"Britney, Lindsay and Paris: The Three Disgraces" by 14.

14, as she is known, is the creative force of one of my favorite sites, Gallery of the Absurd. Simply amazing, hilarious ... a treasure on the internets.

14 writes:

"La Primavera is one of Sandro Botticelli's best known paintings. The angelic figures shown in this ethereal work of art all represent mythological characters. While viewing this painting at the Uffizi, my eyes were drawn to the fluid movement and delicate beauty of the Three Graces. According to Greek mythology, the Three Graces represent beauty, charm and joy. Contemporary mythological characters such as Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton are the antithesis of grace. This makes them the Three Disgraces. They represent sleaze, trash, and desperate cry for attention. What makes these women think we want to see high resolution photos of their bald, flabby, and in Britney's case, Kevin Federline-infected genitalia?"

now what you've all been waiting for: 

The Ten Things You Don't Know About Britney Spears' Vagina:  

Here is a little bootleg of John singing "Working Class Hero" with a heavily phase-shifted guitar. Very cool.

Don't know what else to say, except I still miss him after all this time.

Abts, 38, who has lived in London for 12 years, has said that she begins every piece — they all measure exactly 18.9 inches by 15 inches — with no idea what she is about to paint and that they symbolize nothing at all.

The $49,000 prize was presented by Yoko Ono during a ceremony at London’s Tate Britain gallery.

London artist Rebecca Warren had been the favorite to take the prize; she specializes in sculptures of large cartoon women with what the judges called “humongous knobbly breasts and enormous bobbly buttocks.” [Knox says: be sure to click on the jump to see/read more about Rebecca Warren - he wanted to ridicule her based on this sentence, but did a little research and now he LOVES her.]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

O my brothers: we, all of us in the realms of light and mercy, have watched movies for nearly a century where the bad guy threatens the good guy or the town or the lake and all the good guy has to do is kill the bad guy or chase him and his gang away and life goes back to normal and he gets the beautiful girl.

Were it only so.

Flashback: a Tuesday morning, March 2003.

I had worked until three a.m on the HoneyBun website. Launch approached. Money dwindling. Pay-off on investment coming minutes or days after I get site up: this is the mantra which kept me humming tunefully along as the newly formatted year gained traction in my brain.

My doorbell rang at about 9:00 a.m.

I ignored it: it could only be one of my local guardian angels who would need three or five or ten dollars for booze with which to ease her way off an all-night crack binge or for more drugs to keep it going. They knew better than to ring the bell so early. However, in a true emergency, which it often was — you know how it is when the booze runs out or all the drugs are gone and you simply are not done yet— the doorbell would keep ringing loudly until I wandered to the front windows to see who it was. If I did that, they pretty much knew they had me. So the task was to lie still, to passively resist, to wait them out: an gargantuan battle of wills, which in truth I lost more often than not over the years.

(continued on the flip-flop)