Author Archives: lex

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If I con­tinue blog­ging, it will be on lexrob.wordpress.com.

appeal to the best

On the occa­sion of Andrew Breitbart’s death, Conor Frieder­s­dorf wrote a piece for The Atlantic attempt­ing to sur­vey Mr. Breitbart’s legacy. I rec­om­mend read­ing it, and I rec­om­mend read­ing Conor Friedersdorf’s work in gen­eral. That’s not to say I endorse his views. In fact, one of the things I appre­ci­ate about Mr. Frieder­s­dorf is that

post-twitter crisis

When I drink a cup of cof­fee, I don’t care about it. I expect a rea­son­able tem­per­a­ture, an inof­fen­sive taste, and a famil­iar aroma. That’s it. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to look at it. I don’t want to take a pic­ture of it. I don’t want to doc­tor a

Tumblr Rededication

Some­times I read my posts here and I think I come across as hav­ing my head up in the clouds or some­where else. If you know me, you know that’s not me, at least not com­pletely. But what am I to do? I’m blog­ging with a pur­pose (“Pur­pose Dri­ven Blog­ging”). I ago­nize over pop cul­ture

Scranton, R.F.D.

Look, I’ll be watch­ing every new episode of The Office this sea­son. I’ll prob­a­bly act kind of reluc­tant and sur­prised, after­wards, when I invari­ably say, “Yeah, it was pretty good!” That opin­ion will be slightly more pre­dictable and slightly less reli­able than Thefoodreviewer’s take on “Pizza Rolls.” I’ll end up buy­ing the sea­son on DVD.

Cymbals Eat Guitars — Why There Are Mountains

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of Nit­suh Abebe’s lat­est col­umn for Pitch­fork, “How to Be a Vam­pire.” In it, he turns the nos­tal­gia talk­ing point on its head, and rem­i­nisces over his approach to music in ado­les­cence, “lis­ten­ing like a vam­pire, lis­ten­ing because I desired to suck some­thing out of the music for

a Jersey Shore moment (S4E5, act 2, scene i)

Sitch rolls into the ambu­lance with Pauly at his side. In the house, Vinny and the Meat­balls con­sole them­selves in that last ves­tige of fam­ily togeth­er­ness, the kitchen. Soon, they will breathe fresh air and reflect upon the futil­ity of vio­lence, even con­sider the sub­tle hints of their own sur­pris­ing mor­tal­ity, but for now, this