Thank you, C.M. Punk.
Wrestlemania XXX is arguably the most important event for the WWE since Wrestlemania III. It has a big round number, and the WWE loves to play up round numbers. The company recently launched the WWE Network, the much-discussed online streaming and on-demand subscription channel that will air all future pay-per-views, original programming, and an insane amount of material from the vault. WWE’s stock price has tripled in the last 18 months on the back of plans for the network, and Wrestlemania is the first big test for the new business model.
This morning, when someone asked me if I had heard about Gwyneth Paltrow and Chris Martin’s break-up, I made a noise that I can only describe as, “Vince McMahon orgasming at a body-building competition.”
This is our last goodbye
I hate to feel the love between us die
But it’s over
Just hear this and then I’ll go
You gave me more to live for
More than you’ll ever know
The Jets released The Sanchise last week, bringing an inevitable end to one of the most fascinating and tumultuous eras in Jets history. While it’s long been clear that Mark Sanchez would never be an effective quarterback for the Jets again, I’m still grappling with nostalgia and sadness at his departure.
Because even though Sanchez became a joke by the end of his Jets tenure, he still presided over — by far — the best time in my life to be a Jets fan. And if you were born after 1969, this was the best time in anyone’s life to be a Jets fan.
As the overrated Bob Dylan once sang, “things have changed.” It’s been three years since we’ve been able to have a man on the ground at South by Southwest, those Elysian Fields for music fans, that Bermuda Triangle for up-and-coming bands, that irresistible siren song for hipsters and corporate douchebags the world over. And for me.
In the 36 months since I last avoided 6th Street, I’ve had a kid and I’ve gotten 36 months older. That’s 36 months further away from my prime. 36 months further removed from my body being able to adequately process a hangover. 36 more months from the time I actually knew what the fuck the kids were listening to.
So it was not without some trepidation that I de-planed on Sunday, ready and not ready for a full week of music, alcohol, sleep deprivation and the worst piercings known to man. How badly would I feel my age? Am I getting too old for this shit?
Well, after 47 sets of live music, 40 different artists and 16 different venues (not including bands playing on front lawns of random houses or rappers standing on parked cars or rapping out the windows of moving vans), I can report that I am definitely not too old for this. Because it’s still fucking awesome, no matter the toll it takes on my organs, bones and brain.
This year, I’m joined once again by a Musky Canadian, two blood relatives, and a shit-ton of fucking lawyers, of all things. Full 2014 SXSW rundown, coming right up.
“…and in the center there is a hot, soft light”
The Oscars are over, so now we can FINALLY lift the PCHA embargo on discussing the best films of 2013.
jk, you guys.
Actually, I sent David Simon Cowell my year-end lists a while back so we could do a joint post. But here’s the thing about DSC: he’s a perfectionist. He’s been holed up in his writing den for months now, writing and re-writing and editing and re-editing and vising and revising his lists and responses. He works so hard on his posts — he feels his responsibility to Pop Culture Has AIDS so deeply — that he sometimes gets lost in the writing process. He demands that every word, every transition, every comma services not only the post but the mission of PCHA as a whole. It’s his blessing and his curse.
As such, we are moving on without him. The best music, TV and films of 2013, according to me and me only, coming right up.
The arbitration ruling in the Alex Rodriguez PED suspension was a big win for our old pal Commissioner Bud. It cemented his legacy. It proved he’s tough on drugs.
What a remarkable turnaround for everybody’s favorite beleaguered clown.
Well, we may not have written much in 2013 but that hasn’t stopped you guys!
As usual, your almost impossibly high level of discourse and repartee have kept this site ferociously alive and brimming with the electricity of rhetoric.
As such, your top 12 comments of the year.