Nick & Myke’s #2 – A Perfect Storm Of Hot Pink Dust

Nick & Myke’s #2 – A Perfect Storm Of Hot Pink Dust

Myke Johns and Nick Tecosky are the producers of WRITE CLUB Atlanta. In an ill-conceived bid to remain hip and relevant and also to vent their anger and bile at people who actually are hip and relevant, they have devoted themselves to reviewing the #2 hit on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

For the week of March 10th, the #2 hit on the Billboard charts is:


So, a crazy long time ago, Cleopatra committed suicide. Maybe. Maybe she was murdered by Caesar Augustus. If she did in fact commit suicide, it was by asp, which is a kind of snake. Maybe. I mean, yes, an asp is a kind of snake, but maybe she didn’t use one to commit suicide, which she almost certainly possibly did (unless of course she was murdered) according to the people who would know that kind of thing.

Suicide by asp would be incredibly troubling to the subject, considering that the venom works slowly, paralyzing portions of your body as your heart pumps it around your circulatory system before giving its final fuck and stopping entirely. Only a crazy person would purposefully torture themselves before expiring, and Cleopatra struck no one as crazy (I think).

Some scholars disagree with the death by asp theory, anyway, thinking that it was hemlock, which is a much more mellow way to go. Perhaps. I’m not an expert, you see, on Cleopatra, or the Ptolemaic Dynasty, or Egypt during that time period. My exposure to Egyptology is limited to a week-long unit during World History my sophomore year of high school, and the five or so minutes I spent on Wikipedia in 2011, browsing the page at work without retaining anything particularly useful.

I was supposed to be finishing a spreadsheet at the time, if I remember correctly. Which, of course, I probably don’t. The point is, I’m not intellectually curious. I just sort of wander through life, accidentally gaining incomplete or inaccurate information as I stumble forward blindly from day to day.


Katy Perry has done more extensive research on this period of history, and possibly every other imaginable subject, which makes me feel ashamed of myself.

Prof. Katy Perry, the Barcel Brand Fuego Takis Chair of Egyptian Studies at Hair Chalk & Extraneous Guest Verse University in Los Angeles, California, in her report on her findings from her most recent excursion to Luxor, stated that the empire was brought down–not by Ramses XI’s rending of the state as has previously been agreed upon–but by a perfect storm of hot pink dust and backup dancers.


The study has rocked the academic and contemporary popular music communities, with Egyptology departments at Brown and Yale “temporarily shuttering” while this new information is processed, and guests at dance club Tongue & Groove in Atlanta reportedly unable to agree whether the Stanky Leg or the Bounce is more appropriate for Prof. Perry’s phat beats. Meanwhile, the civil and political unrest in the capital of Cairo continues with no end in sight.

I just dug this up, from Variety: “Sources within Steven Spielberg’s Dreamworks have confirmed that Harrison Ford has signed on to the fifth installment of the Indiana Jones franchise, penned by George Lucas, and titled Indiana Jones and The Grill of the Mystical Pharaoh. The plot, inspired by an article published in the Archaeological Review of Cambridge by Prof. Perry, revolves around a mysterious diamond mouthpiece discovered in a tomb deep within the famed Pink Pyramid of Giza in April of 1967.”


“The synopsis of the screenplay, leaked last month to Variety, involves the further exploits of legendary archaeologist-adventurer Indiana Jones and his son Mutt Williams, who- on an adventure to Cairo- stumble upon an ancient Isis cult bent on restoring the rule of the wicked Queen Katy Patra through the use of her magical grill. Mutt (played again by Shia Lebeouf) steals the mouthpiece from under the nose of the cult, and causes further friction with his father when he insists that he made it himself, then defends his deception by using an airplane to write ‘I AM SORRY DAD’ in the sky. Once all is resolved between father and son, they return to battling the cult, which- in a shocking plot twist- turn out to have been cyborgs all along.”

“In a related story, Harrison Ford has also signed on with Lucas Films to play the role of “Han Solo’s ashes in an Urn” in the tenth episode of the celebrated Star Wars franchise.”

As more details have leaked from the set of The Grill… (production title: “Grumbles of Doom”), the primary grist for the rumor mill has been a subplot involving Queen Patra’s Curse and the havoc it wreaks on Mutt’s career (the character all but disappears in the film’s third act, saying he’s “retiring from archaeology”). Theories abound that the curse is in fact based in fact and that the primary victim of said curse has been Professor Perry and her research team. Absolutely nothing of the sort has been substantiated, yet anecdotally, there are disarming parallels.

In the months following Team Perry’s field work which involved breaching an as-yet undiscovered tomb in the Valley of the Kings and removing several artifacts, including the aforementioned bejeweled grill, Lukasz Gottwald (better known on campus as Dr. Luke) suffered an infected nail after stubbing his toe in the tomb. The leg was eventually eaten by an alligator, negating the need for amputation. Perry’s favored TA Sarah Hudson also felt the wrath of the pharaoh’s curse in being unexpectedly dropped from godfather Steven Tyler’s will.

Professor Perry herself, however, may have borne the brunt of the supposed curse, disappearing sometime before her scheduled office hours this past Monday. University public safety officers reported no signs of forced entry or struggle. Janitorial staff reported some difficulty in vacuuming a great deal of purple sand which, they were quoted as saying, “someone musta dumped all over the floor. It’s like Kesha ate the Sahara and threw it up in there.”


Illustration by Joe Karg.

Lust, Caution: The Way We Were

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Lust, Caution: The Way We Were

I scan the wall. It’s lined with light bulbs between the rows of magazines, like on a marquee. My eyes land on one of the glossy covers. A woman faces out. She has sandy hair to her shoulders. Her green eyes flash. Her teeth gleam in a broad smile, perfect. She looks like Olivia Newton John.