If you are alone in Disney World, you’ll never forget it. Even if you can ignore all of the families that surround you, even if you manage to miss the couples walking hand-in-hand through the park, you will always be aware of your singledom because you are constantly compelled to disclose it to the state authorities of the Magic Kingdom. On every ride, at every mechanical attraction, your status is interrogated before you sit down. And when the operator asks how many are in your party, you have to say—out loud—one.

Rock of Ages is so stacked with clichés and tropes that it feels like a comprehensive overview of American mythology, as dictated by pop culture. Set in a backdrop of L.A. that looks very much like a backdrop, the film tells a story about an aging rock star attempting to resurrect his career. By the end of the film, he's done so, courtesy of American pop culture's most relevant song of the past decade — Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'." As sung by Tom Cruise.

For sale for $4500 on eBay: A six-foot terra cotta flower planter shaped like Rick Perry's head. A Texas fertilizer company created Governor Goodhair's chia pet alter-ego during the 2010 gubernatorial election. Cow Wow Liquid Compost also created a chia bust of Perry's opponent Bill White. They then held an "election" to see which "head of state" had better "hair."

Dynasty divas Krystal and Alexis Carrington got turned into plastic Barbie miniatures to celebrate the show's 30th anniversary. We can't wait to get them both so we can reenact their famous fights. [Image via Pacific Coast News]

Contra Condi, it turns out anybody could have predicted that people would take an airplane and slam it into the World Trade Center. First it was advertisers, now writer Susie Felber shares her 9/11-predicting mug collection, purchased in "downtown Manhattan the week after 9.11.2001." It's almost too sick to imagine, but has anyone measured sales of WTC snow globes since 2001? We heard all the beanie babies in tower 7 were evacuated on 9/10. [Felber's Frolics, Previously]

There's a totally insane assault on Brooklyn writers—yes, nearly all of them! Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss and even the Brooklyn writers who actually live in Manhattan, such as Ben Kunkel—in the Autumn issue of the American Scholar. It's notable for the sheer intensity of its hatred.