Universal Donor
We can ill afford
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You are just a number
to me! And that number
is:

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PAGES UD MADE:

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My Books Page

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My Reviews Page

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My Reference Page

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My Music Page

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My Pictures

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My Store

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UD-RELATED PAGES:

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My LiveJournal

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My MySpace music page

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My Flickr page

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My del.icio.us page

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My Last.fm page

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My Amazon Wishlist

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HEAVY ROTATION

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Dan Deacon:
Bromst
Animal Collective:
Merriweather Post Pavillion
Bon Iver:
For Emma, Forever Ago
Vampire Weekend:
Vampire Weekend
Fleet Foxes:
Fleet Foxes

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BLOGS ETC

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claude le monde
nuncstans
rock 'em stock 'em
tomato nation
postmodern drunkard
tuckova 22
ghastly mess
constintina
total virility
fuzzysquid
drunken bee
stacey nightmare
elyse from ANTM
stereolabrat
dark side points
jf_franklin
123 i love you READ NOW
brotherhood 2.0

NOT BLOGS ETC

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qwantz (dinosaur comix)
go fug yourself
the burg
cat and girl
book of ratings
married to the sea
icanhascheezburger
fire joe morgan
fivethirtyeight.com
READ NOW
hospitality on parade

WEIRD LOVE

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dead amusement pks
craters!

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all content
© 2002-2010
Jeremy Broomfield

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PRAISE & REVIEWS

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"[UD] is a genius."
--Christian Oates

"[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not."
--Tricia Howey



MOTTO

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egeo huic vigorum

MY WRESTLING NAME

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Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

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Razor Ection







WHO LINKS TO UD?

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• from Technorati
• from Google
• from Yahoo



and here's something
weird: my place
in Humor 3-space

  How the fuck did Mrs. Fields go from making really fucking good fresh cookies in the 80s to selling chemical-only disks that make Chips Ahoy seem like food? When those red-branded sugar oases appeared shimmering on the avenues of New York, it was, like, kiddie heaven, because adults liked the cookies too. Certain parents were especially susceptible to the cookies made with the status-enhancing wonder nut of the 80s, the Macadamia. Woo. It was a fucking nut, people, and the Hawaiian-shirted pitchman for the most visible brand should have tipped you off to the fact that anybody who expected a status boost from a nut got what they deserved. But wait, what if there was a time when Hawaiian shirts were not hideous? If it existed, it must have been the 80s.
     So tonight I want to see a movie, but I am not so excited about the options. I haven't seen Monster or Mystic River, and I guess I've run out of excuses not to go, especially to the latter, which I wanted to see even before it came out. But now it's only playing at a couple of theaters, most of which are either out of the way (like Battery Park, I mean come on) or are equipped with the most uncomfortable chairs in the universe. This is stupid. I actually have a mental map of comfortable theaters, and I'm beginning to let it guide my choices significantly. This means I am an old man. At the beginning of the SNL "Taint" sketch from a few years ago, Horatio opens with one of my favorite moments ever, which I will misquote terribly, getting all kinds of details wrong, but you'll see the beauty shine through:
HUSBAND: Damn it! Only twenty minutes until Wheel of Fortune!
WIFE: What's wrong?
HUSBAND: I wanted to go to McDonald's before the show started!
WIFE: You've got plenty of time, hon. It's right across the street.
HUSBAND: No! I want to go to the good McDonald's in Haversham!
     Wah ha ha! See now that's perfect, right? Totally irrational, totally believable. Well, maybe not all that irrational -- I've been to some pretty fucking seedy McDonald's. I don't go to any of them anymore, though. Not since a friend who used to work there talked to me about his experiences for like two minutes. I will not subject you to the nightmares I would have had if I had a soul and were therefore capable of having nightmares, and mostly I forgot or repressed everything specific he told me, but the pastiche is visceral enough to keep me away, because I know that he told me something, and that something was nasty in the woodshed.
     But my point was something about being an old man. I'm totally gonna be that guy who's all into going along on some trip until he hears the details and makes up some stupid excuse like "I'm allergic to road dust" or "I hate hippies" (which is actually a totally valid reason not to do anything hippie-related) or "I need to sit shotgun because otherwise my back hurts a lot" which god help me, it's true. Fucking fuck. Old, broken, old.
posted by Universal Donor 5:00 PM 0 comments

OTHER REVIEWS:
Scrabble NEW!

LATEST BOOK REVIEWS:
The Game
Moneyball
One-Upsmanship
Siddhartha

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You need the
Fear Not Guide to Life.
Buy it already. ($4)

Now available!
The Broomfield Variations CD
($10)

or go to The UD Store

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

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Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

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Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

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"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
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"from whence"
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"...the exception that proves the rule"
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any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
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the phrase "drop trou"
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fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
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"expat"
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the euphemism
"passed away"
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pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")

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PET PEEVES

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"confinscated"
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trying children "as adults"
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"drownded"
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misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT.
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tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans

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