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It's layers of pop culture imagery piled on top of one another like sports announcers piling on Tim Tebow -- and you know you want it. To commemorate Tebow's season, the miraculous Denver Broncos win over the Pittsburgh Steelers, and what Denverites hope will be an even more miraculous win over the New England Patriots tomorrow, the Wynkoop Brewing Company has produced two posters of Tebow that borrow the imagery and words used by artist Shepard Fairey in his now-iconic posters of Barack Obama. You can buy these posters at the Wynkoop, while supplies last -- or you can win one of each by telling us why you HOPE or BELIEVE the Broncos will will on Saturday.

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Composite, Requiem

​"This conversation rules!"

That's the word from Hilarious, and the latest comment posted in the ongoing discussion of artist James Lorca Garcia Velazquez , who thinks Denver's art market is too "commercialized" and so is moving to New York.

His parting words in his Show and Tell interview with Tiffany Fitzgerald: "I will not miss showing my work in this city, and I am quite surprised that people still go to galleries, or even buy art at all."

That prompted this from Nothing:

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​Word's come down that the annual Hudson Holiday lighting extravaganza, designed by Lonnie Hanzon and bankrolled by the Museum of Outdoor Arts, is no more -- and I'm telling you, I am crushed. That's because I'm not only a holiday light-show junkie, but also a lover of the arts, and Lonnie's magically personal way with lighting forever meshed my two enthusiasms more tightly than a suit of chain-mail armor. The sad story is one we've heard before: Twinkling stuff and nonsense requires dollars, more dollars than Hudson Holiday apparently pulled in over its run of a couple years. And even MOA's Cynthia Madden Leitner, the most dedicated of arts patrons, has her limits.

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​We all know that radical Islamic Muslim extremist terrorists hate freedom -- but do your children know? For any child born after 9/11, there's the danger not only that they might forget, but that they might not even know how to hate and fear other cultures, and for that problem, there's We Shall Never Forget 9/11, the coloring book devoted to showing young Americans what happens when you fuck with America. Clearly, it's something our readers are on board with.

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Can you wait? I can't wait.

​For as long as I can remember, the Sunday comics have been about 80 percent crap. The culprit, mostly, is the glut of syndicate staples drawn by now-octogenarians or passed down to sons that, week after week, churn out the same hackneyed shitheap of lame character gags and dumb life observations -- Garfield still loves lasagna/hates Mondays, Dagwood still eats a lot of sandwiches, Beetle Bailey is still trying to avoid work, Marmaduke is still more or less incomprehensible.

And never is the stink of reheated sentimentality more pungent than on holidays, when comics' most egregious offenders trot out the whole cast and have a moment of crassly dewy-eyed togetherness and reflection. Apparently, though, it could be worse -- and it will be a week from Sunday, when a consortium of that includes turds like Hagar the Horrible and Dennis the Menace will unite to commemorate the tenth anniversary of 9/11.

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​If you thought banning books on the basis that they fail to fall in line with the teachings of Jesus Christ was a thing of the past, then consider yourself unstuck in time: A couple of weeks ago, a school board in Republic, MO, voted to remove copies of Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five -- literary favorite of every 14-year-old whose mind it's ever blown -- from its libraries, at the urging of local University of Missouri professor and humorless turd Wesley Scroggins, whose very name makes him sound like an asshole. Seems Scroggins took offense to the book's crude language and portrayal of the Lord. And while it's somewhat shocking that a university professor could be so intellectually repressive, what's more shocking is that the school board went along with it. Unanimously.

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Back on the shit?

​Every time I go to the doctor's office, it's the same old story: I show up on time for the appointment I've made in advance and then wait for two hours, during which they make sure I'm going to pay them and provide six-month-old gossip magazines for me to read. Then they tell me they don't really know what's wrong with me -- it could be a number of things, but they don't really know -- and that there's probably nothing they can do for it but see if it gets worse, and then they send me home to hope my insurance will actually pay out. But before I go, they always take a few minutes to let me know I should quit smoking, as if they're doing me some kind of fucking favor.

What I'm saying is, Michael Douglas, I know where you're at.

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Clever disguise, Waldo, but we know it's you.

​Waldo came and disappeared from the Arhaus Furniture store in Boulder back in April, but he wasn't done yet; since then, a stencil of the famously elusive children's cartoon character has been popping up in several hard-to-spot locations all over Boulder, steadily attracting the attention of Boulder blogger Blempgorf and, earlier this week, the Boulder Daily Camera's Heath Urie. Now, it seems, he's also attracted the attention of Boulder Public Works, and he may not last much longer.

Photos by Brandon Marshall.

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Dude, even grandma is freaked out.

​In "the Internet is getting more terrifying everyday" news, Google recently bought facial recognition technology company PittPatt. This kind of snappy identification application isn't new by any means, but the creep factor definitely got kicked up a notch when Google (which has probably farmed and aggregated more personal information about you than you know about yourself) bought into it. The company said something nice about privacy being a concern before it considers applying the technology to its Google Goggles app, but as we all (should) know by now, nothing on the Internet is private.

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That's right, Newsweek.

​Few could have anticipated a decade or two ago, when I was a kid growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan, what kind of toll the decline of the Big Three automakers would take on the whole state; back then, it was a solidly middle-class and blue-collar place to be from, a place where people held solid, secure factory jobs that would support a family and a two-car garage (my mom actually worked as a seamstress in a GM plant for a while after my parents divorced). Times have changed.

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