QotD and Words of the Day
Trope (em tags added)
sketching a mental picture of the essayist as a scruffy fucksimper who suffers from chronic index-finger-swelling brought on by speed-dialing through all the music he shat onto his 500G jizz-hued iPod. After he gmails his guilty-pleasure opus to his editbot, who will rewrite it into a charticle, he heads to the bar to meet a friend and pulls the pod from his pocket. “Bro,” he says to the friend, “you’ll never believe how much Devendra Banhart I have on this thing. All of the Devendra in the world.” He touches the cool white control disc, swirling his finger teasingly, and his friend nods wide-eyed at the flashing list of songs—until finally they reach the end of the Devendra listing and wander into Devo, and then, consumed, they run to the bathroom and passionately tug each other’s beards—”rejoicing in the hands,” it’s called—until they both reach mutual, musical ecstasy and cry out from the sweetness.