by Blogbot

2010 was without doubt the year of the striped sock. Stockings were put to bed in favor off these warm and fuzzy alternatives that say you’re sexy without trying unfashionably hard.

Here’s a selection of the best striped leg wear that Suicide Girls were putting on – and taking off – this year.





[Luscious in Grime]



[Salliss in Take Two]



[Rambo in Dancing]



[Vesta in Feeling This]



[Squeak in I Am]



[Kaelyn in Good Fortune]



[Phecda in Game Cube]



[Sash in Angeles]

Fashion Notes

“I love socks because I love how an often overlooked article of clothing can make a person feel so much more powerful,” says Khoos, SG’s resident soxpert who runs the site’s Rock My Socks Group. “And when it comes time to get down and dirty, there’s no fussing over clasps or buttons with socks. You can leave them on or rip them off!”

Looking to sox up your life? Try these American Apparel knee and thigh highs, which come in a variety of colors and contrasting stripe combos. And if your sock fetish goes beyond the realm of what AA can assomodate, try Sockdreams.com which has a vast selection of leg wear, including specialty ranges such as toe socks, super-high “dream sock” stockings, and ones which are exclusively made in the USA (all of which are available with stripes).

Check back for more Dirty Laundry and let SuicideGirls show you the best way to (un)dress.

At this point, I think we all have to admit that science is pretty awesome.

I mean, it’s brought us the electric light, internet tubes, the theremin, LSD and cyborg monkeys that can move objects with their minds. What else do you want?

I mean, unless you’re one of those neo-Luddite squares who whine about “unforeseen negative consequences” and “possible damage to the environment” and all that other crap. Wow, you’re so going to regret your science-hatin’ ways when I unleash my secret army of telekinetic robo-chimps and chortle as they use their turbo-charged monkey brainwaves to burst your skull open like an over-ripe banana, Scanners-style. I mean, what could possibly be the unforeseen negative consequences of that?

Of course, just because science can be awesome, doesn’t mean it’s consistently awesome. Like all great artists, sometimes scientists can’t summon forth enough inspiration and resort to phoning that shit in.

As an example, let me present a soon-to-be-published research study from the fine folks at the Liverpool John Moore University’s Centre For Public Health, entitled “Elvis To Eminem”, that comes to the shocking conclusion that being a rock star just might not be the healthiest career choice a young person can make.

Yes, in case you’ve ever disputed the scientific accuracy of the rock ‘n’ roll motto “Live Fast, Die Young”, now it has been statistically proven!

Alas, not the “Live Fast” part, since apparently it’s either difficult to gauge the airspeed velocity of the average unladen rock musician, or the researchers assumed that Hüsker Dü’s “Land Speed Record” was actually a previous thesis on the subject.

Focusing instead on the “Die Young” part, the researchers started out with a UK list of what are supposedly the All Time Top 1,000 Albums compiled in 2000. They then tallied up all the various North American and European musicians from “the mainstream popular categories of rock, punk, rap, R&B (rhythm and blues), electronica and new age” that appeared on said list, excluding for no apparent reason “those from the music genre classifications of country, blues, jazz, vocal, celtic, folk, bluegrass and spoken word”.

I’m sure you fans of Johnny Cash, Miles Davis, Robert Johnson, Hank Williams and Bill Hicks will be pleased to know that, scientifically speaking, they are not as important as The Backstreet Boys.

After establishing their cohort of 1064 famous or semi-famous musicians (and you know something’s all good and sciencey when you can use words like “cohort”, not to mention phrases like “offset transposition matrix”), they established which of them were dead, when and how they died, and how long they’d been famous. They then compared those statistics to the average life expectancy for the general population and discovered the following paradigm-shifting fact:

Those “health-damaging risk behaviours”, such as flying in airplanes or being a drummer for Spinal Tap, mean that famous musicians are around 1.7 times more likely to die than your average schmuck. So the next time your crappy band plays a show in some lousy dive bar in front of five disinterested drunks and one snarky hipster fuck yelling “Freebird!”, don’t think of it as a sign that you perhaps shouldn’t have dropped out of college to pursue your dreams of rock stardom, but instead as an indicator that you’re scientifically 1.7 times less likely to suddenly fall over dead than the dudes in Nickelback.

One of the interesting quirks of this study is the disparity between survival rates for American and European rock stars. Statistically, becoming a famous musician in Europe lowers your survival rate dramatically…to that of the average American.

So if you’re reading this article in, say, England, and are wrestling with the age-old dilemma “Should I become a massively famous rock superstar and live a life of Caligulaesque decadence, playing sold-out arena shows and getting stoned to the gills on a plethora of drugs while being sexually serviced in cartoonishly improbable ways by at least five adoring groupies at a time every night, or should I play it safe and become an accountant?”, rest assured that option #1 is, scientifically speaking, as dangerous to your health as moving to Nebraska and shopping at Wal-Mart.

Even better, if you manage to survive being a famous European rock star for over 25 years, your survival rate improves past that of the average American of the same age, while the survival rate for American rock stars declines ever faster. The researchers conducting this study advance a few theories as to why, such as American rock stars performing more “nostalgic or reunion tours” (and I admit, if I had to spend most of my evenings performing “Keep On Lovin’ You” at various state fairs, I’d yearn for the sweet embrace of death as well) or the disparity between the American and European health care systems leaving impoverished American musicians more at risk of not having health insurance as they get on in years. Of course, the continued existence of Keith Richards alone could have skewed the results.

While this study may be of dubious practical value, at least it deals with actual human beings. Unlike a previous UK study that dealt with the survival rates of British soap opera characters.

No, not British soap opera actors, British soap opera characters.

In case you were wondering how dangerous it really is to be a fictional character on a British soap opera, science has the answer!

Cynics may scoff at how laughably pointless it is to research the mortality rates of fictional characters on soap operas, even if it’s done all science-like using “Kaplan-Meier survival curves and Cox regression, with age as a time dependent covariate”, but that just means they can’t ask themselves the big, important science questions:

Yes, without our pal science, the entire British national perception of violent crime and death would continue to be distorted! Without this valuable research, mankind would have to survive without

The horror!

Uncognitive was going to write a soap opera about rock stars until he discovered that, scientifically, all of the characters would have to die during every episode.

“I woke up last night I thought I was going to die
My doctor came a-runnin’ and my family stood by…”
-- “Bop Pills,” Macy (Skip) Skipper

Today started off on the ass side of the bed with one of my dogs in the hospital after puking up blood last night. The doctor floated all kinds of possible doomsday scenarios in front of my wife and I – cancer, Addison’s disease, Parvo – but it turns out that the big knucklehead has what appears to be a parasite that he most likely got from eating stuff off the sidewalk (which, as we all know from The Cramps, is something you should never do).

He’s got another night in the hospital ahead of him, and then he'll most likely come home tomorrow where he'll be spoiled rotton. A sick pet is the surest and swiftest route to crippling, unmanageable worry (next to a sick child or parent, of course). It’s not like the little buggers can tell you what’s wrong with them, so I declare that if you’ve got a pet within reach, let them know how much you appreciate their good health and unconditional love by giving that fuzzy or feathered or scaled little crumbgrabber a smooch (unless it’s a fish, in which case I guess you can give it a couple of extra flakes).

Speaking of animals gone berserk, Synapse Films has just released the Satanic hair-metal train wreck Rock 'N' Roll Nightmare in a deluxe DVD. If you've never experienced RNRN, I strongly suggest you carve out two hours from your life, erase as many brain cells as possible with the industrial cleaner of your choice, and tuck into this film with both hands; it is, without question, one of the most bizarre yet consistently entertaining low-budget films ever made. Canadian stunt rocker Jon-Mikl Thor (or just Thor to his pals) stars as the frontman for a horrible, horrible flash metal outfit which runs afoul of a gaggle of demon hand puppets in a remote farm house before facing off with a Great Satan constructed from what appears to be pipe cleaners.

Yeah, it’s cheap, dopey ‘80s horror, chock-a-block with teased hair, unfortunate nudity, and half-assed nods to Gremlins, but RNRN is so wrapped in its own lunatic logic that you can’t help but feel deep affection for it--which, incidentally, is the perfect sentiment to bring this post full circle: it’s the same sort of affection I felt when I discovered that my dog once ate a AA battery. You can’t believe that it happened, but you’ve gotta admit the dedication behind something like that. Synapse’s DVD is loaded to the gills with extras, including interviews and commentary by Thor, acres of behind-the-scenes footage, and music videos for the two gawd-awful songs performed in the movie (“ENERGY! YOU GIVE ME ENERGY!”). Trust me, you need this one in your life.