Gangster rap gets compared to Mozart and the mentally handicapped are allowed to vote — because “who’s to say” that gangster rap isn’t the classical music of today, and who’s to say that a man with the IQ of a seven-year-old doesn’t have an “equally valuable perspective”?
I stopped listening to rap when you could still find Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five on the radio. I was particularly enamored with the “aw, shucks” Andy Griffith personalities of Niggaz Wit Attitude and the late Tupac Shakur.
Of course, the editors also hoped to stir up some controversy, maybe even incite some religious conservatives to play to type. Alas, this shtick works.
It certainly worked for such “gangsta rappers” as Ice Cube, Ice-T, and Snoop Dogg, all of whom once talked a big game about keeping it real and not being “house niggas.”
My advice is to prepare yourself now. Hoard weapons, grow gills and learn to communicate with serpents.
I’m reminded of a scene from Don Quixote: A man walks to the center of town and gathers a crowd for the show he’s about to put on. The man picks up a dog and inserts a tube into its rump. He begins to inflate the canine. The crowd watches, fascinated. The dog grows larger and rounder. Eventually, the man pulls the tube out and the air escapes loudly from the poor pooch’s rear as it runs away. The man turns to the crowd and asks: “You think it’s easy to inflate a dog with a tube?”
Charlie Tuna is clearly not named after the Jurassic 5 MC.
Big Ideas? Feh.
Serious-minded liberals launched what Democratic idea-broker Kenneth S. Baer calls “the battle of the battle of ideas,” in which they argue about whether it’s time to argue about important arguments. Bush hatred drives — or poisons — almost everything in liberal politics now.
It’s also nonsense to say that this is about “the people” versus “the establishment.” Robert Byrd of West Virginia has been in the Senate since the mid-Jurassic period. That old, calcified chewing gum stuck underneath the establishment’s chair? He put it there.
Your a liebrul arent’ you ToadD? Always sniffing around the Eds and dreaming about sucking on the Madeline Albright’s toes! Well they aren’t going to be able to SAVE YOU THIS TIME. Prepare to meat your maker liberlanazi fascist communists national health care pinkos!!!!!!
Secretary of State Madeleine Albright felt that calling terrorist states “rogue nations” was too judgmental, so she rechristened them “states of concern.” I know because I was in college at the time and had friends scream at me, “Peace through strength is like virginity through f—cking.” Ah, the liberal arts.
In that spirit I have been watching reruns of The Six Million Dollar Man on the Sci Fi Channel. If I am not mistaken, Steve Austin has two bionic legs, one bionic arm, and one bionic eye. Last week they had an episode where the $6 Million Man was swimming at bionic speeds. Now, wouldn’t he just swim in circles?
[...] Capt. T finally did it. He peed into the wind while spitting and poking a turd and disturbing a hornet’s nest. The nest of a single, but very large hornet. A hornet that is friends with privileges with [...]
“Faze Laser Set to Stun”
feat. Ernest Borgnine, Cee-Lo, and The Grinch
Scandalous on a Memory: Maddy’s toes tickle my checks
Death light steaming from the balcony of my death copter
Selling you insurance like Dennis Hopper fo yo stink tooth
It is a metaphorical certainty that soft drink didn’t make Don Knots a better blogger (Nooooooooooooo!)
Wisdom caught between Hannibal’s mandible and you’re that shred of jerky that suffers between his consciousness and his subconsious desires to meet Royal Ivey..
It’s your sushi Lucy, no don’t leave it on the street. It’s raw fucking fish, THAT’s why. What the fuck the garbage is only like thirty steps up the..oh that’s nice, on my Airwolf Rain Slicker
Fleeting beat downs on beat streets you meet progressive pollinators, you forgot yo’ dream book on the coffee table of my Uncle Ernie place. Yo, do you like Uncle Ernie? Yo yo, you be staying at an old dude’s house? What the fuck..
Stolen koolaid made it green for a gator to swallow, but your job’s is to clean his teef
Washed up on my reef of sorrow, shit you can’t borrow MY tug boat
Hold up, hold up, why does a young dude, I mean like I don’t care if you’re gay or something..but my Uncle is like 68. Do you need some money..Start boosting DVDs again. Yeah, I understand. YEAH, I said, I said yeah. BYE!
Resonate flex furious frivolous soul crushing policy option selection
Yeah I be with special ladies that understand me, who I be, where I’m going, (the store)
Three Bulls sitting on a corner
swarm her, misemploy her, reverse her, with cursive sling shot banana traps.
The City Raps about the blogosfascist when they’re done discussing, dust, foam, deer hunting, and how many bites it takes to get to the center of you
Well, that does it. I don’t understand one single fucking post on this thread.
Yesterday, my mother and I testified before the Maryland grand jury investigating Linda Tripp. We cooperated fully. We answered all questions. We invoked no privileges.
The Clinton people have contempt for the law and those who are sworn to uphold it. They are without remorse when it comes to lying to the public about false outrages if it will gain them the slightest advantage in the media or the polls.
Bill Maher just went on some crazy-ass rant about how all pharmaceuticals are poison, and that no one that eats right will ever need antibiotics. Man, it was strange.
Bob Costas was pretty funny, saying to Maher ” Oh, come on, Superman!”
I want Sifu to decide what kind of incoherence he prefers, 3Bulls or Charlie Tuna.
If you go by my e-mail, opinions are split fairly evenly between total outrage and head-shaking disappointment with only the thinnest veneer of guarded optimism. There are things I still like about it, but it’s become increasingly difficult to separate the quadrotriticale from the chaff. But, for now let me speak in broad brushstrokes.
I remember the exact moment I no longer respected the James Bond series. It was in a scene in the dreadful Octopussy. Most of the surviving human race lives on New Caprica, a grim Salusa Secundus rock of a planet, which is now occupied by the Cylons who claim to be coming in peace to help humanity.
Were I czar, the sainted George Lucas would be summoned to my court and asked to explain himself (he would be made all the more nervous, no doubt, by the sight of Alan Dershowitz chained to a post, forced to feed very small bacon bits to a wolverine one at a time, using only his lips).
It’s a shame, because in yesterday’s Washington Post there was at least one mention of a pressing issue which transcends the tired dichotomies of Left and Right, liberal and conservative, Third Way and, uh, Negative Third Way. The politics of failure have failed! (What’s the from?) Romulan and Klingon, Borg and Species 3472 (or whatever that number is), Hillary Clinton and Bill Clinton’s pants can all agree on this one issue. It is the Miller Lite of American politics, both filling less and tasting great.
If I were Tsar, George Lucas would be first up against the wall, and not (only) because he’s the only greaser besides the current Bowser in the year 2008.
I would write a song about it, but I don’t know what rhymes with, “Shut the Fuck up!”
You should have just stayed in my Childhood, George, why’d you have to come back when I knew what a good movie is with fucking Jar Jar Binks? Jar Jar is the work of a hack. If you look up hack in the dictionary, it says, “To invent Jar Jar.”
An irony-off ends in confusion. But isn’t the sincerest post the most ironic of all? Captain T kicks butt. Sadly, commenters got punked (No!). The Editors can respond with nothing less than a video of Jackbooted Liberals waterboarding Jonah G.
First, Jar Jar Binks, the digitally animated character, is just plain awful — just as I suspected. If he had been so brutally murdered during the course of the film that Phantom Menace got an NC 17 rating, it would have been worth it.
By riddling the movie with silly jokes — the inane color commentary at the pod race, the ragamuffin’s shouts of “yippee!” and of course the excremental Jar-Jar Binks — Lucas punctured the illusion of the entire Star Wars universe.
Now for the good news. The total movie is awesome. What Lucas did to Phantom Menace would be considered a crime against the throne, the people, and posterity.
And to switch gears for a moment — there are no midgets either. I have no problems with little people — or whatever the preferred term for them is these days — but, let’s face it, the only thing they have in common with hobbits, or even dwarfs, is their height.The problem is that human midgets move like, well, human midgets. Their awkwardness makes them uncomfortable to watch and unbelievable as a separate race.
I was trying to think of something funny to say, but then I read “When they came for the midgets, I said nothing. Charlie the Tuna seemed to have a lot to say, so I just let him” and realised there was nothing left.
Why don’t we just buy the rights to Airwolf and Blue Thunder from the uninterested conglomeration that currently owns their rights, and make…you know…the greatest copter program in the English language ever known to man. Hmmm? Why? We just need to keep the potential radness on the down low,(as if that were possible.)
I for one have no desire to be on the receiving end of Kathryn Lopez’s Irish-Spanish rage. “El shamrock de la muerte” (as they call her in the intern pens) can turn from Irish green to El Sid red faster than Hillary Clinton’s mood ring during a Ken Starr deposition.
So, I thought I might resort to — you guessed it — mime!
This is me in a box.
This me walking against the wind.
This is me trying to eat the jalapenos from the Sizzler salad bar but I keep getting my face jammed against the sneeze guard.
Oh wait — you can’t see any of this.
How anyone can say the blogosphere is so great when you can’t even mime on it is a mystery to me.
[...] YES YOU HEARD ME CHOADS. I HAVE HONORED JONAH GOLDBERG WITH A SPOKEN WORD PREFOMRMANCE/PODCATS OF HIS DEEPLY MOVING AND WISE WORDS REGARDING HIS CRITICS. I ALSO CONTINUE TO SMACK DOWN STUPID SLAPPERS WITH THE CONSTANT CHIRP OF CRICKETS THAT I HEAR IN MY EAR REGARDING THEIR NON-RESPONSE TO MY BATTLE RAPPING THEIR ASSES BACK TO THE STONED AGE. [...]
slang like bang /hitch hike fly high suppose mc’s thesedayz are common with ho’s
2 words 2 lines sniff ya like cocaine gotta make it rain / flip like the Flintstones
bring it back to the bone stone age on ya frame so silly so pain so hot forget about the fame
rise until people see the written value’s of a main men
hit and flee spitting on Jews
all these lame as rappers ain;t got shit on me. spit 12 little lines got boys following the trail behind and on the side of me. you say you got . well you don’t. show you the way to the exit where you get flat out on your ass. don’t beg. be mad. come back when your punk ass got a better rap.