I was watching football just now. I watch football because it is brutal and life-threatening, and because i rarely have anything better to do. And on tonight's football game, there was a giant thunderstorm in Kansas City. It was great, people were getting hurt, not by the other players, by WATER! Huge guys who never feared anything, slipping getting smashed against the mud. Guys who'd been playing football since before they could walk were making dumb mistakes and getting demolished. And to make it even better, there was lightning. if the field were to be hit, nearly a hundred people, standing in almost three inches of water on the field, would be electrocuted. coaches, players, camera-men, ballboys, cheerleaders, security guards. regardless of race, gender, sexual preference. Gays, blacks, men, women, whites, Jews, Italians, Barry Schwitzer! I was on the edge of my seat. and can you believe it? they called the game 'til the lightning stopped! "too big a risk," they said. well goddamn! i'm watching because these guys put themselves at risk every game. the bigger the risk, the more i watch. and those retards stop the game. and tell me to watch mark gimbel. i can't believe it. this sort of stuff shouldn't happen in America.
I was driving down the parkway the other day, and i looked at the big cement divider in the middle of the road. There was this big tire-treaded skid mark that ran for twenty yards at least. My mind started to drift: imagine! imagine the Subaru skidding out of control, ricochetting off that beige Honda, going up on two wheels in a mad twist and coming down halfway off the ground onto the concrete median! Imagine the terror the driver experienced when the tires caught on the solid object and the car started to slide backward down the road at 60+ miles/hour at a 45 degree angle, and then losing contact again and flipping over onto the hood. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Then I looked over at the median strip again and noticed that these skid marks appeared over and over all the way down the road, at varying heights and lengths. What a beautiful beautiful world we live in.
The new beastie boys cd is out. I have it and i like it. Look, i know this is a ska page, but half of you just wandered in here because there's links to it on porno sites anyway. Didn'tcha? Didn'tcha?? Oh well, anyway, I love ska and reggae, but i like rap too. The kind off rap where the have to talk real fast. not hip-hop, not gangsta, not R&B. oh there's another thing. R&B you know what R&B is, don't you? It's a division of black-american music akin to rap. But what does "R&B" stand for? Simple: rhythm and blues. But wait! Chuck Berry sings about rhythm and blues, and he means what R&B truly is: the precursor to american rock and roll. so how did rhythm and blues come to represent this genre overcrowded by hoochies and whiny boys? I haven't the foggiest.
Oh yes, the beastie boys. they done went and changed their style. Or so it seems at first. But you listen for a little longer than two tracks and you realize that this is the same old beastie you either hate or love, and they got a new dj. Cool. My favorite thing about this cd is the cover. it contains all the lyrics, spoken word, mumbles, and whatever you hear. This is great! You never get the lyrics with a cd anymore these days, let alone something so thorough. But they did this groovy thig with it, and i think they did it just to piss people off. It brings joy to my life. the thing is this: there are so many lyrics, after all, it's rap, that in order to fit it all onto sucha small cover, they have the words at like font #1. Ok, time to learn something kids. A font size equals one 27th of an inch. That's small. That's nearly microscopic. Any attempt to read these words GUARANTEES that you'll soon develop myopsy. It's grand. And to make it even better, they didn't break the songs up into songs, you'll sit and search for your songs thru 2000+ words. I think that little camera lenses in the CD-holder-thingy transmit pictures of morons desperately seeking the words to "Intergalactic" directly into Adam "MCA" Horovitz's home and he sits and watches them and laughes and laughes and laughes.
Ninety-nine bottle of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer... If you've ever counted down that song to zero bottles of beer, this is what you felt. First, a tremendous pride and sense of triumph, "I'm gonna tell all my friends!" Then, panic, "oh no! no more bottles!" Your life has been so intensely concentrated for so long on counting backwards that now you can't think of how life went before the song started. How will you ever go on?? Next, you begin to realize what an immense numb-skull you are: " I can't believe i actually wasted my time doing this!" And then guilt and embarrasment: "if my friends ever found out, they'd laugh at me and despise me!" And finally, you just block out the whole experience, pushing it to the back of your mind and putting up mental barriers to be CERTAIN that no one will ever find out. Then one night, you're driving along a lonely stretch of highway, bored out of your skull and starting to doze off. So your friend says, "man, sixteen more hours 'til Shiboigan!" and someone from the back seat says, "this'd be the perfect time for a sing-along. ninety-nine bottles o' beer on the wall." and ::SMACK!!!:: the shotgun passenger shuts him up and everybody laughs. Then you go, "dude, i remember i actually sang that song all the way back to zero once," and you start to laugh and then realize that no one else is laughing. Your laughter trails off and you turn to look at all your as-of-late friends, not laughing, but staring, in disbelief and utter disgust. And you start to wish that there was some other car on this lonely stretch of highway that you could run off the road and cheer yourself up.
eve6, blink182, matchbox20, seven mary three. i'm gonna start up a band. it'll be called "rudeandreckless911" and we'll only play 'doors' covers in Shiboigan. Who wants tickets?
peace on you,
dave