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The Takeover After months of ineptitude, Loosie is back with a vengeance. We’ve heard the grumbles, the whinnies and the rumors that skittered from mouth to mouth like an airborne encephalitis virus. They dared not say it too loudly for fear of physical dismemberment at the hands of our freelance Salvadorian death squads, but the words were in the wind: “Loosie fell off.” But fear not, faithful thuns and thunettes. Believe none of what you hear, half of what you read and 100% of whatever lies we tell you. Yes, the updates have been coming in at a molasses pace. Sure, our once-steady stream of brilliant reviews has dwindled to a light drizzle. And yeah, our site has been overwhelmed with spam promising underage latinas, Levitra and Texas Longhorn-themed online poker. But like swarthy dwarves banging away on forges deep beneath the surface of Crown Heights, we’ve been at work. With hearts full of false hope and bellies writhing with imported hops and delicious Utz products, we’ve been in the lab creating the monster you now see rearing up before you. There’s little recourse but to bow down to a url that’s greater than you. So the behemoth has been birthed, squeezed slowly and reluctantly from the warm uterine walls of our imagination onto the cold soil of reality. The metaphor should end here, before we attempt to connect amniotic fluid to liquid LCD plasma screens and umbilical cords to T3 cable connections. Let’s skip ahead to the point: there will be growing pains. Much the way secondary sex characteristics emerge tearfully in middle school bathrooms, the store and events sections are not yet fully functional. But on the 41st side, there are plenty of things to entertain you while we get our act together; the weekly regulars are vastly improved, the new site design is that piff and our articles now have a bevy of wondrous attributes for you to tinker with. As for articles, our writers have never been more focused. Clanton McNeese continues to chef up the kind of heat rock that leaves a thorny knot in David Brook’s fleshy throat. Fabulous Julien just awoke from an orgy of Fashion Week yayo and sashimi with a titanium briefcase full of carefully-chronicled gossip. And Douglas Passion came home on the same upstate bus as Hell Rell. In short, we’ll be introducing new shit constantly, so keep your eyes on the sparrow. From March 2005 to infinity, bitches. Read more articles in Life » |
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