By B
Grade: A

Two years ago, the Universal Review sprung, fully formed, from the wise and Zeus-like skulls of myself and Emily. For awhile, it was a good thing. We reviewed stuff, had a grand time, and got along great. Then a bunch of things happened, and the UR was killed off, never to be seen again. Call it laziness or call it infanticide—take your pick. Just make sure that, no matter how angry or unhappy with your life you may be, you never, ever, ever, ever shake a baby.

Months passed, and became a year and more months. Our weird, deformed love/hate-child was gone for good. OR SO IT SEEMED.

Our lives went on. Emily and I both took the opportunity to “take some Me Time.” There was much eating of chocolate and a certain amount of bathing in lavender-scented oils. (In separate apartments.) We exfoliated and discovered that, just as Dr. Hauschka promised, the new layer of skin was softer, more supple, and so much better than before! Time made us bolder. Raffles got older. We got older too. Grant this one last backslide into my old ways, and I promise never to quote Stevie again. (Fingers crossed.)

Emily and Henry left Greenpoint and moved into an electronic noise collective in Schenectady. Emily got her tattoos removed with state-of-the-art laser surgery and took up firedancing. Me, I took a personality test in Times Square one day, and FLUNKED! That’s right: my personality was just plain bad without Scientology. So I hit my parents up for the money, took a few Dianetics classes, and learned to fly a 30’s era Lockheed Electra. I felt more complete at cruising altitude, with L Ron Hubbard by my side. Then, one day, I looked in the mirror. Instead of my reflection, I saw Emily staring back at me, fingers pressed against the glass, with a doleful, longing expression on her face. This had to be a sign!

And indeed it was. Because something truly amazing had happened. We’d thought that the UR was dead forever. We had mourned its loss, moved on, and even-- in my case-- gotten married and adopted a small (but spunky) Korean child. But a few weeks ago, I got a call from a team of scientists who had been receiving unusual energy readings from out in Queens, and, with the help of a team of scuba divers and paranormal investigators, had made an astonishing discovery. Miraculously, it turned out that, all this time, the Universal Review had been alive after all—lying dormant somewhere at the bottom of Jamaica Bay, and being kept perky by a powerful and mysterious energy cocoon!

Well! Three weeks later, after a little bit of technical tweaking, the Universal Review is back and better than before, aside from a few unfortunate but ultimately negligible losses. It’s unclear right now how often we will be updating the site, but the archives are mostly all here. If you are new to the UR, you can read our mission statement and our history, to find out WHAT IT IS ALL ABOUT.

I'm going to put a greatest hits page up soon, but in the meantime, here is a selection of our choicest old reviews:

DIET COKE by Emily
COURTNEY LOVE'S NEW ALBUM by B
THE LOBBY OF 190 EAST 7th STREET by Normandy
COMMERCE BANK by Alice
KENYON COLLEGE by Emily
LIZ PHAIR 2.0 by B
TROY by B
ADRIANA RIP by Emily
GAY PRIDE by B
SAD SONGS by B
GREENPOINT AVENUE BUMS by Emily
BRAIN DRUGS by Emily
QUIET PAD WRAPPERS by Emily
STARTING OVER SEASON 2 by B

I have to tell you that being reborn is amazing. The last few years have been rejuvenating and educational, and Emily and I are finally back in fighting form. I fully recommend the whole messy process to all of our readers. And if you sometimes find yourself wondering, like I used to, if the modern "prisons without bars" system is doomed to failure, I urge you to follow Xenu to this lifechanging link.