Megorious

Of the sweatiest cities in America, Baton Rouge ranks ninth, according to a study conducted by Old Spice, of all people. New Orleans ranks twelfth, Austin is twenty-third, and Boston is eightieth. San Francisco is the least sweatiest.

The people of Phoenix, the alleged sweatiest city, produce 26.4 ounces of sweat an hour — the equivalent of more than two cans of soda. An hour. Eww.

This is bullshit. Baton Rouge should be first. I’m sweating just thinking about it. Phoenix is a dry heat. They might get temperatures well above 100 but they don’t have the humidity. Spend the summer in South Louisiana and try not to be moist all day long.

The full list can be found here.

Austin’s 24-hour radio station dedicated to playing only Michael Bolton songs has filed for bankruptcy. Why did something like this even exist?

After a 6 am rendezvous at Logan “Wolverine” International Airport in Boston, the fifteen of us flew to Austin in record time thanks to an Einstein-Rosen bridge - a wormhole in space-time continuum.

Thursday was pretty tame, with half of us taking naps after registration and panel sign-ups. Thursday night most of us took in Chicago 10. The film, about the eight anti-war protesters who were put on trial following the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago, blends animation with actual archive footage. The film is powerful enough to incite outrage - the kind that doesn’t seem to exist in America anymore.

I was somewhat distracted by the prosecutor’s uncanny resemblance to George W. Bush. I’m still not sure whether that was intentional or not. The voice performances include Hank Azaria and Liev Schreiber, along with many of the actual Yippies playing themselves. The standout however was Roy Scheider’s chilling performace as the merciless Judge. I’ll be hearing his voice in my nightmares for years to come.

After the film I met up with Ms. Chloe Vanderhaven, Blewis, Mr. LeBlanc, and Not Taylor for some delicious Shiner Bock.

Friday was filled with seminars, round tables with Hollywood screenwriters and producers, and other various conference shenanigans. That evening we took in The Zombie Diaries, which was a low-budget zombie film in the tradition of 28 Days Later with nauseating camera work ala The Blair Witch Project. The gore was minimal. The performances were OK with the exception of the one American in the cast. He was awful and obnoxious, and not in a good way.

Saturday was more of the same as Friday in terms on the conference. There was an awards luncheon where we were served undercooked porn wrapped with undercooked bacon. The speaker was Oliver “Olie” Stone but most of us didn’t stay to see him since the luncheon started nearly an hour late.

Saturday evening, most of us from school attended the wrap party, where several of us stalked (and considered kidnapping) screenwriter Scott Alexander. Luckily for him we forgot our ether rag. Damn it all… There was also a hilarious happenstance involving The Daily Show’s “resident black guy” Larry Wilmore and a guy who looked nothing like him.

Sadly, Saturday evening I also had to say goodbye to Chloe Vanderhaven, Blewis, and Not Taylor. Sunday we got to sleep in (till 10 am) and then headed back to Boston.