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In passing

August 29, 2010
by

A couple of quick items that you may think are unrelated, but, hell, who knows, you may not. You be the judge.

First, NYCtheBlog breaks the story of a guy whose girlfriend (reportedly) farted on him at the one and only Yonah Schimmel Knish Bakery on Houston Street.

Here’s the photo, you’ll have to go to NYCtheBlog for the story.

Now, the second item I wanted to point out might be of use to the aforementioned farting girlfriend.  Because to make it up to the boyfriend, she may want to put together a mixed tape (or CD or thumb drive or whatever the farting kids use these days).

The other day Flaming Pablum did a nice ode to the mixed tape (I know people say “mixtape” but I’ve never taken to that). He has a pretty good analysis, although I have to take issue with his conclusion that mixed tapes are “ancient history.” My friend, let me tell you, the chicks still dig ’em.

Here’s a slice of his take:

Primarily, mixtapes were made for girls. Ladies, don’t be fooled. If a guy hands you a mixtape, chances are he’s got designs on you. I can’t tell you how many tapes I agonized over for the girls I pursued in the past. While we were dating, I made countless mixtapes for the woman who became my wife. I even gave her a lovely, wooden box from Japan for her to house them in … and they quickly overtook it. I couldn’t stop myself

But it wasn’t just a courtship ritual. As I immersed myself into fervent music fandom, I almost felt like it was my duty to evangelize the things I was learning. As such, I routinely bestowed painstakingly-compiled mixtapes unsolicitedly on my friends. If possible, I needed them to hear and appreciate the things that were bringing me such joy. Vindication came when one of said friends became equally enthused about a selection on a mixtape that he or she went out to procure the album from whence the song came. Every now and then that backfired, though. I remember my friend Sara went out and bought a copy of Nothing’s Shocking by Jane’s Addiction after I’d put the deceptively pretty, acoustic “Jane Says” on a mixtape for her. Suffice to say, that song owes precious fuck-all to the rest of that record.

And, apropos of a particular mix of mine:

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