The old school Gang Starr, a positive rap album with respect for the elders, but most notable for that "DJ Premier In Deep Concentration" track, again making me want to point out to the one-and-a-half people who might accidentally read this on their laptop while donating white blood cells that motherfuckin' rap albums need the DJ tracks, but fucks ain't even got DJs anymore. Or a DJ is somebody from the Clue school of DJ-ing where you just put exclusive shit on a mixtape (ironically, only done on CD anymore) and yell your name over the background so as to fuck the song up if anybody wanted to make their own mixtape with that track. DJs is confused. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to lay down some cardboard and pop and lock to my heart's contention out there by the goat pen in the back yard, BECAUSE I'M AN OLD SCHOOL DUDE WHO'S A COLD FOOL, DOO! Ain't no joking, nor misrepresentation, because I'm a motherfucker who'll take a mouthful of Pop Rocks and Pepsi, do a windmill but spin out into an upright position just in time to kung fu kick my goddamned goat named Kerouac who's about to headbutt my spinning ass fooled ass. Might not have attained mind over matter, nor man over machine, but I can kick a motherfuckin' goat in the ribs and make him back up. And after all, isn't that what hip hop's all about?
RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.
Tuesday, October 10
#43 RAP TAPES: No More Mr. Nice Guy
The old school Gang Starr, a positive rap album with respect for the elders, but most notable for that "DJ Premier In Deep Concentration" track, again making me want to point out to the one-and-a-half people who might accidentally read this on their laptop while donating white blood cells that motherfuckin' rap albums need the DJ tracks, but fucks ain't even got DJs anymore. Or a DJ is somebody from the Clue school of DJ-ing where you just put exclusive shit on a mixtape (ironically, only done on CD anymore) and yell your name over the background so as to fuck the song up if anybody wanted to make their own mixtape with that track. DJs is confused. Oh well, I guess I'll just have to lay down some cardboard and pop and lock to my heart's contention out there by the goat pen in the back yard, BECAUSE I'M AN OLD SCHOOL DUDE WHO'S A COLD FOOL, DOO! Ain't no joking, nor misrepresentation, because I'm a motherfucker who'll take a mouthful of Pop Rocks and Pepsi, do a windmill but spin out into an upright position just in time to kung fu kick my goddamned goat named Kerouac who's about to headbutt my spinning ass fooled ass. Might not have attained mind over matter, nor man over machine, but I can kick a motherfuckin' goat in the ribs and make him back up. And after all, isn't that what hip hop's all about?
Monday, October 9
LMOTM: Hector Garza & Damian 666 & Mr. Aguila vs. Universo 2000 & Tarzan Boy & Rey Bucanero - 05/06/06 Lucha on Gala
I love the lucha libre. You see a lot of lucha respect in American indies, but they tend to concentrate on the artsy-fartsy crazy characters and fliptastic styles. The great thing about lucha libre is that it's folk art rather than urban art school college art, and there's a down-home feel to lucha that the lucha-inspired indies have yet to capture.
The deal here is Universo Dos Mil beat Halloween in a hair match, using what looked to be a piledriver, but the ref ruled it that Halloween hit his shoulders. We have Universo talking shit with a scowl before this trios match, with Halloween being pushed around in a wheelchair with neckbrace and leg cast by Damian, who is in full evil make-up and street clothes. The skull of Melissa would be proud. When I first started getting the lucha libre weekly back when I had a satellite tracking machine shooting television waves into my brainwashing box, much to the joy of Homeland Security types, I could not stand them there Dynamite Brothers. And I still don't care much for Cien Caras or Mascara Ano Dos Mil, but Universo Dos Mil started growing on me pretty hard about the time he put Perro Aguayo out of official commission. And now that he looks like a pockmarked evil drunk Mexican heel without his mask, it's even better. And you know, you have to love the fact that in the year 2006, with all the scientific breakthroughs in medicine and structural rehab of skeletons, the piledriver is still sold as motherfuckin' chump ass evil in Mexico. I am not a scientific type; in fact, I'd say fuck science, as it's not half as smart as it thinks it might be. There are things that cannot be explained, like Que Monito or hermaphrodites or furries or Reggie Roby, and science will come up with some half-assed explanation to try and put it all in its proper place, but it doesn't work. This is why I like the religious aspects of wrestling as opposed to techincal analysis, because religion doesn't give you a half-assed explanation, it just accepts the fact there's shit you could never explain and THAT'S THE MAGIC of whatever it is you're getting religified about. Sometimes, I hate wrestling so much because I've been polluted by the poisons of over-analysis. Usually, when this feeling overwhelms me, I'll take a couple hydrocodones with a corked bottle of cabernet sauvignon, something warm for my gut and slow for my bloodstream, and pop in an old Sabu videotape or watch more lucha that my man Ed Turtle continually sends me even though I've sent him nothing but broken promises for like two years. (Actually, that's why I started in May of lucha on gala, because I'm determined to work my way through all this lovely stuff more than just having it on the background while I carve retarded educated redneck haiku into soapstone with a Dremel.)
If someone promised me 51 lucha ring girls in some sort of fake-heaven after I martinized myself, I'd probably try to kill some godless Americans, too. Pooch bellies and fake titties never looked so good. Hector Garza's mustache makes me think further of fake-heavens and the recent passing of Antonio Pena and I'm sure if there is a for-real Heaven, no religion's for-real Heaven would exclude a mad genius businessman like Antonio Pena, and I'm sure in Heaven, the midgets and women work for free, the young wrestlers are more than glad to sign the rights away to their gimmick, and the muscular guys love wearing thongs. Heels fuck up the faces for a visually spiffy three men splitting apart the legs of two men to flip them over into a menage-a-cinco Boston crab fairly fast for the cheap first fall victory.
I guess everybody in this match is actually rudo, just like the real world. Tarzan Boy doesn't look nearly as roided up as I remember him. Now, Damian and then Aguila both had CAPITAN! Universo Dos Mil pinned in this second fall, but pull him up to make him suffer, just like their podna Halloween has suffered, sitting up there on the entrance ramp in his neckbrace, wheelchair, and doo-rag. Damian 666 does one of them new-fangled invertebreaker-breaker moves that would far more easily paralyze a man than a piledriver for the second fall win. This is Mexico, and the crowd appropriately boos, and without irony, but a man also draws caricatures ringside while an infant wears a Mistico stocking hat.
Rubber stamp caida starts with Universo Dos Mil wanting him and Damian 666 one-on-one, to settle some old festering bullshit, which ends in some crowd-pumping kicks to Damian's ribs. I guess Los Perros Del Mal are more rudo than regular rudo. And I gotta tell you, if you had said to me in like 2001, "Yo Raven, you know Hector Garza is gonna look far gayer than he does now, and in an even more disturbing mistaking-power-for-sex type way," I would've said bullshit, because his AAA gyrations of 2001 were enough to bother even me, the amazing two-bearded man. But damned if he doesn't, with his thicker physique and creepy blonde hair and weird Magnum P.I. as filtered through the Rio Grande mustache, look even more creepily homosexual than he did back then. (For those who think I automatically associate gay with creepy, I'd like to explain my barometer for wholesome homosexuality is Larry and Laban, two guys who had crocheted witches in their kitchen on a Roanoke-based PBS cooking show that was the greatest show a stoned teenager could ever want to watch while staying home from school for the fourth time in two weeks. It's where I learned to make peanut butter pie, and no, that's not a euphemism for something homosexually kama sutric.) Bucanero does a ringside drop toehold on Garza into the fans in the front row, and it just doesn't seem that devastating if Garza is acting like he's gonna lose five teeth but the dude he got dropped against is leaning on his wife's shoulder and laughing. Third fall highspots lead to just Garza and Tarzan Boy in the ring, and Garza gets down on his knees with one hand behind his back for the handshake, in the third fall. You gotta love lucha. Ends up with Tarzan almost getting pinned by Garza but Universo, ever the resourceful old fighter, throws a beer in the face of Garza which leads to his match-deciding pin, because alcohol stings his memory, as it was the drunken abuse of his father at a young age that has caused him to unhealthily search for approval, albeit through sexual avenues, from older men.
The deal here is Universo Dos Mil beat Halloween in a hair match, using what looked to be a piledriver, but the ref ruled it that Halloween hit his shoulders. We have Universo talking shit with a scowl before this trios match, with Halloween being pushed around in a wheelchair with neckbrace and leg cast by Damian, who is in full evil make-up and street clothes. The skull of Melissa would be proud. When I first started getting the lucha libre weekly back when I had a satellite tracking machine shooting television waves into my brainwashing box, much to the joy of Homeland Security types, I could not stand them there Dynamite Brothers. And I still don't care much for Cien Caras or Mascara Ano Dos Mil, but Universo Dos Mil started growing on me pretty hard about the time he put Perro Aguayo out of official commission. And now that he looks like a pockmarked evil drunk Mexican heel without his mask, it's even better. And you know, you have to love the fact that in the year 2006, with all the scientific breakthroughs in medicine and structural rehab of skeletons, the piledriver is still sold as motherfuckin' chump ass evil in Mexico. I am not a scientific type; in fact, I'd say fuck science, as it's not half as smart as it thinks it might be. There are things that cannot be explained, like Que Monito or hermaphrodites or furries or Reggie Roby, and science will come up with some half-assed explanation to try and put it all in its proper place, but it doesn't work. This is why I like the religious aspects of wrestling as opposed to techincal analysis, because religion doesn't give you a half-assed explanation, it just accepts the fact there's shit you could never explain and THAT'S THE MAGIC of whatever it is you're getting religified about. Sometimes, I hate wrestling so much because I've been polluted by the poisons of over-analysis. Usually, when this feeling overwhelms me, I'll take a couple hydrocodones with a corked bottle of cabernet sauvignon, something warm for my gut and slow for my bloodstream, and pop in an old Sabu videotape or watch more lucha that my man Ed Turtle continually sends me even though I've sent him nothing but broken promises for like two years. (Actually, that's why I started in May of lucha on gala, because I'm determined to work my way through all this lovely stuff more than just having it on the background while I carve retarded educated redneck haiku into soapstone with a Dremel.)
If someone promised me 51 lucha ring girls in some sort of fake-heaven after I martinized myself, I'd probably try to kill some godless Americans, too. Pooch bellies and fake titties never looked so good. Hector Garza's mustache makes me think further of fake-heavens and the recent passing of Antonio Pena and I'm sure if there is a for-real Heaven, no religion's for-real Heaven would exclude a mad genius businessman like Antonio Pena, and I'm sure in Heaven, the midgets and women work for free, the young wrestlers are more than glad to sign the rights away to their gimmick, and the muscular guys love wearing thongs. Heels fuck up the faces for a visually spiffy three men splitting apart the legs of two men to flip them over into a menage-a-cinco Boston crab fairly fast for the cheap first fall victory.
I guess everybody in this match is actually rudo, just like the real world. Tarzan Boy doesn't look nearly as roided up as I remember him. Now, Damian and then Aguila both had CAPITAN! Universo Dos Mil pinned in this second fall, but pull him up to make him suffer, just like their podna Halloween has suffered, sitting up there on the entrance ramp in his neckbrace, wheelchair, and doo-rag. Damian 666 does one of them new-fangled invertebreaker-breaker moves that would far more easily paralyze a man than a piledriver for the second fall win. This is Mexico, and the crowd appropriately boos, and without irony, but a man also draws caricatures ringside while an infant wears a Mistico stocking hat.
Rubber stamp caida starts with Universo Dos Mil wanting him and Damian 666 one-on-one, to settle some old festering bullshit, which ends in some crowd-pumping kicks to Damian's ribs. I guess Los Perros Del Mal are more rudo than regular rudo. And I gotta tell you, if you had said to me in like 2001, "Yo Raven, you know Hector Garza is gonna look far gayer than he does now, and in an even more disturbing mistaking-power-for-sex type way," I would've said bullshit, because his AAA gyrations of 2001 were enough to bother even me, the amazing two-bearded man. But damned if he doesn't, with his thicker physique and creepy blonde hair and weird Magnum P.I. as filtered through the Rio Grande mustache, look even more creepily homosexual than he did back then. (For those who think I automatically associate gay with creepy, I'd like to explain my barometer for wholesome homosexuality is Larry and Laban, two guys who had crocheted witches in their kitchen on a Roanoke-based PBS cooking show that was the greatest show a stoned teenager could ever want to watch while staying home from school for the fourth time in two weeks. It's where I learned to make peanut butter pie, and no, that's not a euphemism for something homosexually kama sutric.) Bucanero does a ringside drop toehold on Garza into the fans in the front row, and it just doesn't seem that devastating if Garza is acting like he's gonna lose five teeth but the dude he got dropped against is leaning on his wife's shoulder and laughing. Third fall highspots lead to just Garza and Tarzan Boy in the ring, and Garza gets down on his knees with one hand behind his back for the handshake, in the third fall. You gotta love lucha. Ends up with Tarzan almost getting pinned by Garza but Universo, ever the resourceful old fighter, throws a beer in the face of Garza which leads to his match-deciding pin, because alcohol stings his memory, as it was the drunken abuse of his father at a young age that has caused him to unhealthily search for approval, albeit through sexual avenues, from older men.
USMOTM: The Boogalou Crew vs. Air Paris & John Phoenix - circa fall 1999
My man Lee down in Florida sent me an Air Paris comp called Suicidal Tendencies, which is fitting because Air Paris was a high-flying fliptard in Wildside about the same time A.J. Styles broke his Wal-Martinized Christian ass onto the scene, yet while one followed the path layed out by the lord, including dodging locker room politics and feeding his body the necessary supplements to survive and thrive in the prefessional wrestling industry, Air Paris turned out to be a dirtbag junkie who'd blow his advance money when he could still get some in truck stop bathrooms shooting up. But fake God and fake Satan are a western yin and yang, needing each other to perpetuate their individual industries, so Air Paris deserves some recognition. And anyways, he might be clean and sober now. HAHAHA, that's funny. Heroin junkies are to cleaning up like wrestlers are to retiring.
I think the Boogalou Crew is Scottie Wrenn and J.C. Dazz, and I also think Scottie Wrenn is that dude who caught himself on fire on that one Wildside tape I watched way back in the day. I never knew how fucked that was until I was at the Wildside Arena one time - an old church-looking shit-ass building in the middle of a field not really near anything too much of a note, although the country store across the road sold boiled peanuts. I'd like to see some of that NWA Anarchy nonsense that supplanted Wildside once Bill Behrens became a TNA person of importance. You don't hear much about it on the world wide weezy and eye-dubya-see, so I figure it's probably good shit that would draw black kids and old drunken racists and paraplegic epileptics with Down's syndrome, who all get real loud and boisterous enough to sometimes make the laptop-luggers not feel as comfortable.
This match, however, is not very good, and to be the first match on a best of comp... that doesn't bode well. They do mention on commentary how Dragon Dan Wilson's great uncle is Gypsy Joe, which is just one more reason to love Dragon Dan Wilson. I don't have many regrets in my life, but I passed up the chance to drive a car through West Virginia with the car full of Gypsy Joe and Necro Butcher to go to Delaware for some CZW thing. Instead I was gonna go to a demolition derby in western Pennsylvania, but the timing chain in my car went out a quarter mile from my house, so we drove my boy's car instead who was going with, and he would not have been stoked to drive his shitty Saturn hatchback with the busted muffler and half-missing fender through West Virginia to stuff a couple of freaks like Necro and Gypsy Joe into the back to go to the Truck Stop State... actually, he probably would've loved that. Oh well, it's better to regret something you didn't do than to get locked up somewhere you don't know anybody to call.
J.C. Dazz looks like he'd be a volunteer fireman, which makes this match an even more perfectly southern indie match. Oh man, Dazz has been getting whooped for a while, gets caught in an Air Paris sleeperhold, but with the crowd rallying behind him, HE REVERSES MOMENTUM DURING IRISH WHIP DUCKAGE... to slap on a sleeperhold of his own. The crowd goes sort of wildish out of respect. Doesn't last long as Dazz is your wifebeater-wearing crewcut-sporting Ricky Morton in this local TV southern tag match formula. John Phoenix misses a corkscrew reverse senton-looking thing, landing on his hip-hopbone, and then Air Paris gets dropped on his shoulders but like it's his neck, and their third buddy outside the ring gets powerbombed, so hopefully this means the hot tag to Scottie Wrenn and we can all get on with our lives. Oh no... Scottie Wrenn is so excited he accidentally clotheslines the ref, and even though the Boogalou Crew hits their finisher (a rip-off of the Dudleyz 3-D), their mortal enemies for the upcoming seasonally featured card come out and do damage and cause the Boogalou Crew to lose a non-title television match-up to an upstart tag team. Will injustice know no limits?
I think the Boogalou Crew is Scottie Wrenn and J.C. Dazz, and I also think Scottie Wrenn is that dude who caught himself on fire on that one Wildside tape I watched way back in the day. I never knew how fucked that was until I was at the Wildside Arena one time - an old church-looking shit-ass building in the middle of a field not really near anything too much of a note, although the country store across the road sold boiled peanuts. I'd like to see some of that NWA Anarchy nonsense that supplanted Wildside once Bill Behrens became a TNA person of importance. You don't hear much about it on the world wide weezy and eye-dubya-see, so I figure it's probably good shit that would draw black kids and old drunken racists and paraplegic epileptics with Down's syndrome, who all get real loud and boisterous enough to sometimes make the laptop-luggers not feel as comfortable.
This match, however, is not very good, and to be the first match on a best of comp... that doesn't bode well. They do mention on commentary how Dragon Dan Wilson's great uncle is Gypsy Joe, which is just one more reason to love Dragon Dan Wilson. I don't have many regrets in my life, but I passed up the chance to drive a car through West Virginia with the car full of Gypsy Joe and Necro Butcher to go to Delaware for some CZW thing. Instead I was gonna go to a demolition derby in western Pennsylvania, but the timing chain in my car went out a quarter mile from my house, so we drove my boy's car instead who was going with, and he would not have been stoked to drive his shitty Saturn hatchback with the busted muffler and half-missing fender through West Virginia to stuff a couple of freaks like Necro and Gypsy Joe into the back to go to the Truck Stop State... actually, he probably would've loved that. Oh well, it's better to regret something you didn't do than to get locked up somewhere you don't know anybody to call.
J.C. Dazz looks like he'd be a volunteer fireman, which makes this match an even more perfectly southern indie match. Oh man, Dazz has been getting whooped for a while, gets caught in an Air Paris sleeperhold, but with the crowd rallying behind him, HE REVERSES MOMENTUM DURING IRISH WHIP DUCKAGE... to slap on a sleeperhold of his own. The crowd goes sort of wildish out of respect. Doesn't last long as Dazz is your wifebeater-wearing crewcut-sporting Ricky Morton in this local TV southern tag match formula. John Phoenix misses a corkscrew reverse senton-looking thing, landing on his hip-hopbone, and then Air Paris gets dropped on his shoulders but like it's his neck, and their third buddy outside the ring gets powerbombed, so hopefully this means the hot tag to Scottie Wrenn and we can all get on with our lives. Oh no... Scottie Wrenn is so excited he accidentally clotheslines the ref, and even though the Boogalou Crew hits their finisher (a rip-off of the Dudleyz 3-D), their mortal enemies for the upcoming seasonally featured card come out and do damage and cause the Boogalou Crew to lose a non-title television match-up to an upstart tag team. Will injustice know no limits?
JMOTM: Magnitude Kishiwada & Don Fujii & Naruki Doi & Masato Yoshino vs. Magnum TOKYO & Super Shisa & King Shisa & Katsuhiko Nakajima - 12/26/05
Dean sends me shit and sends me shit, attempting to feed me the quality puro, but you can't feed a man a kobe steak who'd rather suck on a bottle of cheap wine. I have always had cultural blocks against the puro, and this is purely an internal thing as opposed to a prejudice of any sort. I think in words as opposed to images like what probably most folks do, pretty much reworking anything and everything I experience during the day into words, for better or worse, most of which never sees the light past my stream of consciousness. Shit, I even tend to masturbate to forum letters as opposed to the pictorials. So for me, knowing no Japanese, it makes it hard to experience the puro without becoming frustrated with my own mental make-up's inability to process what I'm watching in a way I enjoy. Luckily, I never really started watching lucha until after I had a perfunctory amount of both book-sense and jobsite Spanish to make it far easier to digest.
But I will try again. Dean sent me a bunch of shit, and then even told me what matches I should motherfuckin' watch with my ignorant ass, and this match from a Dragongate show was one of the ones he bolded up in his email to me. Isn't Dragongate the one with all the gay shit? I certainly hope so, because the best wrestling I've ever seen is definitely some gay shit.
Fuckin' Black Crowes music and a bunch of freak indy rock looking Japs... this'll probably be right up my alley, as more than even wrestling, I am a huge mark for stupid shit. And Chris Robinson's New Earth Mud CD is the best hippie music that's been made in the last ten years, far better than all that jam band bullshit that's supposed to be Grateful Dead v3.0. And people follow that shit like it's a real band nowadays, following shit like Disco Biscuits and the shitty-ass String Cheese Incident. If there is a worse band than the String Cheese Incident on this planet earth, then I haven't had seven different misguided humans attempt to explain to me for far too long how great they are.
Ahh... weird techno-prog mood music in the dark with fans holding glow sticks and some strange voice-over the P.A. system... this is motherfuckin' wrestling. But again I am forced to ask myself, has anything ever synthesized been rockin'? I think not. Once the weird voice-over stops and someone sings, it sounds more like creepy anime music. The local community college-funded station used to have this show on Fridays from noon to two where the chick played all anime music and even would tell the time and weather from Tokyo... people like that freak me the fuck out and would have no second chance for life were I the Idi Amin of central Virginia post-apocalypse splintering apart of America.
Whoa, there's a troupe of girls in colorful masks dancing a very generic hip hop dance in the ring as the second team in this match-up enters... that would make for much better MTV-style TV than a couple of shitty brass pole hugging haggards with fake tits rolling around in g-strings, which is what I usually see in the 'merican wrasslin'. Oh, this is Magnum TOKYO's dance entourage, and HE DOES THE DANCE ROUTINE TOO, which makes him automatically the best wrestling I've seen in the last three months (of course, I haven't watched shit), and also has him expending more energy before the match even starts than most everybody of what I saw on the shitty fake ECW by WWE divid I got from stupid Netflix last month. Using him as the knowledge base of his team, I can deduct who the two Shisas are (assuming the one with the burly bearded black mask is King and not Super), and then figure out Nakajima.
The other team will not be so easy, and they are carrying fuckin' workout equipment, which I find upsetting. I know Magnitude Kishiwada is the masked dude, but the other three are just three well-sculpted, fit-looking, wrestling Japanese fuckers, so bear with me as I figure it out. Oh yeah, introductions... I got 'em all pegged now, and was correct in my distinguishment of a man who is a masked king and one who is merely super.
ALL HELL HAS BROKE LOOSE - IN EIGHT-MAN FORM! Magnum and Fujii trade forearms in front of some bleachers, and Doi and Nakajima are the dudes left in the ring during intial melee. Super lucha-based international grappling, with Magnum TOKYO sitting in the crowd watching the match. What a joker that Magnum TOKYO character is. The Yoshino kid looks about sixteen and is a couple of stacks of pancakes lighter than everybody else, but he runs through spots like a man who enjoys methamphetamine style commercial drinks. And I can't help but love Don Fujii as he looks like a member of Sha-na-na, but with an oriental face. Beyond his mask, Super Shisa is not very fuckin' good for the most part, although I gain love for him as they have a lengthy four-on-one segment with him as the one having the other team attempt to crack as many of his ribs as they can. AND YET, STILL HE KICKS OUT! Shisa must be Japanese for indestructible viking cat. King Shisa, a much Chinese buffetier indestructible viking cat, gets involved to help his Super counterpart out of a jam, which ends in double topes to the floor, and if the lucha libre has taught me one thing over the years, it is that there is nothing grander than a fat dude in a mask diving errantly into another man from a platform about three feet higher than him.
Magnum TOKYO gyrates his pleather-concealed penis in Doi's face before hitting a top rope hurricanrana, and the crowd goes into the normal Pavlovian squeals of delight. I never understood the thinking behind this... "OH SHIT, YO! Look at Magnum act like he's rubbing his dick in that other dude's grill... that shit is so awesome." I guess it all relates to the whole "suck my dick" derogatory retort, which I don't use because what if somebody said, "sure"? Then I'd have to get over my feelings of guilt at letting another man fellate me while being married. At least the first time that happened to me, I wasn't attached, though the feeling of scratchy face around succulent lips has always bothered me, because sensually, those two things don't match up in the preconceptions of my mind. However, like my dad taught me, so long as I don't touch a penis, I'm not being gay.
Yoshino hits a sweet missile dropkick which he angles like a double thrust of foot from the sky into the face of Super Shisa, who is earning his money during this match if not for nothing more than being the whipping boy. King Shisa is like a thousand times better than Super Shisa, which may be a metric conversion of sorts that I don't know about, since I am an ignorant American. And one who likes the men who what does the fake fightings to boot. Super Shisa even does some lucha-style spinning around the body of your opponent type stuff in slower speed than you'd expect, making even that look more forced and faker than usual. Maybe Shisa actually translates as slow motion alien life form. Aww, stupid Super Shisa gets kicked in the beard in his mask and pinned to cause shameful defeat for his team. I had fun with King Shisa, Magnitude Kishiwada, and Don Fujii, and if you'll pay for another date, Chuck Woolery, I'd love to see them again.
But I will try again. Dean sent me a bunch of shit, and then even told me what matches I should motherfuckin' watch with my ignorant ass, and this match from a Dragongate show was one of the ones he bolded up in his email to me. Isn't Dragongate the one with all the gay shit? I certainly hope so, because the best wrestling I've ever seen is definitely some gay shit.
Fuckin' Black Crowes music and a bunch of freak indy rock looking Japs... this'll probably be right up my alley, as more than even wrestling, I am a huge mark for stupid shit. And Chris Robinson's New Earth Mud CD is the best hippie music that's been made in the last ten years, far better than all that jam band bullshit that's supposed to be Grateful Dead v3.0. And people follow that shit like it's a real band nowadays, following shit like Disco Biscuits and the shitty-ass String Cheese Incident. If there is a worse band than the String Cheese Incident on this planet earth, then I haven't had seven different misguided humans attempt to explain to me for far too long how great they are.
Ahh... weird techno-prog mood music in the dark with fans holding glow sticks and some strange voice-over the P.A. system... this is motherfuckin' wrestling. But again I am forced to ask myself, has anything ever synthesized been rockin'? I think not. Once the weird voice-over stops and someone sings, it sounds more like creepy anime music. The local community college-funded station used to have this show on Fridays from noon to two where the chick played all anime music and even would tell the time and weather from Tokyo... people like that freak me the fuck out and would have no second chance for life were I the Idi Amin of central Virginia post-apocalypse splintering apart of America.
Whoa, there's a troupe of girls in colorful masks dancing a very generic hip hop dance in the ring as the second team in this match-up enters... that would make for much better MTV-style TV than a couple of shitty brass pole hugging haggards with fake tits rolling around in g-strings, which is what I usually see in the 'merican wrasslin'. Oh, this is Magnum TOKYO's dance entourage, and HE DOES THE DANCE ROUTINE TOO, which makes him automatically the best wrestling I've seen in the last three months (of course, I haven't watched shit), and also has him expending more energy before the match even starts than most everybody of what I saw on the shitty fake ECW by WWE divid I got from stupid Netflix last month. Using him as the knowledge base of his team, I can deduct who the two Shisas are (assuming the one with the burly bearded black mask is King and not Super), and then figure out Nakajima.
The other team will not be so easy, and they are carrying fuckin' workout equipment, which I find upsetting. I know Magnitude Kishiwada is the masked dude, but the other three are just three well-sculpted, fit-looking, wrestling Japanese fuckers, so bear with me as I figure it out. Oh yeah, introductions... I got 'em all pegged now, and was correct in my distinguishment of a man who is a masked king and one who is merely super.
ALL HELL HAS BROKE LOOSE - IN EIGHT-MAN FORM! Magnum and Fujii trade forearms in front of some bleachers, and Doi and Nakajima are the dudes left in the ring during intial melee. Super lucha-based international grappling, with Magnum TOKYO sitting in the crowd watching the match. What a joker that Magnum TOKYO character is. The Yoshino kid looks about sixteen and is a couple of stacks of pancakes lighter than everybody else, but he runs through spots like a man who enjoys methamphetamine style commercial drinks. And I can't help but love Don Fujii as he looks like a member of Sha-na-na, but with an oriental face. Beyond his mask, Super Shisa is not very fuckin' good for the most part, although I gain love for him as they have a lengthy four-on-one segment with him as the one having the other team attempt to crack as many of his ribs as they can. AND YET, STILL HE KICKS OUT! Shisa must be Japanese for indestructible viking cat. King Shisa, a much Chinese buffetier indestructible viking cat, gets involved to help his Super counterpart out of a jam, which ends in double topes to the floor, and if the lucha libre has taught me one thing over the years, it is that there is nothing grander than a fat dude in a mask diving errantly into another man from a platform about three feet higher than him.
Magnum TOKYO gyrates his pleather-concealed penis in Doi's face before hitting a top rope hurricanrana, and the crowd goes into the normal Pavlovian squeals of delight. I never understood the thinking behind this... "OH SHIT, YO! Look at Magnum act like he's rubbing his dick in that other dude's grill... that shit is so awesome." I guess it all relates to the whole "suck my dick" derogatory retort, which I don't use because what if somebody said, "sure"? Then I'd have to get over my feelings of guilt at letting another man fellate me while being married. At least the first time that happened to me, I wasn't attached, though the feeling of scratchy face around succulent lips has always bothered me, because sensually, those two things don't match up in the preconceptions of my mind. However, like my dad taught me, so long as I don't touch a penis, I'm not being gay.
Yoshino hits a sweet missile dropkick which he angles like a double thrust of foot from the sky into the face of Super Shisa, who is earning his money during this match if not for nothing more than being the whipping boy. King Shisa is like a thousand times better than Super Shisa, which may be a metric conversion of sorts that I don't know about, since I am an ignorant American. And one who likes the men who what does the fake fightings to boot. Super Shisa even does some lucha-style spinning around the body of your opponent type stuff in slower speed than you'd expect, making even that look more forced and faker than usual. Maybe Shisa actually translates as slow motion alien life form. Aww, stupid Super Shisa gets kicked in the beard in his mask and pinned to cause shameful defeat for his team. I had fun with King Shisa, Magnitude Kishiwada, and Don Fujii, and if you'll pay for another date, Chuck Woolery, I'd love to see them again.
#97 SLOW-MOWED SINGLES: Punks Jump Up To Get Beat Down
I remember somebody making a big stink on some internet thing I read a while back about how this song is terrible because of its homophobia and violence... whatever. I guess the moral of my opinion on this is, you could probably make a song about stomping on babies while shooting guns at my mom, but if you had a couple of dudes with more-than-serviceable flows do it over top of a Diamond D beat, I'd probably bump that shit. The gem on this single is the B-side remix, also by Diamond D, where he drops a verse, and goes a little more crazy with those Rocky theme horns he barely samples for the original version. Good shit. I'd put it up on one of those places you fucks steal/share everybody's shit on, but I ain't down with it. I can accept the black man's music as the good shit, but not the robot man's mechanisms as the necessary shit. Plus, I live in the country... I dial 9 on a 28 oz. tomato can with some coaxial plugged into the bottom to get on the world wide weezy.
#44 RAP TAPES: Daily Operation
I call bullshit on this countdown. I don't know what I did wrong, but this ain't right. Daily Operation is, for me, one of the best rap albums ever, and it doesn't seem to get as highly touted as some later Gang Starr records. But this, to me, is Premier and Guru's best work, for each individually, as well as a pair. Shit, this record was so damned good it tricked people into thinking Jeru the Damaja was awesome, me included. There's either some really good shit still to come, or I was drunk at some point during the tape vs. tape showdowns for this to fall this low.
Wrestling Match of the Moment
So I'd like to get back into the stupid habit of watching grown men pretend to fight each other in a pseudo-sexual battle of conquest, and what better place than the internet - where anyone can put their thoughts into a pre-packaged website machine, let it sit there, and pretend more than two people care. It gives us the validation that sitting in front of a screen robs from us. I still have a few peeps who send me shit on the divid robot drink coaster things, and they seem to play on my robot machine here, so what I'll probably do is alternate between a Lucha Match of the Moment (LMOTM), Jap Match of the Moment (JMOTM), and 'Merican Match of the Moment (USMOTM), and try to work through these stupid divids that I'm not gonna save, so maybe I'll send them to you, for nothing other than to burden you with unnecessary material clutter. And it's match of the moment because the chances of me doing this shit with any regularity are about the same as me showing up for work on Monday mornings with any regularity. And I didn't work but two hours this morning.
Don't expect much if you run across these or they end up in the DVDVRs, because I am not smart, don't know shit about half the shit you know so much about, and I also like girls. Real ones, not gothic ones with myspaces. They just don't like me so much. Which is why I watch wrestling. Plus, I'm married. To another guy, because wrestling fans are fags. Vote no on defining marriage in Virginia on whatever day they do that voting thing.
Don't expect much if you run across these or they end up in the DVDVRs, because I am not smart, don't know shit about half the shit you know so much about, and I also like girls. Real ones, not gothic ones with myspaces. They just don't like me so much. Which is why I watch wrestling. Plus, I'm married. To another guy, because wrestling fans are fags. Vote no on defining marriage in Virginia on whatever day they do that voting thing.
Sunday, October 8
#98 SLOW-MOWED SINGLES: Ever So Clear
This is like one of my favorite beats ever, but it didn't show so well in this stupid thing I'm doing, mostly because the B-side "Call Me Crazy" is a little too corny gangsta midget style shit, which of itself would be fine and dandy - I mean, this is Rap-a-Lot Records - but as a B-side to the weirdly personal and introspective "Ever So Clear", it doesn't jibe right good-like.
#45 RAP TAPES: Muggs Presents... The Soul Assassins Chapter 1
If side B could have been as good as the side A Goodie Mobb/Wu/Cypress mixture, this tape would be slamming all the way through. Side B drifts off though. When I saw GZA and Muggs last year, the night GZA preached over silence and crickets chirping about some bullshit for like 25 minutes and ruined hip hop for me for like a month, Muggs' set on the turntables was fun as shit. DJs have become even more of an afterthought than they used to be, because I've seen DJs basically just hook up ipods and play their instrumentals that way, without once looking for a record (not even scrolling their stupid ipods), and that's even if a guy has a DJ. Muggs' beats have always been that soul 7-inch dug nonsense that Shadow and Cut Chemist have better exploited amongst the intelligentsia backpacker set. There's a second tape to this concept, but I ain't heard it, and unless somebody tells me it's the greatest shit ever, I don't know if I ever will.
Saturday, October 7
CM NET CLASSICS: Dr. Scientific
[Man, I used to love some Dr. Scientific bullshit. I remember telling Boomer the whole thing was made up and he got mad at me. Everybody wants to believe there's some drunk-ass Miyagi-like hillbilly mechanic at the crossroads dropping knowledge instead of racism.]
QUESTION: White sugar? Evil product of The Man? Corruptor of the little chilluns and destroyer of dental work? Martyred-by-the-hippies-and-dieticians modern version of natural foodstuffs? Neutral substance, having no inherenet "goodness" or "badness" with both positive and negative aspects, to be used and/or abused like anything else (i.e. marijuana reefer, alcohol, video games, petrol)? – Reverend Axl Future
ANSWER: I remember some dude in jail laying it out to me one time about sugar and shit. He was one of those weird dudes with a big tattoo of the pyramid with the eye from off of dollar bills across his chest, with wings wrapped in barbed wire. The way he explained it was, those old days when like England and Spain and China and all were sailing to find America, you know, we're always told it was for spices. But just like that song about girls being made of "sugar and spice, and everything nice," spices was just a way of covering up for the search for more sugar. Before they had refined sugar, there were kingdoms with strong-arm rulers who would lop your head off if you didn't follow their rules. But then refined sugar came along, and they gave it to the rich for a while, to build it up as a luxury in the minds of the people. Then they came out with the refined sugar in mass quantities for everyone. Pretty much anything that's refined, whether it's drugs, sugar, or some guy in one of those jackets with the funny elbow patch like Welcome Back Kotter, refined shit sucks. Either take it raw or don't take it at all, is what I say. Anyhow, when they found those islands, they found a shitload of sugarcane, too. So they tried to enslave the locals and make them work to produce all kinds of sugar for the new fiends back home. Didn't work, so they imported black folk. This is where they got the idea for slavery, out of the need to have fuckers work for free (this is why sugar is so cheap to this day). Anyways, the effects of sugar are that they weaken your ability to resist. Think about how high sugar diets make you fat and slow. This works mentally as well as physically. Thus, the Kingdoms, which were obviously just some fucker making you do what he said, gave way in a subtle switch to things like now, where we elect from a panel of the same type of fucker. It's just like a shitty King, except we think we have a choice, and we don't wanna resist cuz we're full of Kool-Aid and Reese's Cups. This dude in jail also told me something that freaked me out, too. Notice the strategic spreading out of candy-heavy holidays - Valentine's Day in Feb., Easter in April, ice cream man in the summertime, Halloween in October, and a stocking full of candy on Xmas. It's fucked-up, they get kids hooked on it by the time they're four, and it's all over from there. I only drink white liquor to avoid the sugars in brown liquor. Then again, I get my liquor from my cousin who makes it with potatoes anyways.
QUESTION: Why do some days feel longer than others? – Angie Not-At-Work
ANSWER: It's all in the drugs you do. You could do crank all weekend long and it could feel like 3 hours, until you come down. The next day after coming down, usually Tuesday when you think you'd better not call in sick to work two days in a row again, that shit is long as hell, and you're sweating and sucking down iced tea and taking breaks left and right, and you look at the clock and it's not even 11 yet. Lots of folks drink coffee as their drug to get through the work week, and they'll come down off the coffee buzz and things will slow down. It's the same withdrawal, just a different level than a weekend of crank. Same as with, like when you kick it with some chick in a hotel room all weekend, and you start to feel all happy cuz she's knew to you and doesn't yet complain about the drinking and shit, and you're laying there watching the World's Strongest Man on the cable TV and stroking her hair while she sleeps and she looks beautiful, not just in a ready-to-fuck-her-again beautiful way, but more of a let's go out to breakfast in the morning sort of way. Then, when you send her home and you go home and yall are gonna get up again, but you're at home by yourself on Sunday night trying to wind down from the weekend, and you think about dumb shit like that mole on her left tittie and how she smiles with her mouth pouting and all, you're in withdrawal. Withdrawal sucks. I prefer to use it all up, whether it's drugs, alcohol, or loving a chick. Use it up till it is all gone or tired of you and ready to leave. Then you fill that space with something else. That way all days are about the same, just different.
QUESTION: Do cloned animals (and in the future, humans) have souls? – Southern Fried Brent
ANSWER: I had a kid by this one chick that I was all in love with, and when she was pregnant, we stopped drinking and cussing around her belly, because we figured that the baby in there could vibe on that shit. We had a little girl, and she's just about the sweetest thing I've ever known. Even when she was little, she had that about her, long before her mom could teach her anything like how to be sweet. And it was all because of how we baked her in the oven, the oven being her mama's belly. This also explains why crack babies are fucked up and can't pay attention. From seeing this, I gotta think that cloned animals are gonna be screwed up in ways we can't really explain. I don't know if I'd call it soulless, because there's a difference between good/evil and soulless. Evil people are souls gone astray. And the soulless just kind of don't care one way or the other about anything. They're like androids in a 12-step program called life, they check off each one as they go and learn how to do things from magazines. Maybe these clones will just be more astray, and harder to pull in, cuz they wouldn't have the benefit of all that loving heat while they were baking in the oven. It'd be kind of like having a me who never got to sit on his uncle Ricky's knee and listen to him talk stories and learn. He'd just be some other me, running around, without bad tattoos.
QUESTION: So, why, for real, did General Lee surrender to General Grant at Appomattox Court House so many years ago? I realize we were getting our asses kicked pretty badly, but really? Did it help black folks, or were they just pawns in the game? – St. John the Pabstist
ANSWER: I grew up near that area, and here's the deal. High Bridge runs through Rice, which is near Saylor's Creek where the last battle was fought. The South was waiting for High Bridge to bring supplies. The Yankees took over both ends of the bridge and was gonna blow it up. The South ran, but they didn't have food, bullets, nothing really. The Yankees were catching up, and basically gonna murder them all, so Robert E. Lee let it be know they would surrender at Appomattox, since that was the closest courthouse they were near to, so that there wouldn't be an unfair bloodshed of the Yankees just shooting non-bullet having starving Southerners. A buddy of my uncle lived in a house near High Bridge that used to be a War of Northern Aggression Hospital, you had to ride along the railroad tracks to get to it. That was one creepy-ass place. I used to just play in the yard, I didn't like the house. As for blacks, yeah, it's obvious it helped black people immensely, because now they're mostly in jail instead of working real hard in a field where it's hot. They get to lift weights in jail, and fuck white guys up the ass. They couldn't do that when they were slaves.
QUESTION: Why do flies follow me on the way home from work when I walk along the pipeline? There must be about 30 flies on my back while I'm walking. I work in the butcher section of a supermarket. – Romo Gracie
ANSWER: You ever seen all the goddamned flies on a cow at a beef farm? Like hundreds and hundreds, and that big dumbass cow just stands there, flicking that weird brown tail around, acting like that helps. Well, the flies are sucking the blood out of the cow. I'm sure if flies have those weird thousand eyeball things on their little head, they got a pretty good nose, too. So they know what cow blood smells like. You work around that all day. That's why they're on your back. And there you go, walking along the pipeline, swatting at them with your weird arms, acting like that helps. We really ain't no better than any other animal. We just spend more time cooking other animals in oddball ways, using spices and fire and all sorts of unnecessary shit like that.
QUESTION: Why do all Armenian men seem vaguely homosexual? – Professor Todd K. Fabe
ANSWER: Armenians suck, more than any other type of person on Earth. I worked for two Armenian boys who had a painting company for like a year. They sucked. I think they seem homosexual because in Armenia, the television shows are all disco-style American sitcoms, just made nowadays by Armenians. So they all think having their shirt unbuttoned and wearing some weird gold chain is cool. And they talk in lots of cliches that regular men gave up on like 20 years ago and fags use because fags are all into retro stuff, even the sayings and all.
QUESTION: Explain why it is that the doctors grab your nuts and have you cough for a physical? – Long-haired Bryon
ANSWER: I never let them do that. A job that requires some dude grabbing my balls ain't no job for me. I don't even like my PO standing there while I piss during my visits so's I don't take out a little shampoo bottle that I heated up before I left the house, to use as my sample, and timing it so the temperature falls at just the right temperature so they think it's real.
QUESTION: How come Italians assimilate into rural southern areas so well (compared to Yankee immigrants)? – Buck Necked
ANSWER: I didn't know they did. I always looked at Italians as Yankees, just like regular Yankees and Puerto Ricans, too. They all have that weird curly black hair and get Tasmanian Devil tattoos and call coke "yay" and call stuff "wicked". And when they smoke those blunts, they still get all mean and yell "fuck" at people. When I smoke one of those blunts, it's just like a joint, I usually chill the fuck out and try to enjoy it. I'm not trying to start no fight with anybody. See, that's the problem with Yankees is they're always starting shit. And they don't know how to fuckin' be polite. They'll play poker on a Friday night, and go up like forty bucks, and there's still four other guys sitting there trying to win some money back, and the Yankee will just get up, with his beer still half-full, and leave for the night so he can win forty bucks. They just don't understand how things are.
QUESTION: Why can you close a bottle of Coke easily, but the next day your girlfriend can't get it open with a pair of pliers? – St. John the Pabstist
ANSWER: Women are weak. And they talk too much.
QUESTION: Why do the trivial and often stupid whims of women control our every moment? – Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: Because no matter how weak they are, and how much they talk, they've got that goddamned thing between their legs. And we want some of that. We want a lot of that. We want all of that we can get. My ol' lady asked me if we really thought about sex all the time, men, that is. And I told her that I could come home, flip the car over in the yard by accident, and have my legbone sticking out my skin like Joe Theismann, thrown fifty feet through the windshield, and if she came over wearing that blue tanktop she wears and leaned over to check on me, and I was scoping her titties, I'd be ready to fuck right there, as long as she didn't bump my legbone too much.
QUESTION: What in the fuck compels people to pull on a door repeatedly after the initial pull revealed the fucking door was locked? Is it that they didnt pull hard enough the first time or do they think that bitch will magically open for them on the 5th or 6th yank? – Mr. Wrestling 69
ANSWER: As human beings, we've been so conditioned with all those bullshit "Dominion over the Earth" crap, that we think our brains are better than anything, even our own bodies. Your door example is just like watching some dude try to open a jar of pickles. They refuse to believe they can't make themselves open it, since it's just an object without a God-ordained brain like themself. And it's funny watching them struggle with the reality that they can't overrule everything. A good thing to do with a new guy on a paint crew is caulk, not white caulk but that clear thick silicone shit that dries in like 10 minutes, caulk his 5-way to the floor of the work van and laugh your ass off watching him from the top of the ladder. People think they're so smart.
QUESTION: Why does the headstone for Elvis at Graceland spell is middle name Aron with only 1 "A" instead of 2 "A"s as it is in his legal middle name? – Zucheo Trashe
ANSWER: Graceland is in Memphis, which is in Tennessee, which is full of ignorant fucks who get excited about Wal-Mart. They don't have time to check the spelling on tombstones because they might miss out on some super Dale Earnhardt memorabilia on the Nascar show on the Home Shopping Network.
QUESTION: Is there a such thing as ghosts? For real. - Mike DIKK
ANSWER: Hell yeah, there's ghosts everywhere. But I used to date this crazy chick who's Grandma was some wild Navajo medicine woman or some shit, and this crazy chick explained it to me like this - ghosts are not the evil demons you see in bullshit Hollywood flicks all the time. They're just folks who died and didn't know they died because it was unexpected. This is why you tend to see ghosts at murder scenes and battlefields and mental hospitals and shit like that. They just weren't expecting to die. So their spirit kind of just hangs out. This chick told me all you have to do is say "It's time for you to move on" and they'll realize they're supposed to split and they'll head off to that great big Ghostland in the Sky. I didn't really believe her until I moved into this old house down some railroad tracks that was a Civil War hospital back in the day. I had stripped all the plaster off the walls and was trying to redo the place, but it felt creepy as shit. I burned some sage (another helpful trick from the crazy chick's Navajo grandma) and kept the lights on at night and all kinds of shit, but it still felt weird, and the mirrors I got from the fair when I worked there would all fall off the wall and shit all the time. Then I remembered what Dawn (that was the crazy chick) had told me, and I just would say "It's time for you to move on" whenver I felt all weirded out or the Diver Down mirror fell off the shelf. After a few weeks, the place seemed cool and nothing more happened. I accidentally burned the place down one night when I was doing angel dust, but that's another story altogether.
QUESTION: I want a gas mask in case we're attacked, but I'm broke. How can I make a gas mask from household products? - Piper
ANSWER: Take some charcoal that you'd use for cooking out and all, put it in a pillowcase and smash it right good with a hammer. This will give you plenty of charcoal dust if you smash like say, 20 briquets. Then what you do is take you an old shampoo bottle and poke holes in the bottom of it with a the thickest sewing needle you can find in the house. Put about 3 inches worth of cotton balls in the shampoo bottle at the bottom, then pour about an inch or two of the charcoal dust in the bottle on top of that. Then what you do is cut off the top part of a 3-liter bottle of soda. Usually, all you can get in the 3-liter size is generic shit, but that's cool. I drink the hell out of Dr. Chek from Winn-Dixie, so it's cool. You cut the top off, then you caulk or superglue or epoxy the top of the shampoo bottle to the pour spout of the soda bottle, leaving the big end open. You can cut up a handkerchief to fit around the edge of the open part and duct tape it on there for a cushion. That part goes up against your mouth and nose, and I usually just tape it around my head with some duct tape. If you're trying to fight chemical fumes, you ain't gonna worry about some of your hair ripping out when you pull the duct tape back off. I'd suggest making like 4 or 5 of these things, so that you can run into the bathroom real quick and switch them when they stop working, which you'll be able to tell because you'll start smelling weird chemical shit like you were riding through Jersey.
QUESTION: I had a teacher in 7th grade who swore up and down that if you were trapped without water that you could drink you own urine, and it would continuously cycle through your body and eventually would be filtered so many times by your inner organs that it would eventually be 100% clean. This obviously bullshit....... isn't it? If it's true why don't we all drink our piss? - Harpo Garza
ANSWER: I'm sick and tired of hearing people say teachers should get paid more and they are so important. You're average teacher is a stoner trying to ogle young kids. They will tell you all kinds of dumb shit just to see if you'll believe it. Don't give it another thought. If your intuition makes you think drinking your own piss is bullshit, then go with that. You're probably smarter than some pervert teaching 7th grade anyway.
QUESTION: Is it really better to burn out than to fade away? I mean, really, take someone like Stevie Wonder. Back in the 70s, he was putting out some kickass tunes. Next thing you know, he's dueting with Babyface. - Isaac Shepherd
ANSWER: I don't know. I've always thought that burning out and fading away were pretty much the same thing, just burning out made you stupid in the brain and you would always tell the same story, while fading away meant you slowed down and kept your brain relatively intact, but were still a dumbass who didn't party anymore. I think it's better to just die while you're still cool. As for Stevie Wonder, I remember one time this college chick I was dating when I lived in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, we did acid together and listened to Stevie Wonder's Innervisions and got naked and just rubbed each other for like 6 hours. There was nothing sexual about it all, we were just fucked up and rubbing each other naked forever and listening to that record over and over. That's what Stevie Wonder makes me think of. And thinking of that makes me think about how I got that girl pregnant and instead of helping her out, I just moved down to Panama City, Florida, with my uncle. Now that was a party town.
QUESTION: Do you think anybody ever called Steve Miller "the gangster of love" or "the space cowboy" as he claims in his song "The Joker"? - Frisco Robby D
ANSWER: People really underestimate Steve Miller's importance and contributions to society. I know his Greatest Hits is kind of cliche to you younger folks, but Steve Miller, at one point, was the fuckin' shit. They had a live Steve Miller Band concert on syndicated TV back in the days, this was before Pay-Per-Views and all. Me and some buddies all got together and got high and drunk and hooked the stereo up to the TV and just vibed. You ever heard his old shit? You're goddamn right people called him the gangster of love and the space cowboy. Steve Miller is a fuckin' prophet that the man homogenized into a Greatest Hits CD to eternally push in the Columbia House 13 CDs for 2 bucks ads. Fuck that. Go dig out the full-length original LP sermons by Steve Miller and you'll realize that motherfucker is everything he says he is, and more. Steve Miller, motherfuckers. You best to understand it now.
QUESTION: Why are men attracted to large-breasted womenfolk? - Andrewbulous
ANSWER: Large-breasted women indicate engorged breasts, full of titty milk for a baby. This suggest fertility. And this is what any man is looking for. He may deny it, but deep down in the pure animal nature of his soul, he wants a fertile woman to fill with a baby. Men have always dug the large-breasted women. Oddly enough, women, or probably doctors looking to make a buck, noticed this, and created the breast implant. This is an abomination against nature. You ever notice when you watch a porn flick, how breast implants are so obvious because they don't bounce? This is because they're not natural. Gravity doesn't want to fuck with them. They just sit there, like plastic blocks on a bitch's chest. Breast implants are evil, and a trick meant to confuse man's natural desires to make children and continue the race of mankind. The worst is you see some big-titted chick, and they're fake, and she's got some skinny little ass that would never be able to handle a baby. C-sections are like breast implants, abominations. If you can't squeeze it out between your thighs, then you weren't meant to have a kid. It's the law of natural selection. I read about that shit in the ol' lady's Reader's Digest last month. And then somebody told me they heard this company just made something called a Wonderbum, which squeezes a chick's ass into fleshy cheeks and separates them, to create the illusion of a fat-ass on a shitty-assed woman. Fuck all this. Mankind will die quickly because we're breeding too many humans that would've quickly died out in a more natural world. By them living, the chances of them spreading their disease to us increases by a shitload. People don't understand that death is a self-defense mechanism for us humans as a whole. By allowing the weak to live through medicine and shit, we allow their diseases to infest the rest of us.
QUESTION: Why does my dog always stink, even right after a bath? - Clever Star
ANSWER: Some dogs aren't meant to smell good. They're meant to go live out in the country and let them out and never let them back in unless it's gonna get below freezing overnight, and even then you only let them in the kitchen.
QUESTION: What's the best remedy for a hang over? Or better yet, how can you avoid a hang over? - The JZA
ANSWER: Usually, a hang over is a headache, which is your mind. Mind over matter is the answer. Tell your mind not to hurt, not after it hurts, but before you drink. It's like raising a kid, getting drunk is. If you tell it from the get-go it's gonna be good and have a good time and not start hurting you for no reason, it won't. But if you just let it do whatever it wants to do, then it will fuck you up in the long run. As for remedying a hangover, the best thing I've found is tomato juice. If regular tomato juice doesn't work, try adding vodka to it. Drink like two of those, but don't put no fuckin' celery stick in it like rich folks at the type of country club Jerry Clower would make fun of. After two of those, if your head still hurts a little, start mixing beer with the tomato juice. If your head is hurting a lot after drinking on a regular basis, then you can just start mixing your beer with tomato juice when you drink in the first place instead of waiting till the morning. Some people call it "sending a boy to do a man's job," but I find it very beneficial and pleasing. Add a little garlic powder to it, too; that shit tastes awesome.
QUESTION: My dad asked me to go along with him and my mom to witness him take a lie detector test. He says it is going to be conducted by the same outfit that gives lie detector tests to people who want to be a police officer, supposedly very rigorous and accurate. What I want to know is, how accurate are these things? And then what do I do if the accuracy points toward guilt? - Stationary Tornado
ANSWER: Lie detectors are a tool of the man to put people in jail. They have never been accurate. Look at his eyes. This is the window to the Soul, and will reveal all truths. He may be able to coat those eyes with lies for your mother, since she's probably someone he wants to beat but can't because of stupid man-made laws. But he won't be able to hide the truth in his eyes from you, his son. Unless you're some kind of faggot who's disappointed him. Then he might just lump you in with your mom as someone he wants to beat but can't because of man-made laws. If that's the case, I'd suggest telling him to put some pennies under his tongue because you heard that helps screw up the lie detector test. Or chew up a stick of gum with the foil still on it. I'm not sure if either of these actually work, because I usually run from the cops until I wreck, but it will certainly be funny to you to watch your old man do dumb shit to try and pass a lie detector test. And if he's guilty, fuck it, we're all guilty. He's your fuckin' dad.
QUESTION: Why do guys always have sex on their minds and just wanna squeeze the mammaries? - Old Milwaukee Mike
ANSWER: Because sex is good. You could be happily married to the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life, and you'd still want to bone some half-ugly chick at work because she wore leather pants. It's because we are men and we want every little kid on Earth to look half like us. Conquering the World through genetics. The best thing we could do against these damn towelheads is just send a pack of dudes over there and fuck the shit out of all those damn women running around with nothing but their eyes showing. I heard that those chicks wear like go-go shorts and fishnets and shit under those clothes. We go over there and lick the clit and give 'em all a good fucking, and those Arab fuckers won't have a homeland to try and attain anymore. Shit, they throw acid in chicks' faces. I'd just hit 'em from behind while reaching around and flicking they're clit with forefinger. Or leaning back and sticking the tip of my thumb up their ass. Which do you think they'd like, burning acid in the face or a sexy tattoed thumb up their ass? You're goddamned right.
QUESTION: My old lady wants to get me a cell phone. And unless I can hit Stan Lane in the head with it to win the Southern tag straps, I don’t want it. So how do I get her not to get me one without pissing her off? (Note: she ain’t Southern, so she don’t listen to me too well.) – from Big Stoner Creek
ANSWER: Explain to her that, one, cellphones use microwave rays that cause brain cancer; and, two, if you two were to ever be forced to take the law into your own hands for anything, and happened to have to talk to anybody about anything regarding the lawlessness on the phone, the authorities don’t need a permit from a corrupt judge to tap your lines on a cell phone. It’s radio waves, therefore public domain. This dude I know has a high frequency scanner and can pick up cell phone conversations and he lives in a medium-sized city. So he tapes phone sex conversations because there’s like 5 chumps in the tenement building he lives who call those numbers all the time, and they have cell phones only since they use their phone line for downloading porn on the internet. He makes Best of Phone Sex tapes for some of us. They’re kind of like amateur porn, you wish it was you doing it instead, but there’s enough moaning and shit to help you masturbate.
QUESTION: Why are yawns so goddamned contagious? – from Brent
ANSWER: Very simple. Your brain needs oxygen to keep working and shit. When you’re tired, your brain is lacking in oxygen, and the brain cells start to slack off. A yawn is a natural reaction where the mind subconsciously makes the mouth suck in some air for the brain cells. It keeps you awake better. However, as a subconscious reaction to fatigue, if you are near someone who yawns, your brain might subconsciously discover that its brain cells are needing some oxygen too, so you’ll yawn as well. This is why when you choke some bitch who wronged you on some crank sometimes, and you don’t let go fast enough, she gets brain damage. Those brain cells need oxygen, but you cut off just enough to kill part of her brain. It’s kind of neat when you think about it.
QUESTION: How do we go to sleep? I mean, what mechanism switches us from awake to asleep? – from Andrewbulous
ANSWER: Oddly enough, it’s not related at all to the question above. Everything is two things – that yin and yang shit I got tattooed on my chest. We’ve got good days and bad days, good thoughts and bad thoughts, not necessarily opposing crap, but together make up everything. Some older biker dude explained the whole Jackie Chan yin/yang thing to me in jail one time. Anyways, your waking mind is all a dream anyway, but we accept it as reality because we go to school during our waking mind, so they train us to think that this is the correct mind. This is all so we work hard and produce manufactured goods that we somehow warp ourselves into thinking we need a whole lot, thus keeping us busy all the time (at least 40 hours a week), and in debt trying to get more dumb shit, so that those in power can keep on molesting children and making new rules to make sure they still have more points than us at the end of the game. When you sleep, you’re complementary mind kicks in and that’s why you have weird ass dreams about shit like Vikings drinking cough syrup and hippie girls taking their skirts off. But you see, those are delusional realites because we occupy our waking mind with bullshit all the time. It’s like when you do crank for like 6 days straight, with no sleep. After the first day or so, you’re really tired, you can feel it underneath the high. You know you should sleep and your body needs it, but it just can’t. Eventually, like into the third or fourth day, you start really thinking weird shit, weirder than your normal, “Man, I’d like to fuck my uncle’s new girlfriend” type shit. Really oddball Fred Flintstone with that little alien guy talking to him shit. That’s when the two complementary mind states meld into one. This is good. Fuck the so-called real world, with all the thankless work for low wages and bullshit material objects giving our minds hard-ons. Bling-Bling of the brain. Fuck that. You stay awake, whether you do drugs that make you stay awake or you cultivate that shell-shocked veteran mentality, you do yourself and society a service. Status quo’s “delusions” are revolutionary mentality kicking in and swinging the pendulum of yin/yang balance back towards the perfect median. Right now they’ve got the shit held all the way to the left yang position, where when you think crazy thoughts, you go get a prescription of xanax or prozac or something to keep yourself in mall mode. So what I’m saying, in regards to the question, is fuck sleep. Sleep is the cousin of death.
QUESTION: What is the relationship between rednecks and wiggers? How did it happen? – from Boomer
ANSWER: This is something close to my heart and soul. I’ve got some young nephews who come round the shop now and then, and they’re always blasting that goddamned rap music. But they’re racist as shit, too. Now, I’ve been to jail enough to know you get along by not forcing the issue. I don’t have any problems with black folks, but I don’t necessarily bust up in the middle of a pack of black guys and make partners for a Spades game on Saturday night. Anyways, black folks play with that weird shit where the 2 of Spades is high trump. I’m from the Big and Little Joker school myself. But anyways, these nephews of mine, they play Ja Rule and Lil Wayne all fuckin’ day long, but they’ll be sitting on the old bench seats outside the shop and start talking “nigger this” and “nigger that”. They’re more racist than any Aryan I was in jail with, even the guy who gave me my Speedy Gonzales tattoo who was in jail for running over 3 black teenagers. That guy at least got ripped off on some weed. My nephews have no reason to be so full of hatred. Anyways, rednecks have always been around. My uncle was a redneck, and he listened to bullshit music I hated. I’d be trying to throw Van Halen II in the tape deck, and he’d bitch and moan and want to play Butterfield Blues Band or some shit. But from Creedence to L.A. Guns is not a long road to travel. My uncle could tolerate the shit I wanted to listen to, or played when he was in my Vega riding to the liquor store to get me and my buddies a couple bottles of Citron Vodka and Jim Beam travelers. And he’d impart his knowledge on me, in between slugs. I remember when I was real young, not even old enough to drive, and he told me, “ya know, women think they have something on us ‘cause they got that thing between their legs.” And I was young, and thinking “yeah, fuck that.” Then he swerved me by adding, “And the damnedest thing about it is they do.” As I got older, his words like that made more and more sense. Every good Southern boy has a crazy uncle who helped make him good, no matter what color that Southern boy is. Anyways, with my nephews, everything changed. There was a rift. I am not gonna ride in their low rider Nissan for 12 miles to the liquor store while they’re bumping Eightball & MGD. Therefore, they don’t get to hear the “women think they have something on us…” bit. They miss out on the continuation of our culture. That’s why these little wigger fuckers run around drinking those Smirnoff drinks and fruity shit like that made for chicks to get drunk on (that’s why they come in 4-packs). So the wigger is basically a directionless redneck. He has no work ethic ‘cause, as a crazy uncle, I ain’t hiring one of my dumbass nephews to help me paint cars here at the shop, because all they’ll do is smoke weed behind the shop and sit out front, which is cool by me, but they’ll expect to get paid for their whole time here. No work ethic. And the wigger lacks the basic respect code older rednecks have. Not because he refuses it so much as he never got it taught to him. Sometimes, I think it’s my duty to teach these youngsters the ways of the World and why shit like David Allan Coe is good even though it ain’t as cool as Guns’n’Roses; but then they say something dumb like, “Yo, I’m gonna bling-bling my ride with the waxer. Cool?” And I get pissed off and don’t wanna tell them shit.
QUESTION: Why do some "men" like to have relations with ladies with skinny asses? I mean, what's the point? – from Reverend Axl Future
ANSWER: At first thought, you could just say "different strokes for different folks". And that is true, but on a much more sinister level. You see, first the media-manipulated brainwashing of the American male to think a gangly slender woman as attractive was the first step. Any poor white fucker, poor Mexican, or poor black guy will tell you, a fat ass is a good ass. Not Jenny Craig fat, but willing to sop up some gravy with a buttermilk biscuit fat. The kind of ass that jiggles in rap videos made in the South. There is a deep-rooted animal instinct involved here. A fatter ass means wider hips, which also means more able to birth offspring. Skinny asses are fragile and more likely to struggle with childbirth, thus skinny assed women are closer to worthless in man's primitive sense. This media manipulation has gone even further, with the common sexual attraction to artifical breast implants. It's gotten so bad that some men prefer large "firm" fake breasts to real, bouncy titties. First off, it's a step in the right direction, as large breasts are indicative of being engorged with milk, which means the mother is breastfeeding, again a sign of fertility. However, large rigid, unmoving implants can look exactly the same in a male body as a female body. It's all part of the homosexualization of the middle class. First we accept, then we encourage it. Eventually, the middle class buffer between poor and rich is removed through lack of procreation, and the poor work like slaves for the rich who no longer need money because they don't have to do shit anyway. I tolerate homosexuality, because sometimes people don't know any better, or as a child, they experienced fucked-up shit. Or they naturally feel inclined to be so, which perhaps is a sign of how chemicals have influenced our mental structure. But I don't encourage homosexuality. I would however, 99 times out of 100, enjoy the company of a gay man more than a skinny-assed woman. Jail will do that to you sometimes.
QUESTION: Why do they sell egg rolls at all country convenience stores? Who the fuck is making these egg rolls? – from 1000 Aliases
ANSWER: All part of the commodification of America. First off, there is a difference between a country store and a convenience store. Country stores have macaroni and cheese and chicken gizzards and fried chicken where you can taste the flour the lady behind the counter battered the chicken in. Convenience stores have frozen food they fried in oil. As rural America becomes more polluted with Food Lions and Wal-Marts, they want things faster and faster. They want ATMs at the gas station. They want a Burger King downtown in their shitty little towns. Thus, country stores, run by mom and pop, are starting to get run by the kids as mom and pop drop dead from cancer and the crippling side effects of a long hard rural life in America. The kids are brainwashed by Garth Brooks CDs and decide change the "kitchen" at the family store into a "deli" with sandwiches and fried foods all made from bags of frozen stuff they got at the Food Lion. Egg rolls is one aspect of this. No self-respecting rural woman in America knows what's in an egg roll, much less how to make one. It is Chun King, plain and simple. Same with the chicken fingers. It makes me sad. Mostly because of the potato wedges. There was a time when the potato wedges were actually wedges of real potatoes that some old lady cut up and shook inside a plastic bag with pepper and flour and cornmeal and a little bit of cayenne, then fried up. Now, they're processed pieces of shit from a plastic bag. That's why they taste like shit, even with hot sauce.
QUESTION: How do people fall in love? – from Mike Dikk
ANSWER: For women, usually you are in the middle of one of your wild unexplainable illogical mood fluctuations, when it goes from bad to good in the company of a cute guy. You mistakenly attach the improvement of your emotions with that guy, and thus you are in love. For men, pussy is always fun. But sometimes, the body with that pussy feels all nice to lay next to in the bed, even when you're not drunk and having sex. And then that body will get up in the morning and be making some potatoes and eggs, blasting Al Green real loud, or maybe Van Morrison, and it's all over. You're in love with the rest of the stuff with the pussy.
QUESTION: How do you feel about the death penalty? – from Angie Not-At-Work
ANSWER: I'm all about killing things that deserve it - a dog that kills chickens, a guy that molests children, politicians. But a government doesn't really do itself any good by killing its own citizens. It breeds contempt and there's always too much room for error. The recent McVeigh execution was a nice smokescreen though. It was the first federal execution in almost twenty years, and one that a majority of the public had been convinced was a good idea. The next federal execution? Sometime next week. The floodgates have been opened. Which was the point. Now not only do renegade Republican states like Texas and Virginia get to kill people, so does the Federal Government as well. So, I'm all for the death penalty if all people get to use it. But if only some people, like the ones in Power, get to use it, it's unjust. Like when you were a kid and your grandma got you and your cousin one of those powder sugar things with the stick you'd lick and put in it to get it covered with colored sugar. They had three to a pack, and your grandma would give your cousin two because she was nine months older than you. That shit was unfair. Thus you make it fair by putting the death penalty on your cousin's pet turtle with the nail polish heart on its shell, by doing a BMX smash off a plywood ramp stuck on a cinderblock. Or at least it seemed fair. Until you realize your grandma was at the clothesline watching. And then she made you go cut a switch to get your ass whipped with. There is a Universal Law, a Karma, a what goes around comes around, that is the Grandma hanging up dungarees on the edges of the Universe. And the American Government can do it's little death penalty all it wants and think there will be no repercussions because it is the highest authority. But one day, it'll have to go cut a switch to get it's own ass whipped with.
QUESTION: If everyone moved to one side of the earth, would it go off-balance? Could we chrome the moon to make it daylight all the time? – from Johnny Rocket
ANSWER: What the fuck are you talking about? Off-balance? Chrome the moon? Look, I suggest you put down the sci-fi novella and take a few deep breaths, go sit on the porch and drink a beer. Look up at the sky, or if you live in a city with pollution in the air and can't see the sky, look at the biggest tree within eyesight. And think about how fun it would be to be laying back in the middle of some field looking up at that sky (or at that tree) and screwing some hot-ass chick. Not masturbatory excitement fantasy type stuff, just a little simple one with the sky having sex outdoors feeling a breast grabbing an ass looking at the moon cool breeze in the air happy perfection. Hopefully, after meditating on this for a few minutes you'll realize chroming the moon is an idiotic and unnecessary thing. There's plenty to do here.
QUESTION: Are ZZ Top and Stevie Ray Vaughan direct descendants of Our Lord And Saviour, Jesus Christ? – from Minister Paul
ANSWER: No. First off, I'm not even sure if Stevie Ray Vaughan is actually good outside of a dingy bar. If you vaccuum the floor and wash all the dishes in the sink and throw out the old beer cans, then play Stevie Ray really loud, you'll see that he kinda sucks. ZZ Top, however, though not direct descendents of the magician you mention, are spiritual in nature. When they have abused drugs heavily to achieve insight into the simple humid nature of Southern life, they tapped a basic understanding of Things that few could hope to achieve on an LP. But the lure of Video Glamour in the '80s prostituted their soul and made them goofy fodder for Puttin' On The Hits. But everything comes around; and their most recent records sound as if Billy Gibbons is not afraid to injest heavy sedatives and alcohol and dream up dirty, shitty, blues. Most white men can understand how to listen to the blues, but mistakenly mimic black man blues in a lame attempt to get laid by 34-year-old women who call blue jeans "dungarees". A white man has to play white man blues, dirty hard-working sweating-in-the-sun driving a shitty Chevrolet about to break down and leaking transmission fluid all over the damn road blues. Billy Gibbons is the King of this.
QUESTION: How come gravity doesn't work right in space? – from King Bladewick
ANSWER: Space is devoid of order, pure chaos, where anything can suddenly happen and everything is beautiful. Gravity holds you down, thus it is called the Law of Gravity. Space is not about Laws; therefore Gravity is confined to planets. It's interesting to note, that of the two planets humans have walked on top of (if the lunar landing didn't occur in a Hollywood studio, as many believe it to have), Earth has the strongest gravity. Earth is the ghetto of the Universe.
QUESTION: How does booze get you drunk? – from Make It All Go Away
ANSWER: Alcohol gets you drunk because alcohol makes your brain molecules bounce around. All drugs do that. Like when you do inhalants – that’s your actual brain cells dying in a batch all at once; that’s why it feels so numbing, but also goes away after a couple of minutes of empty humming in your head. Regarding alcohol, it’s an odd brain molecule fuck-upper, as it varies so much from type to type. Beer makes a patch of brain cells bounce back and forth, methodically. Each additional beer makes more brain cells do this, thus your motor skills slow down. Another example is vodka. As a white liquor, it makes your brain cells bounce back and forth violently, more so than brown liquor. This is why you are more apt to say dumb shit and get in fight when drinking vodka or gin, your brain molecules are bouncing around inside your skull more violently. My personal favorite alcohol, wine, spreads its influence over more individual brain molecules than any other type of alcohol, which is what creates that all-over body buzz feel you get with wine. This also explains why your head hurts so much the next morning, as more brain cells have to get acclimated to normal chill position again. It’s easier for guys to be alcoholics than girls, because we think about sex all the damned time. When you think about sex, your brain cells start multiplying because they’re thinking about procreation. So you can kill all the brain cells you want drinking, huffing gas, smoking reefer, whatever; as long as you think about having sex, it’s okay.
QUESTION: Is it natural to shave your balls? And if so, should you use your girlfriend’s razor and your roommate’s shaving cream? – from Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: It feels good to touch yourself when you have shaved your balls. However, as the little hairs start to grow back out, they itch tremendously, and you know as well as I do that you can’t really scratch your balls everywhere you go. Additionally, it sort of feels like sandpaper on a chick when little hairs are starting to sprout out of your genitals, thus they don’t enjoy sex as much. If you had a coochie, would you want somebody rubbing sandpaper all over it. But to answer your question completely, shaving any part of your body is not natural, male or female; but if you feel the need, then fuck your girlfriend and roommate. Proper attention to your balls are more important than their bullshit materialism.
QUESTION: If you’re constipated, should you drink your own urine? I heard that’s what you do. I also heard some people drink their own urine every morning. – from Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: Piss comes out your body because you do not need it. If you needed to use it, it wouldn’t be piss.
QUESTION: Is it natural to have an aversion to fuckin’ stinky hippies and their offspring? – from Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: Hate is not natural at all, son. Neither is love. Both are emotional attachments man has created because he thinks too goddamned much about things. Sex is natural. Therefore stinky hippies having offspring are better than you (unless you are making offspring as well, then you are equals).
QUESTION: If Jesus, Superman, and David Allan Coe fought, who would win? – from Reverend Axl Future
ANSWER: Well, that’s easy. Jesus and Superman are fictional characters, so there’s no way they could win a fight with an actual tangible human being. However, if you expand this question to include the followers of each, then it gets trickier. Superman fans wouldn’t stand a chance, because they’re either kids or grown men who are soft like kids. This would leave the battle between the followers of Jesus and the followers of David Allan Coe. David Allan Coe’s followers are much more skilled in the art of hand-to-hand combat, and more psychologically prepared to use items found in their natural habitat, like ash trays and 2x4s, as weapons. So they would initially beat down the followers of Jesus, who aren’t as good at brawling. However, Jesus’ followers have more clout with authority figures, and pretty quickly it would be against the law to move about society looking like you might follow David Allan Coe. So you’d go to jail.
QUESTION: White sugar? Evil product of The Man? Corruptor of the little chilluns and destroyer of dental work? Martyred-by-the-hippies-and-dieticians modern version of natural foodstuffs? Neutral substance, having no inherenet "goodness" or "badness" with both positive and negative aspects, to be used and/or abused like anything else (i.e. marijuana reefer, alcohol, video games, petrol)? – Reverend Axl Future
ANSWER: I remember some dude in jail laying it out to me one time about sugar and shit. He was one of those weird dudes with a big tattoo of the pyramid with the eye from off of dollar bills across his chest, with wings wrapped in barbed wire. The way he explained it was, those old days when like England and Spain and China and all were sailing to find America, you know, we're always told it was for spices. But just like that song about girls being made of "sugar and spice, and everything nice," spices was just a way of covering up for the search for more sugar. Before they had refined sugar, there were kingdoms with strong-arm rulers who would lop your head off if you didn't follow their rules. But then refined sugar came along, and they gave it to the rich for a while, to build it up as a luxury in the minds of the people. Then they came out with the refined sugar in mass quantities for everyone. Pretty much anything that's refined, whether it's drugs, sugar, or some guy in one of those jackets with the funny elbow patch like Welcome Back Kotter, refined shit sucks. Either take it raw or don't take it at all, is what I say. Anyhow, when they found those islands, they found a shitload of sugarcane, too. So they tried to enslave the locals and make them work to produce all kinds of sugar for the new fiends back home. Didn't work, so they imported black folk. This is where they got the idea for slavery, out of the need to have fuckers work for free (this is why sugar is so cheap to this day). Anyways, the effects of sugar are that they weaken your ability to resist. Think about how high sugar diets make you fat and slow. This works mentally as well as physically. Thus, the Kingdoms, which were obviously just some fucker making you do what he said, gave way in a subtle switch to things like now, where we elect from a panel of the same type of fucker. It's just like a shitty King, except we think we have a choice, and we don't wanna resist cuz we're full of Kool-Aid and Reese's Cups. This dude in jail also told me something that freaked me out, too. Notice the strategic spreading out of candy-heavy holidays - Valentine's Day in Feb., Easter in April, ice cream man in the summertime, Halloween in October, and a stocking full of candy on Xmas. It's fucked-up, they get kids hooked on it by the time they're four, and it's all over from there. I only drink white liquor to avoid the sugars in brown liquor. Then again, I get my liquor from my cousin who makes it with potatoes anyways.
QUESTION: Why do some days feel longer than others? – Angie Not-At-Work
ANSWER: It's all in the drugs you do. You could do crank all weekend long and it could feel like 3 hours, until you come down. The next day after coming down, usually Tuesday when you think you'd better not call in sick to work two days in a row again, that shit is long as hell, and you're sweating and sucking down iced tea and taking breaks left and right, and you look at the clock and it's not even 11 yet. Lots of folks drink coffee as their drug to get through the work week, and they'll come down off the coffee buzz and things will slow down. It's the same withdrawal, just a different level than a weekend of crank. Same as with, like when you kick it with some chick in a hotel room all weekend, and you start to feel all happy cuz she's knew to you and doesn't yet complain about the drinking and shit, and you're laying there watching the World's Strongest Man on the cable TV and stroking her hair while she sleeps and she looks beautiful, not just in a ready-to-fuck-her-again beautiful way, but more of a let's go out to breakfast in the morning sort of way. Then, when you send her home and you go home and yall are gonna get up again, but you're at home by yourself on Sunday night trying to wind down from the weekend, and you think about dumb shit like that mole on her left tittie and how she smiles with her mouth pouting and all, you're in withdrawal. Withdrawal sucks. I prefer to use it all up, whether it's drugs, alcohol, or loving a chick. Use it up till it is all gone or tired of you and ready to leave. Then you fill that space with something else. That way all days are about the same, just different.
QUESTION: Do cloned animals (and in the future, humans) have souls? – Southern Fried Brent
ANSWER: I had a kid by this one chick that I was all in love with, and when she was pregnant, we stopped drinking and cussing around her belly, because we figured that the baby in there could vibe on that shit. We had a little girl, and she's just about the sweetest thing I've ever known. Even when she was little, she had that about her, long before her mom could teach her anything like how to be sweet. And it was all because of how we baked her in the oven, the oven being her mama's belly. This also explains why crack babies are fucked up and can't pay attention. From seeing this, I gotta think that cloned animals are gonna be screwed up in ways we can't really explain. I don't know if I'd call it soulless, because there's a difference between good/evil and soulless. Evil people are souls gone astray. And the soulless just kind of don't care one way or the other about anything. They're like androids in a 12-step program called life, they check off each one as they go and learn how to do things from magazines. Maybe these clones will just be more astray, and harder to pull in, cuz they wouldn't have the benefit of all that loving heat while they were baking in the oven. It'd be kind of like having a me who never got to sit on his uncle Ricky's knee and listen to him talk stories and learn. He'd just be some other me, running around, without bad tattoos.
QUESTION: So, why, for real, did General Lee surrender to General Grant at Appomattox Court House so many years ago? I realize we were getting our asses kicked pretty badly, but really? Did it help black folks, or were they just pawns in the game? – St. John the Pabstist
ANSWER: I grew up near that area, and here's the deal. High Bridge runs through Rice, which is near Saylor's Creek where the last battle was fought. The South was waiting for High Bridge to bring supplies. The Yankees took over both ends of the bridge and was gonna blow it up. The South ran, but they didn't have food, bullets, nothing really. The Yankees were catching up, and basically gonna murder them all, so Robert E. Lee let it be know they would surrender at Appomattox, since that was the closest courthouse they were near to, so that there wouldn't be an unfair bloodshed of the Yankees just shooting non-bullet having starving Southerners. A buddy of my uncle lived in a house near High Bridge that used to be a War of Northern Aggression Hospital, you had to ride along the railroad tracks to get to it. That was one creepy-ass place. I used to just play in the yard, I didn't like the house. As for blacks, yeah, it's obvious it helped black people immensely, because now they're mostly in jail instead of working real hard in a field where it's hot. They get to lift weights in jail, and fuck white guys up the ass. They couldn't do that when they were slaves.
QUESTION: Why do flies follow me on the way home from work when I walk along the pipeline? There must be about 30 flies on my back while I'm walking. I work in the butcher section of a supermarket. – Romo Gracie
ANSWER: You ever seen all the goddamned flies on a cow at a beef farm? Like hundreds and hundreds, and that big dumbass cow just stands there, flicking that weird brown tail around, acting like that helps. Well, the flies are sucking the blood out of the cow. I'm sure if flies have those weird thousand eyeball things on their little head, they got a pretty good nose, too. So they know what cow blood smells like. You work around that all day. That's why they're on your back. And there you go, walking along the pipeline, swatting at them with your weird arms, acting like that helps. We really ain't no better than any other animal. We just spend more time cooking other animals in oddball ways, using spices and fire and all sorts of unnecessary shit like that.
QUESTION: Why do all Armenian men seem vaguely homosexual? – Professor Todd K. Fabe
ANSWER: Armenians suck, more than any other type of person on Earth. I worked for two Armenian boys who had a painting company for like a year. They sucked. I think they seem homosexual because in Armenia, the television shows are all disco-style American sitcoms, just made nowadays by Armenians. So they all think having their shirt unbuttoned and wearing some weird gold chain is cool. And they talk in lots of cliches that regular men gave up on like 20 years ago and fags use because fags are all into retro stuff, even the sayings and all.
QUESTION: Explain why it is that the doctors grab your nuts and have you cough for a physical? – Long-haired Bryon
ANSWER: I never let them do that. A job that requires some dude grabbing my balls ain't no job for me. I don't even like my PO standing there while I piss during my visits so's I don't take out a little shampoo bottle that I heated up before I left the house, to use as my sample, and timing it so the temperature falls at just the right temperature so they think it's real.
QUESTION: How come Italians assimilate into rural southern areas so well (compared to Yankee immigrants)? – Buck Necked
ANSWER: I didn't know they did. I always looked at Italians as Yankees, just like regular Yankees and Puerto Ricans, too. They all have that weird curly black hair and get Tasmanian Devil tattoos and call coke "yay" and call stuff "wicked". And when they smoke those blunts, they still get all mean and yell "fuck" at people. When I smoke one of those blunts, it's just like a joint, I usually chill the fuck out and try to enjoy it. I'm not trying to start no fight with anybody. See, that's the problem with Yankees is they're always starting shit. And they don't know how to fuckin' be polite. They'll play poker on a Friday night, and go up like forty bucks, and there's still four other guys sitting there trying to win some money back, and the Yankee will just get up, with his beer still half-full, and leave for the night so he can win forty bucks. They just don't understand how things are.
QUESTION: Why can you close a bottle of Coke easily, but the next day your girlfriend can't get it open with a pair of pliers? – St. John the Pabstist
ANSWER: Women are weak. And they talk too much.
QUESTION: Why do the trivial and often stupid whims of women control our every moment? – Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: Because no matter how weak they are, and how much they talk, they've got that goddamned thing between their legs. And we want some of that. We want a lot of that. We want all of that we can get. My ol' lady asked me if we really thought about sex all the time, men, that is. And I told her that I could come home, flip the car over in the yard by accident, and have my legbone sticking out my skin like Joe Theismann, thrown fifty feet through the windshield, and if she came over wearing that blue tanktop she wears and leaned over to check on me, and I was scoping her titties, I'd be ready to fuck right there, as long as she didn't bump my legbone too much.
QUESTION: What in the fuck compels people to pull on a door repeatedly after the initial pull revealed the fucking door was locked? Is it that they didnt pull hard enough the first time or do they think that bitch will magically open for them on the 5th or 6th yank? – Mr. Wrestling 69
ANSWER: As human beings, we've been so conditioned with all those bullshit "Dominion over the Earth" crap, that we think our brains are better than anything, even our own bodies. Your door example is just like watching some dude try to open a jar of pickles. They refuse to believe they can't make themselves open it, since it's just an object without a God-ordained brain like themself. And it's funny watching them struggle with the reality that they can't overrule everything. A good thing to do with a new guy on a paint crew is caulk, not white caulk but that clear thick silicone shit that dries in like 10 minutes, caulk his 5-way to the floor of the work van and laugh your ass off watching him from the top of the ladder. People think they're so smart.
QUESTION: Why does the headstone for Elvis at Graceland spell is middle name Aron with only 1 "A" instead of 2 "A"s as it is in his legal middle name? – Zucheo Trashe
ANSWER: Graceland is in Memphis, which is in Tennessee, which is full of ignorant fucks who get excited about Wal-Mart. They don't have time to check the spelling on tombstones because they might miss out on some super Dale Earnhardt memorabilia on the Nascar show on the Home Shopping Network.
QUESTION: Is there a such thing as ghosts? For real. - Mike DIKK
ANSWER: Hell yeah, there's ghosts everywhere. But I used to date this crazy chick who's Grandma was some wild Navajo medicine woman or some shit, and this crazy chick explained it to me like this - ghosts are not the evil demons you see in bullshit Hollywood flicks all the time. They're just folks who died and didn't know they died because it was unexpected. This is why you tend to see ghosts at murder scenes and battlefields and mental hospitals and shit like that. They just weren't expecting to die. So their spirit kind of just hangs out. This chick told me all you have to do is say "It's time for you to move on" and they'll realize they're supposed to split and they'll head off to that great big Ghostland in the Sky. I didn't really believe her until I moved into this old house down some railroad tracks that was a Civil War hospital back in the day. I had stripped all the plaster off the walls and was trying to redo the place, but it felt creepy as shit. I burned some sage (another helpful trick from the crazy chick's Navajo grandma) and kept the lights on at night and all kinds of shit, but it still felt weird, and the mirrors I got from the fair when I worked there would all fall off the wall and shit all the time. Then I remembered what Dawn (that was the crazy chick) had told me, and I just would say "It's time for you to move on" whenver I felt all weirded out or the Diver Down mirror fell off the shelf. After a few weeks, the place seemed cool and nothing more happened. I accidentally burned the place down one night when I was doing angel dust, but that's another story altogether.
QUESTION: I want a gas mask in case we're attacked, but I'm broke. How can I make a gas mask from household products? - Piper
ANSWER: Take some charcoal that you'd use for cooking out and all, put it in a pillowcase and smash it right good with a hammer. This will give you plenty of charcoal dust if you smash like say, 20 briquets. Then what you do is take you an old shampoo bottle and poke holes in the bottom of it with a the thickest sewing needle you can find in the house. Put about 3 inches worth of cotton balls in the shampoo bottle at the bottom, then pour about an inch or two of the charcoal dust in the bottle on top of that. Then what you do is cut off the top part of a 3-liter bottle of soda. Usually, all you can get in the 3-liter size is generic shit, but that's cool. I drink the hell out of Dr. Chek from Winn-Dixie, so it's cool. You cut the top off, then you caulk or superglue or epoxy the top of the shampoo bottle to the pour spout of the soda bottle, leaving the big end open. You can cut up a handkerchief to fit around the edge of the open part and duct tape it on there for a cushion. That part goes up against your mouth and nose, and I usually just tape it around my head with some duct tape. If you're trying to fight chemical fumes, you ain't gonna worry about some of your hair ripping out when you pull the duct tape back off. I'd suggest making like 4 or 5 of these things, so that you can run into the bathroom real quick and switch them when they stop working, which you'll be able to tell because you'll start smelling weird chemical shit like you were riding through Jersey.
QUESTION: I had a teacher in 7th grade who swore up and down that if you were trapped without water that you could drink you own urine, and it would continuously cycle through your body and eventually would be filtered so many times by your inner organs that it would eventually be 100% clean. This obviously bullshit....... isn't it? If it's true why don't we all drink our piss? - Harpo Garza
ANSWER: I'm sick and tired of hearing people say teachers should get paid more and they are so important. You're average teacher is a stoner trying to ogle young kids. They will tell you all kinds of dumb shit just to see if you'll believe it. Don't give it another thought. If your intuition makes you think drinking your own piss is bullshit, then go with that. You're probably smarter than some pervert teaching 7th grade anyway.
QUESTION: Is it really better to burn out than to fade away? I mean, really, take someone like Stevie Wonder. Back in the 70s, he was putting out some kickass tunes. Next thing you know, he's dueting with Babyface. - Isaac Shepherd
ANSWER: I don't know. I've always thought that burning out and fading away were pretty much the same thing, just burning out made you stupid in the brain and you would always tell the same story, while fading away meant you slowed down and kept your brain relatively intact, but were still a dumbass who didn't party anymore. I think it's better to just die while you're still cool. As for Stevie Wonder, I remember one time this college chick I was dating when I lived in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, we did acid together and listened to Stevie Wonder's Innervisions and got naked and just rubbed each other for like 6 hours. There was nothing sexual about it all, we were just fucked up and rubbing each other naked forever and listening to that record over and over. That's what Stevie Wonder makes me think of. And thinking of that makes me think about how I got that girl pregnant and instead of helping her out, I just moved down to Panama City, Florida, with my uncle. Now that was a party town.
QUESTION: Do you think anybody ever called Steve Miller "the gangster of love" or "the space cowboy" as he claims in his song "The Joker"? - Frisco Robby D
ANSWER: People really underestimate Steve Miller's importance and contributions to society. I know his Greatest Hits is kind of cliche to you younger folks, but Steve Miller, at one point, was the fuckin' shit. They had a live Steve Miller Band concert on syndicated TV back in the days, this was before Pay-Per-Views and all. Me and some buddies all got together and got high and drunk and hooked the stereo up to the TV and just vibed. You ever heard his old shit? You're goddamn right people called him the gangster of love and the space cowboy. Steve Miller is a fuckin' prophet that the man homogenized into a Greatest Hits CD to eternally push in the Columbia House 13 CDs for 2 bucks ads. Fuck that. Go dig out the full-length original LP sermons by Steve Miller and you'll realize that motherfucker is everything he says he is, and more. Steve Miller, motherfuckers. You best to understand it now.
QUESTION: Why are men attracted to large-breasted womenfolk? - Andrewbulous
ANSWER: Large-breasted women indicate engorged breasts, full of titty milk for a baby. This suggest fertility. And this is what any man is looking for. He may deny it, but deep down in the pure animal nature of his soul, he wants a fertile woman to fill with a baby. Men have always dug the large-breasted women. Oddly enough, women, or probably doctors looking to make a buck, noticed this, and created the breast implant. This is an abomination against nature. You ever notice when you watch a porn flick, how breast implants are so obvious because they don't bounce? This is because they're not natural. Gravity doesn't want to fuck with them. They just sit there, like plastic blocks on a bitch's chest. Breast implants are evil, and a trick meant to confuse man's natural desires to make children and continue the race of mankind. The worst is you see some big-titted chick, and they're fake, and she's got some skinny little ass that would never be able to handle a baby. C-sections are like breast implants, abominations. If you can't squeeze it out between your thighs, then you weren't meant to have a kid. It's the law of natural selection. I read about that shit in the ol' lady's Reader's Digest last month. And then somebody told me they heard this company just made something called a Wonderbum, which squeezes a chick's ass into fleshy cheeks and separates them, to create the illusion of a fat-ass on a shitty-assed woman. Fuck all this. Mankind will die quickly because we're breeding too many humans that would've quickly died out in a more natural world. By them living, the chances of them spreading their disease to us increases by a shitload. People don't understand that death is a self-defense mechanism for us humans as a whole. By allowing the weak to live through medicine and shit, we allow their diseases to infest the rest of us.
QUESTION: Why does my dog always stink, even right after a bath? - Clever Star
ANSWER: Some dogs aren't meant to smell good. They're meant to go live out in the country and let them out and never let them back in unless it's gonna get below freezing overnight, and even then you only let them in the kitchen.
QUESTION: What's the best remedy for a hang over? Or better yet, how can you avoid a hang over? - The JZA
ANSWER: Usually, a hang over is a headache, which is your mind. Mind over matter is the answer. Tell your mind not to hurt, not after it hurts, but before you drink. It's like raising a kid, getting drunk is. If you tell it from the get-go it's gonna be good and have a good time and not start hurting you for no reason, it won't. But if you just let it do whatever it wants to do, then it will fuck you up in the long run. As for remedying a hangover, the best thing I've found is tomato juice. If regular tomato juice doesn't work, try adding vodka to it. Drink like two of those, but don't put no fuckin' celery stick in it like rich folks at the type of country club Jerry Clower would make fun of. After two of those, if your head still hurts a little, start mixing beer with the tomato juice. If your head is hurting a lot after drinking on a regular basis, then you can just start mixing your beer with tomato juice when you drink in the first place instead of waiting till the morning. Some people call it "sending a boy to do a man's job," but I find it very beneficial and pleasing. Add a little garlic powder to it, too; that shit tastes awesome.
QUESTION: My dad asked me to go along with him and my mom to witness him take a lie detector test. He says it is going to be conducted by the same outfit that gives lie detector tests to people who want to be a police officer, supposedly very rigorous and accurate. What I want to know is, how accurate are these things? And then what do I do if the accuracy points toward guilt? - Stationary Tornado
ANSWER: Lie detectors are a tool of the man to put people in jail. They have never been accurate. Look at his eyes. This is the window to the Soul, and will reveal all truths. He may be able to coat those eyes with lies for your mother, since she's probably someone he wants to beat but can't because of stupid man-made laws. But he won't be able to hide the truth in his eyes from you, his son. Unless you're some kind of faggot who's disappointed him. Then he might just lump you in with your mom as someone he wants to beat but can't because of man-made laws. If that's the case, I'd suggest telling him to put some pennies under his tongue because you heard that helps screw up the lie detector test. Or chew up a stick of gum with the foil still on it. I'm not sure if either of these actually work, because I usually run from the cops until I wreck, but it will certainly be funny to you to watch your old man do dumb shit to try and pass a lie detector test. And if he's guilty, fuck it, we're all guilty. He's your fuckin' dad.
QUESTION: Why do guys always have sex on their minds and just wanna squeeze the mammaries? - Old Milwaukee Mike
ANSWER: Because sex is good. You could be happily married to the most beautiful woman you've ever seen in your life, and you'd still want to bone some half-ugly chick at work because she wore leather pants. It's because we are men and we want every little kid on Earth to look half like us. Conquering the World through genetics. The best thing we could do against these damn towelheads is just send a pack of dudes over there and fuck the shit out of all those damn women running around with nothing but their eyes showing. I heard that those chicks wear like go-go shorts and fishnets and shit under those clothes. We go over there and lick the clit and give 'em all a good fucking, and those Arab fuckers won't have a homeland to try and attain anymore. Shit, they throw acid in chicks' faces. I'd just hit 'em from behind while reaching around and flicking they're clit with forefinger. Or leaning back and sticking the tip of my thumb up their ass. Which do you think they'd like, burning acid in the face or a sexy tattoed thumb up their ass? You're goddamned right.
QUESTION: My old lady wants to get me a cell phone. And unless I can hit Stan Lane in the head with it to win the Southern tag straps, I don’t want it. So how do I get her not to get me one without pissing her off? (Note: she ain’t Southern, so she don’t listen to me too well.) – from Big Stoner Creek
ANSWER: Explain to her that, one, cellphones use microwave rays that cause brain cancer; and, two, if you two were to ever be forced to take the law into your own hands for anything, and happened to have to talk to anybody about anything regarding the lawlessness on the phone, the authorities don’t need a permit from a corrupt judge to tap your lines on a cell phone. It’s radio waves, therefore public domain. This dude I know has a high frequency scanner and can pick up cell phone conversations and he lives in a medium-sized city. So he tapes phone sex conversations because there’s like 5 chumps in the tenement building he lives who call those numbers all the time, and they have cell phones only since they use their phone line for downloading porn on the internet. He makes Best of Phone Sex tapes for some of us. They’re kind of like amateur porn, you wish it was you doing it instead, but there’s enough moaning and shit to help you masturbate.
QUESTION: Why are yawns so goddamned contagious? – from Brent
ANSWER: Very simple. Your brain needs oxygen to keep working and shit. When you’re tired, your brain is lacking in oxygen, and the brain cells start to slack off. A yawn is a natural reaction where the mind subconsciously makes the mouth suck in some air for the brain cells. It keeps you awake better. However, as a subconscious reaction to fatigue, if you are near someone who yawns, your brain might subconsciously discover that its brain cells are needing some oxygen too, so you’ll yawn as well. This is why when you choke some bitch who wronged you on some crank sometimes, and you don’t let go fast enough, she gets brain damage. Those brain cells need oxygen, but you cut off just enough to kill part of her brain. It’s kind of neat when you think about it.
QUESTION: How do we go to sleep? I mean, what mechanism switches us from awake to asleep? – from Andrewbulous
ANSWER: Oddly enough, it’s not related at all to the question above. Everything is two things – that yin and yang shit I got tattooed on my chest. We’ve got good days and bad days, good thoughts and bad thoughts, not necessarily opposing crap, but together make up everything. Some older biker dude explained the whole Jackie Chan yin/yang thing to me in jail one time. Anyways, your waking mind is all a dream anyway, but we accept it as reality because we go to school during our waking mind, so they train us to think that this is the correct mind. This is all so we work hard and produce manufactured goods that we somehow warp ourselves into thinking we need a whole lot, thus keeping us busy all the time (at least 40 hours a week), and in debt trying to get more dumb shit, so that those in power can keep on molesting children and making new rules to make sure they still have more points than us at the end of the game. When you sleep, you’re complementary mind kicks in and that’s why you have weird ass dreams about shit like Vikings drinking cough syrup and hippie girls taking their skirts off. But you see, those are delusional realites because we occupy our waking mind with bullshit all the time. It’s like when you do crank for like 6 days straight, with no sleep. After the first day or so, you’re really tired, you can feel it underneath the high. You know you should sleep and your body needs it, but it just can’t. Eventually, like into the third or fourth day, you start really thinking weird shit, weirder than your normal, “Man, I’d like to fuck my uncle’s new girlfriend” type shit. Really oddball Fred Flintstone with that little alien guy talking to him shit. That’s when the two complementary mind states meld into one. This is good. Fuck the so-called real world, with all the thankless work for low wages and bullshit material objects giving our minds hard-ons. Bling-Bling of the brain. Fuck that. You stay awake, whether you do drugs that make you stay awake or you cultivate that shell-shocked veteran mentality, you do yourself and society a service. Status quo’s “delusions” are revolutionary mentality kicking in and swinging the pendulum of yin/yang balance back towards the perfect median. Right now they’ve got the shit held all the way to the left yang position, where when you think crazy thoughts, you go get a prescription of xanax or prozac or something to keep yourself in mall mode. So what I’m saying, in regards to the question, is fuck sleep. Sleep is the cousin of death.
QUESTION: What is the relationship between rednecks and wiggers? How did it happen? – from Boomer
ANSWER: This is something close to my heart and soul. I’ve got some young nephews who come round the shop now and then, and they’re always blasting that goddamned rap music. But they’re racist as shit, too. Now, I’ve been to jail enough to know you get along by not forcing the issue. I don’t have any problems with black folks, but I don’t necessarily bust up in the middle of a pack of black guys and make partners for a Spades game on Saturday night. Anyways, black folks play with that weird shit where the 2 of Spades is high trump. I’m from the Big and Little Joker school myself. But anyways, these nephews of mine, they play Ja Rule and Lil Wayne all fuckin’ day long, but they’ll be sitting on the old bench seats outside the shop and start talking “nigger this” and “nigger that”. They’re more racist than any Aryan I was in jail with, even the guy who gave me my Speedy Gonzales tattoo who was in jail for running over 3 black teenagers. That guy at least got ripped off on some weed. My nephews have no reason to be so full of hatred. Anyways, rednecks have always been around. My uncle was a redneck, and he listened to bullshit music I hated. I’d be trying to throw Van Halen II in the tape deck, and he’d bitch and moan and want to play Butterfield Blues Band or some shit. But from Creedence to L.A. Guns is not a long road to travel. My uncle could tolerate the shit I wanted to listen to, or played when he was in my Vega riding to the liquor store to get me and my buddies a couple bottles of Citron Vodka and Jim Beam travelers. And he’d impart his knowledge on me, in between slugs. I remember when I was real young, not even old enough to drive, and he told me, “ya know, women think they have something on us ‘cause they got that thing between their legs.” And I was young, and thinking “yeah, fuck that.” Then he swerved me by adding, “And the damnedest thing about it is they do.” As I got older, his words like that made more and more sense. Every good Southern boy has a crazy uncle who helped make him good, no matter what color that Southern boy is. Anyways, with my nephews, everything changed. There was a rift. I am not gonna ride in their low rider Nissan for 12 miles to the liquor store while they’re bumping Eightball & MGD. Therefore, they don’t get to hear the “women think they have something on us…” bit. They miss out on the continuation of our culture. That’s why these little wigger fuckers run around drinking those Smirnoff drinks and fruity shit like that made for chicks to get drunk on (that’s why they come in 4-packs). So the wigger is basically a directionless redneck. He has no work ethic ‘cause, as a crazy uncle, I ain’t hiring one of my dumbass nephews to help me paint cars here at the shop, because all they’ll do is smoke weed behind the shop and sit out front, which is cool by me, but they’ll expect to get paid for their whole time here. No work ethic. And the wigger lacks the basic respect code older rednecks have. Not because he refuses it so much as he never got it taught to him. Sometimes, I think it’s my duty to teach these youngsters the ways of the World and why shit like David Allan Coe is good even though it ain’t as cool as Guns’n’Roses; but then they say something dumb like, “Yo, I’m gonna bling-bling my ride with the waxer. Cool?” And I get pissed off and don’t wanna tell them shit.
QUESTION: Why do some "men" like to have relations with ladies with skinny asses? I mean, what's the point? – from Reverend Axl Future
ANSWER: At first thought, you could just say "different strokes for different folks". And that is true, but on a much more sinister level. You see, first the media-manipulated brainwashing of the American male to think a gangly slender woman as attractive was the first step. Any poor white fucker, poor Mexican, or poor black guy will tell you, a fat ass is a good ass. Not Jenny Craig fat, but willing to sop up some gravy with a buttermilk biscuit fat. The kind of ass that jiggles in rap videos made in the South. There is a deep-rooted animal instinct involved here. A fatter ass means wider hips, which also means more able to birth offspring. Skinny asses are fragile and more likely to struggle with childbirth, thus skinny assed women are closer to worthless in man's primitive sense. This media manipulation has gone even further, with the common sexual attraction to artifical breast implants. It's gotten so bad that some men prefer large "firm" fake breasts to real, bouncy titties. First off, it's a step in the right direction, as large breasts are indicative of being engorged with milk, which means the mother is breastfeeding, again a sign of fertility. However, large rigid, unmoving implants can look exactly the same in a male body as a female body. It's all part of the homosexualization of the middle class. First we accept, then we encourage it. Eventually, the middle class buffer between poor and rich is removed through lack of procreation, and the poor work like slaves for the rich who no longer need money because they don't have to do shit anyway. I tolerate homosexuality, because sometimes people don't know any better, or as a child, they experienced fucked-up shit. Or they naturally feel inclined to be so, which perhaps is a sign of how chemicals have influenced our mental structure. But I don't encourage homosexuality. I would however, 99 times out of 100, enjoy the company of a gay man more than a skinny-assed woman. Jail will do that to you sometimes.
QUESTION: Why do they sell egg rolls at all country convenience stores? Who the fuck is making these egg rolls? – from 1000 Aliases
ANSWER: All part of the commodification of America. First off, there is a difference between a country store and a convenience store. Country stores have macaroni and cheese and chicken gizzards and fried chicken where you can taste the flour the lady behind the counter battered the chicken in. Convenience stores have frozen food they fried in oil. As rural America becomes more polluted with Food Lions and Wal-Marts, they want things faster and faster. They want ATMs at the gas station. They want a Burger King downtown in their shitty little towns. Thus, country stores, run by mom and pop, are starting to get run by the kids as mom and pop drop dead from cancer and the crippling side effects of a long hard rural life in America. The kids are brainwashed by Garth Brooks CDs and decide change the "kitchen" at the family store into a "deli" with sandwiches and fried foods all made from bags of frozen stuff they got at the Food Lion. Egg rolls is one aspect of this. No self-respecting rural woman in America knows what's in an egg roll, much less how to make one. It is Chun King, plain and simple. Same with the chicken fingers. It makes me sad. Mostly because of the potato wedges. There was a time when the potato wedges were actually wedges of real potatoes that some old lady cut up and shook inside a plastic bag with pepper and flour and cornmeal and a little bit of cayenne, then fried up. Now, they're processed pieces of shit from a plastic bag. That's why they taste like shit, even with hot sauce.
QUESTION: How do people fall in love? – from Mike Dikk
ANSWER: For women, usually you are in the middle of one of your wild unexplainable illogical mood fluctuations, when it goes from bad to good in the company of a cute guy. You mistakenly attach the improvement of your emotions with that guy, and thus you are in love. For men, pussy is always fun. But sometimes, the body with that pussy feels all nice to lay next to in the bed, even when you're not drunk and having sex. And then that body will get up in the morning and be making some potatoes and eggs, blasting Al Green real loud, or maybe Van Morrison, and it's all over. You're in love with the rest of the stuff with the pussy.
QUESTION: How do you feel about the death penalty? – from Angie Not-At-Work
ANSWER: I'm all about killing things that deserve it - a dog that kills chickens, a guy that molests children, politicians. But a government doesn't really do itself any good by killing its own citizens. It breeds contempt and there's always too much room for error. The recent McVeigh execution was a nice smokescreen though. It was the first federal execution in almost twenty years, and one that a majority of the public had been convinced was a good idea. The next federal execution? Sometime next week. The floodgates have been opened. Which was the point. Now not only do renegade Republican states like Texas and Virginia get to kill people, so does the Federal Government as well. So, I'm all for the death penalty if all people get to use it. But if only some people, like the ones in Power, get to use it, it's unjust. Like when you were a kid and your grandma got you and your cousin one of those powder sugar things with the stick you'd lick and put in it to get it covered with colored sugar. They had three to a pack, and your grandma would give your cousin two because she was nine months older than you. That shit was unfair. Thus you make it fair by putting the death penalty on your cousin's pet turtle with the nail polish heart on its shell, by doing a BMX smash off a plywood ramp stuck on a cinderblock. Or at least it seemed fair. Until you realize your grandma was at the clothesline watching. And then she made you go cut a switch to get your ass whipped with. There is a Universal Law, a Karma, a what goes around comes around, that is the Grandma hanging up dungarees on the edges of the Universe. And the American Government can do it's little death penalty all it wants and think there will be no repercussions because it is the highest authority. But one day, it'll have to go cut a switch to get it's own ass whipped with.
QUESTION: If everyone moved to one side of the earth, would it go off-balance? Could we chrome the moon to make it daylight all the time? – from Johnny Rocket
ANSWER: What the fuck are you talking about? Off-balance? Chrome the moon? Look, I suggest you put down the sci-fi novella and take a few deep breaths, go sit on the porch and drink a beer. Look up at the sky, or if you live in a city with pollution in the air and can't see the sky, look at the biggest tree within eyesight. And think about how fun it would be to be laying back in the middle of some field looking up at that sky (or at that tree) and screwing some hot-ass chick. Not masturbatory excitement fantasy type stuff, just a little simple one with the sky having sex outdoors feeling a breast grabbing an ass looking at the moon cool breeze in the air happy perfection. Hopefully, after meditating on this for a few minutes you'll realize chroming the moon is an idiotic and unnecessary thing. There's plenty to do here.
QUESTION: Are ZZ Top and Stevie Ray Vaughan direct descendants of Our Lord And Saviour, Jesus Christ? – from Minister Paul
ANSWER: No. First off, I'm not even sure if Stevie Ray Vaughan is actually good outside of a dingy bar. If you vaccuum the floor and wash all the dishes in the sink and throw out the old beer cans, then play Stevie Ray really loud, you'll see that he kinda sucks. ZZ Top, however, though not direct descendents of the magician you mention, are spiritual in nature. When they have abused drugs heavily to achieve insight into the simple humid nature of Southern life, they tapped a basic understanding of Things that few could hope to achieve on an LP. But the lure of Video Glamour in the '80s prostituted their soul and made them goofy fodder for Puttin' On The Hits. But everything comes around; and their most recent records sound as if Billy Gibbons is not afraid to injest heavy sedatives and alcohol and dream up dirty, shitty, blues. Most white men can understand how to listen to the blues, but mistakenly mimic black man blues in a lame attempt to get laid by 34-year-old women who call blue jeans "dungarees". A white man has to play white man blues, dirty hard-working sweating-in-the-sun driving a shitty Chevrolet about to break down and leaking transmission fluid all over the damn road blues. Billy Gibbons is the King of this.
QUESTION: How come gravity doesn't work right in space? – from King Bladewick
ANSWER: Space is devoid of order, pure chaos, where anything can suddenly happen and everything is beautiful. Gravity holds you down, thus it is called the Law of Gravity. Space is not about Laws; therefore Gravity is confined to planets. It's interesting to note, that of the two planets humans have walked on top of (if the lunar landing didn't occur in a Hollywood studio, as many believe it to have), Earth has the strongest gravity. Earth is the ghetto of the Universe.
QUESTION: How does booze get you drunk? – from Make It All Go Away
ANSWER: Alcohol gets you drunk because alcohol makes your brain molecules bounce around. All drugs do that. Like when you do inhalants – that’s your actual brain cells dying in a batch all at once; that’s why it feels so numbing, but also goes away after a couple of minutes of empty humming in your head. Regarding alcohol, it’s an odd brain molecule fuck-upper, as it varies so much from type to type. Beer makes a patch of brain cells bounce back and forth, methodically. Each additional beer makes more brain cells do this, thus your motor skills slow down. Another example is vodka. As a white liquor, it makes your brain cells bounce back and forth violently, more so than brown liquor. This is why you are more apt to say dumb shit and get in fight when drinking vodka or gin, your brain molecules are bouncing around inside your skull more violently. My personal favorite alcohol, wine, spreads its influence over more individual brain molecules than any other type of alcohol, which is what creates that all-over body buzz feel you get with wine. This also explains why your head hurts so much the next morning, as more brain cells have to get acclimated to normal chill position again. It’s easier for guys to be alcoholics than girls, because we think about sex all the damned time. When you think about sex, your brain cells start multiplying because they’re thinking about procreation. So you can kill all the brain cells you want drinking, huffing gas, smoking reefer, whatever; as long as you think about having sex, it’s okay.
QUESTION: Is it natural to shave your balls? And if so, should you use your girlfriend’s razor and your roommate’s shaving cream? – from Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: It feels good to touch yourself when you have shaved your balls. However, as the little hairs start to grow back out, they itch tremendously, and you know as well as I do that you can’t really scratch your balls everywhere you go. Additionally, it sort of feels like sandpaper on a chick when little hairs are starting to sprout out of your genitals, thus they don’t enjoy sex as much. If you had a coochie, would you want somebody rubbing sandpaper all over it. But to answer your question completely, shaving any part of your body is not natural, male or female; but if you feel the need, then fuck your girlfriend and roommate. Proper attention to your balls are more important than their bullshit materialism.
QUESTION: If you’re constipated, should you drink your own urine? I heard that’s what you do. I also heard some people drink their own urine every morning. – from Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: Piss comes out your body because you do not need it. If you needed to use it, it wouldn’t be piss.
QUESTION: Is it natural to have an aversion to fuckin’ stinky hippies and their offspring? – from Ten Dollar Dave
ANSWER: Hate is not natural at all, son. Neither is love. Both are emotional attachments man has created because he thinks too goddamned much about things. Sex is natural. Therefore stinky hippies having offspring are better than you (unless you are making offspring as well, then you are equals).
QUESTION: If Jesus, Superman, and David Allan Coe fought, who would win? – from Reverend Axl Future
ANSWER: Well, that’s easy. Jesus and Superman are fictional characters, so there’s no way they could win a fight with an actual tangible human being. However, if you expand this question to include the followers of each, then it gets trickier. Superman fans wouldn’t stand a chance, because they’re either kids or grown men who are soft like kids. This would leave the battle between the followers of Jesus and the followers of David Allan Coe. David Allan Coe’s followers are much more skilled in the art of hand-to-hand combat, and more psychologically prepared to use items found in their natural habitat, like ash trays and 2x4s, as weapons. So they would initially beat down the followers of Jesus, who aren’t as good at brawling. However, Jesus’ followers have more clout with authority figures, and pretty quickly it would be against the law to move about society looking like you might follow David Allan Coe. So you’d go to jail.
#99 SLOW-MOWED SINGLES: Scienz Of Life
As the millennium approached, I was way into the whole paranoid illuminati rapper shit that was coming from groups like Killa Army and Jedi Mind Tricks and Scienz of Life. The problem is, this type of rap is very rapid-fire linguistically, which adds to the aura of paranoia, and when you slow it down, something is lost. The first Scienz of Life CD I dug a bunch, and I think they've still put out like four or five others in that mass of indie undie hip hop that's impossible to follow fully because it's so immense and it takes me like two days to steal one song off the stupid internet. "Scienz of Life", the self-titled single, is still a sweet indie paranoid-ass song to play when I feel like hunkering down in the camper with a few rails of shit-crank and get all jeeby-minded one night.
#46 RAP TAPES: It Takes A Thief
A friend had the "County Line" single, and Coolio seemed amusing enough with the basic west coast funk beats, so I ended up getting this tape, and enjoying it enough. Four months later, MTV put that "Fantastic Voyage" song in heavy rotation and this shit was everywhere. Coolio got paid like a motherfucker, and I've always wondered whatever happened to DJ Wino.
Thursday, October 5
#100 SLOW-MOWED SINGLES: Beat Biter
How the fuck did MC Shan miss out? He's like a number one draft pick that never did shit. He's hooked up with Marley Marl, the super producer of the time. He's the figurehead of the Juice Crew, which contains Big Daddy Kane, Biz Markie, Masta Ace, and Kool G. Rap, all hip hop heavyweights within different sects of the music. He had notable battle going on in this single with LL Cool J, who stole the beat for "Rock the Bells" from Marl apparently. And the b-side "The Bridge" set the tone for the Boogie Down Productions diss track "The Bridge Is Over" which was like the original giant hip hop beef. And where is Shan? I think he was in a Sprite commercial once maybe, but shit, he's long gone. "Beat Biter" is a lame pathetic song, sounding hurt because LL made his shit better, and even the motherfuckin' simple awesomeness of "The Bridge" beat can't save this single from coming in last, even slowed down. "The Bridge" beat slowed down though... that's some good shit. Too bad the "Beat Biter" beat was so dated.
#47 RAP TAPES: The Devil Made Me Do It
Paris' first tape was post-PE total west coast Black Panther shit, and the video for "Panther Power" was awesome propaganda style footage. I dug some Paris back in the day, not because he was too black and too strong, but because he'd say some crazy shit like he visited Cuba and talk about how beautiful a place it was, with everyone having health care and being able to read and shit. I'm not necessarily a communist, but shit, this Whoppercrat vs. Bigmacicans bullshit gets tired after all my life thus far. Paris still is doing shit, but I doubt I'll ever go out of my way to get it, because I'm broke. Communist motherfuckers wanting me to spend money on their merchandise always trips me out, even more so when I'm broke and feel like stabbing people that have shit I don't have and that I want. I guess that's why communism will never work in America, because as Americans, we automatically feel like we deserve everything somebody else has, like we are born with that right, and instead of me getting off my lazy ass typing some bullshit on a blog straight outta the fagosphere and getting a second job delivering pizzas or something, I like to sit here and pretend I'm broke. But I got a computer. And I got a twelve-pack. And I got some egg noodles cooking on the stove, and it's one of them fancy-assed flat top stoves, too. So I ain't broke at all. But I still ain't buying no new Paris shit, and perhaps with me sitting here on my computer blog on the fagosphere with egg noodles cooking on my flat-headed stovetop, that's appropriate. Perhaps I'm Nebuchadnezzar (which is where the name Chad derives from, so never trust a Chad; also why they called that shit that one year a "hanging chad" because the Illuminati likes to trip out to shit like that at their Bohemian Grove get-togethers where they auction off pages and molest them for charity).
Wednesday, October 4
#48 RAP TAPES: Way 2 Fonky
I love some DJ Quik, and when it comes to Quik, this to me is easily his greatest album ever. Quik is just on some weird-ass other tip, and if I could get instrumentals of full albums, this would be one of the top ten I'd look for. The tape just reminds me of summertime and riding around drunk, feeling good at heart, ready for the chaos of shitty-assed Richmond which was where I was living, in a shithole of a lead-painted apartment with three other dudes, one of whom was a heroin junkie and hosted regular overdoses in the bathtub, right before the serial rapist moved in who was selling weed for me (which caused me to move out because I only trusted dude to sell weed for me, not to live with me, though I didn't know he was a serial rapist back then, and he raped both men and women, so if I had known, I wouldn't have let him sell weed for me at all).
But this tape is great, and I've always loved some DJ Quik. And then a month or two ago, I buy an issue of crappy ass Murder Dog magazine, which much like Ozone magazine is like a high school fanzine, but with really glossy pages and lots of famous rappers in it. But they had an interview with DJ Quik where they ask him what he means when he says he's mastered music. Quik answers, "Think about it. I understand majors, minors, diminished, augments and dissonance. Musical terms, if you don't know. I understand how these affect the mind and soul. For example, Dr. Dre has always used dissonance in his music because he wants to achieve a theatrical effect, but I understand if you use dissonance the wrong way, you can cause people to fuck shit up in a certain way. Thre is a message in that music. So if I use dissonance in music, it was only because it was really called for. Dissonance is like police brutality, like a strong force, so I'm careful when I use that. If you notice on the song 'Jet Set' - one of the worst records I ever wrote because of what I was going through - I still made the music major and said what I had to say in a clear, monotone voice so that nobody could misconstrue what I was saying. When you listen to the song there is no question about it; you know exactly what I was going through. I'm going through trying to get my family grow and they won't grow, and that is a sad thing. I'm the kind of nigga that will support them up to a point, until they start tearing down the fruit stand. You feel me? If you are going to wreck the fruit for everybody, then you don't need to be in this facility." Now, Quik could be completely full of shit, but even if it is bullshit and he believes in it wholeheartedly and uses it as a foundation for his creations, that's the shit. Inspiration. It's what makes a difference between being some shithead preacher calling for the end of faggotry or being a preacher who can cut a spine-tingling sermon that makes you not hate that motherfucker you hate so much for a few hours. If I ever become dictator/overlord of some third world country, I'm totally gonna hire Quik to do my propaganda music. And we're gonna keep working towards getting a nuclear bomb. Fuck America.
Tuesday, October 3
NFL DORKERY: Northern Division Teams Ranked
#1: Chicago Bears (4-0)
The prevalent hype is that the Bears, now armed with a competent and healthy quarterback, are suddenly men playing amongst boys. Two things strike me as odd about this hype... Number one, it wasn't too long ago the Bears went 13-3 and got snuffed quick in the play-offs, and I don't think even Bears fans could name you more than like seven guys from that team. Number two, Rex Grossman is Rex Grossman, meaning he's a product of a Steve Spurrier college system, and he's been lucky enough to have injured himself through a couple of years of NFL paychecks. Right now, he is not sucking it up completely, but he is also Rex Grossman, and eventually he will realize this. The most he, and Bears fans, can hope for is that he can be this decade's Neil O'Donnell.
#2: Baltimore Ravens (4-0)
I have always liked Steve McNair, because he comes from a small college, and I can't think of a free agent who has looked more natural in his new uniform colors than McNair. He gives the Ravens hope, because if you can win with Trent Dilfer, you can win with anybody who won't fuck up, and McNair doesn't fuck up too often. The Ravens defense is retarded sick, especially considering the identity given their coach Brian Billick is offensive genius, but shit, his whole time there their offense has been smashmouth competent at best. The defense has carried this team for years. You got Ray Lewis fucking shit up, then throw in Chris McAllister in the secondary, then Ed Reed who is as much a monster as Lewis ever was, and now they got this Bart Scott dude who all of a sudden is L.T. 2006 on double eight-balls out-of-control. The Ravens will go far, and for the most of the season, may be under the radar, but this is a sick team in free agency era.
#3: Cincinnati Bengals (3-1)
The Bengals are this year's equivalent of the St. Louis Rams of six years ago. It's odd how the AFC North has offensive genius Brian Billick's team carried by his dominating defense and defensive genius Marvin Lewis's team carried by his multi-threat offense. The Bengals all get arrested though, and Chad Johnson would be the NFL's most narcissistic homosexual (blonde mohawk?) were it not for T.O. I anxiously await them playing together and somehow developing a new sexual position where they 69 with each other but somehow both suck their own dicks.
#4: Pittsburgh Steelers (1-2)
Steelers lost a lot - Bettis gone, Randle El gone, Von Oelhoffen gone. That's a lot of figurehead fuckers to replace. And plus Roethlisberger is getting all sorts of internal organs scrambled or removed. But never underestimate coach Sergeant Slaughter... he'll get these guys into shape or else. I can see the Steelers squeakily sneaking into the second wild card spot so that NFL merchandising can move enough Steelers jerseys again this year off of last year's success, and they'll lose in the AFC playoffs and not return to the Super Bowl and Bill Cowher will retire to replace Dan Marino on the NFL on whatever channel boring ass Dan Marino is on.
#5: Minnesota Vikings (2-2)
Dude, I could get 1200 yards rushing behind Bryant McKinnie and Steve Hutchinson, which would put me only about 100 yards behind Chester Taylor this year. If the Vikings had one halfway decent running back who didn't love drugs, they could be pretty sick old school smashmouth team this year, with a strong running attack and Brad Johnson being the wiley coyote veteran busting out his Acme rubber band neck extended vision to hit dump-off passes galore upon broken defenses. I think the one thing working against the Vikings is their coach looks more like a child molester than any other coach in professional football. He's not on Joe Paterno level by any means, but he looks like a closet degenerate. Those types usually tend to channel their energy into hiding their true self as opposed to channeling it into being a motherfuckin' godsend NFL influence.
#6: Cleveland Browns (1-3)
College superstar Kellen Winslow! College superstar Braylon Edwards! College mid-major quarterback extraordinaire Charlie Frye! Welcome one and all to Cleveland, where it is cold and the fans are degenerate drunks in dog masks. You will be underachieving here together for at least the next five years, hopefully ten. God Bless.
#7: Green Bay Packers (1-3)
Being the NFL is fixed like dogs that can't make puppies, and Brett Favre has been a major draw for the NFL the past decade, they'll win at least a couple games to keep Favre's character from going too preliminary. Most people tend to forget the Packers sucked for most of their modern era existence, the most they could hope for is Mike Douglass making highlights trying to suplex Jim McMahon. But the Packers are the Packers, and like I said, the NFL is fixed, so they'll be good again in short enough time, though not this year, so folks can think even a small town can have a big aura football team. That type of shit plays big in the sticks.
#8: Detroit Lions (0-4)
How Matt Millen still has job amazes me. They have drafted every great player ever the last five years, and all of them have somehow turned out to be busts. When you have that many busts (much like the mid-'90s Redskins), it is not just pure bad luck or bad scouting, but the result of an organization's system that ruins players like my dick ruins vaginas. Well, probably more so than that, to be honest, because I'm not John Holmes or anything, but at least I'm not Matt Millen either.
100 SLOW-MOWED SINGLES: My Record's Draggin' Last But Still Kickin' Like Bruce Leroy
So a couple years back I got way too into DJ Screw. Not enough that I've faked chest pneumonia to get codeine cough syrup prescriptions (because I don't have insurance), but enough so that I've listened to far too much shit slowed down. The obvious eventual excursion was to start playing shit I had on the turntables as slow as the pitch modulator would go (even breaking one trying to open it up and slow the direct drive engine down enough to make it lay back even more; I can bleed the brakes of a car, but I cannot slow down a direct drive turntable without destroying it, that is obvious). The result has been marvelous, as most Screw tapes are west coast or southern shit, usually gangstafied, being warped back; however, I have found in my stupid aural experiences, there's lots of old boom bap era shit that sounds MOTHERFUCKIN' PERFECT slowed down. Especially Mad Lion.
So anyways, I took 100 12-inch singles I got laying around the compound, and did the same process of elimination crap I did with the rap tapes I had laying around, and came up with a countdown list. Actually, I'm still doing that shit, but I can count the eliminated shit out before I get done. And plus this is the internet, so none of this is real anyways. We're like Tron, but without helmets and neon lights, which seems like a rip-off to me.
So I'll be making the countdown like I'm Casey Kasem, feet on the ground and all that bullshit.
So anyways, I took 100 12-inch singles I got laying around the compound, and did the same process of elimination crap I did with the rap tapes I had laying around, and came up with a countdown list. Actually, I'm still doing that shit, but I can count the eliminated shit out before I get done. And plus this is the internet, so none of this is real anyways. We're like Tron, but without helmets and neon lights, which seems like a rip-off to me.
So I'll be making the countdown like I'm Casey Kasem, feet on the ground and all that bullshit.
Label Labyrinth:
project explanations,
slow-mowed rap singles
CM PRINT CLASSICS: Issue 5
Holy fuck, I just read this whole issue tonight, and though I'm a much more young and non-family oriented (nor oriental) individual, this issue is funny as fuck. There's a hilarous thing about the stifling nature of statutory rape laws, but being I now have two young daughters and this is the internet where sexual perversion is commonplace enough to make me feel dirty just injecting my crappy crap into a blogosphere, I ain't typing it up. I'll give you this shitty little thing at the end of the issue instead, and if I ever reprint old issues, this one and the yearbook issue are gonna be the first ones I do so with, because this one had me both laughing my ass off, and wondering what the fuck was wrong with me back then. Well, I know what was wrong with me back then, I'm just worried it might resurface unexpectedly at some inopportune point.
So this is some end-of-the-issue thing called A Confederate Mack Public Service Announcment, and also funny because I still do this shit...
"Not wearing your seat belt is against the law. So next time you're driving home drunk and a state trooper goes by, put your seat belt on, at least until you're sure he didn't turn around."
#49 RAP TAPES: Ironman
Much like March Madness, with the imprecise system I used to make this list, only the number one truly matters. What I did was take a hundred tapes, put them in random order, do a lot of riding back and forth to work in my car (a lot), and listen to one side at a time, one side of a tape vs. one side of another tape, double elimination, and that method created the eliminations in the order I list them. I think I could make a top 100 albums list and Ironman would never fall as low as 49... ever. This is my second favorite Wu-Tang album behind the Enter the 36 Chambers one, and I still, to this day, pump this tape all the way through at least once a month. And it's been months since I did all this shit, so I have no idea what other tapes made Ghostface's solo debut (though with Cappadonna and Raekwon all over the album, it was far from a solo venture) fall to #49.
Last year, I saw Genius play a show locally and he sucked and actually caused me to start recording music because I was so disappointed in what a fuckin' chump-ass preachy piece of shit he had become, at least on the night I saw him. Then Ghostface came to town, and he had the flu and couldn't even hardly rap, but still put on the best hip hop show I've ever seen in at least ten years. So later this month, Method Man is coming to town, and if I can weasel my way onto the guest list it will be the rubber stamp show to decide whether Wu-Tang is still worth a shit or not. Though if they keep having shows come through, I'd be more than glad to make it a best of seven series, so long as I don't have to sit through another GZA sermon about how wack freestyling is.
Monday, October 2
#50 RAP TAPES: Bringing Hell On Earth
Too Much Trouble aka The Baby Geto Boys, back when every group on Rap-a-Lot had some sort of sideshowish gimmick. Willie's was the record store me and my boy Brown used to go to like fiends every Tuesday afternoon for the new singles, and it was one of those types of record stores that had the walls lined with autographed promo photos framed from in-store visits, and they had one of TMT at the Southside Willie's. Now, Too Much Trouble was a weaker version of the Geto Boys, kinda like a AA farm team, but the absolute greatest weirdest thing was they had a white midget rapper named Bar Nunn who was the BGBs Bushwick equal, and all he ever did was rap about stealing purses. I'd love to know where that dude is now. Eventually, Too Much Trouble was pared down to the two guys who weren't freak show rappers, and I think they put out a few more albums. Lyrically, this tape ain't great, but I tell you what, Rap-a-Lot production back in the days was some good shit, steeped in the old R&B label style of having an in-house team of musicians as opposed to hiring beatmakers from elsewhere. If I was to become filthy rich, John Bido is the guy I'd hire to make soundtracks to play in my house all the time, at least for Friday nights, but I'm sure he's all locked up to some exclusive contract with Rap-a-Lot or some shit.
Playing this tape again in 2006 did, however, inject "high-cappin'" back into the slew or obscure dumb shit I'll say for no reason to people who could give a fuck less.
Sunday, October 1
NFL DORKERY: Southern Division Teams Ranked
#1: Indianapolis Colts (3-0)
I am starting to hate the Colts much like I used to hate the 49ers… except the Colts have never won a Super Bowl. Peyton Manning is the most over-exposed fuck from the NFL in recent memory, and it makes my stomach turn to watch him over-emphatically calling audibles like a fuckin’ hick jock with suburban rebel yells and mime movements before EVERY FUCKIN’ PLAY. Fuck Peyton Manning. I hope they go 16-0 and then lost to some wild card team like the Ravens in the divisional round.
#2: Jacksonville Jaguars (2-1)
The Jaguars are like the polar opposite of the Colts, being a low profile solid team with no superstar face for their team. Jack Del Rio has done pretty good with the Jaguars in his time there, other than setting up the punter to try and chop off his own leg. Isn’t Jacksonville like the size of most college towns? How the fuck do they support a football team? I guess they were only expanded into existence like a decade ago, but a good team in a town where they cover up a big chunk of the stadium with a tarp to pretend it’s not empty seats – I don’t know, seems like a good fit for Los Angeles. Or too bad it’s not like the Madden game and they could move to Tijuana.
#3: New Orleans Saints (3-0)
Playing in the Superdome, where people got raped, left behind, and that one guy even left his dead mom in a wheelchair out front with his cell phone number attached because the National Guard was making him get on a bus. Katrina was a terrible tragedy and all, but the Saints aren’t great because of any karmic goodness. They have always seemed to be one of those bridesmaids teams that never get beyond the wild card hump during their best years, but with a pair like Drew Brees and Reggie Bush, who knows, they might even win a divisional title this year, which would be like a Super Bowl championship for a team known for fans who wear bags over their head.
#4: Atlanta Falcons (2-1)
Michael Vick is a dynamic quarterback, because he allows the Falcons to run for like a thousand yards a game. But the doom factor for a strong running team is when you fall behind and have to turn to the passing game. Vick is a mediocre passing QB, and doesn’t have much in the way of deep threats on top of that, as the meat of the Falcons passing game is the shorter dump-off and pick up yards type shit. So the Falcons are doomed, eventually, though fun to watch, usually.
#5: Carolina Panthers (1-2)
Seems like the Panthers alternate years between under-achieving and over-achieving, just never able to maintain consistency. Probably the first non-Redskins jersey I’d want to buy were I financially-endowed enough to waste money on overpriced crap like that would be a blue Julius Peppers one though. If Steve Smith healths up though, they’ll be strong through the year. That little dude is the textbook definition of a most valuable player.
#6: Tampa Bay Buccaneers (0-3)
Holmes got his fuckin’ spleen ruptured. His spleen! A team whose quarterback is getting ruptured spleens and then they’re gonna start a dude whose name sounds like a late ‘80s slang term for penis… I don’t know, doesn’t look good. Even the Cadillac hasn’t shined that much this year. But I’m sure GENIUS COACH Chucky Fuckface will turn this ship around… eventually, through free agency and sheer luck and coasting on his one Super Bowl victory he had.
#7: Houston Texans (0-3)
The Texans got crushed by the Redskins, which as a die-hard Redskins fan who has watched most every minute of preseason and regular season this year, tells me the Texans aren’t worth a shit. The only thing that will keep the NFL from having an 0-16 team this year is that the Texans and Titans get to play each other in a home-and-home.
#8: Tennessee Titans (0-3)
Jeff Fisher has been coaching the Titans since Earl Campbell still played for them, and has only made one Super Bowl, but somehow still gets to keep coaching. Steve McNair has a better shot at a Super Bowl ring now, at age 53 playing for the Ravens, than he ever did with the Titans. I’m sure Vince Young is gonna turn out just fine getting started early in his rookie season for a bad offense on an even-worse team. Fisher is engineering him to be the next Patrick Ramsey, but slightly cross-bred with a more mobile loser like Akili Smith.
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