It's interesting cos I hear these clips and I find them quite funny. Like some people you know sort of chatting to each other and making themselves laugh (the giggling is quite annoying). It's not something that I would go out of my way to listen to - I was thinking if I listened to it a lot i might feel guilty for wasting a lot of my time on something so inessential... but then i remembered I woke up four thirty today so I can't really say that.It's extremely juvenile, un/anti-PC humour, mostly courtesy of Nick Mullen, a comedian clearly raised on a diet of South Park and 4Chan growing up. I discovered it via one of my friends (who I share an often horrible sense of humour with) being obsessed with it and this clip, which doesn't showcase any of the offensive stuff which is perhaps one of the reasons its become the biggest cumtown clip on youtube.
I'm not really disgusted with myself for finding it funny, at least in private (although some of the humour on it I wince at cos I think it's legitimately nasty), I just have to keep it secret from all the liberal/woke people I work with and know, because they would possibly find it all beyond the pale and think I was disgusting for enjoying it.
It's the funniest podcast I've ever heard, though, and there's a weirdly touching aspect to the friendship of the three hosts.
“Anna knew everyone,” said Neff. At night, she’d taken to hosting large dinners at Le Coucou, attended by CEOs, artists, athletes, even celebrities. One night, Neff found herself seated next to her childhood idol, Macaulay Culkin. “Which was awkward,” she said. “Because I had so many questions. And he was right there. But they were talking about, like, friend stuff. So I never got the chance to be like, ‘So, you the godfather to Michael Jackson’s kids?’ ”
Despite her seemingly nomadic living situation, Anna had long been a figure on the New York social scene. “She was at all the best parties,” said marketing director Tommy Saleh, who met her in 2013 at Le Baron in Paris during Fashion Week. Delvey had been an intern at European scenester magazine Purple and appeared to be tight with the magazine’s editor-in-chief, Olivier Zahm, and its man-about-town, André Saraiva, an owner of Le Baron — two of “the 200 or so people you see everywhere,” as Saleh put it: Chilterns and Loulou’s in London; the Crow’s Nest in Montauk; Paul’s Baby Grand and the Bowery Hotel; Frieze, Coachella, Art Basel.
After a gallerist at Pace introduced her to Michael Xufu Huang, the extremely young, extremely dapper collector and founder of Beijing’s M Woods museum, Anna proposed they go together to the Venice Biennale. Huang thought it was “a little weird” when Anna asked him to book the plane tickets and hotel on his credit card. “But I was like, Okay, whatever,” he said. It was also strange, he noticed during their time there, that Anna only ever paid with cash, and after they got back, she seemed to forget she’d said she’d pay him back. “It was not a lot of money,” he said. “Like two or three thousand dollars.” After a while, Huang kind of forgot about it too.
When you’re superrich, you can be forgetful in this way. Which is maybe why no one thought much of the instances in which Anna did things that seemed odd for a wealthy person: calling a friend to have her put a taxi from the airport on her credit card, or asking to sleep on someone’s couch, or moving into someone’s apartment with the tacit agreement to pay rent, and then … not doing it. Maybe she had so much money she just lost track of it.
The following January, Anna hired a PR firm to put together a birthday party at one of her favorite restaurants, Sadelle’s in Soho. “It was a lot of very cool, very successful people,” said Huang, who, while aware Anna owed him money for their Venice trip, remained mostly unconcerned about it, at least until the restaurant, having seen Polaroids of Huang and Anna at the party on Instagram, messaged him a few days later. “They were like, ‘Do you have her contact info?’ ” he says now. “ ‘Because she didn’t pay her bill.’ Then I realized, Oh my God, she is not legit.”
Totally unrelated really but it's very funny for me to see Le Baron mentioned here. The original one in Paris was kinda super swanky or at least had a huge amount of cachet I guess - the sort of place where, I dunno, Amy Winehouse and Ryan Gosling happen to pop in and end up doing a duet on the piano. I never went there but my good friend in Paris was super well connected and he used to go and he became friends with the owner. When he spent a week in London and his band was looking for a gig the owner said that he could play at the newly opened London version.Despite her seemingly nomadic living situation, Anna had long been a figure on the New York social scene. “She was at all the best parties,” said marketing director Tommy Saleh, who met her in 2013 at Le Baron in Paris during Fashion Week. Delvey had been an intern at European scenester magazine Purple and appeared to be tight with the magazine’s editor-in-chief, Olivier Zahm, and its man-about-town, André Saraiva, an owner of Le Baron — two of “the 200 or so people you see everywhere,” as Saleh put it.
Honor Levy—23, F. @mimpathy on Twitter, part of the NY Tyrant crew (one of NYC's bigger indie presses; published a lot of the New Sincerity stuff in the 2010s—Blake Butler, Darcie Wilder, Megan Boyle, Ken Baumann, etc). Wrote a story for The New Yorker that is OK. Vaguely part of the Drunken Canal scene—from the NYT profile:who's honor? not been following the thread that closely
These days I've seen her pop up on the Contain podcast that Barrett Avner and Sierra Armor run, and she gets name-checked on the Angelicism/Vibe Shift mailers.Honor Levy, 23, with a piece of fiction published on The New Yorker’s website and a short story collection coming out next year, was regretting her decision to pull her piece from The Drunken Canal as we walked last Thursday past the publication’s unmarked white newspaper box in Lower Manhattan. But her friend and editor, Claire Banse, also 23, had told her the paper had already hit its quota on the word “retarded” and she’d objected.
We [the Tyrant founder and I, Honor] ate French onion soup at the Odeon last week. We laughed about how years ago I’d tweeted a picture of a book of my tweets my friend had printed, and pretended Tyrant published it. It was a joke, but he DMed and asked who had really published it. This guy I’d idolized for years was in my DMs. Twitter was magic and so was he. He asked if I had a book. So of course I said yes I’ll send it right over. I rushed to the library at 2 A.M. and started writing this book just for him. Years later … it was done, he read it, and we were at the Odeon eating French onion soup, laughing. I keep listening to these WhatsApp voice memos he sent me while tripping on acid. God, he had the best voice and he said the best stuff. We talked about everything and nothing, it was so exciting, really magic—that’s the only word that comes to mind when I talk about him—like that first DM, so quick and so exciting. Everything he said made me want to start a book. So I did, because he asked.