Archive for the '420' Category

Bow to your Master, except Suit, I need a Dr.’s Appointment

Well, neophytes, mongloids, troglodytes, and our readers, ol’ dank has done it again– 
Er got it done for him by his friends.  You are now reading the words of a future ex-masters student sure to be defamed and broken by the iron hand of american higher education.  Well, by iron hand, i more like mean crippled grip that lets the waste of the future generation slip through its fingers and into the bowels of bullshit.  I must tell all you little stonies that if your heart desires titles, respect, publishing outlets, and degrees in higher higher education simply wait for your good buddy to do it and then ride his coat-tails.  This is the stoney way.  It goes back to the beginning of time and only the savage can guiltlessly ride the wave of others’ success and call it their own. 

Stoney himself cheated his balls off of my econ exam one time for a 65.  Except he was too lazy to do it well and fell short of my 66.  Then we walked 20 yards out the door and convinced ourselves that tests are illegitimate (arguable) and that tests aren’t real (even more likely) and neither is the world–all over a big fat boombalatty. 

Roughty is currently in his seventh year and is a sophomore.  Twitch, never went to school because he could not tear himself away from his mother’s teat and has been home-schooled for fear his mothers always says-quote-They’re all gonna laugh at you.  Suit, well Pet World here we come.  I think we gotta get a few piles of dog food for me to lay on while you take care of the bidnaz.  I’ll just write some poetry and sneak you cigaweeds in the back by the dumpsters. 

 Well, I’m still sitting here at work waiting for somebody to tell me what to do.  This will be my eighth consecutive hour of waiting for directions while i get paid for this bloggity blogerfification.  I just want to let you all know that you can pursue graduate work by never going to class, never reading books, never staying awake when there, never stopping smoking weed, never trying, and always, always giving it your worst. 

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wha wha what’s this (or) twitch arrives

Thats right folks, the SWS has a new member. As the newest addition I can only hope that my stories don’t suck are as bad (ass) as the rest of these yahoos.


Let’s start off with the hot topic of Religion. Now I don’t want to blow my load all in one place so we’ll start with just one religion, how about Christianity. Christianity is a monotheistic religion centered on the life and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth. Bob Loblaw. There is no god, deal with it.

A lot of Christians wear crosses around their necks. Do you think when Jesus comes back he ever wants to look at a fucking cross? -Bill Hicks

Venice Beach: The Freakshow

As i have visited californ-i-a twice now and long to join me fellow scallywags in their pirate adventures in la la land, i feel a tribute to their base is in order.  well, i have been to many parts of the city including the four parts jp has seen in his two years there. 

dodger stadium is sweet, but roasts in the desert mountains.  roughty, make sure you bring your spf 75 and slob it on with every pitching change, which will most likely be every inning as both clubs will sorely mistaken their inadequate rotations and bullpens with fatigue, weather, or some other ludicrous excuse. 

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East L.A. and the DR:

Sweet as well.  I feel suit will find a home in the drawing room and the relative diversity in relation to the rest of la in the former paradise that stoney called home.  you must absolutely show the former kingdom in all its glory and cold showers.  this was the first place i found in my visits to la with true, unsuperficial culture.  remember my 4:00 am walkabout in search of a sip of any liquid in my half drunken, half hungover stupor as stoney had neither drink nor refrigeration.  i walked at least 7 blocks to be dissapointed by powered down vending machines that i had to beg the grocery store owner to turn on to get an orange soda that t and i shared (what up, t) .  on my ramble i encountered at least two hookers with one clearly disguising a dick.  my day consisted of walking around east la and eating gut bombs for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  i was happy to escape my previous experiences of yuppiness disguised in kewlness. 

hollywierd:

weird and extemely superficial with a bunch of douches disguised as hipsters and guns and roses impersonators. 

venice:

i was accurately described by lady t the wonderous freak show that is venice beach.  of course we were all fucked up and noided out, so we sat at the public bathroom and gazed out upon the circus.  there was definitely a small degree of reality here in their rejection of superficiality, but their conscious objection seemed superficial in itself.  of course i am superficial as hell, especially then and enjoyed pretending to be normal for a minute, despite my schizoid drug induced psychotic personality disorder’s ‘outside looking in’ perspective.  there is culture there that is not completely obsessed with the image driven falsity of the rest of la. 

the rest of la:

gay and expensive, but worth seeing for the experience

stoney’s debaucherous court of self-destruction:

 one of a kind as always and enjoyable beyond any measure.   

a lonely wish:

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where’s waldo? hint, short bags that were still a deal

The Guillotine? Please, Biatch

I’ve got one hand to type with, so it won;t be much.  My one hand however will blow your proverbial loads with the profundity of my blogging wizardry.  just returned from afar and am currently ‘sojourning in society’ (name that author) to the desperate delight of all you unsavage settled society sinners.  in this jingle jangle morning without a tambourine i am inspired to waste more space on the blog.  in my absence and natural objective disconnection combined with a previous feeling i must say we have all become lazy.  we have relied on pictures to glitter our stories with extra sensory excitement.  with that said, here’s some of that…

For all of us Americans.  Yippee kay yay motherfuckers.  oh yeah, james marshall served in the 101st till he broke his leg on a jump.  Currahee! i know i celebrated in true american fashion on white man don’t pay your taxes day–i blew shit up.

p.s.  i’m just going to start Dankknuggets’s weekly music video.  it will however be more like whenever i get to it and i’ll prolly get tired after like three.  oh, zack kim is retroactively part of this mini series, so i guess there’s one left.  well, here goes…

p.s.s. just cause i’ve been out of contact for awhile– roughty, you’re a bitch.  and who the hell is gn?  and once again, roughty, you’re a bitch. 

 check below too, related but not the same.

Catch-up.

i’m playing a little catch up on the blogggg today.  have been derelict for a few days as real life has gotten in the way.  since i’ve been gone, there have been some good posts and some terrible posts.

best post winner — roughty for #1 in da hood, g.

worst post winner (loser) — roughty for the horrendous mets.

blogger definitely going to hell — stoney for the retard post.

anyway, good work.  i agree that dankkkkkk is in serious jeopardy.  he needs to contrib or face the …

  

he was doing a solid job there for a minute, but fell off in recent times.

to further prop my boy roughtonious, i will add something from the athf vault which i am afraid he has forgotten…

(disregard the master shake.)

remember the moth man?  aka reverse vampire bus…  memorable quote:  “yeah, i laid 10,000 of my eggs in his esophagus, and he was being a baby about it.”

ok, back to business.  what the fuck is the deal with publication of bloggers’ first names?  i thought it was an unwritten law that we would not do that sort of thing, but if it’s gonna happen, just let me know, and homey can play that.  i’ll out you guys like elton fucking john.

so, some of you know i live in norfolk.  norfolk is the land of black pedestrians walking slow as shit in front of your car while you’re going 60 down a 25 in order to minimize your time in the ghetto.  i like this city, because i was born here and have been riding on these streets for years, but i mean this is ridiculous.  i have almost run these fucking darkies over on purpose just on principle.  my thousand pound metal driving machine is more powerful than your 6’5″, 88lb. cracked out, basketball playing, sneeker ganking ass, so get the fuck out of the way.  i frequently use the “n-word” (nigger) during this type of encounter and hope that i will never get shot for doing so.  so far, i have been lucky.  if i ever get “run up on” for using “their word” i’m just going to play the albino card.  be like, “yo, blood, i be one of you.  i jus got dis pigment disawdah.”  these guys aren’t generally among the sharpest knives in the drawer, so they’ll probably buy it… right? 

i’m trying to do my part to keep these statistics intact.  look, they even drew the stick figure the right color.  for once, government work is efficient and effective.

ok, there’s my racism for the day.  you like that?  aww yeah.

so, besides narrowly missing brown people crossing the street, i have also been fishing my balls off — like ev-er-y day.  here’s some of the fruits of my labor.

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biggest smallmouth of my life.  on the new river — right down the road from the site of the massacre (ethnic cleansing) in b’sburg va. 

tonight, the all-star game is upon us.  i am predicting an NL win, and in order for this to come about, i will need to support the hated ny mets.  while i am very uncomfortable with this prospect, i will do it for tonight and only tonight.  the braves are closing in on them like a domerman running down one of the retards from stoney’s last post, so i’m not too worried.

enjoy the game, bitches.

ps — as the time approaches for me to travel on the magical mystery tour to la, i am beginning to prime my lungs for the excessive cheeeefage that must surely occur.  i am doing some deep breathing exercises and am only smoking like 3 packs a day instead of the usual full carton.  all i know is, those yahoos in cali better be ready to see some real east coast flava.

finally, enjoy this bit of savagery.  brought to you by some crazy redneck bird.

American Rock = The Blood of the Universe

Before I start, I want to mention that I did not include Pink Floyd in the Brit bands. Pink Floyd is classic, but never one of my loves. Pink Floyd, I forgot about you, but I don’t really care that much. Sorry.

The broad scope of American rock makes it hard for me to pinpoint any one thing, or to focus too long on anything. This is going to be a whambamthankyoumam kind of thing.

First, Elvis. Elvis is the fucking King of Rock and Roll. There is no other king. Chuck Berry is there too, but Chuck Berry is not the King of Rock and Roll. Elvis is the King. Without Elvis, I don’t know what would have happened. We would probably have an Elvis with a different name. Elvis, as a red-blooded American rock student, I salute you.

The 27 Club. The 27 Club is an exclusive club, reserved only for rockers who achieve amazing, superstar status through the exceptional qualities of their polyphonic debris. 27 Club members all died when they were 27, at the height of their fame. Most of the deaths can be linked directly to over-consumption of drugs, or a very closely related factor.

These people did not get rich and internationally famous because of their connections, their pretty face, their money, or any other thing than how badass they were at rocking the fuck out.

There are 5 member of the 27 club. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones and Kurt Kobain. How many Brits are in this infamous list, the sealed stamp of approval of rockstar god status? 1. Uno. Un. One. The ratio of Brits to Americans in this most critical list is 1:4, and that ratio plays itself out all over the place.

Is it wrong to base my decision on a list of musicians that glorifies a fiery death through rock and roll? No. Rock and Roll is a force of nature, a force unto itself, a mythical beast which exerts an enormous influence on the way people perceive and act upon the world. The thing about rock and roll is, it’s not even subliminal. These people are singing songs to us, lyricizing our deepest fears and desires, using everything that they have experienced to create a new experience for us. And we willingly buy (or steal online) these people’s souls, the product of an extraordinary effort of introspection, and then projection. It is a transcendent experience to listen to a live performance of rock; “a more perfect union” can be achieved, which is not all that different from doing the nasty.

Rock and Roll is a form of art, but it is also a form of religion. I, for one, deeply believe in the power of rock and roll, and the feelings and sentiments the music can inspire. Rock and Roll has changed my real-world actions before, it has pushed itself into my life and into the lives of the people around me. I am better for it, too.

When John Lennon said, “The Beatles are bigger than Jesus,” he was fucking right. There were, and still are, more people creating a more personal, intimate, transcendent relationship with their chosen rocker, than there are people creating those same types of relationships with Jesus. If you go to church and daze off, or do whatever, that doesn’t count, and I know it, and Jesus knows it. When you go to a real rock show, and something hits you in the stomach, you choke up, you tear up…you are having a fucking experience that can never be achieved again, ever, by anyone. It was your show, the band is on for you, and if you do it right, you can come away with something that is more than just a light show or magic show. It is a religious experience.

Now that I have established that rock and roll is a religion, I move on. Every religion needs a sacrificial lamb. The Gods of Rock are not a mellow breed. They do not take kindly to negligence. They need blood, and that’s what American rockers are here to provide. American rockers are the soul of Rock and Roll. Rock and Roll was invented here, Rock and Roll grew up here, and Rock and Roll will die here. The blues are from the deep South, via Africa, and I’m not really sure where country western is from. Mix those fuckers up, and you get some rock and roll.

I could go on. I could list band after band of American rockers, and compare them with British rockers, and see who borrowed what from who, and blabla. I’m not going to, though, because it all comes down to the fact that Rock and Roll is an American past-time, and it always will be. The altar of Rock is built on American soil, and stained with American blood.

I think that the icing on the cake is a club I kinda made up…the 28 Club. Right now, Bradley Nowell (sublime) and Shannon Hoon (blind melon) are the only two I have in there. I’m saving a spot open for Pete Doherty this year; he’ll be 29 next March.

For a sum-up, I chose Blind Melon’s song, “Galaxie.” Shannon Hoon died of a cocaine overdose, a roadie found his body in the bus, right before the band’s soundcheck.

Rock and Roll = Savage

For anyone who has shit to say about glorifying the wrong things about rock and roll, or blabla, I say, “Fuck off.” If it wasn’t about dying in the name of rock, then why aren’t there a bunch of badass rockers, making real rock and roll? They are out there, but they are few and far between. I am not lamenting the end of rock, because I believe in it too much to doubt. White Stripes, Strokes, Pete Doherty, here and there we see glimpses of eternal greatness.

There will be more.

America vs. Brits: Who Rocks Harder?

Part 1 of a 2 part series.

The Beatles. Elvis. Jimi Hendrix.  The Doors. The Rolling Stones. Nirvana. The music will never stop. Ever.

One of my favorite quotes, from any song, is from the Libertines, “If you’ve lost your faith and love in music, then the end won’t be long.” People will never lose faith in the music, and rock and roll has been around for about 50 years now, and there are two schools of Rock. Brits and Americans.

Americans will always love British rock…Beatles, Stones, Radiohead, Zeppelin. Americans generally diss on their own kind, in favor of their tea-carrying pansy grandparents. I’m just going to lay it on you, and SCIENTIFICALLY PROVE that American rock and roll rocks harder than British shit does.

I admit, I used to be a Brit-head. At one time, the only bands I ever listened to were British rock bands…Beatles, Stones, Zeppelin, Radiohead, Libertines. It wasn’t out of “being cool” or being indie or any shit like that. I was just really into the Beatles, Zep and Radiohead, which then transferred into Stones, and then later, I found the Libertines, and listened to that shit non-stop. Non-Stop.

Let’s break it down, blow by blow. I am assuming you fucktards have listened to all of these bands, they aren’t that indie.

Brits First

The Beatles– the fucking Beatles. They invented the modern conception of what it means to be a rockstar. The Beatles’ influence on rock music, culture and history is undeniable. Something to note…The Beatles worked so hard on their music, copying American Rock and Roll that was going on at the time. They idolized Roy Orbison, Elvis and Bob Dylan. They were in love with America, and America was in love with the Beatles.

The Rolling Stones– the archetype badass band. Savage, country-western, badass fools.

Led Zeppelin- The Zep is the one of the most legendary bands of all time, with mysterious deaths, Satanism, dubious fish usage. Zep took the Stones’ wildness to another level, and that’s why Zep couldn’t last more than 10 years. They recorded Zep I and Zep II in the same year. It took them one night to record all of Zep I, one of the greatest rock albums of all time. How the fuck can you make a Joan Baez song rock? Zep did it.

That’s all the old people I’m going to get into. Fuck The Who.

Radiohead– Radiohead is arguably the greatest band in our generation, a serious attempt to create art through distortion pedals. Creep, although overplayed and made fun of, is one of the best rock songs ever. Just 4 chords over and over, what a fucking song.

Libertines/ Babyshambles– Pete Doherty is a modern-day savage, in the mold of the old American rock stars. He’s 28 now, which means he missed the CRUCIAL deadline of dying by overdose by the age of 27. Now, if he wants to keep his title of savage, he has to live until he’s 80, like Keith Richards. If he didn’t die yet, he shouldn’t die for a long time. To ignore the Libertines and Babyshambles because of his annoying habit of getting arrested and making headlines with supermodels, you are ignoring a force of nature.

In addition to the major savages, the Brits do carry a very, very solid lineup of lesser savages, who are nevertheless savages who carry the queen’s undies for a flag.

Ozzy- Prince of Darkness

Arctic Monkeys– Relatively Newbs…have you listened to these songs? They are NUTS.

Oasis– old hands in the kingdom of lesser savages. Bitter, gay brother bitch fights have reduced this band to a soap opera who sometimes plays guitar. Weak effort.

The Animals– House of the Rising Sun, anyone?

David Bowie– Transvestite savage, not from this planet I think

Queen– flaming homosexual rockstar. What a fucking badass. Roughty posted “another one bites the dust,” and it was nice.

The Who– suck

Sum-up for the Brits. The best old Brit bands are the ones who are the best at copying the American style (Stones, Beatles, Zep). These are the bands that grew up listening to Elvis, and old-school blues and country, and mashed it all up with a heavy amp, and distortion when necessary.

The new school of Brits, including Radiohead and the Babyshambles, are pushing into their own element. They are not so much copying Americans, as they are creating a whole new thing. The new Brits are really pushing the envelope of “What it means to Rock the Fuck out,” but sometimes, I feel like they get tripped up in their attempts of grandeur. I think Coldplay is a good example of a band that pushed too hard in one direction, and kind of turned into jelly in the stratosphere. Keep it simple, Brits, Keep it simple.

Overextension is a defining trait of the Brits, and one that often leads to their downfall. Think American Colonies, other colonies around the world, Iraq, and Spice Girls.