Frances Bean Cobain Warns Lana Del Rey Not To Romanticize Early Death Of The Universe



Frances Bean Cobain – daughter of the late Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain – added her voice to the debate surrounding Lana Del Rey’s controversial Guardian interview in which she said “The universe should be dead already.”

In the exclusive interview earlier this month, Del Rey made a number of controversial remarks regarding cosmic inflation theory. The “Born to Die” singer noted that, “properties of the newly discovered Higgs boson suggest that the universe should have collapsed just microseconds after its explosive birth.”

Cobain took to Twitter to address Del Rey’s comments: “I know ppl like u think it’s ‘cool’ to theorize about quantum fluctuations, but the heat death of the early universe isn’t something to romanticize.”

Del Rey replied to Cobain on Twitter, alleging that the Guardian reporter had baited her, adding, “I 💜 conventional models of cosmic inflation, but we have to explain primordial gravitation waves.”

Cobain responded, “I’m not attacking anyone. I have no animosity toward Lana. I was just saying that gravity wasn’t the only force at play after the Big Bang.”

With the news that Lana Del Rey recently split with her boyfriend of three years, Barrie-James O’Neill, we can’t imagine the singer is factoring in all the latest advances in supersymmetry theory when speculating about quantum disruptions in the Higgs field.


First Encounters: Charlie Sheen in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

My best friend from elementary school had an older brother with a motorcycle. The motorcycle isn’t at all relevant to this story, except to say that he was the first boy I ever met who had one. He also had a VHS cassette of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.

We were little girls — way too young even to be watching a PG-13 movie by ourselves, but on the days when I would come to her house after school, my best friend’s mother didn’t give a shit what we stuck into the basement VCR as long as we didn’t bother her in the living room while she smoked cigarettes and drank pink wine during General Hospital.

It must have been dozens, but I honestly can’t remember how many times the two of us snuck down the stairs to watch her brother’s copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, my first of many John Hughes movies that made Chicago seem like a faraway land where the luckiest kids in the world got to go to a magical place called high school.

My best friend was obsessed with Sloane Peterson. That was fine with me, because I always thought Sloane was kind of boring. I was obsessed with Jeanie Bueller. (All you misunderstood brats out there know exactly what I’m talking about.) I wanted to be constantly scowling and still look super cute. I wanted my own room where everything was mauve and I had my own telephone. I wanted pretty much everything about her life, but what I really wanted most of all — like, more than anything else in the world — was to make out with a teenage delinquent Charlie Sheen on a police station bench.

Holy shit. To this day, when the camera pans off Jeanie’s look over to “boy in the police station,” it still gives my insides a little flutter. It’s an easily overlooked moment in a movie already crammed full of ridiculous hijinks, but damn, Charlie Sheen’s minor character in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off quietly established the foundational archetype for my life-long bad-boy fantasy.

That scene made me feel things, and I don’t mean emotionally. I mean physiologically. My reaction was chemical, and wow did it feel good. There was nothing overtly sexual about their interaction, but something about Sheen’s posture, his leather jacket, his mussed up hair, his literally “too cool for school” attitude — I was instantly and for the very first time a warm gooey pile of boy crazy.

I got such a thrill when later in the movie they cut back to the two of them making out on the police station bench. At the time, I hadn’t kissed any boys. Hell, that wasn’t even a thing yet, but I totally understood why Jeanie was suddenly acting so smitten, and I knew I wanted to feel that for myself.

Even now as an adult, when I watch the way Jennifer Grey projects her character’s sheer infatuation by goofball giggle-snorting her exit down the stairs, I still want to feel that. Every once in a while, I still do, and of course, whenever I get giddy over a boy, the theme music that plays in my head is “Ooo Shawna.”

(Read my First Encounters piece over at


Consider the Alternative




Do you ever feel like changing that image of Britney holding a baby bottle? You’ve come a long way since Coke Talk.

Yeah, well. You gotta consider the alternative.



Lazy Bullshit



Ugh. This lazy bullshit has all the artistic merit of a low-rent “Dirty Debutantes” porn shoot. The only difference between Terry Richardson and actual pornographers like Ed Powers is the dwindling cultural relevance ascribed to him by his proximity to celebrity.

And Miley? We get it. You’re a wild child now. Whoop-de-fuckin’-do. At least the girls who do gonzo porn have the courage to fuck on camera, so until you’re sticking out that tongue to catch a load in your face, I’m not impressed with all your silly pretending. (Oh, and thanks for reminding us that Arizona Grapeade is for white trash.)

Fuck all this stupid nonsense.


Trolling Stone



Nobody else is being honest about it, but the real reason folks are manufacturing outrage over this Rolling Stone cover is because Tsarnaev is looking kinda fuckable.

According to the traditional narratives, we’re supposed to be dehumanizing this swarthy foreign terrorist. Monsters are meant to be grotesque, and here he is looking like some sensitive singer/songwriter. How dare Rolling Stone allow him into a cultural space reserved exclusively for rock stars?

Please. It’s no accident they used a photo of the kid where he vaguely resembles that one-night-stand every sorority girl fucked on a foam mattress in some youth hostel that summer she backpacked through Europe.

The editors knew exactly what they were doing. It’s deliberately provocative. It was intended to elicit an uncomfortable reaction, and it seems to be working.

This is mainstream media trolling at its finest.


Vampire Cigarette



Yeah, Robert Pattinson really did give me his electronic cigarette at the Beyonce concert tonight. When I asked him for a lighter, he thought I was fucking with him. Honestly though, I assumed it was a one hitter until he showed me how to use the damn thing. Bizarre little moment, and of course, he’s a total sweetie.


Coke Talk of the Day

I’m sick and tired of all the speculation about what Kim and Kanye might name their baby. If those two media whores were honest about their process, they would just up and sell the naming rights to the highest bidder.

The end result wouldn’t be any worse than the stupid shit they’d come up with, and quite frankly, I think “MasterCard presents Starbucks Kardashian-West” has a nice ring to it.

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