Five Reasons The NHL Postseason Already Slaps

August 11, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

The NHL is now a week and a half into its modified 24-team postseason, and not only is it an exemplary model of how to bring back a sport during a pandemic without showing your entire ass, it is also absolutely banging. In characteristic NHL playoff form, there have been unbelievable endings, unimaginable upsets, and, of course, Matthew Tkachuk being a gaping dickhole. Here are five things that we’ve already loved about the NHL postseason.

1. The Boston Bruins Are 0–3
There is no pleasure more timeless and, I’ll say it, pelvic than watching Boston sports teams eat shit. The Bruins were far and away the best team in the regular season, boasting the league’s top goal-scorer and arguably the best goalie. In the round robin, they’ve been dunked on by the Flyers, Lightning, and Capitals, and now they are sitting at the 4th seed, staring down the barrel of a Best-of-Seven series against the extremely hot Carolina Hurricanes.

2. The Avs Scored A Game-Winning-Goal With Less Than 1/20th of a Second Left
In hockey, a buzzer beater is typically a tying or winning goal scored with less than 10 seconds left. That would look like weak shit compared to Nazem Kadri’s game-winning goal against the Blues, which crossed the goal line with less than 0.1 seconds on the clock. To put that into perspective: the Avalanche won a game having not held a lead for the first 99.9995% of the game. Hockey is good!!!

3. Upsets Galore
The NHL, in all its streaky glory, is notorious for unpredictable playoffs. Last year, both 1 seeds fell to 8 seeds in the first round, including a 4–0 clean sweep of the Lightning, who had had a historically good regular season. This year, we’ve seen both 12-seeds knock out their 5-seed opponents in four games. The Canadiens, who finished 24th overall in the regular season, upset the perennially strong Penguins, while the Blackhawks, who were dead last in their eight-team division, took down the Oilers, who had the top two league leaders in points on their squad.

4. The Blue Jackets Executed One Of The Greatest Chokes in History
Up 2–1 in the best-of-five series, the Jackets had a 3–0 lead over the Maple Leafs with four minutes left in the third period. Somehow, they coughed up three goals in four minutes—which is fucking outrageous—then lost in overtime. For Columbus goalie Elvis Merzlikins, it was one of the most consummate bed-shittings in the annals of NHL playoff history.

5. Baseball is going to be over soon anyway
Throw some support to a league that didn’t trip on its dick throughout every phase of planning its return. For that matter, throw some support to the country that didn’t trip on its dick throughout every phase of its disaster response, too.

Twelve Things Less Cute Five Months Into Quarantine

August 11, 2020August 11, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

Do you remember mid-March? Oh, those were the days. Stockpiling two weeks of toilet paper like we’d only be trapped inside for AT MOST three weeks, and posting photos of our medicare bread. What a time. Now, five months into what is either definitely the home stretch or the beginning of our lives hermetically sealed in our apartments for the rest of forever, this whole experience has become a little less novel. Here are twelve things that are way less cute five months into the endless quarantine.

Sourdough Starter: The sourdough starter may have died, but something in there is alive, purple, and growing. I don’t think it would be happy if I tried to bake it.
Avoiding People on the Sidewalk: I would trade my big toe to casually bump into a stranger without fear.
Zoom Backgrounds: No amount of pretending to be on the Death Star during video conferences will suppress the desire to force-choke anyone who requires cameras to be on for every meeting.
Drinking Alone: FaceTime happy hour turns into private sad five-hour and it is ~not chill~ anymore.
Baking as Therapy: Eating your feelings is not sustainable for this much time with this many feelings to eat. I have gout.
Donald Trump being President: lol remember when Republicans were like, “OMG shut up it’s not like he’s going to kill everyone. Remember when Obama wore a tan suit?” Well I hate to say we told you so but 163,000 people are dead and this is not a joke and it never was a joke jesus christ. Get this man into a retirement home where he can spend time with his favorite person, woman, man, camera, and TV.
Retail Therapy: The only thing less fun than getting fat and sad is getting fat, sad, and poor.
Not Being in Crowds: I will pay you to graze my ass like we’re in a cramped space just so I can feel something, anything.
Cutting Your Own Hair: U-G-L-Y you ain’t got no alibi YOUR HAIR IS FUCKED UP.
Working on the Couch: BRB Googling, “Can you develop scoliosis by sitting hunched forever?”
Living in a State of Perpetual Panic: Hahah is this literally ever going to end? No, seriously. Someone tell me. This was cute when it was all like, “We’re all in this together, let’s all applaud for the working poor being forced to risk their health or starve.” (Editor’s note: This was not cute.) Now though, I’m about one more stalled relief bill from flying to DC and spitting directly into Mitch McConnell’s mouth to finally get results on whether I have COVID on a reasonable timeline. Remember when you would debate with your friends on who would last longest in a zombie apocalypse? Well it’s not me, and it would be pretty nifty if we don’t have to put those theories to the test.
Not Going into the Office: JK this one still rules. You fuckers will never see me in-person again if I have anything to say about it. Deuces.

Was the Angels’ victory over the 1994 Chicago White Sox in Angels in the Outfield the most improbable sports victory in movie history?

August 11, 2020August 11, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ 2 Comments

I’ll come out and say it: The most improbable aspect of Disney’s Angels in the Outfield isn’t the fact that Christopher Lloyd somehow skirted the player’s union to get on the field or that Joseph Gordon-Levitt wouldn’t be adopted. Instead, what really grinds my gears is that the lowly California Angels—despite not receiving any angel assistance whatsoever in their final game—somehow beat the 1994 Chicago White Sox to clinch the division title and the pennant at the end of the movie.

How could this have happened? How could that year’s Angels squad, a team so bad that Gordon-Levitt’s father bet that he wouldn’t have to regain custody of his child until they won the pennant, pull off a victory against a White Sox team that clearly would have won its first World Series championship in 77 years had the 1994 season not been stopped short by a player’s strike? It’s a mystery that grows ever more perplexing when you compare the team’s rosters:

First Base
White Sox: Frank Thomas. Frank Thomas losing out on the full 1994 season is one of the worst travesties in American sports. The Big Hurt posted a shocking 1.217 OPS in 1994, the 18th best single-season OPS of all time. The guy was in the midst of a Ted Williams–caliber streak, and he was well on his way to earning his second straight AL MVP award and my everlasting love and affection. The Angel Gabriel couldn’t have stopped Frank from winning this game. Post-playing career boosted by Nugenix.
Angels: Mitchell Page. Second place AL Rookie of the Year in 1977. Career batting average of .266, but he couldn’t make the roster for the Athletics’ 1981 postseason campaign. Post-playing career cut short by alcoholism.
Advantage: White Sox, and it’s not even close.

Second Base
White Sox: Joey Cora. Survived a stabbing, one-time All Star, and won a ring as the third base coach for the 2005 White Sox. Brother of Rob Manfred–patsy Alex Cora.
Angels: Israel Juarbe. Played Freddy Fernandez in The Karate Kid, a role for which he has been referred to as a “bitch motherf*cker” in at least one MMA-themed forum. Probably best known for his limited role as the room service waiter in this exceptionally 80s clip.
Advantage: White Sox.

Short Stop
White Sox: Ozzie Guillén. There’s a lot that can be said about Ozzie. The spitfire-spewing third baseman-turned-Fidel-Castro-praising-and-gay-slur-using manager who we let things kind of slide with. The man invented Ozzieball (grind out a single, bunt him over to second, then smash a two-run home run) and managed the best Sox team of the 21st century. But I think this clip comes the closest to capturing all he brings to the table.
Angels: Albert Garcia. Dude doesn’t even have a wikipedia.
Advantage: White Sox.

Third Base
White Sox: Robin Ventura. A two-time all star, six-time gold glove third baseman, and by all accounts a nice guy who was never as good of a manager as he was as a player.
Angels: Stoney Jackson. Appeared in the “Beat It” music video. Doesn’t seem to have heard of a “Drake LaRoche.”
Advantage: Angels. As far as I know, Jackson never got his ass whooped by a 65-year-old Nolan Ryan.

Left Field
White Sox: Tim Raines. A 10th-ballot hall of famer and arguably on the Mt. Rushmore of Montreal Expos players (I assume that this is a statue made out of chewing gum and used kilts outside a Montreal punk venue).
Angels: Mark Cole. Actors without their own wikipedia pages are the theater equivalent of kids getting stuck playing left-center field.
Advantage: White Sox.

Center Field
White Sox: Lance Johnson. Most famous for the fact that I somehow confuse his name with Larry Walker’s. Wikipedia tells me he’s the only person to lead both the AL and the NL in bats, hits, and triples, which is cool if that’s the thing you’re into.
Angels: Matthew McConaughey. With McConaughey, you get power and longevity. The McConaissance was still decades away when McConaughey made this spectacular catch in center field. Dude had range, and no I’m not talking about going from Dallas Buyers Club to Wolf of Wall Street to True Detective to Interstellar in a calendar year. Just imagine the 30–30 potential he would have deep into his Magic Mike era as a ballplayer.
Advantage: Alright, alright, alright. Angels.

Right Field
White Sox: Darrin Jackson. Jackson’s most notable career achievement to date has been the fact that he (mostly) stayed awake alongside Ed Farmer’s radio calls (RIP to a real one, Farmio). That fact alone is far more impressive than beating out Nicolas Cage for a bullshit Oscar for The Pianist.
Angels: Adrien Brody. This man definitely would not kneel for the national anthem. We never see him playing his position, but given his Mookie Betts–esque stature and Italian American–ass quaff, he must be a right fielder.
Advantage: Angels, I guess.

Designated Hitter
White Sox: Kit “Hit or Die” Kesey. In real life, this position would probably be filled by Julio Franco, who slashed .319/.406/.510 in 112 games. But one of the few White Sox players we actually get to see in the movie is good old “Hit or Die,” which doesn’t even come close to the worst nickname for a White Sox player.
Angels: O.B. Babbs. He’s listed as only an “Angels Player” on Wikipedia, so I guess he gets slotted in at DH.
Advantage: White Sox. You don’t cross a guy with a nickname like “Hit or Die,” especially when he’s allegedly the league RBI leader.

Pitcher
White Sox: Jack McDowell. Played in a band that once opened for The Smithereens. Also pulled off a goatee for most of his career and won the Cy Young in the year before Anaheim started receiving angelbolic steroids.
Angels: Tony Danza. Angels wasn’t Danza’s first or best role as a washed-up MLB player. In real life, Danza went 9–3 as a professional boxer, but in Angels it is revealed that he’s about to die because of his lifelong smoking (womp womp).
Advantage: White Sox.

Catcher:
White Sox: Ron Karkovice.Daddy. The only thing Ron Karkovice looked like he enjoyed more than performing an unconstitutional traffic stop is drinking a Miller High Life after mowing the lawn.
Angels: Tony Longo.Daddier. And noted chili dog aficionado.
Advantage: Nobody’s out-thiccing Longo.

Manager
White Sox: Gene Lamont. Fresh off a 1993 Manager of the Year Campaign. Survived more than 15 years of working in Detroit and Pittsburgh.
Angels: Danny Glover. Keeps referring to a mysterious, ill-fated “stint in Cincinnati” throughout the movie. But he won’t come clean about working with Mel Gibson? Also, google keeps thinking I’m trying to do half-assed research about Donald Glover.
Advantage: White Sox. Say what you will, but Lamont never threw his players on the bus by suggesting that they needed angels to win a game.

Secret Weapon
White Sox: Michael Jordan. Performed surprisingly well at AA Birmingham while he was riding out the storm after retiring from the NBA under suspicious circumstances. Would probably choke out Ozzie during a practice. Remember, even angels buy shoes.
Angels: Joseph Gordon-Levitt. College dropout. Shoehorns the female lead into a “manic pixie dream girl” persona in (500) Days of Summer. Had better chemistry with Tony Danza in Don Jon.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, JGL gets savagely dunked on during one of the worst (among many) screenwriting of this film:

[having just given up custody of Roger, JGL’s character, forever]
Mr. Bomman (JGL’s character’s father): I’m sorry, boy.
[he exits the courtroom]

Advantage: White Sox. And you know Jordan is betting on this game too.

Owner
White Sox: Jerry Reinsdorf.
Angels: Ben Johnson.
Advantage: TBH both of these owners seem pretty anti-player and determined to lose rather than spend an extra dollar. This one’s a toss-up.

Overall: If this game had actually occurred in real life, I had known about sports gambling, and the internet existed to the point where I could place a bet with an offshore sportsbook whose servers are located in modern-day Yugoslavia, this would have been a traumatic gambling loss for me. That is to say, it is patently absurd that the White Sox didn’t win this fictional game, and I hope that Disney deep-sixes Angels in the Outfield from Disney+ like it did to Song of the South and Star Wars: Ewoks.

Power Ranking Potential COVID-19 Vaccines

August 4, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

Sports,,, they’re BACK. But over the past four months sans sports in the U.S., I’ve primarily done three things: watch European footy, stare forlornly at walls, and start following vaccines like they’re club teams I’m rooting for.

Now, let’s start with the obvious. The stakes for COVID-19 vaccine development are at least marginally higher than those involved with Javy Baez’s chase for his long overdue MVP crown. And more importantly, there’s no one I’m rooting against in the race for a vaccine. The only way out of this post-apocalyptic hellscape we call Tuesday is with a safe, effective, and widely distributed vaccine. This is serious stuff, and we should all be hoping one of these vaccines works out.

HOWEVER!

That’s absolutely not gonna stop me from power-ranking the potential* vaccines:

1. The Oxford/AstraZeneca Ayzees: Folks, this is what we mean when we talk about an elite vaccine. It’s already in Phase III trials, and Phase I/II showed it delivered those antibodies we all crave with no negative side effects. But the real differentiator here is the timing and scale. AstraZeneca has said if all goes well, emergency doses (for specific high-risk individuals, not for you) could be available in October—and that they could ramp up production for two billion doses if approved. That’s far and away the highest number of any contender, and it puts the Ayzees in a tier of their own.

2. The Moderna Theranoses: This vaccine is being developed with the NIH and already, Dr. Fauci has lauded its Phase I/II results and Phase III began last week. The early results are extremely promising, but haters remain caught up on things like “Moderna having never brought a product to market in its history as a company” or “that time the Moderna CEO told Trump we’d have a vaccine in a few months… in March.” Fortunately, we’re not here to hate. Company reputation aside, in Fauci we trust.

3. The Pfizer Pfighting T Cells: Big pharma, regrettably, delivers again. Phase III has just begun, after Phase I/II found not only some delectable antibodies but a nice little dose of T cells too—albeit with some moderate side effects. Pfizer gets big ups for promising to deliver 100 million doses by December 2020 if approved and 1.3 billion doses by December 2021. So why are they not higher? Pfizer has already signed a $2 billion deal with the Trump administration to provide doses of this vaccine, and it’s hard to imagine this president signing on to anything that could improve public health.

4. The Sinopharm Chairmans: It wouldn’t be too surprising if Wuhan, the original epicenter of the pandemic (before Scottsdale swooped in to steal the title), produced the vaccine. This one’s in Phase III and showed promising Phase I/II results, with Chinese state media reporting the state-run research company could be distributing the vaccine widely by year’s end. And that’s where we have to dock this Chinese state-run company: sorry if it triggers Ted Cruz, but sometimes I do not believe that the Chinese government is telling the truth.

5. The Sinovac Stingy Syringes: A promising option out of China, this time from privately owned Sinovac Biotech. Phase III trials are running in July now, but the company really loses points on manufacturing capabilities. They’ve promised the ability to generate 100 million doses per year, which is just not the type of offensive production anyone’s looking for at this point in the game.

6. The Johnson & Johnson Baby Wipes: Apparently the company in charge of ensuring tear-free bathtime for babies is also in charge of our shared survival as a species, which is very cool and good. Anyway, this trial just moved into Phase I/II, but they say they can produce a billion doses in 2021, if approved, so they earn a spot on the list.

7. The CanSinoBIO Cadets: Another Chinese candidate, this vaccine has flown through Phase I/II like many others. It would probably be higher on the list if it weren’t for the fact that instead of Phase III, they’re just kind of… testing it on the Chinese military. And here at Left On Read, we have recently decided we are AGAINST involuntary medical trials. We will not apologize for this.

8. Whatever The Fuck Russia’s Doing: Russia says it’s got a vaccine ready for approval this month, and it will begin distributing to healthcare workers and teachers shortly thereafter. I hope they do! But considering they’ve released no details, proof, trials, or evidence, I have more doubts than the President when he’s informed of something called a “Tiffany.”

9. The Murdoch Propping Gandas: Not only is this vaccine being developed by something called the Murdoch Children’s Research Hospital, but it’s not even supposed to be a full immunity-inducing vaccine. It’s just supposed to kind of help or something. I’m mad about it, and I’m mad at Rupert Murdoch—for this and literally everything else about him.

*As of June 1, there were 157 potential vaccines in trials. Using the relegation model, I only ranked the top flight vaccines—those in Phase III or which have shown the biggest promise in Phase II.

MLB End of Season Awards

August 4, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

Whether or not they know it yet, Major League Baseball’s 2020 season is coming to a close. Big boy in chief Bobby Manfred may not be a quitter, but COVID also isn’t backing down, and I know who my money is on (though I obviously also have a couple dollars on the underdog to cover any potential losses. No, it’s not an addiction if I’m good at it). As we approach the final days of the season, we at Left on Read wanted to honor the incredible effort put forth by every team over the demanding six games of the year. Without further ado, here are our picks for MLB’s end of season awards.

MVP: Covid-19—Day in and day out, ole CoCo RoRo has been putting in work. Marlins? Speared. Cardinals? Shot right out of the sky. Yoenis Cespedes was literally so intimidated, he fled his team to avoid a potential match-up. There have been some impressive performances, but this one has been one for the history books.

Cy Young: Joe Kelly—An icon and a legend. Enough said.

Biggest Idiot Piece of Dogshit: Rob Manfred—Now it’s rare for a new award to be introduced, but this one is so very well-deserved. Rob Manfred has displayed the highest level of total incompetence any professional can, while simultaneously being a complete travesty of a human being. A true double-threat, Manfred deserves this award and the lifetime’s supply of Arby’s that comes with it.

Rookie of the Year: Baseball’s Complete Irrelevancy—Baseball’s Complete and Utter Irrelevancy as a national sport has been working hard in the minor leagues for years, but this is the year it finally squeezed into the Majors. After its amazing showing in the preseason, helping to almost entirely cripple the league’s 2020 season before it even started, we all knew it had potential. However, after this year’s performance, Baseball’s Total Lack of Appeal as the National Pastime has cemented itself as a force to be reckoned with, and I for one am incredibly excited to not see what it can do in the coming years.

Grading Fauci

August 4, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

Recently, Anthony Fauci was the subject of a scathing op-ed by something called a Peter Navarro (??). Navarri is known, tragically, to have an extremely bad brain and the White House was forced to claim they had nothing to do with the piece.

But while much scorn has been directed Navarro’s way, what should we make of Fauci himself? He’s been deified on the left, vilified on the right, and sidelined by the White House. But how should we grade his performance during this pandemic?

Criteria 1: death and destruction
Hooooo boy. Ok, so theoretically, as the nation’s top virologist it’s Fauci’s main job to prevent hundreds of thousands of unnecessary deaths by virus. On that front, the scale of the failure is, um, unignorable. But it’s not going too far out on a limb to say that his guidance hasn’t always been followed, and his advice has generally been to do things like socially distance and wear a mask (we’ll get back to this) that could have prevented the current nightmare we’re sleepwalking through. And considering that the head of the White House Coronavirus task force is the same guy responsible for bringing the HIV/AIDS epidemic back to Indiana, it’s probably fair to say this could have been much worse.
Grade: B-

Criteria 2: scientific adherence
Here’s where Fauci has really shined. In the face of a White House courageously pledging not to let “the science get in the way” of killing teachers, Fauci has been steadfast in forcing the science into the way. It hasn’t always worked out, but Fauci has consistently refused to talk politics or really anything other than the science of the pandemic—and it seems pretty likely that if the president had suggested injecting bleach in his presence, rather than Dr. Birx’s, he would have spoken up,
Grade: A

Criteria 3: protective measures
On the one hand, the CDC committed what epidemiologists refer to as a “catastrophic fuck up” (CFU, in industry-speak) when in March it advised the nation not to wear masks for a virus that turned out to likely be airborne. Fauci doesn’t work at the CDC, but as the nation’s most trusted voice on communicable diseases, he surely played a role in that CFU. On the other hand, Fauci has been adamant about keeping social distance and closing down businesses when needed, even in the face of a president determined to eradicate the state of Florida.
Grade: B+

Criteria 4: looking sick as fuck
Anthony Fauci is like four feet tall, a billion years old, and would absolutely be able to pipe every intern in the greater Silver Springs area if there weren’t a fucking pandemic.
Grade: A+, somehow

Criteria 5: keeping his job
As bad as things are, they would surely be worse if Trump’s next choice for the National Institute of Allergies and Infectious Disease—the doctor who prescribed Michael Jackson all that propofol, probably—were in charge. Fauci’s ability to publicly contradict the president and not get fired has been perhaps his greatest strength, and perhaps the only thing keeping us from a situation as dire as that in [add country doing worse at this than the US, make one up if none exists].
Grade: A++

Overall
So how do we grade him on the whole? The pandemic has been a disaster for everyone except grave-diggers, so he’s certainly not getting perfect marks. But an A- feels pretty fair. Maybe that’s just because it’s so jarring to see a government official trying to keep people alive, but if he’s benefiting from low expectations, so be it. Now, go have some freaky socially distant phone sex with a GW grad student, Tony.
Grade: A-

Is Kap Too Big for the NFL?

August 4, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

Colin Kaepernick should be on an NFL roster.

More specifically, Colin Kaepernick should be on the Chicago Football Bears. Even MORE specifically, every NFL GM who failed to signed Kap in the past five years should be forced to personally bankroll the campaign of one-to-five senators who would vote to reauthorize voting rights for Black people.

But Kap is not in the NFL. And even as the nation comes to agree that—shocker—the man the president called a “son of a bitch” for demanding an end to extrajudicial police killings was probably in the right, it doesn’t appear anyone is set to sign him.

That’s a travesty, but not a surprise. Be it domestic violence policies, player safety, or the definition of a catch, “travesty” is a pretty good word to describe most of the NFL.

So the question at this point is really whether Kaepernick should even want to play in the NFL. His Nike deal is worth millions per year, with his own brand of apparel reportedly in the works. His Know Your Rights Camp has emerged as one of the most prominent civil rights organizations of the recent movement. He’s set to narrate an Ava Duvernay-produced Netflix docuseries about his life.

He is, in the most cliched way, bigger than football.

Which gets back to the question of whether it would even make sense for him to spend his time playing a game when he could be affecting policy.

Certainly, he’s got every right to do whatever he wants, and I can say from experience* that it’s exceedingly fun to play professional football when you have his kind of arm strength, speed, and agility. He’s already done more than enough for one lifetime off the field, and no one would blame him for taking a nice payday to back up Tom Brady for the next 15 to 20 years.

But suddenly the NFL feels too small for him. His return would be like Jordan going to Birmingham, or Obama being president. Yeah, he can probably do it… but why would he?

With Washington changing its name and nearly every major sports league embracing his message, Kaepernick’s return at once feels inevitable and impossible. By blackballing him, the NFL has backed itself into a corner from which the only escape is a roster spot. But by so forcefully winning in this billion-dollar-industry vs. mobile-QB-from-Nevada fight, Kaepernick would be almost degrading himself if he were to return.

Admittedly, I’m probably getting ahead of myself. Maybe the NFL will continue to snub him. No one’s ever lost money betting on oligarchs to do the wrong thing.

But if the day comes when Kap suits back up in the NFL, it’s hard to imagine it’ll be satisfying.

*Legal note: I cannot say this from experience.

it’s offensive t-swift had to release folkore in summer

July 28, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

it’s ridiculous. preposterous. a miscarriage of justice? okay, not that far. but it’s pretty fucking bad. i’ll just say it: it is offensive that taylor swift, poet laureate and heiress to the stevie nicks’ throne of “forest fairy who also will wreck your life with a single song lyric”, had to release folklore, an obvious fall album, during the middle of this godforsaken summer.

let’s look at the facts:

the song “august” clearly takes place in the past. knock, knock? who’s there? it’s still july you ingrates. i should be crying to this in september.
all of the photography for the promotion took place in a woodsy clearing. you know what sucks in the middle of summer? big, open, woodsy spaces. they’re too hot, and not appropriately moody. the amount of editing it must have taken to produce those photos is a travesty.
“exile” required bon iver to come out of his annual summer hibernation, which is like inviting a vampire to an outdoor garlic festival at 1pm.
say it with me: “cardigans are not summer appropriate.”
tears evaporate too quickly in the summer, and then you’re just sitting there like some puffy, sad salt lick.

now, i want to make one thing perfectly clear: i do not fault taylor swift for this, and not just because I fear her powers. taylor has managed to make us all feel a new flavor of sad during this hopeless summer, versus the standard lukewarm defeatist depression. no, i blame everyone who hasn’t worn their goddamn mask and every government official who decided that it would be supes cute to open businesses when we had “flattened the curve” at roughly one billion cases a day, because you created an atmosphere so devoid of anything to watch or do that our great cardigan goddess felt compelled to release this album now instead of waiting for a more appropriate season. she shouldn’t have had to do this. it is cruel, unusual, and seasonally inappropriate.

if there is any justice in the world, taylor swift will soon be releasing an album that, when played backwards, sends all of you back to the hell you crawled out of. for now, we’ll all just have to settle for knowing that, in the grand scheme of this hellpit summer, we’re all betty.

the only correct responses to hearing folklore

July 28, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

it is the summer of folklore and we are *feeling* things. t-swift has dropped an emotion bomb, and while our response has been to sob into a decaying oak tree, that may not be your vibe. however, there are certain reactions to this woodsy attack on the heartstrings that are more appropriate than others. here are the twenty-three definitively correct things to do after listening to folklore:

calling your high school ex, begging them to get back together, fifteen years later
diving headfirst into a murky bog and proclaiming it as your new home
screaming, “why don’t you look at me like you used to?!?” at your mailman
renting a 2006 honda civic for an unnecessarily cramped make out session
getting a bob, regardless of whether you have the face shape for it
editing every profile photo you’ve ever uploaded to be black-and-white
listening to early lana del rey and whispering and pointing out all areas where taylor has now done it better
muttering, “i gave so many signs” whenever you’re asked to repeat yourself
calling your high school ex to tell them you hate them now more than ever, then hanging up and blocking their number
replacing all of your summer tops with cardigans and embracing the sweltering heat because suffering is love
cyberbullying inez
buying a baby grand piano that literally can’t fit in your apartment
carrying out an illicit affair, but, like, sadly
authoring a hamilton-esque chilean historical musical titled “my tears, pinochet”
calling your high school ex and crying, “was it true???” over and over, at a higher emotional pitch each time, until they finally say, “yes.” it does not matter if they know what you’re asking about
getting in a fight with bon iver
installing a screen door in your fifth floor walk-up, just to be able to slam it
saying “fuck” in dulcet tones
increasing the thickness of various sweaters
allowing august to slip away like a bottle of wine
legally changing your name to betty
holding grudges, tenderly
chamomile

how taylor swift avoided the lead single trap

July 28, 2020 ~ leftonreadletter ~ Leave a comment

as taytay has amassed wealth, fame, power, and cats over the last decade, she has been unable to escape one non-kanye-related nemesis: the first song released from her own albums. even as she churned out albums packed with chart-topping, introspective bangers, she seemed incapable of releasing any of those songs in the buildup to her album release.

instead, she continually opted for songs that could generously be described as “sonically foul” and which were wildly out of step with her actual albums.

the most recent and galling example was a vile poptastrophe titled “me!” that inexplicably featured brendon urie, everyone’s third-favorite pop rock frontman. while lover itself was a delightful journey into the world of a young woman who feels it all coming together… “me!” was a terrifying descent into someone’s half-hearted and frankly reckless journey through the looking glass.

before that, there was the evil and wretched “look what you made me do,” a right said fred ripoff that would have been more at home in an off-broadway parody of the mean girls musical. reputation surely wasn’t as complete as her other pop albums, but from “getaway car” to “call it what you want” and “delicate,” there were plenty of more appropriate options.

and let’s not forget that the lead single for the world-altering, record-crushing, career-defining 1989 was, inexplicably, the entirely forgettable “shake it off.” this faux-empowerment anthem featured taylor claiming people said she stayed out too late (no one has ever thought you partied too hard, sorry tay) and ogling black women’s asses (take the video down, tay)—and was somehow selected from an album that featured, in no particular order: “style, “blank space,” “wildest dreams,” “style,” “new years day,” “clean,” “out of the woods,” “style,” “this love,” “style,” “how you get the girl,” “style,” and “style.”

but this time around, taylor managed not to fall into the same trap. so how’d she do it? she started by filling the album with only good songs, then didn’t release any as lead singles. she just released the dang album, let us vibe to it, and peaced out.

and we are truly grateful.