Byline: Giri Nathan

Squirrelly Flow

Justin Bieber “is white,” and boy does he wants us to know. In case we weren’t already aware of the demographic categories he falls under (Caucasian, pubescent), he is kind enough to remind us at the very end of his … Read More

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127 Unclaimed Rap Names

The Crying Game DJ Yung Educated But Unemployed Lil Drummer Boy Sofresh n’ Soclean Dion Adonis Morissette D(ean)J Rapelye Rudeboy Giuliani Duncan Hoy-Z Lil Peni$ Lil Italy Lil Lion Man Lil Caesars Pizza Kings ?uest Missy Eliot Linton Missy Michelle … Read More

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Consider the Stalker

The cover of last week’s issue of the Nassau Weekly featured the face of Tony Kadyhrob, a 68-year-old man recently accused of trying to entice local college students into his car. Kadyhrob’s story would’ve been a minor one, had his mugshot not come out the way it did: to the collective delight of the Internet, it looks a little like Christopher Walken.

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Phallus Palace

Examining Die Antwoord’s new video “Evil Boy,” it seems more meaningful and efficient to list all the _non-phallic_ imagery:

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Ham Radio

Chorally.

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Rolling in the Dope

Multi-talented Kuperman’s vertiginous thetic theater reviewed.

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Our Visible City

Marco Polo visits Jersey.

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I Just Don’t Like It

The Facebook community has been under silent attack for the past few months, and the evidence is plastered all over the Walls. Careful observers have probably already spotted a few of these malignant growths on their Newsfeeds: posts that look something like Zack Newick, Giri Nathan and 15 other friends like “OMG Justin Bieber Really said that ?!!”

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PG Teen Rebellion

“We have a report of three men running out of the forest and chasing a vehicle, one of whom was wearing a trench coat and a hat.”

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Giri Nathan

An inability to pronounce one’s name can meddle with one’s self-esteem. Child psychologists might study this some day: take a roomful of first-generation American children and ask them to introduce themselves to one another, then watch them struggle to eke out the syllables on loan from the lands their parents left behind.

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Color War

Our guns were semi-automatic, which means you could shoot as fast as you pulled the trigger, and even an amateur like myself found myself reeling off three or four paintballs a second. I could feel every individual shot through its reverberations—no real recoil to speak of, but a satisfying pneumatic thwunk as the ball hurtled through the barrel.

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