Archive for the 'beatles' Category

Music is not just dead, it has been murdered

Music used to be alive and well, prospering even.  After enjoying decades of progression of sound, style, savagery, the last 7-10 years have been quite a disappointment.  Unfortunately, it has become an evil I have learned to live with.  I have my CD collection (that’s right, fuck IPods) and I am damn proud of it.

Music is not created anymore, all that are created are flash-in-the-pan media sensations the 8-14 year old girl demographic can have blossoming sexual fantasies about.  Oh yeah, and the teenage gyrating girls have the target dempgraphic of 8-65 year old men too.  Basically, those with musical taste are fucked. 

It is no longer about talent, but marketability.  Can you sing and dance?  Marvelous, but if you don’t have a GQ or Victoria’s Secret face, there is no future for you.  Go have some surgery with the assholes on Rodeo Drive, then maybe we can talk.

Whatever happened to giving people like Janis Joplin, Ray Charles, Chuck Berry, etc a chance?  They were all ugly motherfuckers, but who cared?  The ability and passion they showed through their music overshadowed any arbitrary physical negatives.  Their music inspired, and continues to inspire people.  These are timeless artists; those whose melodies and lyrics could transcend generations and still be relevant to your grandchildren.  Let’s see how, “Hit me baby, one more time”, “Dirrrrrrrrrrrrty”, and “Tearin’ up my heart” survive the next 20 years.  Oh wait, you already forgot about those songs and those people?  That’s right, they are all shadows of their former non-talented multi million dollar selves.   

Take a look at the most recent highest selling albums.  I haven’t, but if I have learned anything from TV and USA Today, they are as follows.

1.  High School Musical

2. High School Musical 2

3. High School Musical 3

4. Hannah Montana

5. Solja Boi

Who the fuck are these people?  Useless euthanasia canidates for all I care.

My hatred for contemporary music has been brooding for a long time.  There has not been any new music I have enjoyed in quite some time.  Whatever my disdain is for these Johnny and Jenny come latelies, what I saw today was pre-meditated musical murder.  This, “artist” had to plan, rehearse, and ultimately feel good enough to carry out the act.  According to law, this clearly establishes criminal intent, which is punishable by death.  If America had any balls (which it does not) this person would be put to death.

Who am I talking about?  Fergie, of course.  Viewer discretion is advised, suggested, and encouraged because I doubt you readers can be held accountable for your actions.

Jesus, how off-key do you have to be to get gonged and have a comically oversized hook wrapped around your neck, dragging you off stage in shame.  Apparently, at least 3 octaves.

I’ll give it to Fergie however.  She, or her prop manager (most likely her prop manager) is incredibly clever.  Fashioning a gun on the microphone stand, and having Fergie point and shoot at the audience is a brilliant allegory for the vocal assault upon the audiences’ ears.  Furthermore, if it wasn’t bad enough to have Fergie perform at whatever Bizzaro World venue this was, the promoters had that drunken retarded dwarf Danny DeVito introduce her. 

I can just imagine the pre-concert meeting with all the executives.

“Hey, you know what would make this show great?  If we cash in on the waning popularity of a dancer with no singing talent from an Uncle Tom rap group.”

*yeahs can be heard all around as all the yes men jiggle their turkey necks*

“Snap!  You know what would be better?  Let’s have her bastardize an incredible Paul McCartney song with her cottage cheese thighs laboriously tucked into leather pants gyrating around a stage full of pyrotechnics and over-the-hill backup dancers.”

“Oh yeah, and let’s get Danny DeVito to sing her praises and introduce her.”

“Secretary, draft two blank checks for these untalented non savage assholes.” 

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there’s nothing i can add…

… to roughty’s masterful la blog.  absolutely nothing omitted that i feel worth mentioning.  in fact, he went into detail in places i would have left out completely — namely, my vomiting incident.  you loyal readers (who are apparently enthralled with pegasii {search term}) had grown accustomed to seeing me stone sober, cradling lovely trout, perch and bass in my adept fishing (and masturbating{search term}) arm.  this is only half the real suityourself.  the other half is the drunken, light-weight puking on stoney’s roof.  by the way, i doubt seriously that stoney has bothered to drag a hose up there and wash that shit off.  hope those infamous la pigeons were hungry for roast beef sandwiches, bong ashes, whiskey, coca-cola and half-digested xanax(sp?) {search term} pills, cuz that’s what they are eating off the roof right now.

did i say there was nothing i can add to roughty’s blog?  well, nearly nothing.  i would feign go into some detail about the culture — if it can so be called — in los angeles, califreakia.  let me start (as i do every day) with the weed sitch.  it is, as i stated earlier, all true.  you can buy it if you have a prescription.  i don’t have a prescription, so i could get busted out there as easily as i could right here in good ole virginny.  stoney, on the other hand, is immune.  he’s legit.  too legit, in fact, to quit.  leave it to the rich blond fucker to have all the luck that the rest of us working men (just me) really deserve.  i have these pictures of ornately arranged bongs {search term}, blunts {search term}, rolling papers {search term} and big, fat, kine bud nuggets {search term} that i should post as soon as possible.  not today.  no camera.  you can continue to wait in vain.  the weed is chron-drizzle-fo-shrizzle.  the youngsters out there are just how they were when george harrison {search term} described them some 40 years ago.  dropouts and losers.  while sir roughtonious and i were traversing the boardwalk one morning, we walked past this band of raggidy fucks who were between the ages of 16 and 22, probably.  they were “protesting” in some way i guess.  they all had some shitty cardboard signs that read, “give me money for prescription weed!”  these busted-ass looking fuckers all had some mangy white-boy dreads {search term}.  you know the kind.  they’re dreaded at the ends, but just real teased-looking nearer to the scalp.  this is because white boy hair doesn’t naturally dread.  you have to either put some wax or something in it or work really hard at it consistently for a long while (see Dankkkkkkkkkk’s dreads from long long ago), and these kids had either run out of wax or motivation, cuz they had these fucked up looking dreads, and coupled with their sweat-stained, tie-dyed greatful dead {search term} t-shirts, they suited out as one of the mottliest crews i’d ever seen.  i smirked at one of them (see “pffffft,” and he asked me for a dollar.  news flash, asshole, if you can’t afford a weed-card, you’re most definitely not going to have the money to support your fledgling tree-habit.  here’s an idea for you.  try cutting that shit off your head, taking whatever money you begged so far and buy a new shirt.  after that, how about getting a job?  this has been the bit about the youth culture.  i didn’t see too many other “kids” around.  most of them were either sleeping under cardboard boxes on the street or eating at restaurants where appetizers cost 400 beezies.  needless to say, i did not fall into either category.

now for a little bit on the rest of the society out there.  service industry is made up almost entirely of mexicans.  as i said before, the kids are either filthy rich or lazy as shit and worthless in both cases.  this leaves a huge void in the marketplace for service industry people — people who know how to work for a dollar even if it means messing up that fresh hair-do or breaking a nail.  mexicans fill this void.  yussir.  all the mexicans i saw were pretty nice to me.  i didn’t try to bust out the spanish on them.  i’m sure they get that enough from tourists just like me, so i just grinned at some of them, exposing my yellowing teeth and my blazed-out red eyes.  surprisingly, lots of them grinned back.  i am not the most sophisticated guy on the block, but i think their grins were, in general, sincere.  could it be that they were happy to be in america and making those big green american dollars?  i dunno.  i like to think so, but who knows?  maybe they just thought if they grinned at them, i’d give them some money or something.  maybe they thought i was a movie star…  yeah, that’s probably it.  yup, that’s the one i’m going with.  as far as other people in the la working world, i didn’t really see many.  again, most of them are either much too rich or much too poor to be seen in any of the places i visited.

a note on commerce in la, they have pretty much the same type of stores there that we have here.  grocery stores, liquor stores, clothing stores, drug stores, electronics stores, home furnishings stores, etc.  as always, some of these places are over-priced, and some are more reasonable.  however, the most reasonable one out there was much more expensive than the most over-priced on in virginia.  likewise, the cost of living is steep.  housing is hardly affordable, even for two gainfully employed folks like roughty’s and my hosts — stoney and lady t.  just like nyc, la is a place i’d love to live so long as i was dirty-rich.  for regular middle-class people, it’s a nice place to visit.

the physical environment was everything i had hoped for in some ways but not as cool as i had hoped in other ways.  temperature was perfecto!  never too hot.  sun always shining.  cool in the morning and evening.  perfect.  sandy beaches and lovely palm trees.  some good looking women — maybe a slightly better ratio than virginia.  however, i didn’t get to see too much of the country, not-developed areas as i had hoped.  i know they exist, because when we went to the greek theater, it was sick-to-deff.  lots of wildlife possibilities and such.  i feel like cali. is as wild as they say, but i just didn’t get a chance to see it.  we stayed in the suburbs of the concrete jungle.  next time, i plan to check out all the wild places and make a better judgment after that.  as far as animalia goes, i saw some lizards, some pigeons and sea-gulls, a bunch of dogs, a cat inside a window, a crazy shark/ray and that is about it.

enough, for now, on la.  now onto more pressing matters — baseball.

 

braves {search term}are poised and ready to strike out at roughty’s shitty mets (who blew the hell out of that 5 run lead roughty alluded to in an earlier post).  dankkkkkkkkkkkkkkk’s redsux are pulling the usual choke-job.  stoney’s dodgers have fallen off a little bit.  the rest of you need to pick a fucking baseball team, cuz you’re missing out on the best season in generations.  get ready, because in two weeks i’m going to be writing about how my beloved braves are in first place and roughty’s favorite player has broken his leg or sustained an equally devastating injury.  all i hope is that pedro martinez gets called up to the bigs soon.  i cannot wait to see him get shelled by the big bats of the atl braves.  it’s going to be dangerous for him, though, so roughty ought to kneel down and say a prayer that pedro doesn’t get killed by a line-drive off chipper’s bat.

speaking of sports, stoney has been awfully silent lately about

michael vick {search term}.  maybe he feels bad for always being such a fucking racist who hates all black people.  he should.  michael vick has been framed, and everyone with half a brain knows it.  it’s just that the white man can’t stand a talented black man having any money, so they’re framing him.  michael vick is the shit. 

 

if he gets suspended, he’ll just go into seclusion for a couple years and work on his skills like luke s. did in one of the star wars {search term} movies with yoda on degoba.  after this, he’ll just have to win three superbowls instead of the 2 he was planning on before.  there’s no way he’s going to jail, and if he does, i can smell a “longest yard” three-quel.  yall need to stop being jealous of michael vick.  just because you’re racist doesn’t make him guilty.  if i were vick’s attorney, i would use the self-defense ploy.  after all, pits are dangerous.  

 

“if mike got bit, you must acquit.”

now, back to one of my fav. topics — john from cincinnati.  as i mentioned before, the show takes place in one “IB.”  imperial beach is the southwestern-most city in the united states.  i thought maybe it was in la, but no.  it’s nearer to san diego, i guess.  no wonder stoney and the rest of his idiot friends had no idea what the fuck i was talking about.  anyways, the show’s first season is over.  the finale was anti-climactic, to say the least.  in fact, it was close to a let-down.  no secrets revealed, no aliens, no death, no jesus christ, no nothing, really.  just dylan mckay and zach morris dicking it up like they did in the early 90s.  they are setting us up for a second season, so i hope the numbers allow this to happen.  john from cincinnati is the best show you’ve never seen.  trust me.  how about one more clip just for good measure?

(look close for zach and dylan)

peace out squabblerinos.

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.

politics, religion, et cetera… . .. . … .. …. .. …. .. . .

(those periods are for you, stonesylvania.) 

i have been delinquent lately and didn’t know about either of stoney’s  guys’ debauchery.  i wish i had, but politics is boring — even when it deals with blowww and hookers.  i won’t vote for this guy any more now than i would have before i knew about the drugs and sex.  until i meet a politician who will look you in the eye and say he’s never made a mistake and he never plans to make one,  i’ll be fairly convinced i could do a better job governing myself than any of them could.  i mean, jiuliani (or “orange” [in honor of his boy’s huge nose candy purchase] julius as i will call him from this day forward) doesn’t even know me.  how the shit is he supposed to know what decisions are in my best interest?  in the old days, way on back in the days of grunting, beards and hunter/gatherers, people would form a society to protect themselves from other societies (not to mention the ravenous sabre-tooth tigers, mastadons, etc.).  i’m sure at the beginning of society, some guy was laying out, chilling in the cut, maybe reading a playboy and minding his own bidness, and the tribe leader said to him, “glork, you better get that firewood.  the rest of us are counting on your lazy ass.”  and glork was thinking, “damn, it was so much better when i could do whatever the hell i wanted to do without all these dicks bossing me all the time.”  but you know what glork did?  he collected the wood.  because he needed the protection that could only be afforded by the society.  nowadays, people don’t think like that, in my opinion.  nowadays, people simply accept the fact that they were born into a society, and so that must be the best place for them to be.  i stand that this is simply no longer the case.  man has tamed the shit out of nature.  we don’t have anything to worry about except snake bites and the occasional shark attack.  furthermore, no human cares enough about me to attack me.  what the shit would they even do that for?  waste of a bullet.  i won’t attack them either.  i can grow shit in my back yard and eat dogs and cats and squirrels and shit if it really comes right down to it.  no reason for me to mess with anyone.  my point?  glad you asked.  society is no longer the same shizzazzle it was back in the day.  individuals don’t really need to protection of a huge gov’t.  besides, when people did need such protection — take hurricane katrina, for instance — where the fuck was our great society?  thumb up the ass, watching the weather channel and drinking beer, wondering where the hell they’d move mardi gras to… and that was george w.  that proves (for me anyways) that society can no longer perform its primary function — protection of its members.  that’s the main reason why i haven’t, don’t and won’t vote.  you be asking yourself, “well then suit, why don’t you just LEAVE and do your own thing if you don’t like the american way?”  well, this is a good point.  i wonder this about myself sometimes, too.  i think it comes down to this.  i gotta get mine.  if i left right now, i’d be broke before i got to a place where i could really do my own thing for real.  you gotta have money to make a real move.  hence, the master plan — participate in society to as minimal a degree as is practicable until i save up some real green.  then, peace out.  merc on to someplace where i can do my own thing without worrying about what anybody says.  part of this minimal participation is making it a priority to not vote.  voting would lock me in.  i would start to follow this shitstem and never be able to break out. 

(ps — when you register to vote, you also have to fill out a draft card.  i knew this was a shitty idea when i was in high school, and so i didn’t fill out the shit.  therefore, i am registered for neither voting nor slaughtering brown people.) ((pps — the gov’t teacher in 12th grade tried to fail me for for not filling out the form, but i aced all her tests, so she didn’t have a leg to stand on.))

as far as breeding terrorism, i’m either too stupid or too smart to question the fact that all politicians have spin doctors (and i don’t mean the “2 princes” spin doctors).  to reference a simile i made earlier, discussing politics is like going all in on a blind hand of poker.  doesn’t make any sense because you know neither what you have nor what your opponents have in their hands.  all i know is this:  the golden rule is faulty.  “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  if we hurt the arabs, then we deserve to get sliced a bit, right?  it’s the golden rule, after all.  if arabs did bad things to us, they deserve to get bombed, too, right?  it is in the golden rule.  but then what?  people all know the golden rule, yet bad stuff keeps happening.  if people keep “doing unto others” based on what has been “done unto [them]”, we’ll all be fucking DEAD!  this is not what i consider a good time.  the golden rule doesn’t work.  it just breeds recursive murder wars.  neither the victor nor the loser is ever happy.  everyone’s still got a bone to pick, and the killing continues.  here’s what i propose.  throw out the golden rule.  adopt another rule.  how about the one jesus came up with?  how about “turn the other cheek”? how about “love thine enemy”?  i mean, america is a judeo-christian nation, right?  it says so right on the money.  that means we all believe in heaven, right?  that means that what we do down here makes no difference in the big picture, right?  sure.  because heaven is eternal, but life on earth is “but a blink of the eye.”  that means, if some asshole wants to shoot us, who cares?  they’ll go to hell, and we’ll be laughing our balls off, playing hop-scotch with john lennon in heaven.  fuck this killing.  for real.  i am over it all for real.  a guy from my high school just got killed.  i was a total ass to him (roids, teenage hormones, popularity… you know), and now i will never be able apologize or slap him a high five and come back on the flip side.  it’s fucked up for real.  and the worst part — he thought he was doing right by his country!  sad sad scene.

so, any of you who have made it through this post are all stupider for having read it.  i award you no points, and may god have mercy on your souls. 

now, go slaughter some people whose skin is darker than your own!!  before they do it to you first.

and don’t forget to vote.  in fact, vote three times.  keep on voting and voting until you cast a fat, brown ballot in your pants.

heading west…

…is a frightening prospect.  pretty worried over here.  what if the moviestars like the oompa loompa are too sophisticated for me?  shit, what am i saying?  more sophisticated than ME?!  ME?!!  i know.  you’re all saying to yourselves, “suit, why are you worried?  you are the classiest mutherfucker since don johnson.”  well, i know.  i know.  i mean, it is my divine providence after all.  i’m like lewis and clark.  except more like clark, cuz i’m not going to shoot myself after i get back home. 

all the same, i’m a little worried.  they might be on a different level of consciousness, and maybe i won’t even be able to communicate with them.  worse yet, i might wreck the rental car or get my wallet jacked at lax.  shit, they might blow up my damn plane  — atlanta to lax.  sounds like a lot of fuel in that boeing. 

no good stressing out, though.  that’s why, with this post, i’ll chronicle some of the main reasons why i’m looking forward to l.a.

1.  crossing the mighty mississippi — never done it yet and am looking forward to it, big time.  a big milestone for a waterman like me.

2.  going to another mlb ballpark — dodgers stadium should be fun.  as long as they sell beer and caps, i’ll be all good.  a mets’ loss (or, better yet, a terrible injury to beltran) would just be icing on the cake.

3.  seeing my ole pal roughtonious — live 2 hours down the road from him and have to go to l.a. just to touch bases with a guy i used to see 5 times every day.  p.s. roughty, i apologize for stealing all those subway station sandwiches from you.  i always blamed in on stoney, but it was really me sometimes.  also, while i’m apologizing, sorry for laughing at you for the sj punch to the grill.  you did have it coming, though…  pffft.

4.  feeling comfortable in another city — when you’re a homeboy like me, you really get confident when you go someplace else and can function like a reasonable human.  not sure if this will happen, but i’m thinking positive.

5.  not leaving my wallet in the bar — stoney will remind me this time after the “off the wagon” incident in greenwich vill.  if not, he’ll have a new permanent roommate.

6.  going to the actual locations where some of my favorite movies were shot — training day, friday, don’t be a menace to south central while drinking your juice in the hood.

7.  going to all my favorite places from 90210 — the beach where brenda met dylan, west beverly high, the radio station where david silver learned about speeeeed.

8.  meeting lady t. — after all the hype, i’m ready to meet the genuine article.  if she can make our boy take nudie pics off the blog, she must be a wonderful person.  —editorial sidebar — yes, i’m kissing ass, boys.  this is what you do before you go and share a teeny living space with somebody you never met before.—

9.  the pacific ocean — another one of those things i never saw before.  should be suhweet, gnarly, bodacious and that hang ten sign you do by sticking out your thumb and pinky finger and jiggling your hand around.  maybe i’ll finally get to see the monster swells like on point break.  i’m paddling out, bra!

10.  smoking west coast rocks — i heard they’ll make you grit your teeth until they fall out.  i already packed up my tire pressure guages and steel wool.  yall know how we do.

most of all, though, there’s number 11. scratching the shit out of my pal stoney’s cd collection — i’m sitting here listening to let it be, and wouldn’t you know it, the shit is scratched right to hell — right in the middle of the long and winding road, no less.  why don’t i take it out and put in something else like the love below?  oh.  that is scratched to shit as well.  oh.  what about all your sublime cds?  you guessed it.  looks like someone ran them over.  bob dylan discs?  fuuuucked up.  broke a cd player with one of them just last week – seriously.  why are all my cds scratched?  i’ll tell you.  it’s this blog’s fearless leader — mr stoney.  it’s almost as though he destructulated my shit on purpose.  oh well, iain’tmadatcha.  all i’m saying is you better hide your shit, holmes.  for real.  i’m bringing some rusty nails and broken glass for the whole collection.

all jokes aside, i can’t wait to see my friends again.  the only thing that would make it better is if dankkkkk could come.  what am i saying?  i know he could come if he really wanted to.  (peer-pressure’s a bitch, muthafuckah.) 

Alien Sightings and Paul McCartney is Weak

There I was yesterday, at the Santa Monica courthouse, standing in line to pay a registration ticket. Lady T was sitting on the bench or something, and she went, “Psst,” and I looked over.

BAM!

oompa.jpg

Ever heard of a motherfucking Oompa Loompa? I had a fucking Oompa Loompa, THE Oompa Loompa, standing right next to me, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and really really small, white Keds.

Little Dude was also in The Dark Crysal, one of Suit’s favorites, and was an Ewok in the old Star Wars. Pimpin.

How did I know he was an alien? It’s pretty fucking obvious.

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How do I see all of these world famous celebrities? My inner beauty and stardom obviously acts as a magnet for similar people. Movie stars are inherently and automatically attracted to me by a gravitational pull that is not unlike the phenomenon of certain flowers attracting certain insects, by just growing in a certain shape and color. Biology and evolution (or god’s perfect design, you pick) makes it so that the bugs and their flowers look the same, so they are enmeshed in an eternal relationship of survival and give-and-take. So it goes with my celebrity interactions.

Or it could just be I hang out in courthouses, where celebrities also frequent.

Last July at the courthouse, this guy winked at my special Lady T. WTF you pansy bitch? I don’t care if you can make squeaky voices.

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Here’s proof that Paul McCartney is an old gay man.

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Notice A) his lame cd is being sold at Starbucks B) the fucking stupid look on his face and C) one of the new songs is called “Vintage Clothes,” and it is fucking shitty.

What’s ridiculous to me is how many great reviews this fucking WEAK cd got from all the big reviewers. This shit is WEAK. Rolling Stone and others, stop sucking this guy’s dick, his new songs suck. The old ones were great, but give me a fucking break, do not give this CD a 4/5 or whatever. Bullshit. I heard that song Vintage Clothes when I was getting coffee, and I am not kidding when I say that song is a Grade A piece of shit. Give me a fucking break McCartney. Fucking Macca. What a bitch.

Paul pisses me off. What a fucking nancy. Yoko pisses me off too, while we’re at it. The two stupid bitches fucking wouldn’t get along for 10 minutes so that they could buy the Beatles catalogue. So who gets it? Michael Fucking Jackson…who has now sold a bunch of it to cover his pedophilia lawyers. At least they came together at the LOVE premier in Vegas late last year, but give me a fucking break. Get over yourselves, you old bitches, what’s done is done, why don’t you sell the rest of the Beatles songs to fucking Dick Cheney while we’re at it.