Indiana

"Daddy, why does my room smell like the foul odor of phallic racism?"

At one point Amber started talking about black guys. "I wasn't thrilled," says Jeff. "Nope, wasn't a fan." But she persisted, and he decided to go along. "I like seeing Amber get off," he says with a shrug. "It excites the hell out of me. And it's better if they're black. All Amber wants is sex. Black guys get that. And I know that Amber would never date a black man."
Okay, tying up your non-traditional sex life with being a seemingly oblivious racist is one thing. The celebrated men of the Florida Mandingos seem fine with the deal as presented to them, and seem to get off on the race play just as much as the white people. I'm not cool with it, but this is still the America I believe in where willing people are allowed to fuck other willing people in any sort of combination they're all willing to handle.
But I do have a problem with this:
Jeff's casual bigotry aside, tonight's orgy is fairly typical. Amber's two boys, 11 and 13, have been shipped off to their grandparents' house, and their rooms have been suitably modified[.]
Unacceptable. I believe a lot in my fuck-friendly America, I also believe just as much as a thing called good taste. And hosting a racism/cuckolding-themed orgy in your kids' rooms absolutely crosses a line that should be obvious to anyone. Finding out that your parents host racist orgies in your room is the kind of thing that can easily turn a normal 13 year old kid into the kind of person who huffs brain-damaging chemicals and disembowels hookers. These people are, above all else, shitty at being parents.
Shining a flashlight underneath the 11-year-old's bed, he tuts and tsks. "There, look, a condom wrapper! I missed one of these once, and the kids found it. You know, I leave a trash can in every room, but still, some people . . ."
Those are not sentences that any person should ever say.

Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night / and wouldn't you love to check out her webcam!!11!!!

So a couple of months ago I got MySpaced by a fake Stevie Nicks profile, which I accepted because I really like Stevie Nicks, but then fake Stevie Nicks got her account hacked. So now I'm getting all of these porno spams from Stevie Nicks, which is kind of a weird thing to have happen to you, since it can change your perception of Stevie Nicks from "sexy coke-rock goddess" to "that person who doesn't know not to click on the 'Punch the clown and get a free iPhone' flash banners."

Jim Jones is the capo of "fug"

My hate/hate fascination with Jim Jones is still in full effect. Today I'm spending a lot of time obsessing over the fact that his fashion sense has at some point gone so fully wrong that he's starting to look like the Eurotrash dudes in my neighborhood. This is not the kind of shirt that looks good on anyone, unless he is gay, Italian, and living about four years ago. And even then it's only mildly acceptable.
It looks like Jimmy and Juelz both discovered some secret source for oversized, busted-ass-looking bootcut jeans. I hope for all of our sakes that they keep it a secret.
I am working all of this into a diss track for my new mixtape, Seriously You Guys Gotta Cut this Shit Out It's Really Bothering Me and a Lot of Other People. Free Don Cannon.

New on the internet

Krystal is my psychic twin/boo forever, and we get good ideas together. So we started a blog. It's called What the Fuck? and I picked out the URL for it, which is the best URL ever, pretty much.
Also, if you didn't know already, you can read my column online every Friday at this part of the Reader website.

"Truth"

There are 14 things in this article that are so ignorant that I had to scream at inanimate objects after reading them. Can you count them all?

Attention programmer nerds:

I need someone to write me a script or something that will sync up the new message alert beeps from Mail and iChat with whatever's playing on iTunes. I just had all my new email -- 384 press releases about the Lily Allen record, 1 about the Ying Yang Twins' upcoming tour -- pop in right on beat on "Over the Counter" from the Talib Kweli/Madlib record and it about blew my mind. If you want to get really fancy with it, could you add in a predictive feature that could make it so when the beep comes in on a rap song it happens when the beat drops? I can't imagine how impressed people visiting my apartment would be if I had that.

Going down

Boxed out

I didn't end up sticking around the Redman/Ghostface/Raekwon show for too long. It's a killer lineup for sure, but panic attacks have no respect for hip hop, and they'll just do their thing whenever. But I did stay long enough to mistakenly barge avec posse into the talent's private opera box. Raekwon was standing there in a long, diamond-y chain and a Nike box under his arm. He looked at me and my dudes -- the skinny hipster guy with one (1) large white guy, one (1) large black guy, and one (1) short half-black/half-Asian guy in tow -- and asked, "These dudes fam-fam?"

My new favorite insult

"[Y]ou sassy cretin."
From this thread.

We've all been there

Don't tell me you never did.

Memes within memes

The most meta thing ever?

Thang-thang, thang.

Jim Jones comes back again with the quote of the month:
"I need to feel that eggnog flowin’ and things like that[.]"
That is some fire.
Also, from Jones' reply to Jay-Z's diss over "We Fly High":
"You say 30's the new 20 / But you 40, I'm 30 / So who's 20?"
I don't know why Jay bothered. Arguing with Jim Jones is like trying to have a conversation with the mysterious crackhead on my street who's always got fresh Nikes on: everyone's talking, but not a whole bunch of useful information is exchanged.
I was kind of thinking that someone should invent a Jim Jones quote generator, but then I realized that there isn't any way to get a computer that high. Not even with a bong. Maybe if someone invented some sort of . . . computer bong.

Blood sports

Lara writes MySpace messages that are better than my blog posts:
I wanted you to be the first to know that I dripped blood out of my nose on to a child, a child no more than 6. He wore a fake leg brace, for he is playing Tiny Tim. Every day my ovaries don't spend in guantanamo is another day the terrorists have won.

I like the internet

This:
"Translated, that means, and I’m sorry for being so graphic, Screech wants you to pay 50 bucks to watch him put his privates in a woman’s behind, pull it out, then paint her a mustache with his thing.
I say 'No.'"

And also this:
"Whether American or Australian, every human life is valuable; otherwise it makes it appear that Mr. Stainton thinks that only one man's is."

Booze helped too.

Are you sick of reading "the iPod turned five let's all talk about the iPod," stories yet?


"It would be a bit much to say that the iPod helped us heal from the wounds of 9/11 –- or would it?"

Okay, how about now?
That is shit writing on such a profoundly shitty level that it not only makes me hate the article (normal reaction to bad writing), and by extension feel like the guy writing it is kind of a douche (severely bad), but is actually making me second-guess my plan to buy a new iPod (off the scale, must buy a new scale because this one is broken now). You know what helped us heal from the wounds of 9/11? Booze and terror sex and the scene from Young Frankenstein where they sing "Puttin on the Ritz," and as much of all of those as we could handle. Not a hard drive with headphones.
Don't try to cheapen terror sex's contribution.

Rollllin' (?)

So you guys can't even mention something that may or may not allude to another male-type human being without having to say, "No homo," and yet you are down with rollerblading. Thanks, Dipset, for finding even yet still more ways to make no sense at all. You've done more to damage my mind than drugs ever did.

We have a winner

From the comments section of Stereogum's post about Ice-T's explicit new album art:

"stripper-wife" is not a phrasal adjective, and therefore should not be hyphenated. stripper-prostitute wife would be a correct use of a hyphen to denote a phrasal adjective.

Congratulations, "redbook." You just won the internet.

ZAP!

People bag on supergroups all the time, like saying they're never as good as the members' original bands. But whatever. Damn Yankees were way kickass, Coverdale/Page was like, "Zeppelin what?" and that one band that had Linda Ronstadt playing with Captain America, Doctor Strange, and C-3PO was the fucking shit.

If your band doesn't have a guitar player who shreds by shooting bolts of magical lightning out of his fingers you should just give up. Maybe work on your ping pong game instead.
Found by clicking on a link to the Portland Mercury on the J-Shep Cowboyz n Poodles blog.

The truth, however humble

From Julianne's interview with DFA/LCD/WHTVR homeboy James Murphy:

Murphy: I liked hip-hop, but not as dance music. I liked Public Enemy. I liked Native Tongues. But I never thought of it as dancing, never really thought about dancing at all until '99. It was good music for my car.


URGE: What happened in '99?


Murphy: I took ecstasy, like everybody else.