Lets get the crazy started correctly with this little tidbit from the fiancé of the psychopath craigslist serial killer.Hrm…He’s on surveillance cameras at the scenes of the crimes...He has the underwears from the lucky ladies…His pistol matches…this is starting to sound like a bad episode of Law & Order Criminal Intent.Where’s the drama? Where’s the twist?Maybe the fiancé ordered the crimespree.That’s why she’s standing by her man.Or she’s his sister. Hot.
Come for the culture, stay for the 101 Rapes. Being a queer for audiophile related stuff, this made me chuckle. Monster Cable is going to have to slash their prices to stay competitive with the demise of Circuit City. Considering they think slashing the price from 125 to 99 dollars will convince you to not go to monoprice to buy that same cable for 4 dollars, I want whatever they're freebasing.
Stormy weather, beating on carcasses of dead animals and fashioning a coke bottle into an ocarina are all examples of how we, as humans, belong to a select group of animals that have a burning desire to make music. We hit stuff, then strummed stuff, then blew stuff, and then we invented some instruments that didn't sound so homoerotic. Emile Berliner invented the microphone, some other guy invented audio tape and we had recording. Shortly after, someone cracked an egg and smeared its contents all over their face. They screamed in front of a microphone and we got Susan Boyle, a shemale from Franz Ferdinand, Connecticut. Now I'm all for talent, but this woman seems like she was bionically engineered to revitalize the flailing, failing, flopping American Idol. She's the "John Everyman" for men and women everywhere. She got more hits on her youtube video than Obama's inauguration or ShamWow's prostitute.
Oh snap.
I have to back up, I'm sorry. Revitalization indicates that American Idol was vital at one point. That's just something I cannot concede to, but for all you middle American motherfuckers who love Dancing with the Stars and America's Got Talent, drink up, it's almost showboating time.
Now I have totally deviated off course here. I wanted to talk to you about Electro! It's the natural evolution of music. It went Hemingway*, Beethoven and then Hypercrush.
Somewhere in the indescribably vast universe, we've encountered music that just don't FUCKIN QUIT.
After Hypercrush's explosion onto the first AM radios, they were a household name for 88 years. Donny "Ponyboy" Fontaine died an excruciating death earlier this year. He literally made his ass bounce so much that it dislocated, leaving him in a chill out state where he experienced his first hangover. If anyone asks, the sound that a head makes when it explodes is written out "POOMFLUCK." I learned this from Ponyboy. RIP. We will all miss your haircut and your impeccable taste in glow in the dark keytar solos.
Lucky.
We got the new party music now. Just throw away your old cds/vinyls/ADat's/Mp3's/24 track digital 2 inch tapes/8tracks/netflix and DSD's. You don't own any DSD's, you say? Well get all up on the one bit digital 2.8224 MHz recording phenom and then as soon as you feel you can't live without your new found fidelity, throw that shit the fuck away.
Girltalk, ladies and gentlemen, has taken the stage and No, he will not give it back.
I Lied. You can have 4 lps and 2 eps.
Secret Diary (2002)**
Unstoppable (2004)**
Night Ripper (2006)
Feed the Animals (2008)
Stop Cleveland Hate (2004)**
Bone Hard Zaggin' (2006)**
THAT'S ALL YOU GET. It's OK. You'll be fine with this after I explain.
Girltalk is Gregg Michael Gillis (or what I like to call him, "Girltalk") and a laptop. Remember back in the day three minutes ago when you threw those cds and vinyls away? Well he picked em all up and rubbed em against each other with some ky jelly and some Joose. Now we're blowin purple stuff.
His crowning achievement, along with being gifted in the art of ADD music, is his knack for taking something as ridiculous as him sitting on stage with a laptop and turning it into the coolest thing ever. I don't know a guy who wouldn't want to divert some of the focus away from him by his lonesome. So he gets himself comfortable by inviting girls up on stage to dance with him. He's packs the girls on stage so you can't even see him anymore. Now that's a party. He'll make appearances every now and again, pushing his way to the front of the crowd of lude women. He's trying to be comfortable, so you'd expect him to be wearing less and less clothes throughout the show. Can you blame him? It gets hot up there under those lights/vaginas.
Side Note: I am sure that one or two of you who read this will undoubtedly see that there are manimals near him on stage as well as women. I choose not to see that.
This didn't tell you anything about anything and I'm satisfied with that. Clinch Fists.
Now I just wanna go work out for 39 hours with these songs on repeat, wearin a thong. Well the thong isn't abnormal, but working out for 39 hours is just silly. I know somethin I could do for 39 hours straight if I really focused.
420 has a lot to do with everything so let’s solve some mysteries together.
I Shat Brix:
When I was lying in my bed listening to Limp Bizkit’s Significant Other album the other day, I wondered to myself, “Man, what the hell happened to that magazine Highlights?” It only seemed like it was available for subscription to doctor’s offices around the country. My favorite part, as if there was any other part to the magazine, was finding the hidden crap in the picture. It was a roll of the dice whether or not you would get a magazine that some bastard had already gone through and circled the hidden items. This was calming as a child. I could enhance my search and destroy methods therefore evading any premonitions about the white robe guy hitting me with a hammer or making me sit on wax paper in a small room, almost naked, for hours.
Lucky for us, after highlights, Where’s Waldo stepped in to become our new favorite search-for-this-dude book. Let’s face it; Waldo Books weren’t to be owned. You looked at them in the library to combat reading comprehension, found Waldo, and got the hell out of there.
Yes, the elusive gap of “search-for-___” was widened after Waldo’s immanent demise. Now, with the internet, we have “When you see it. You’ll shit bricks.” I believe the beginning revolved around the insertion of a picture of a random black man into an otherwise friendly or fun situation picture with white people.
THERE HE IS!
AND There HE is!
Where’s Waldo and Highlights have been ripped off, squashed and delineated into a meme. A meme that has its own website.
Today’s news barrage is sponsored by Requip. Anything that can help me stop shaking and start gambling pathologically is alright with me. Thank you, Michael J Parkinson’s.
This woman is awful at bowling. She has a hard enough time bowling her age. You’d think that after all those years of practice that she’d be scoring a 300 game every time.
Fox News Guy knows how to dress for a Whitehouse Press Conference.
I don’t know why anyone would want to make liquid feces -- which I believe is the 6th state of matter -- a thing of the past,
Mumumumumu Mixed Grill. I really want to shake this guy’s hand. He wins the award for going-to-any-lengths-to-assure-his-proximity-to a-blacked-out-drunk-girl. Bonus points for trying to bring said drunk, blacked out girl home.
And finally, a story we can all get behind. I often find myself in the same mindset. If I’m driving down the road and I see that there are flaggers for one lane ahead, I consider lighting my car on fire in lieu of stopping. I mean are they going to insist that the flaming car stop or do they just let him pass by and become an Australian citizen? Sounds like an easy decision to me.
Apparently, it's "exciting" and "interesting." And I thought my obsession with the horsedick meme was unwarranted. I am actually a pioneer of the faith that all bodily fluids belong, at least at one point, in someone's stomach. This just affirms my belief that we're sick and destined to start eating each other by the end of 2050 in the name of exciting, interesting cuisine. No longer will a simple dog or cat suffice as a means to make someone throw up in their mouth a hundred times over as the subject of a webvideo that was ripped from The Faces of Death Series. There will be none of that Traces of Death crap here. SPK Despair cannot be undone, however. So it is destined to rot in my brainal forever. And hay, it's been re released on DVD making sure to preserve all the static, high pitched squeals, horseface eating and necrophilia! LolOlollOLlLol! Can't wait for the blu ray.
Twitterhas been on the rise. I have a twitter, of course, to make sure that all 4 people that are following me will know that I'm sitting around, popping Maalox, and burning the hairs off my kneecaps with a match. It seems that the most inane commentary on someone's life is the most interesting for being so uninteresting. Someone who says they're making a sandwich and I see it's 2:30pm, I start to wonder, "Why?" "Is this someone who took a late lunch break? Did they just get up? Why don't I have a sandwich? FUCK YOU EARL."
There's other nonsensical twitters going around. One was brought to my attention through a news article about people impersonating Shaquille O'neal. For some reason, he twitters, he twitters often, and he just seems like he's doing everything at once. One moment he's eating in a cafe and the next, he's meeting the president at a strip club. Maybe not entirely correct. His "tweets" are entertaining, and a welcome addition to the mindless crap that is flung at me throughout the day.
My cousin has a twitter as well and I follow him. He does more interesting things, but hooked me with:
DaveHeyneDeep down, I'm hoping- borderline praying Tyra banks gets hit by a truck. Then, and only then, we can all go home...1:47 AM Mar 5th
We can all go home now... Not before we catch up with the myriad of ways that twitter is making a name for itself. It's even been sought after by the Google. That's a big deal. I hear they have money and continue to make money.
Do you ever have people just hanging around your cubicle just yammering away about something that has nothing to do with you?
Of course you don’t. Your dreams are intact. You have a magnanimous sense of self-worth that hasn’t been crushed by a biweekly paycheck and a yearly Christmas party. Or if you’re in the same boat, be quiet and let me pretend that you know you and I know I.
It made me think about how awesome it was to get pseudo weaponry as a child. We’re brought up to fight the world with everything we have. We just only seemed to have Styrofoam Arrows and Suction Cup darts in our mini arsenal at the time. But, that paved the way to adulthood, where the world is your oyster. (Where in the world is your oyster?!) You can do anything if you put your mind to it unless it involves someone having to pay you to do it. This is completely true. I can attest to this: eating is fundamental.
And what the hell do you do if you don’t like oysters?
In my life, I’ve interned for three places: a production studio, a radio station, and a museum. I spent two years of my life, collectively, performing unpaid tasks that were as awesome as meeting celebrities and as banal as cleaning toilets. The radio station actually gave me a job afterwards for many years, but at the beginning of this year, after dwindling my hours from full time, to part time, to as needed, to lucky if you work 3 hours this month, they finally cut me loose.
So what does interning do for you? In job interviews, the moment I say I interned for so and so, they blow me off. This is especially true if you’ve interned at more than one place. Their immediate reaction is:
“Why has he interned at more than one place? Did he steal things from those studios? I bet he smells. Yeah he definitely stole things and he smells. What the hell HD channel is Telemedia Broadcasting anyway? I bet they show Seinfeld reruns. Man I love Kramer and George…”
That’s about as much guff I have with internships. Being entirely objective, I think it’s all crap. It’s slave labor surrounded by things that interest the party involved. It’s like getting a cat to pull a wagon of catnip up a hill for seven months and then saying, “Yeah, the position you were looking for…umm catnip eater/roller arounder/cuteness quality control specialist has been filled by an outside green source.”
This happened to me. Amazingly, I interned at a studio for so long that I ended up on their staff page.
I stopped interning there about a year and a half ago.
Sometimes in order to get over things you got to get over them.
Thanks.
MOAR News: This will be a recurring spot on my posts. The majority of what I see during the day is news related. So this will be the area that I keep you up to date on the happenings of retards across the world. Most mainstream hot topics will not be discussed; nothing about Obama’s puppy will be seen here.
She’s quoted as saying,” We were going to get rid of him anyway. We usually don't do this.” This really beckons the question, “What the hell do you usually do?”
Side note: Why is there a picture of a dog with a wig in the article? Dogs with hair prosthetics make me irate. I almost want to tape it to a fridge.
We've all been here or here at least once or twice in our lives.
THIS: is awesome
It’s very easy to force someone to make a split second judgment of your character. Just use the word “crotchfruit” in reference to a child and slam-bam-thank-ya-ma’am, judgment hath been rendered.
This is Awesome.
MOAR news: Finger Eating Edition
