. Notes of misery and abandonment float to the surface. “What difference does it make?”

Moby: Uncoiffable.
Follicular impairment will not prevent the Uncoiffable man from smelling like tea and liberal politics. “More vegan cheesecake, fewer Republicans.”

Bob Pollard: Intemperate.
Whrhrhnnn mmrughhh. Aww yeaaahhh, afhglkhdshhhh, thissshh one’ssshh called, ahhhh. Goldstarrfffr. Robotboy. Hahahah. Wassamattturrr? Lesssssgo, lesssgo. “Smells like beer.”

Jandek: Unknowable.
A mysterious whiff of something atonal and occasionally disturbing. Packaged plainly, with blurred photographs of a product that may or may not be the product. Rumors abound. “Available from a post office box in Houston.”

Courtney Love: Insane.
Fuck you! Fuck all of you. A person has a fucking drink and it’s on the fucking news. I’m so sick of you exploiting me. Fuck you, I own my truth. Okay? “Seriously. Fuck you all and go to hell.”

Julian Casablancas: Unkempt.
The art of the tousle. The science of the muss. For the man who knows how to fade his denim—or how to have his denim faded by a stylist. “This IS it.”

Mary Phillips-Sandy lives, writes, frolics, and rages in Brooklyn, though she is originally from Maine and has a tattoo to prove it. She has written for BUST, KGB Bar Lit, BITEMagazine, A Cautionary Tale, The Edward Society, and other fine publications. If you are at all interested in Grover Cleveland, you should visit her website,