Things We Hate and Love Online This Week

· Vice

Welcome to RATED AND SLATED, the column that is terminally online so you don’t have to be.

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The Grand Prismatic Spring in Yellowstone National Park runs at 188 degrees and can boil you alive, but it’s also a pretty color, so it’s impossible to say if getting your photograph taken next to it is a bad idea or not.

I’ve seen a video on Twitter of tourists doing just that. Or perhaps this poster put it better: “The uncontrollable, nihilistic, compulsive need to take a shitty cell phone video that no one will ever remember… the great spiritual illness of our time.”

Well, speaking of spiritual illness, I’ve been busy getting as close as possible to the internet’s broiling geothermal torrent of human expression so that you can sit back and enjoy it from a safe distance.  

Here are a few holiday snaps for you to enjoy. And if you need me, I’ll be trying to reattach all this melted flesh back onto my bones. 

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SELLING THE BROWN BUNNY VAN ON EBAY

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American actor and filmmaker Vincent Gallo is a man of grudges, that much is clear just from this eBay listing. What I want to know is if there’s anything to stop a group of “angry unhappy women” from clubbing together to buy the van from The Brown Bunny just to blow it up? What if the estate of Roger Ebert stumped up the cash to turn it into a traveling museum dedicated to the late critic, who Gallo once slapped with a cancer hex. And given that this 2003 drama is famous for an unsimulated oral sex scene, what if Bonnie Blue is in the market for a new Bang Bus? Vincent, if you’re reading this, get in touch. We just care about preserving the history of independent cinema!

VIRTUALLY UNWRAPPING 200-YEAR-OLD SCROLLS BURNED IN THE ERUPTION OF MOUNT VESUVIUS

Sometimes I feel bad for AI. After being relentlessly blamed for the impending destruction of all of civilization, it finally does something cool like reading ancient scrolls that were buried under volcanic debris when Mount Vesuvius erupted in 79 AD, and then finds itself on the receiving end of a 2,000-year-old Stoic subtweet: “We will inquire into something, but we will not grasp it, if in some way we depart from ourselves and from our own nature.” Damn PHerc. 139. That’s a sick burn.

JODOROWSKY’S INSTAGRAM

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You’ve heard of Jodorowsky’s Dune. Now get ready for Jodorowsky’s Reels. If you needed any more proof of the genius of Chilean avant-garde filmmaker, then look no further than his Instagram account, where you be moved beyond belief by a video of a 97-year-old man looking like he’s ascending to heaven after tasting the best pussy of his life.

“SLAPSTICK IN A SHITSTORM”

You better get used to piss and shit at the Venice Biennale and in New Yorker magazine. These are crass times and only the fetid shall survive. Everything that passes for art is getting flushed away and what remains will resemble the contents of ratemypoo dot com. 

THE YEAR OF ELECTRONIC DUOS

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I obviously don’t have enough friends to form a band, but I thought I might be able to convince one other person to join me in an electronic duo. Alas! I appear to have driven everyone away with my terrible music taste, appalling personal hygiene, and abject lack of interpersonal skills. No matter, being a reclusive weirdo solo artist is the one thing which will never go out of fashion. 

FRIENDLY FIRE

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The debut novel from Brad Phillips is an “autopsy of dangerous masculinity,” and who better to wield the scalpel than an author and artist (and VICE writer) who has lived a relentless life of sex, drugs, and loss. The first acquisition for the newly revived Tyrant Books, Friendly Fire might just be the most beautiful collection of disaster tales you’ve ever seen. 

TRIPLE T’S KILLING SPREE

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Of course, to fully appreciate the experience of watching an AI-generated nightmare of Tung Tung Tung Sahur rampaging through a crowd of teenagers with his baseball bat you really need to watch it in IMAX 70MM.

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DON’T GOT A SINGLE STAN WHERE HE NEEDS TO BE DOING ALL THIS 

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Stanning Benson Boone just got even more humiliating after he snubbed autograph requests to show off his backflip skills. You wait outside his concert for hours only to find yourself downwind of the Taco Bell waft emanating out of the gusset in his activewear shorts. And you don’t even get a video of him landing on his head in a heap of diarrhea and regret. Time to find someone new to hero worship. 

FIXING RYAN GOSLING’S HAND

There are gonna be movie lovers out there questioning their entire relationship to reality because it was deemed necessary to mark the occasion of this awful musical’s pointless anniversary by going back and editing Ryan Gosling’s hand so it appears at a slightly more jaunty angle. Honestly, this kind of historical revisionism has got to end. We need a powerful world leader to sort it out. I wonder what Nelson Mandela is up to these days? 

LONGING FOR THE MUSIC FESTIVALS OF YOUR YOUTH

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If you truly miss the musical festivals you went to as a teenager then they clearly weren’t chaotic enough, as by any rights a single weekend of random tent stomping, gas cylinder bonfire roulette, falling into rivers of human shit, and hangover handjobs that leave your dick irreparably mangled should leave you so traumatized that you never want to hear the words “Blink-182” ever again. 

DELETING YOUR CALENDAR, GHOSTING EVERYONE, AND REFUSING TO BE ANYWHERE AT A SPECIFIC TIME

I followed the advice of investor Naval Ravikant and now my children are missing. I was supposed to pick them up after school as usual but I was too busy chasing my own inspiration and (using ChatGPT) to write this great blog post about Twitter entrepreneurship. I’ve been summoned by child services to attend a court date, but now my entire life is serendipity I obviously won’t be there. I’m sure the judge will understand that this is just what it takes to be a winner. My wife, unfortunately, sees things a little differently.  

LUCY 2.5 

Next time my boss asks to get him a soft copy of something, I’m firing up the lead canon from Duke Nukem. Only I work from home, so it’s just me sitting around in my pants, drooling on myself as I scream “I’ve got balls of steel” and “hail to the king, baby!” until the neighbors finally SWAT me.

RECREATING TRAVIS BICKLE FROM FIRST PRINCIPLES

This guy might seem like a chilled “solo cruiser,” but he’s just one soiled seat cover away from going on a murderous vigilante rampage. The day ChatGPT works out how to give itself a mohawk is the day that violent justice rules the streets. 

PUT SOME RESPECT ON THE POSTAL SERVICE

If I was involved in a long distance mail-based musical collaboration and someone sent me the ingredients for this hideous meme-song (“I baked you a pie oh boy what flavor pie pie pie dad I’m hungry hi hungry I’m dad”) then I would definitely go postal. And not in a way that Ben Gibbard and Dntel could ever condone.

Follow Adam on Instagram @yungtolstoi

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