If TMZ evolved art-world aspirations, it might attempt to create something like the frenetic Red Bull infused pop-tart-art of Ryan Trecartin. Full credit also belongs to Trecartin's frequent collaborator Lizzie Fitch. Together they craft an uncanny suburban nightmare populated by a pastiche of fast-talking zombie bitches (among a bluster of other queered bodies) cantilevered against the high-pitched background noise of a sinking consumer waste-scape-- a return to kitsch for the apocalypse-obsessed Y generation that every old-school Mary (and crystal queen) should appreciate. . . or at least art fags like me. Pick your poison. I think you'd like it too.
Watch his latest video "Center Jenny" on vdrome.org until November 8th. Mid-way thru you'll even discover a brief song about fuckbuddies.
"We might be friends, we might not. Whatever. I'm the only one that knows."
If you can't handle art, then try something a little further down the food chain, though equally entertaining, @midnight on Comedy Central-- Jeopardy-internet-stand-up-remix: