Wednesday, October 27, 2004

William "The Fridge" Perry is a Fat Motherfuckin' Punk

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he's pissed cuz someone ate the ice-cream outta the helmet before he signed it.

That's right ya'll, I'm about to embark upon the single stupidest idea I have ever entertained in my 24 year existence: I (as a skinny young white male) am going to verbally assault the Fridge until he apologizes to me for being such a fucking douchebag (and it will be in those words or I will not rest until it is so...). William "the Fridge" Perry has offended me to the core of my esoteric sensibilities and therefore I will lash out against the one who has scorned me until my appetite for an apology is sated. That said, let me make my case:

Now, I was never a big sports fan, and I never have been, but I can remember seeing the Fridge on t.v. when my dad would watch the games and deciding I liked him for no other reason than the fact that he was a)huge and b)was called "the fridge" which was probably the first nickname I remember hearing. This vauge respect was further clenched when, at nine years old, I stumbled upon some crappy "rap" compilation in a K-Mart which featured "The Show" by Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick "Nightmares" by Dana Dane and (inexplicably) "The Super Bowl Shuffle" by the 1985 Chicago Bears (!). Even then I knew the song was crap but I was always like "yeah, the fridge-he can rap and tackle mu'fuckahs-that's dope!". I pretty much had a vauge respect and admiration of him until last March when I saw him at O'Hare airport in Chicago.

See, I was in Chicago waiting for a plane to take me and my moms back to Indianapolis. We had just finished up a weekend wedding for my cousin in Austin, TX and were waiting for our flight which had been delayed four times in four hours. For whatever reason, the airline ( I can't remember which one...United?) was having all of the peeps tryin' to get home to Indianapolis stand in some long-ass line which stretched into the terminal "hallway" (where everyone walks through). So I'm standin' there bullshittin' with my moms when I notice this HUGE black man hobbling towards me as he makes his way towards my terminal. I'm thinkin' "damn, I better move or this fat bastard is gonna crush me" so I kinda step out of the way as this bhemoth of a man shuffles past me. As he's goin' by I'm like "damn. I think that's the Fridge. That's weird." He kinda grunted as a way of thanking me for stepping aside and lumbered on his way. A second later some dude in the line ahead of me was like "Whoa! That was William "the fridge" Perry!" which confirmed my suspicions.

Fast forward six-months or so, to when I'm moving into my new crib. New crib has no refridgerator, so I go and purchase one. As I'm sitting there admiring my new 'fridge inspiration strikes: "What if I could find a picture of the fridge Perry and make it into a stencil that I could paint on my 'fridge? That would be the illest shit ever! I could get a cold one out of the 'fridge and see that fat-bastard every time! Brilliant!"

So I started searching on the web for a good picture but found nothing worthy of putting on my refridgerator. I needed a good upper-body shot sans helmet, but could only find football pictures of him in action. Finally, I stumbled upon his website. See that picture of him with his arms crossed? That is the greatest picture of him ever and certainly worthy to be stenciled onto my new G.E. Select. Alas, I cannot get a good quality shot of this picture so i decide to E-mail the fat bastard and ask him if he would send me a picture OR if he would tell me how much it would cost for a copy of this picture. Now I'm not so naive that I think "the fridge" actually answers his E-mail, but I figured that if I told whoever got the E-mail that I was trying to pay tribute (a lie) to the Fridge then they would at least respond to my valid inquiry.

Obviously whoever answers the E-mail's over there at the Fridge's website hates his fans because they never responded to my E-mail that I mailed a few times over the course of the last two months. I even made up a bunch of shit in my letter about how i was a big fan and blah blah was all bullshit so I could get that picture. Perhaps they saw through my facade (this I doubt) or perhaps they hate my name (it sounds very foreign-very Eastern European), but either way, THEY DID NOT RESPOND. Therefore, they face the brutal force of my scorn on this web-log that approximately three people read (irregularly). The fools do not realize what they have done, obviously, so it's time to remind them of my furious anger...

I now issue a formal challenge to the 'Fridge:
'Fridge, you have angered this young skinny frail white boy and you must pay for your misdeed.
I now challenge you to a game of front-yard football (tackles allowed) to settle this issue.
If I can score more touchdowns than you (and I can...I've seen you walk upon those mangled knees of yours) than you must apologize to me in person and on your website admit that you are (in these exact words) that you are a "washed-up douchebag who does not respect his fans but [you are] willing to correct these mistakes by sending chiseven an autographed picture [which I will then sell on E-Bay after I make a stencil out of the image]. Save yourself the hassle of being defeated by a skinny white-boy and just send me the got-damn picture punk. Or, if you still cling to the idea that you are a formitable opponent then feel free to make your way towards the 1000 block area of East 25th Street in Indianapolis on any given Sunday and be prepared for humiliation. Sorry to mix sports metaphors here, but the ball is now in your court 'fridge.
Make the right descision.
Aiiight, I'm out because the High-Life is beginning to kick in.

Tuesday, October 26, 2004


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Club Paris Hilton and make everyone happy.

Reported in rhyme by chiseven
(Ed. note: Steve is chiseven's roommate)

I found the cast off skin of Paris Hilton in my bathtub
asked Steve what's up-he only admitted to a back-rub
yeah right-I know I heard that skank's voice last night
and I caught her sneakin' out the door before the morning light
man you gotta knock this shit off-stop dating models
cuz I'm sick of wakin' up to all these empty Cristal bottles
piled high up in the trash-can but I'm still laughin'
at the evidence found from a night of steady-mackin':
there's cocaine on the coffee-table and a bra upon the lamp-shade
full glasses of champagne and one strange carpet stain.
Then I pick my way thru all the rubble of this Don Juan
and when I'm lookin' for my keys I find a Louis Vuitton
hand-bag which I use as a barf-bag and I'm so glad
to catch my puke in the purse which I was lucky to grab
and to my suprise I saw Paris Hilton's effortless
impression of the spider-walk down my stairs like The Exorcist
I knew I caught her by suprise by the size of her eyes
when she realized that I would not be fooled by her disguise
so she stood up-adjusted her neck and started to curse
when she found my stomach's contents in her thousand-dollar purse
and I know I made it worse when I reacted with laughter
to this rich little bitch's latest fashion disaster
plus I got it all on video with hidden camcorders
Paris Hilton's hex tape-and yes i'm now taking orders

Only $9.99! E-mail me for your copy today!

Sunday, October 24, 2004

Weekend Wrap-up

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tougher than you may think...

Had an interesting weekend...let me share my experiences.
First off, the reason I have a picture of a lawn jockey is to illustrate my first story.
When I moved into my new crib I inherited a number of things: broken dishwasher, broken garbage disposal and a white lawn jockey. I think the jockey that I inherited began his days as a black concrete jockey but (thankfully) someone realized just how racist it was and painted him white like that dude up there. That pretty much looks like the one I have, minus the lantern.
Anyhoo, I was enjoying another beer on my front-porch as I took a break from Freestyle-Friday. Every Friday we open up the studio (okay, my bedroom) and invite a buncha friends over to freestlyle over beats me and D. have made throughout the week. Usually we also have a dirty 30 of the High-Life for our parched throats, and this Friday was no exception. So I'm chillin' out on my front porch drinkin' a beer and chattin' with three friends and some guy this dude named Dan C. brought over. I'm talkin' shit to my roommate and then outta nowhere this guy (who I have never met and is apparently an 8th grade teacher [WTF?]) falls over from where he's standing and tackles my lawn jockey, bringing the two of them to the wet ground. I look over at my comrades and I'm like "Did this guy just tackle my lawn-jockey? Was the jockey talkin' shit or something?" Everyone shrugs and then the dude begins to stand up so I'm like "hey guy, you got a problem with my lawn jockey? We don't need to bring this to violence man-let's have a nice discuss-" and before I can complete my sentence he starts swayin' again and then he tries to brace himself on a nearby tree (but it looked like he was tacklin' it...strange) but comes up short and just falls backwards onto my gravel driveway. So I finish my beer, set the jockey back up in his proper place and go inside to get tell the cat that brought this idiot over to my crib to clean up his mess of a friend. Here's the wierd thing though: this dude was completely sober (unlike myself-who saw no reason not to talk shit to some dude who's passing out). Either way, dude left and my jockey remains resolute and standing. End friday.

Saturday after work my boy Raw Dog calls and tells me that he just got back from Windsor, Canada.
Me: "So how was Canada?" RD: "It sucked. I got arrested." Me: "Ha! Explain!"
So ol' RD and some friend are in Windsor gettin' ready to roll into a strip-club when a bunch of Canadian police roll up on them like "You two have been urinating on police-cars!" RD and friend had NOT been doing said activity and tried to explain this but the cops weren't believing it. RD has the tendency to get lippy and one of the policemen was like "You shut your mouth right now or you are going to jail." RD then mimics the action of zipping his lips and reaches out to put the "key" into the officer's breast-pocket. Officer friendly then grabs RD and informs him that he is going to jail for "assaulting an officer" and proceeds to cuff him. Then he takes RD to the back of the paddywagon (which was waiting nearby...) and proceeds to punch RD in the face while saying "Fuck America. Fuck George Bush! You aren't in America now you fucker! Etc. Etc." RD is tossed into the paddywagon and soon his friend joins him, but not before getting some of the same treatment (punch to the face) and getting choked out for 10 seconds or so. They spend the night in jail and post bail for $70 American and then return to the states.
Amazing. To me this story proves two things: 1)people who become cops are generally power-hungry assholes who enjoy beating others(regardless of country or creed) and 2)George Bush has ruined our relations with the world. I officially denounce Ralph Nader and intend to vote for Kerry in November. I was going to vote for Nader for symbolic reasons but fuck it-we have to get Bush out. My state will go red, but at least I can try. Please forgive my past trangressions and join me as I step towards a new era.

Oh yeah, did anyone see Ashlee Simpson on SNL?
*crickets chirping*
Ok, I happened to be in the room while my roommate was watching it (and it was shiiiiity) and the host introduced her and then the band started playing and out of nowhere her vocals start (apparently for the wrong song...I wouldn't know) so she freaks out and just starts dancing like a deranged hillbilly and then she runs off the stage as they cut to a commercial. That shit was priceless. Oh, and bol has a link on his site so you can see it (check the comment section).
See you tommorrow when I have more to say...

Thursday, October 21, 2004

Creepy Picture Day

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It's like something out of a Bond movie..."gentlemen, I introduce you!"

Yeah, so this guy is Jay J Armes, some famous wealthy private investigator (unlike my hard-drinking, Micky Spillane-readin', failure as a P.I. father) who apparently saved Marlon Brando's son from kidnappers or something. He lost his hands as a kid and learned to, um, crush the larynx of those that cross his path or something. Either way, he's down with the president, no doubt, because he has an action figure of himself just like GwB. (link spotted at boing-boing via Warren Ellis' blog). He is the November suprise. When GwB utters the secret word he will stop at nothing to crush the voice-box of John Kerry with his cold metal hooks. Just you watch...

Anything is now possible since the Red Sox won last night. I'll be attempting to woo all those ladies with boyfriends that have been shuttin' me down as of late. Inspired by the tenacity of the Red Sox, I predict that my beguiling charms will lead to infidelity and pornographic memories. I can't wait.

And if that doesn't work I can always pretend to be a Republican and solicit sex from someone at one of these websites mentioned in this article (you might need a Salon day-pass to read the full's worth the effort). As long as none of these sirens look like Ann Coulter then I think I'll be fine. Good lord is she nasty. I hope that she googles her name and starts some beef (but I think that's probably expecting too much). Either way, I am prepared to insult her profusely but I will not (no matter how much she begs) sleep with her. Sorry ya'll.

Switching gears here a bit...
My boy ODBeck is back in Naptown after a sabbatical in Seattle for about a year. One of the greatest things about him being back in town is that he has a bunch of stories about tweakers out there. Apparently all that home-grown herb starts to make you sleepy after a while so many turn to meth to keep awake in order to reorganize their garage or be able to hug more trees or something. So most of his stories are about how he's workin' the third shift at some gas-station and he's drinkin' 22 oz. of the High-Life in the cooler when no-one is around, and then suddenly a tweaker walks in and the story begins. They all vary, but the theme is thus:
Methamphetamines will fuck you up. And not in that college-way. You know what I mean.
It doesn't matter if the tweaker is drooling on himself or about to turn the gas-station pump into a flame-thrower (I didn't get it either), all the stories are basically the same:
ODBeck may be drunk on the job, but at least he ain't a fucked up tweaker who's been up for 5 days. ODBeck thought being drunk would help him relate more, but the inebriation gap is too wide. Anyway, read this article about ice, some other kind of meth shit I will avoid consuming.

Check out this story on another reality-tv show that will boggle the mind. Here's my favorite part from the article:
"The show's intentions may seem philanthropic, but the contestants also face mean-spirited, made-for-TV challenges, like the bikini-clad temptress who moves in after the housemates have finished their last cigarettes. She enjoys an endless supply of cigarettes and blows smoke into the contestants' faces." This is exactly how it is at my house. Everytime I start to put those Camel Lights down for good, along comes some bikini-wearin' chain smokin' hottie beggin for a place to stay. Being the kind-soul that I am, I regularly boot a roommate out to make way for a smokin' girl but only to find that it's not as cool as I thought it would be. Whereas I thought that I would be inspecting bikinis and having long philosophical diatribes on the differences between Kant and Nietzsche; it's mainly just her blowing smoke into my face and mocking my lack of circulation problems. Damn smokin' women: Bane of my existence.

Now I ain't tryin to start beef, but I tend to disagree with damn near everything Oliver Wang writes about concerning music. I enjoy his site (mainly for the links) but I find that anytime he speaks of music I'm just like "you are wrong again Wang." Case in point:
Nas's Bridging the Gap video/song. He says that the execution of the concept is hot. I say bullshit. This is a verrrry boring track. Oh, let's mix up a standard-blues riff with Olu Dara singing about Nas and then we'll just change the song with a crappy transition where we add a beat with Nas rhyming. Sure the concept is neat, but the execution is not. When it changes it's not's jerky. It's like mashing up two songs that don't have the same bpm. Like seriously, you could actually listen to this more than once and enjoy it every time? If so, I suspect that you have been listening to some shitty music lately and have grown accustomed to poor-compositions masquerading as songs. Go listen to the Mars Volta. That's compostion!
He also sez that the latest De La album is the best since 1996. It's okay, but saying that it's better than either of the AOI albums is just wrong. To me, the same things that make this new album so-so are the same reasons those AOI releases were marginal: TOO MUCH GODDAMN SINGING. This is the same reason Talib and Mos put out shitty albums (well-one of the factors at least). Hip-Hop does not need some RnB singer crooning on every track. Just cuz somebody sings some words doesn't mean I'll feel it more. We must stop this madness now and nip this in the bud before Shanice is on an M.O.P. track (jeezus-I was just reminded of that song they made with the product GnB...wack!). So O-dub, you might get paid to write your opinions on music, but you are incorrect, whereas I write my views for free (sans explanation or eloquence) and I am right. Oh and that new Snoop-Dogg song with Pharrel? Yeah, I guess it IS genius when some overrated producer records himself beatboxing his own "Grindin'" beat with a few clicks and pops so Snoop can continue rhyming about nothing (but at least he does more shizzle-rhymes...oh boy!!!). I hope Pharrel can sell alot of those nasty-shoes he's tryin' ta sell cuz I am sick of hearing that mu'fuckah on everyone else's radio.
That's enough brilliance for today. I'm out ya'll. Peace.

Monday, October 18, 2004

Monday Afternoon Review
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Jon Stewart called him a dick on his own show. Blau!
And though I don't have cable, I do have transcripts of this encounter. It's really refreshing to see Stewart come on the show and make some good points about the show ("it's[Crossfire] theater") and then watch Carlson and Begala squirm as they realize that Stewart is being serious and he's not going to just tell some jokes. Stewart roasts 'em. Go read.

And read this piece on GwB's faith-based confidence. Truly frightening (link:
Could it be possible that God speaks through Bush? Somehow I doubt the Supreme Deity would stutter and be as incoherant, but maybe that's just a result of the spirit taking over. Besides, the God GwB talks about doesn't seem like the God I've come to know. The God I know enjoys pastrami sandwitches and listens to Slayer "purely for aesthetic value" and he's big on that whole "love thy neighbor" thing too. He's a funny dude...Bush should meet him.
Also spotted at blah3 is the sneeze. Go read his "Steve don't eat it" section. Funny shite.
And a good break from politics for a moment.
Another good break from politics is the whole "Blogwars" joke that some people are taking at face value and really, way too seriously. First Bol does the whole O-Dub is a known rascist joke and it's funny (that's what that dude does...he is hilarious). And then in both of their comments sections people start taking sides or casually tossing about racial epiteths. Then, others begin to take notice. Take this for example. Kiersten Marek has no idea what she is talking about. I would imagine she visited Bol's "about me" section and took it at face value. If you are going to make a comment on something then you should do your best to be well-informed so that you don't look like Kiersten Marek. No offense lady, but you took things too literally. It's all fake. A joke. Then, over at O-dub's comment section O-Dub and some cat named esco are all up in arms or whatever(well, really, OW is more rational and on the defensive, so he scores points). Whoo! Fighting is contagious! I think I will refrain from all that- as I am an easy target to ridicule. I'll just watch and laugh.

In other news, Jay-Z signed Foxy Brown to his record label with a half-million $ advance. Then, the same day, she goes out and gets a Bentley GT that costs half as much as her advance. I don't get that. Foxy Brown is a shitty rapper (when she writes her own rhymes) so she should be investing money for when those boobs begin to sag and people stop paying attention to her. Who the fuck owns Foxy Brown records anyway? No one I know.

Who still pays attention to KRS-One? Me, I guess. I was wondering how I was going to comprehend KRS's statements here until I read his response. Now I'm not too certain about KRS being a philosopher (though I think he is sincere when he says this...I have read "Ruminations") that people turn to for wisdom, but I do like the fact that he's out there with contrary opinions, to incite and attempt to get people to think differently. I think he has the right approach, but I wonder if he really accomplishes his intentions. On a side note, I read that Krist Novaselic (sp?) from Nirvana was on the same panel as KRS and when KRS said "America needs to commit suicide" he was like "No man, suicide is not the answer."
Maybe I'm an asshole, but I think that is hilarious. You know, considering Nirvana and all.
One more link and I'm out to eat lunch...
Read the first six paragraphs of this article.
To me, this speaks volumes (by inference) on the situation in Iraq.
Excuse the brevity. Must eat.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

The Only Debate I Watched Begs For My Comments
and I will comply...
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Now I know that I'm just going to be another person who does this but...
The Debate (forgot to note time first...kinda vauge...)
Sometime near the beginning: "I will hunt them down [terrorists] and kill them."-JFK. Personally? Wow. That's quite a promise. I like it.
Later: Bush says he doesn't remember saying he wasn't worried about OBL.
Oh word? (scroll down)
8:17: "...I send my budget man to Congress"-GWB
8:22: Kerry comes back with a pop-culture refrence to "stick it to the man." *yawn*
8:24: Bush goes *Phew* real loud like "Whoo!" He then opens a Coors Light and pours it over his head. This is awesome!
8:28:"Is homosexuality a choice Mr. President"-Bob(the mod)
GwB-"I don't know" JFK-"No." Me-"Nah" Dave-"*silence*" Bol-"No Homo"
8:34: JFK is eloquent on the "it's a sin to vote for Kerry"-quote question. GwB-not so eloquent.
8:40: JFK swats down Bush. pretty funny to watch.
8:43: Bush begins with some response and then just starts stuttering and is like "oh, never mind..." and he just starts on something new...elementary skool style. Nice!
8:55: Dave-"I agree." (to something from JFK) Way to participate D!
9:02: GwB avoids a direct question on RvWade. Kerry notes this.
9:05:Bob says something about a backdoor draft while asking a question. Dave and I laugh.
Backdoor draft. Um...and there were some answers or something.
Ok, 30 minutes later GwB says that his wife "speaks better English" than him and I was like "Fuck! That's pretty funny. He is kinda human. Neither robots, nor puppets can express self-depreciating behavior. Damn! Six months of research lost! Back to the JFK theory!"
The End: And we all have a good laugh and the two cats shake and say some shit before they bring their "debate" to an end.
Who won: I did. I killed another 90 minutes from my life. Time to drink. Oh, uh, no beer.

Well then...links! Get drunk off my links please. Lap them up like the curs you are and...
Excuse me.
Bol over there at (um, what's he call it? Oh yeah..) The Infamous and Lamentable B dot C
starts with this and then continues with this post to which the accused responds and Bol responds until it reaches critical mass (or at least, right now). I am in awe. This is the funniest shit I have read in a minute. Casual racism-it's making a comeback!
I been readin' a lot of different blogs lately...try a few:
Hardly Art, Hardly Garbage-BMG is gonna get him later. They're like a crazy ex-girl. Watch.
Mo Ca$h-he liked Talib's "Beautiful People" I don't hold it against him.
We Eat So Many Shrimp-Ice Cube has an Ak-47 here. Watch out.
Royal Magazine-nice pictures and links and music and and and...
Quarterwit-More than 1/4 wit.
No more blogs for now, but...
This is very gross and it involves Bill O'Reilly. No really. Gross.
And I'm gonna let Castro take this one out. I don't know why either.
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"Viva mystuntedgrowth y Cuba Libre!"

The Humane Society of the United States is Retarted

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...and then we'll eat that dog.

Now I ain't no goddamn hater of animals or anything because I love to eat them. I practice equal-opportunity-eating-of-animals whenever I can. Hell, if I was in Korea, I would try my damndest to eat some dog-meat. I also hear they boil cats. Wonder if that would be similar to egg-drop soup (cat-drop soup? delicious!) But, since I'm here in America with a bunch of assholes who would try and stop me from killing a dog and roasting it over a fire pit I guess I'll have to make due with lambs, pigs, birds, fish and cows...the animals people don't give a shit about eating. But wait-where is all this concern about animals coming from?
Go here.
Now, I don't give a shit about Jay-Z, but I do take issue with the Humane Society waiting months upon months to comment on the video. I guarantee they see videos and commercials and advertisements or whatever that really offend their loving-animals sensibilities and they just make a note of it and put it in a stack that they can consult later. Usually, they consult this stack when they feel they are being ignored. Then they make a blanket statement and condemn somebody or someone for abusing animals. For example, if Mr. Goodwin of the Humane Society took offense when he saw a depiction of pit-bulls fighting in Jay-Z's video why didn't he say something when it first came out? Why wait months to comment on something the networks (probably) don't show that often anyways? The answer is because the Humane Society is retarded. So the video has a clip of some pit-bulls goin' at it in a dog-fight. It also has a scene where Jay-Z gets shot. Buuuuut, the Humane Society could give a shit if another black male is murdered because dog-fighting is a serious threat to the safety of our inner-city residents. Dog fighting huh? So, Humane Society, what do you propose we do to combat this threat?
Goodwin[the Humane Society investigator] called for other Hip-Hop artists to come forward and renounce dog fighting.
“Young people often mirror the actions of the celebrities they idolize,” Goodwin noted. “Artists who insist on spreading these images through their work must accept their roles in perpetuating community violence.”
Oh yeah. I'm sure once Fabolous comes out against animal-cruelty the streets will be much safer for our "inner-city residents." So that's it. The Humane Society has identified this issue as a problem and now feels that it's time for Hip-Hop to address the issue. I nominate Cam'Ron to dress up in some purple-skirt (why fight it Cam?) and re-record some song from Cyndi Lauper that condones animal cruelty. Then, we'll all have popsicles and sing songs. Yay.
So there you have it: The Humane Society is retarded because they know they are impotent and yet still try and act like they are relevent. As long as people still eat other animals I really have to wonder why the Humane Society even tries.
I think I'll boil a lobster tonight to hear it scream. Animals deserve to die.
Then, I'm starting up a dog-fighting circuit at the crib. I could bank off of the suffering of animals that we don't usually eat. Then, I'll cook the losers, cuz their meat will be tenderized from the fighting. Mmmmm!

Tuesday, October 12, 2004

A Review of the F-Town Suicide

To comprehend the devestating combination of drugs one must first understand that there are really only two items necessary to employ the F-Town Suicide:
Image Hosted by and Image Hosted by but you'll need more herbs than that if yer doin' it right.
Anyhoo, I'm just going to assume you know how to roll a blunt and what one is, but if you are curious or need instructions I got that on lock.
Purchase a big bottle of Jim Beam whiskey and procure some herbals from your favorite dealer. We used to prefer Big Swan Gotti but if you don't have some white-kid wanna-be-thug who listens to Three-Six-Mafia and has fat rolls on his neck that make the back of his head look like a pack of franks then go find your own connection. Swan Gotti used to hook us up back in the day even if his product was questionable (Swan Gotti:"Dude, this shit is apple-bud...smells like apples see? $30 an eighth!" Me: "$20 or no deal." Swan: "Sold."). But he introduced me and my crew to the F-Town Suicide so I'll let his past transgressions slide just for nostalgic purposes. Which finally brings us to the main idea: Just what is an F-Town Suicide?
F-Town refers to the small town of Fairland, Indiana about 30 miles SouthEast of Indianapolis that gave birth to the innovative minds that created this ticket to an early demise (before 30).
I suspect the suicide is an unconcious nod to the final destination of most residents in said town. The F-Town Suicide is really just a concentrated version of the inebriation-cycle that most residents of Fairland eventually lapse into. Instead of accumulating a life-time of ailments stemming from your appetite for destruction you can go ahead and cut-corners by trying the F-Town Suicide as an expressway to your eventual heart-failure.
An F-Town Suicide is a process to get you fuuuuuuuucked up. There's just a few steps:
Once you have procured your illicit substances and created a blunt then you are ready to rock.
And on a side note, the F-Town Suicide is never done alone. There must be at least two people present for the event to be counted as an F-Town Suicide. Besides, why would you want to do the F-Town Suicide alone? No one can see you in all your glory if you are alone (this will make sense as I explain further...).
First: Light that blunt. Smoke it up. Pass it around the cypher once so that it's really burning by the time it gets back to you. Now that it's roaring, proceed to step two...
Second: Take a big pull off that blunt and hold it in.
Third: Open the bottle of Jim Beam and place the bottle to your lips (without exhaling).
Forth: Guzzle down as much whiskey as you possibly can by tipping the bottle upwards towards the heavens so God can smile on your foolishness.
Fifth: Finish your swig, and as you do so, exhale your THC-payload, which should envelop you in a haze of bluish-yellow blunt smoke that will impress novice-weed-smokers.
Sixth: Repeat until either substance is gone or until you die at 29-years-of-age on the toilet.

And there you have it: The F-Town Suicide, preferred method of intoxication for every Fairland resident with aspirations of owning their own barbershop (I swear to God, that's all those dudes talked about doing...). I myself have never tried the F-Town Suicide because I hate whiskey, but I do support and condone it's use and abuse because the usual knuckle-heads who love this sort of shit don't really need to reproduce, so if they consume a heavy amount of whiskey and marijuana their libidos will be easily defeated before they can get a chance to reproduce. In the interests of all humanity I encourage the reproduction of the above description as a Public-Service-Announcement to be distibuted amongst the masses because mystuntedgrowth is for the children. Thank you all for your attention. Expect another update soon...

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

I Ain't No Dirty Bird But I Been Puffin'

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Finally figured out how to put up some pictures, so be expectin this blog to be fiiaaaahhhh. Or at least an entertaining way to kill time as you download that newest Paris hilton video. Either way, all I know is that I wish I had a giant stuffed puffin. This old woman doesn't look too frightened, but I bet if you hollowed that body out and splashed some pigs-blood on the white fur and then chased around old-women with a rusty spoon then those biddies would be layin' on their back gaspin' for air as their cardiac system fails. Oh the power I could have with a puffin suit. I wonder how much Gorilla suits go for these days? I think a full-body gorilla suit would be a good item to have in my closet. I don't really see myself growing much so I bet if I invest in a costume then it could last for years. Then I'll roam the streets of Indianapolis and scare the be-jeezus out of old-people, and if I don't kill them automatically then I'll at least repo their drivers licenses. The grey-haired menace must be stopped. Word.

Pssst...did you hear about the Air-Force's anti-matter weapons? Sounds expensive and not nearly as neat as the sonic-bowel disruptor that I heard about years ago. Besides, if you can't make weapons that make your enemy shit uncontrollably then what is the point?

I spotted this post about the debates last-night and thought it was pretty cool. Anytime you can use a Seinfeld-refrence in politics and do it coherantly then its all good. Plus he talks about Dennis Miller on Jay Leno which I happened to hear last night as I was typing on the computer and my room-mate was watching the idiot-box. Goddamn, Dennis Miller is a hack. I'm not sayin' he's not funny cuz I don't agree with his politics but that dude has lost it. Not that he was that great to begin with-his snide attitude has always indicated him as an asshole, but now it's like he's that Uncle at family gatherings just tossin' out jokes that aren't funny, but laughing maniacally at every punchline. And Jay Leno doesn't help either why-wait a minute. We all know Jay Leno and Dennis Miller suck balls. The real question is why I didn't beat the shit out of my roommate with the remote control for watching such tripe. I have failed you once again humanity. Tonight I will bludgeon him with a prosthetic limb that I have stolen from some old-person while wearing a gorilla costume. I won't even say anything and I'll still be wearing the gorilla-suit as I flail a wooden leg towards his dome. Take that punk.

Well, I might not actually, because he did go out and get that new De La Soul album that I'm listening to right now. It's's uh...well, it's more De La without Prince Paul. you know what I mean. Now don't get me wrong, De La doesn't need Prince Paul (Stakes is High is my favorite album of all time-any genre) but I do get a little nostalgic for the craziness that Paul brought to the group. Now they're so damn old all they can do is be serious. Anyway, in the spirit of Bol and his record reviews, here's my review of "The GrindDate":
"The Future"
The de la intro with somebody (Mase?) saying "the future" a bunch of times and then about 1:30 into the track the song begins with some soul-singing and a plodding beat. Lyrics are nice as usual but the beat is kinda blah.
"Verbal Clad"
This has to be a madlib beat. It's got those same drums as that Dizzie Rascal song that talked about a big beat or something. Mu'fuckahs love those drums. I know of at least three local rap-groups that use that beat. It's a nice beat, but damn, I've heard it so much lately it's not all that fresh. Nice lyrics though. Pos and Dave still got that unique delivery and style.
"Much More"
That song that they did on the Chappelle show. Has that chick named "Yummy" singing on it. Is it me or does she sound about 9 years old? Either way, the beat is niiiice and it even has DJ Premier talking about saving hip-hop or whatever he's pissed about right now. Pos comes correct though: "I got verbs, skills, babies and bills, a brother who smoked crills and still tryin' to get himself together from it..." I love how Pos' verses are like a personal update every album. How are your kids Pos? "Check out track 6 my man" Okay, I like this beat and the song but as is the case with rap these days, there is waaaay too much goddamn singing. Note to hiphop: If I want to hear singing I'll buy an R&B album. Knock it off.
"Shopping Bags"
The single. Remeber "Baby Phat" a few years back? Same idea here. De La is speaking on those men and women relations and this time it's all about shopping bags. Might grow on me, but for now the goddamn singing is getting on my nerves. Typical lead single from De La though. Not bad, but not really good either. Next!
"The Grind Date"
This song sounds like they're tryin to capture that "21 Questions" sound. I don't know if it's intentional or not but I keep wanting Dave to say something about loving someone like a fat kid loves cake. Oh well, at least there's no damn singing. Next!
Starts off with Spike Lee. He says some AKA stuff but I was thinking about him in those Jordan commercials with the MARS necklace so I don't really hear what he's saying. This is a 9th Wonder track so you know there's people singing in the background. 9th Wonder's drums suck, but this track isn't too bad. Boy it sucks that I can listen to De La and go "well, it's not bad". There used to be no question. I think they're just getting a pass because of their previous efforts.
"It's Like That"
Starts off all syrupy and then Carl Thomas comes through with a little soul-croon and my hand reaches for the forward button. Fuck that bullshit. Next!
"He Comes"
The track that De La didn't pay Ghostface for. I guess they didn't pay Ghost-didni for his verse so he took the track and put it on some mix-tape talkin' about "this is what happens when mu'fuckahs send me a beat and don't give me my gotdamn money!" Whatever. Either way the song is hype and Ghost kills it. I never know what he's saying but he says "Uday and Qusay (sp?)" so it's pretty fun to listen to.
"Days of Our Lives"
Common is on this one. Kinda weird beat. Not too hype, but good. Kinda sounds like a beat I would make, but mine would be better. If I wasn't at work I'd be quoting more lyrics but I can't really turn it up that loud so fuck it-half-assed reviews are better than none eh?
"Come On Down"
Flavor Flav is on this track. It works cuz the beat is kinda Public-Enemy-esque. I wonder if De La had to tell Flav that he wouldn't get a verse on this track. I bet Flav is pretty used to his hypeman status, so it's probably no big deal. Still, I would hate to be the one that says "uh, Flav, we just don't think yer verse about "the strong island wildin' inside of your girls hymen" is going to work. Could you just shout the hook and do that crazy laugh of yours? Thanks."
Starts out with singing. Begin reaching for forward button-Pos comes on over some strange beat that continues to plod along. I think this is a Dave West beat. His shit kinda just plods along. Not hype and not too slow. Kinda makes me nod. Ah fuck it, next.
"Rock Co.Cane Flow"
HYPE! I want this beat playing as I strut down the halls at work slappin' up my co-workers and drinkin' a 40 oz. of Mickey's Malt Liquor. I'll smoke a blunt and not share either. This song just makes me want to swagger in front of white people while mouthing the words and throwing my hands around like some rapper in a video. RRRRRRAHHHH! Then the track ends and so does the album.
Final Thoughts:
Not dissapointing, but not really anything to get too hype about which makes it another "Bionix" as far as I'm concerned. Some real good songs, a few shitty ones, and way too much singing.
I love De La but I'm gonna have to say download this record and buy one of their first three albums. If you don't have "De La Soul is Dead" then buy it before this one. And I've found that reviewing each song off an album sucks. Never again. Now to figure out how to get some comments on this mug. Later skaters.

"Did Somebody Step On a Duck?!?"

He'll get some respect now. Damn shame too. I had a plan to invite Rodney to one of my parties by buying him a plane ticket and a barrel of whiskey. Alas, that letter will never be sent now.
Rest in Peace Mr. D.

AllHipHop got some words for Paris Hilton. Get that beeeatch! Now lets stop speaking of her.

No Taibbi in the nypost this week but I found some columns at Alternet and here.

Lemme take a break right now so I can pause and reflect upon the illegal downloading I have been doing lately thanks to soulseek. Ah Foreign Exchange, O'Shea Jackson (circa 1990), Muggs, Sen-Dog, B-Real, bjork, Hangar 18, non-prophets, brother ali, and MF Doom...thank you for the free music. It is wonderful. By downloading your music I am able to purchase more Miller High-Life and illegal narcatoics to help speed up this dying process. I thank you for your self-less efforts to make my life more inebriated. Your struggle to create art and gain meaningful compensation is noted, but not supported, by me. You have my gratitude.

The earth is about to blow a big symbolic load out there in Washington. Cue the porno-music. Let's hope the magma-stream doesn't get in anyone's eye. Uhhhhhhh

Join me as I take some magic-mushrooms and zone out to the psychedelic sounds of the jew's harp. Then when we come down we'll talk about what really goes on in Bush's earpiece during those public-appearances. I think he listens to Too Short's "Life is..." Yep.

Get thee to the onion posthaste. Laugh. Come back.
Ok, go away...I have nothing else to link to. Nothing to comment either. I'm outta gas.
Time to listen to some bootleg Beatnuts.

Monday, October 04, 2004

MyStuntedGrowth is For The Children:

We got another one of those "debate" things on Tuesday with the VP-candidates tossing phrases and figures at each other. James Ridgeway of the Village Voice anticipates the event (link: Cursor). Should be pretty interesting since Edwards comes correct occassionally.

On a different note, have you ever wanted someone to explain to you, in writing, why they like to frequent brothels and fornicate with whores? Me too! The Guardian has it! Confess your sins before humanity you whore-mongering-ah, fuck on player.

I bet it sucks to be a farmer in Greece. If all the women left around you just what would you do? I'd make a love-bus just like they did. Espescially if I was Spyros Bilionis and insisted that the men of Greece were "well endowed" and would take this bus to the Ukraine to get some pretty ladies. Those farmers don't know about alchemy and growing their own woman I guess. Or they could make a homonculous to tend to the crops while they peruse the personals. Yep, alchemy.

I almost linked to some other disaster in Iraq but then I figured, why bother? We all know Iraq is fucked right now. I know our govt. isn't doing anything great over there. Ok, that's that.
At least some Indians are gettin' a break. At least for 10 days or so...and I guess it's not really that big of a victory...hmm. At least that picture was kinda funny.

Speaking of funny, I wanted to link to some comics that are a good way to kill time:
Ted Rall-cartoons and blog. Alan Keyes (i think) once wondered if Rall could be arrested for sedition in response to one of his cartoons.Ch-ch-check it.
Tom the Dancing Bug-the most consistent cartoonist doing a weekly strip.
Get your War On-David Rees-oh wait, he's in Rolling already knew.
Peter Kuper-airbrush stencil comics...does Spy vs. Spy pretty well.
Jim Mahfood-thin lines rule. Great links.
Next isn't funny but neat to look at...
David Mack-whoop! Amazing work. Makes me want to stop drawing. Or at least never use watercolors. Damn.
Of course check out the Maakies and Derfcity, links on the right.
Ok, enough cartoons. Let's laugh at real people. Yep. That is strange beyond words...I can't type here. Confused it with a chicken neck? I think I'm gonna go lie down now...

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