A weekly listing mag like Time Out New York quickly gets really boring if you don't have some (usually arbitrary) hook: This week it's "The Seven Deadly Sins." Maybe it's that I saw a Martin McDonough play last week that kicked all ass, but the TONY profile of playwright Adam Rapp--as the embodiment of Anger--comes off as desperately reaching. Witness:

...no current angry young man exorcizes his demons with as much abandon as Rapp, 37,

Math fun: Double 37, and waddaya get? Lots of dead guys, right? If only there were a two-word phrase guys who were in the very middle of their time on earth. Something which didn't mean 'young.'

..And the writer admits that for him, wrath isn’t a sin so much as an essential motivational tool. “Anger fuels me,” he says, after gunning down a few deer in the bar’s Big Buck Hunter video game...

...and chugging a whole can of Dew, no doubt. Angrily.

“I write what keeps me up at night and what breaks my heart."

A guess: Metroid:Prime and The Sims: Hot Date Expansion Pack, respectively?

If I didn’t, I would do more drugs and get into more fights in bars.”

Look, I tried that line out in 7th grade. I'm sure we all did, because it is very, very Axl. But it's time to move on. And by move on, I mean stop wearing this shit:


This appears to be the old trucker-hat-and-American-Apparel ensemble, AKA The Double Douche.

Alright, I'm off to write my own horrid crap. Enjoy your weekend.