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You've had a long week, kids, and you've earned your Friday treat: It's time for Blue States Lose, where we sort through the galleries of fucked-up hipsters at The Cobrasnake, Last Night's Party, Misshapes and Ambrel so you don't have to. Then we bring you our 10 favorites each Friday. After the jump, Joey Arak brings you the eye-bleeding magic.

So Misshapes moved to a bigger venue to host the likes of Jessica Alba and charge $10 per head. Strange, yes, but here's the Last Night's Party Blog Moment of the Week (from Dec. 14th) to keep our heads screwed on straight:

A nice Argentinian woman really loved the idea of LastNightsParty and remarked how she thought the idea was so new, and how they didn't really have anything like that in her country. Spike and I were hungry so we reluctantly shared a double cheese burger meal while he complained about McDonalds always smelling like sweet urine.

Ah, that's refreshing. Now, enough tomfoolery. On to the list.

10) Last Night's Party. Orange Pills photo #3530: Have you ever heard Joanna Newsome? Well, of course you've "heard" her, but have you ever put aside everything every blogger has told you to think about her and just forced yourself to sit in a chair for 10 minutes straight and listen to her? She sounds like a 10-year-old slightly retarded Bjork. Who the fuck seriously likes that shit? Ooooooooh, now we get it.

9) Last Night's Party. Orange Pills photo #3302: This really isn't a Don't, per se, it's just so bizarre we had to put it on here to call attention to it. Did you know that Stretch Armstrong got awful tattoos and enrolled at SVA? It's weird, but, like, at least he has some sort of direction in life now, you know?

8) Misshapes. Dec. 10, 2005 photo #031: Can we officially put the kabosh on the whole sword/dagger/blade necklace charm trend? It's one thing when Leotard Fantastic decides to dangle a butcher's knife from a chain (when we all know he hasn't swallowed a sausage since Madonna's third comeback, right? RIGHT?!), but when Ben Stiller Disco Perv hops aboard the bandwagon, it's time to jump off, you dig? It's almost reaching bandana-around-the-neck or shooting-the-hipster-photographer-the-bird type epidemic levels. As a matter of fact, as we speak, Harvard Medical scientists are holed up in a lab working 24/7 to develop a vaccine that will make giant pussies stop believing that they're tough.

7) Misshapes. Dec. 10, 2005 photo #102: If there was a short bus Transformer, this is what it would look like when it converted to its human form.

6) Misshapes. Dec. 10, 2005 photo #113: No, we don't think you get it, Henry. When you wear that arsenal around your waist, it totally weighs your pants down and accidentally exposes your...oh. That's not an accident, is it? You knew it all along, didn't you? That's, uh...yeah. Seriously, that's just mean, dude.

5) Misshapes. Dec. 10, 2005 photo #164: Talk about meta: it's a picture of a Don't holding a picture of a Don't. You know when you're in a fun house and you go into that room filled with all those mirrors facing each other and it looks like the reflection just goes on for infinity? It's just like that, but instead of looking at yourself, you're looking at living shit given breath and a spirit by some vengeful God. Talk about a mindfuck.

4) Misshapes. Dec. 10, 2005 photo #127: We're not saying that we've been wondering what Death would look like if he was a gay man with a Southern belle fetish and a penchant for fanning himself while exclaiming, "Why I never!," but we are saying that we think we've figured out why Republicans hate fags.

3) Last Night's Party. Orange Pills photo #3509: Why hello there, chap! You caught me by surprise, you did! I was just spit-shining me boot straps and whistling a little ditty to get me ready to go out and sell the papes all day. Tell me mum I'll be ready for porridge in two shakes, I will! Roight!

2) Last Night's Party. "Kill Whitie" photo #3019: What was Blackface Jesus up to this week? Oh, not much. Just hanging out at Williamsburg's Kill Whitie party. Yup. Blackface Jesus was hanging out at a party called Kill Whitie. Honestly, can this horrible, worthless world end already? This is so fucking depressing. We know that BJ said the asteroider, astroidis hitting in seven years, but that's not nearly soon enough. This is really killing us. This guy is out there somewhere in New York. He pays rent on an apartment and has some form of employment (we assume). He probably leads a relatively normal life, but then at night he fucking PUTS ON BLACKFACE AND DRESSES UP LIKE JESUS AND WHIPS HIS DONG AROUND, and people just stand by and let him do this. Are the douchebags at these fucking places so vacuous and insipid that they don't see anything wrong with this? There's even a dude standing right next to him in this picture, wearing a bandana around his neck, of course. What is he thinking? How awesome Blackface Jesus's statement is? Goddamn it! Ugh. Is anybody else mad about this? BLACKFACE JESUS, WE HATE YOU. Please stop. Really. We're not trying to be jokey or stupid or anything. From the bottom of our hearts, we just. want. you. to. stop. The end.

1) Last Night's Party. "Kill Whitie" photo #3509: There's a valuable lesson to be learned here, children. He's got some funny ideas, but when you throw them all together like that, it's just too busy. Keep it simple, stupid. It's the same with comedy. You can tell a joke about a retard, a cripple, a crack baby or an AIDS patient, but if you tell a joke about a retarded cripple crack baby with AIDS, it's not funny, it's just sad. The audience gets bummed out. At some point you gotta make the call between the sleeveless denim, the ironic moustache, the muffs and the novelty T-shirt. You can't do them all at once, lest you come out looking like something the girl on the left pulled from her vagina after a particularly randy night out.