12.11.05

Kimono My House




I can't let myself get long in the tooth. I'm going to a big ART opening tonight, and I'm worried people might want to come to my house afterwards.
I've got to drop this little tale before I forget. Just the other night, I was sitting at a bar in Michigan City. This big black guy next to me keeps talking about how he lived with Michael Jackson, has known Stevie Wonder his whole life, and works for 50 Cent. I assume that anyone talking at a bar is lying. Sometimes when people ask me what I do, I tell them I'm a butler. Eventually, I realize he's wearing a $30,000 watch. He starts showing me pictures on his phone. Sure enough, it's him and Stevie Wonder, him and Michael Jackson, Him and Janet Jackson, Him and Snoop. I'm starting to believe him. He keeps mentioning his father, the minister. It comes out that he's Louis Farrakhan's son. He shows me his license. It says Farrakhan. Next thing you know, we're calling Stevie Wonder's voicemail. To recap, I was sitting in Michigan City with Louis Farrakhan's son calling Stevie Wonder's voice mail in the middle of the night...
He's the guy on the left.



For Mz. Yo, who happens to be out on love herself...



Pictures from China
... (Don't click on the the cat picture... Trust me.)



Supercute pudgey black boy with a Southern accent describes a fight he saw in a movie
... If you don't at least grin, then you have no soul.
Supercute tiny Chinese girl without a chinese accents sings a song on Chinese Idol... If don't at least grin, then you have no soul.
If you have no soul, then maybe this is in your wheelhouse...

MP3 site I like
... While you're at it.
Egypt Is The Magick #

6.11.05

Walt Disney ruined my life

People always talk about the dangers of exposing children to violent and sexual imagery in their media. Granted, I don't feel comfortable swimming because I saw Jaws when I was 5 or so. That was the same year that I saw Halloween. My folks were fine with death, but they'd cover my ears if someone said Bowels. At the rate children are acclimating themselves to the visceral fake realities of media culture, show them Psycho in the womb. The real dangers are the seemingly innocuous but, by extension, more formative swill we shovel into their little bowls. Bad guys lose. Good guys win, and again by extension, win possession of the girl. It's all going to work out, and true love exists. I hate to sound like a lemon, but true love exists when two people are mutually dissatisfied and they bear with it. If it's not about fucking or obsession or possession, then it won't last. Walt Disney ruined my life...



On a lighter childhood note, I found a picture of one of the villians from the new Spider-Man flick. I'm stoked, because the Sandman is classic Spidey Foe, yo.



Cyndi Lauper has a new album dropping on Tuesday. The last one was mostly Jazzy Ballads. It even featured a duet with Tony Friggin' Bennett. Sam Cooke never understood why paople went so apeshit for someone that sang offkey. Oh Well. It's like I always say about cooking. When you're dealing with an impossible ingredient, deepfry it.



Russian Paint by Numbers Porn.