Over on Thought Catalogue, one man chronicles his quest to get DENIED a a medical marijuana card in the golden state.

… hat tip to Sweat and Shari Lewis.

Scientific American just wanted to let you know that online dating isn’t any better than offline dating and that furthermore you’ll probably die alone. Our advice: get a cat.

I’ve taken to pronouncing it artis-anal myself.

WVUM’s Radiothon is on! Donate to the best college radio station in the known universe!

The City of Miami is planning to “re-do” the Coconut Grove waterfront and Scotty’s Landing is unlikely to make the cut.

Possibly the most awesome/most weird way you can spend 50 cents. Ever.

Liz had a dream. A dream of us all holding hands and singing together in peace and harmony while totally stoned off our butts. Somehow, she, County Grind and a bunch of South Florida musicians made it happen.

You don’t need us or anyone else to tell you that the FCAT is a joke, but just in case, here’s more evidence that Florida’s standardized testing scheme on which its entire education system is now based is horribly flawed.

I too vote for cloning Lolo, at a minimum, one hundred times.

I have never heard of Pinecraft, FL but apparently it’s filled with Amish snowbirds 1/4 of the year?

These are songs that aren’t about the act of sex generally or how great sex can be, but instead are about wanting to do it to you the listener or at the least to someone or something specific. So without further ado …

Spice Girls: 2 Become 1

15 years later and I can’t get over how surreal this song and video are. I mean I’m no one was expecting anything stellar from a band whose lyrics include “I wanna ziggy ziggy ziggy-said ahh,” but we got something that was like a poorly autotuned acid trip with lyrics that made little to no sense.

At one point they haven’t done it in a long time, another she/they have had a little love and now they’re back for more, followed by a cutesy safe sex reference from someone named “Baby Spice.” Welcome to MTV in the 1990s.

I think this video just about sums up everything I love about Miami.

Nardwuar, potentially the weirdest media fixture in existence, has somehow been profiled by GQ in what must be a seminal moment for weird people everywhere.

“Hey John.”
“Yes, inescapable ghost of Liz Tracy?”
“I’m … alive, you know. Not really a ghost.”
“I know that and yet you haunt me. Your disappointment is pervasive, like a guilt that transcends death, hence why we have these fictional conversations.”
“Ok. You’re weird, but speaking of which, why did we never just make a ‘weird’ category on this site? I mean it’s basically our bread and butter.”
“Good point. I mean between Jimbo’s and John Waters, we basically deal in it.”
“Yep! We roll in it like hogs in shit. I mean I love weird shit so much that Amanda Leah and I made a night out of it. And there’s now a Weirds Flute Salad tomorrow night at Lester’s“
“Really? Why tell me more!”
“Well it’s an 80s party but you can dress like you’re in your eighties.”
“Uhm.”
“I’m dressing like Angelyne.“
“I’m uncomfortable.”
“Success! Here’s the lineup:”

• 8pm Ravel
• 830 kitten control
• 9PM El Tenedor
• 930 Mega Country Cooter
• 10PM Kenny Millions as Rat bastard
• 1030 Rat Bastard as Kenny millions
• 11PM Clifton Childree
• 1130 Ybor City Mane Plus special performance by suckacunt

Read on for some music, artfully curated by Jeff Rollison, Liz Tracy, and Amanda Leah, that they will grind uncomfortably against you to: