In 1928 the newly wed Glen and Bessie Hyde had honeymoon plans that would likely put yours to shame (definitely mine). You know how when your talking to your fiancee about your future wedding plans and one of you inevitably suggests trying to break the world speed record for traversing the Grand Canyon in a boat? In reality, this traditional fantasy never comes to pass, but six months after their marriage Glen and Bessie actually tried to walk the walk. Bessie would also become the first woman to run the canyon, so she was absolutely #girlbossing the shit out of everything.
On November 18th 1928, the couple visited photographer Emery Colb at his home and studio on the Grand Canyon rim to take some photos commemorating them setting off on their history making trip. And off they went. Forever! Dun dun duuuuuuun! A search party was launched about a month later, when the couple failed to make it to places along the Canyon as expected. They found the boat still full of the couples’ supplies, notebooks and equipment. Bassie had #girlbossed too close to the sun, and her and Glen were never seen again.
Hooray for me. A winner is me. I’m the king of the world. I am a golden God. I put the bomp in the bomp bah bomp bah bomp. I’m that star up in the sky. I’m that mountain peak up high. Hey, I made it. I’m the world’s greatest. I assume that allows me to enslave any underage girl I want, with occasional pissing privileges. What a time to be alive.
This week 2019 officially outstripped 2018 on Necessary Evil, with the site getting more views and more individual visitors than ever before. This despite me not even starting the end of year list, which has always been the only reason any of you miserable cunts (love you!) ever visit this piece of shit site. This is, of course, an outstanding achievement which you no doubt would have heard on the news. Whatever it is that I do on this blog is more popular than ever. Perhaps it’s due to me writing many more non-list entries this year. In 2019, I’ve written
I’ve written a number of non-list entries, which beats my previous record of ‘a lot less’ at best and, more commonly, ‘fuck all’. I’m not going to waste much time trying to analyse why I’m so popular- just luck at that fucking face. Adorable- but such a momentous occasion deserves something of a celebration. And I couldn’t think of a better one than this. Or, more accurately, I could think of a million better ways to celebrate than this, but this is the only one I could be arsed doing. Good? Good.
You could probably guess what I’m aiming to do. As we edge towards the end of the year, it’s obvious what needs to be done, and the fact that we are about to close on a decade that has seen the arrival SnapChat, Pope Francis, Boko Harem, Transformers: Age of Extinction and Miley Cyrus & Her Dead Petz only makes things more imperative.
Yeah, I know, I should have done this in January when I finished the countdown, much like I published detailed breakdowns soon after 2016 and 2017 finished. But you know what? I’ve just been busy, man, y’know? Did you not notice that it took me three entries to list the greatest Money in the Bank matches ever? If I’m spending so much time on bullshit like that how am I ever going to find time for bullshit like this? Are you going to be one of those people who doesn’t like it when things they don’t like happen?? Grow up, this is neoliberalism and you’ll accept whatever we tell you that you’re happy with.
Why are we encouraged to state what ‘The Best [CULTURAL CONTENT] of the Year So Far’ is at the start of June? It isn’t half way through the year. It’s just over five months in. The Guardian stated what were the ‘Best albums of 2019 so far‘ on June 4th! That’s only 154 days into the year!! That’s only 42.19% of the way through!!! Unless I’ve forgotten how to work out percentages!!!! Which is very possible!!!!! Wow, I’m using a lot exclamation marks in this paragraph!!!!!!
Well, anyway, I want in. I want a mouldy old piece of that rotten SEO pie, though released far closer to the actual year’s mid point of July 2nd. I’m not going to list the best albums of 2019 though, because I already often struggle to think of things to write come December, and I don’t want to waste that awesome simile I’ve devised to explain my thoughts on the new Jonas Brothers album six months early. Be patient. It’ll blow your mind. So I’ve decided to list the best songs of the year so far, similar to what I did in 2016. Although this time I didn’t just want to add my feeble, narcissistic voice to the chorus of intellectual critics praising songs like Old Town Road or Sweet but Psycho. You already know these songs are great, yeah? So I’ve tried to shine light on amazing songs by amazing artists off (mostly) amazing albums that there’s a chance you might not have previously heard. Get investigating, yeah? They’re in pretty much the order I remember to list them, because, seriously, fuck lists.
(If you can’t bother reading, there’s a handy Spotify playlist for the illiterates)
I got a phone call from BT on Thursday that said my internet would have to be shut off later that day because of irregular activity on my account, unless I took immediate action by pressing ‘one’. This, understandably, through me into a nervous frenzy. Cut off my internet!! I would literally be able to do nothing! My entire life, my work , my leisure and whatever the fuck this blog is*, is only rendered possible by being online! If you take me offline, I’d have to read a stinking book or something, like this was freaking 1970! No thanks! Plus, I keep a dangerously low amount of pornography in the house, barely a dozen DVDs and 700 or so pencil pictures of Rashida Jones, so I was worried where my next fifty or so wanks were going to come (pun!) from.
(*it doesn’t earn me any money, I don’t really get any pleasure writing it, I have no idea what the purpose of this fucking piece of shit is. Apart from, of course, leading up to me live steaming my own suicide, but I don’t get nearly enough readers to do that at the moment! Plus, I’m actually quite enjoying life as Alex Palmer: Trainee Immigration Lawyer at the moment, so suicide isn’t really on the agenda. I am so grateful for anyone who reads this nonsense though, and a freaking comment would make me more happy than you could possibly understand. About 90% of the comments on this blog so far have been from my ‘ex'(it’s really, really complicated)-girlfriend, and I would really appreciate comments from people I haven’t had sex with. I will, obviously, have sex with you after you leave a comment)
Now, this album’s called ‘Sleep Well Beast’, and although I used to consider myself an insomniac, I actually sleep far better now ever since I was prescribed…
No. No, that’s really dull.
Beast. Beast. Beastbeastbeastbeast. Beast.
The Beast of Bodwin Moor! We all know about the Beast of Bodwin Moor, don’t we? Yeah, definitely, a keenly observed reference point that, aye? I may be about to blow your tiny minds, but did you know that actually the Beast of Bodwin Moor
As soon as you hear that first ‘Ooh!’ a few seconds in you’re more than likely dropping your ears’ knickers
(what the fuck does that mean?)
49 Wild Beasts: He the Colossus
I feel that in 20 years time when late night art talk shows on BBC4 are discussing how odd it was that Wild Beasts are widely accepted as one of the greatest bands of the 21st century yet completely unheralded in their time I’ll be showing blog entries like this to unbelieving post-millennials to prove how far ahead of the curve I was
I haven’t got much to say about it, I think I exhausted my creative juices on the previous Kanye critique- or Kanyique, if you will- and now I’m just enjoying relaxing and listening to an effortless and gorgeously produced album