I just joined JuggaloBook. It’s a slow, unusable version of Facebook meant for fans of the Insane Clown Posse. This is going to be an interesting 48 hours.
Tag Archives: insane clown posse
March 8, 2012 · 2:50 am
Big Money Rustlas has 3.5 stars on Netflix? There must be some kind of mistake.
March 4, 2012 · 7:18 pm
Wall Ball Laws
Growing up poor on the mean streets of inner city Philadelphia, us kids had a lot of time to screw around outside. I never did a whole lot of video gaming (besides NHL 95 on the Sega Genesis!), and found the greatest amusement playing outside with a friend or two down the street. I’ve written about this before, a list of games that we played that look foreign to our suburban-raised counterparts, but today I’m choosing to write about the one game that was the ultimate pick-up boredom buster.
Throw the wall against the ball?
Man, was this ever a sweet game. It required exactly three things. People, a wall and a ball. That’s it. It even had it’s own theme song! (Wall ball, wall ball…you throw the ball against the wall. Shut up. We were like 8). Now many places across the country play some form of wall ball or another. And of course, every neighborhood, block and barrio claims THEIR way is the REAL wall ball. But I have to clarify.
This way, our way, was the real way.
Come on, let him play too...
The game, specifically known as Suicide, or Suey, was the preferred, nay, only way to play. It has everything. Skills such as throwing with precision, athleticism through running, and an excuse to hurt someone without getting into much trouble (unless you hit them in the eye or something).
Don't be that guy...
First, you need a ball. Specifically, an old semi-flat tennis ball that you found in the street (known as a tennie). New tennis balls are allowed but frowned upon. Also occasionally acceptable is a raquetball. They bounce better, are harder to catch, and sting like a motherfucker when you get hit with one. Recommended for advanced players only.
Wall-E Ball would be even sweeter
Next, find yourself a wall. No windows, please, unless they’re barred/gated/fenced in, in which case TOTALLY go for the wall with windows! You get some gnarly bounces off them, and they make an awesome noise when you hit one. In a perfect world, your wall would be a school or playground building, with an open field or parking lot facing it. In reality, we used the back of an old banquet hall that faced a tiny two way street with cars on it. They just added to the excitement, therefore this situation is completely acceptable. Tennis balls will not break a car (as far as I know…). Trash cans, dogs and passersby are par for the course here.
Now get a friend. Or two dozen. You can really play with any number greater than one, although three or more usually works best.
They guy who brings/finds/steals the tennie usually gets the first throw. He throws the ball at the wall. The ball hits the wall (no bouncing first, it has to hit directly!). At this point, the crowd scrambles to catch it. If the ball bounces before it’s caught, the kid who catches it gets to throw from where they caught it, and the cycle continues. Now here’s the fun part(s). If you catch the ball in the air (no bounces), you get to throw the ball (preferably as hard as possible) at the kid who threw it. Also, if the ball touches you and you don’t catch it (missed catch, deflection, line drive, whatevers), someone can pick it up and whale on you.
Watch out for bobbles!
Don’t fret over a bobble or caught ball, however. You can defend against this by running to the wall and tagging it as you yell “Suey.” Now this isn’t to say the kid who caught your bobble didn’t already start throwing it, and you can get nailed anyways, but at least you can save face a little bit (all important to an urban pre-teen).
Now say you get the ball like two blocks away. You throw it, you don’t make it all the way to the wall. Guess what. It’s a’runnin’ time. Basically, you can get pegged for doing anything OTHER than cleanly catching and throwing. Now for the particularly wimpy kids out there, if you’re waaay down the block, a generous friend can yell “Rally” and intercept the catch for you (however, if you miss the throw to him, you’d better hit that wall). Also, the mean spirited among us can block someone’s long distance throw (making sure you tag the wall after blocking the throw to avoid getting hit with ANOTHER ball).
So summary. Throw ball against wall. Screw up, get pegged with a ball.
Now usually this just goes on until everyone’s bored, but you can also make this into a true winner-take-all event. If you’re actually looking for a winner, count each peg someone receives as an Out. After three outs you can simply declare the person out of the game, or for more grueling adventures, have them face a Wall of Shame. This is where the violence of this game really shines. The guy facing the Wall of Shame has to stand against the game wall, spread eagle. Each other player now lines up and has the opportunity to throw the ball as hard as possible at the kid’s back (very painful for large groups including older kids!). Now maybe your buddy decides just to give you a little tap, that’s up to him. Most will not do this.
Generally, aiming for the head is not allowed. It will usually result in the offending thrower needing to tag the wall.
Catching a ball in the air with ONE hand requires the entire rest of the group to tag up. Roofing the ball, or being the kid who lets it roll in the storm drain requires a beatdown.
So that’s that. Our main game. Now don’t get me wrong, sometimes we switched it up playing Chink (named after a crack in the sidewalk or wall), Wallball Baseball (with predetermined areas for single, double, etc), Wireball or Basketball-Court-Baseball-With-a-Tennis-Ball-and-Electrical-Taped-Whiffle-Ball-Bat. We never played Beeries, but I know some kids that did, and we played kick-the-Snapple-Bottlecap-into-random-shit as well as semi-tackle football in the street (like Arena Football, but with cars instead of padded sidelines).
Now while these are the OFFICIAL unofficial rules, house rules always prevail. The game can, nay, must be adapted to your setting. Make things off limits, require extra shit….but remember, most importantly, there’s no crying in wall ball.
Filed under Fun Stuff, Games, Irrationality, Sports
The Top Ten Bands Ruining Music
Let’s start off with a bit of honesty: I have listened to some pretty shitty music in my time, and I’m sure many of the bands I enjoy, some of you would find objectionable–but that isn’t the point.
This is a list of bands that I feel that I can make a strong case against; not only for their lack of talent in the broad sense, but for their destructive nature. Their mere presence in the musical scene contributes nothing to the future of auditory illumination, but rather fucks society by creating young musicians who will inevitably look up to these assholes for inspiration…
…and will therefore destroy the next generation of music as we know it.
10. The Jonas Brothers–I suppose there’s no list without at least mentioning The Jonas Brothers. Because they started off as a campy TV band, it’s not totally unfair to compare them to The Monkees (they’ve even got their own Mickey Dolenz), but you shouldn’t…ever. Why? Because The Monkees never gargled balls. The Jonas Brothers not only swell teenage hearts, but also (somehow) win over the minds of adults who vote for things like American Music Awards and motherfucking Grammy‘s. The Jonas boys almost didn’t make the list because their future isn’t totally bleak. Take this prediction for what it’s worth, but I think there’s a strong possibility of a semi-decent future for Nick Jonas (even if that future only entails acting as a better musician in an Oscar-bait bio pic).
9. 3OH!3–Our dedicated readers may recall an article where I praised 3OH!3‘s album Want. Perhaps the pairing with Katy Perry–that’s right, Katy Perry–and the light-hearted electropop peaked my interest a bit too much…but now they’ve got three albums and the ball has been dropped. That’s presuming they ever had the ball to begin with. What’s even more interesting is the “gang” that bands like 3OH!3 seem to be a part of–and yes, they’re all on this list, so I won’t spoil the surprise. 3OH!3 only managed to make it to number 9, and I know some of you may be disappointed and disgusted by this. The only reasoning I can give is that there are worse (yes, worse than “I’m gonna have a House Party in my House”) groups…and it’s hard to be too mad at a shitty band from Colorado. They don’t know any better than to be a pantload of douche.
8. Justin Bieber–Yes, yes, I know. Too easy, right? Of course Justin Bieber isn’t going anywhere good. Maybe a few more years in the public eye, then disappearance, then he comes out of the closet, and by then all the girls who used to scream at him won’t give a shit anymore. That’s why the little lesbian only made 6th place–there’s really no harm done in the long run. The only major concern is that his stardom seems a bit too conveniently timed, especially for a Canadian, wiping various International disasters off of Twitter’s Trending Topics list for weeks. One of the popular notions surrounding his instantaneous rise to stardom is that the fanaticism is reminiscent of the days of BeatleMania. The only difference, of course, being that The Beatles were among Britain’s most awe-inspiring exports; and I believe Justin Bieber is still trailing behind Canadian Bacon.
7. Nickelback–Ah, Nickelback, the band who famously lost out to “a Pickle” in a much-publicized Facebook race. There have been plenty of parodies and plenty of anti-Nickelback voices heard, but the reality is that they are still such a strong voice in the music community. They just won’t die. Alright, let’s be fucking real for a minute: when Creed came out, everyone was all about them–uh, uh, shut the fuck up, YES YOU WERE. They had all the biggest rock hits, they had all the hit movie soundtracks, and they were IT. Then, everyone realized they were listening to a shitty Pearl Jam rip-off and they cleared the scene…But Nickelback somehow still hangs on; even though they’re a shitty Creed rip-off of a Lifehouse song that was trying desperately to be Pearl Jam. Nickelback needs to go away…oh, but wait, before you go…could you just leave us the video for Rockstar, ’cause that video kicked my balls in.
6. Hellyeah–I’ll admit, I don’t know a hell-uv-alot about Hellyeah, but that’s probably for the best. There once was a man named Johnny Cash, and from him was spawned a man named Johnny Paycheck, and they fucking defined fucking Country. If you’re going to be Country, you need to be them–just like if you’re going to be rock n’ roll, you need to be The Rolling Stones. Some have done it–and props to them. Are you going to be as good as the Stones? No. But can you be like the Stones? Abso-cunting-lutely. Hellyeah embodies that ghost of Kid Rock that hasn’t yet crossed over and never will. They have this sensibility that “well, everyone thinks Country is all about fucking your cousin, so let’s fuckin’ give it to ‘em. YEAH!!!!” …which is always a mistake. Country and folk music were never about being the “cool kid.” It was about being “different” (in a manner of speaking)–being separate from ‘dem city folk who don’t “get” it. Hellyeah not only destroys Country Rock, but winds up making the barrel-bottom Country Pop Stars look like lyrical geniuses.
5. Boys Like Girls–Simply put, trash rock (or what Weezer fans would call “pussy rock”) is a phase we all went through in High School, when, even though we were all getting some, we had this notion that life was twisted, weird, and utterly bleak. Not such a misguided thought, but we were total fags about it. We listened to shitty music and couldn’t help sing along as if the lyrics were meant especially for us. But, you know what? We did it well–and we rocked. Boys Like Girls, a pop-punk hodgepodge of mediocrity, don’t work on any level. I can accept you playing along-side Good Charlotte, because–fuck it…but if you’re playing with iCarly, your number’s up. Big time. I get it, they’re a bunch of hunks who play some mess of standard ‘emo‘ that I totally thought was over, but there are plenty of bands who do it so much better–and with more honesty(?). If you want my advice, and I’m almost certain that you do: Stop getting Love Drunk and get real drunk like a fucking adult.
4. Shinedown–Zzzzzzz…oh, what? Hm? Sorry, I thought I was having a fucking nightmare. Nope. This band exists. Let me give you a little back-story here…I was going to (and I mean struggling to) but Insane Clown Posse on this list; and I couldn’t. ICP has no future in the entertainment industry and never realistically had a chance. They have a limited following, and to everyone else they’re a joke (including themselves, probably). Shinedown, for some reason, has a huge pop following, and I can’t wrap my brain around it (and I haven’t tried). Brent Smith is the lackadaisical equivalent to AFI‘s Davey Havok–similar in their ladylike appearance and pseudo-intellectual prose…I’m sorry–you can’t make a song like “The Crow and the Butterfly” without incurring a certain degree of internet-related “shame-on-you’s.” At least Insane Clown Posse had the decency to say “I know, we’re retarded…” (imagined, not dictated) But you seem to fuel off of the retarded teenage notion that this song has some kind of deeper meaning. It doesn’t. You don’t. Your band blows. Give it up–or you’ll be sucking Kid Rock‘s withering cock in the back of Uncle Kracker‘s meat-wagon.
3. Ke$ha–Well, the party’s started and I’m sure I haven’t been invited, because–aside from radio and mock-news shows, I haven’t heard any of Ke$ha‘s shit played anywhere. And that’s for the best. Ke$ha is the first victim to our number 1 offender of music, who you might be able to guess at this point. She exchanges image for quality–and while this has been done before, and at great length–it seems to have been awkwardly recreated by a stupid modern generation. Ke$ha attempts to represent the hipster class, the non-mainstream, the I’ll-do-what/who-I want-and-I don’t-give-a-fuck niche. But she pulls it off almost too well, which creates suspicion. How did she catch on that all punks, hipsters, and indie kids are fucking hypocrites? It took me, like, 7 years! It’s hard to be the anti-pop star when you’re a total sellout pop star. If real hipsters don’t dig it, who does? That’s a serious question, because hipsters seem to pick up the dregs of every modern phenomenon and play it off as cool until it blows pop-spunk all over their greasy hair. Ke$ha blew her load with her first single and now she’s riding the faux-hipster wave until she dies alone in a cave with a shotgun in her mouth like Weird Al Yankovic.
2. LMFAO–Are you drinking now? Taking shots? Good. Let’s hope so. You may not know the name LMFAO (aside from that it stands for “Laughing My Fucking Ass Off”….nerd), but you are almost certainly aware of the irritating beat of “Shots, Shots, Shots, Shots, Shots, Shots, EV’RY-BODY!” It’s kinda hard to miss. I’m not sure what Electro-hop is, but I don’t like it. They embody a somewhat satirical look at the hip hop community while doing everything in their limitless power to indulge in it. Like an annoying ring tone, it doesn’t take long for a sane and rational person to snap on whoever chooses to play it. LMFAO should be the universal answer to the question: Come on, the DJ couldn’t have been that bad, could he?” You know how you used to love that Will Ferrell movie until every asshole you know started quoting it until you couldn’t take it anymore? That’s the feeling you get when you listen to one LMFAO song–Oh, that’s kinda funn–waitaminute, I hate you and everything you stand for…” How long can a novelty band really last? You don’t want to know.
1. Lady Gaga–You’ve hit the nail on the head. This is going to be an unpopular one–I can feel it. Lady Gaga is truly an inspiration. Her music has spawned some pretty awesome shit–and come on, if you hear one of her songs playing, you want to get your geeky pelvis thrust on. Shake it off, pervert, that’s not the point. The point is that Lady Gaga (or Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta) is my age and was once a musical prodigy. There was a time when musical geniuses remained musical geniuses and graduated to the school of making musical genius fucking music...but, sadly, that train has sailed. I don’t know what she is now, but it’s terrifying. Had she stuck to her guns and not given up on herself to the point that she wanted to turn into someone else, she may have been amazing. She has become a zeitgeist…and a frightening and haunting one. Her music is played everywhere, and it’s so shitty compared to what she could have been.
Celebrities and teen idols have been around forever–I get it–but it sucks when someone who is full of so much independent talent is molded to the norm of “you can be famous just for being a fucking whack-a-dick. Lady Gaga is not popular because of her music, she’s popular because of her style and “fuck you” attitude. And that’s fine–I’m all for it–but leave the music behind and embrace the life of the celebutante.
Everyone hates Paris Hilton, but fuck it–she is what she says she is–and though she tried to be a musician, she failed and nobody gives a shit anymore. Our children are taught by the means of antiquated motto’s: “Do to others as you would want done to you,” etc…But the motto, “You get what you give,” should never be dismissed. Gaga may have the hardest working vag in show biz, but her aura is clearly one of: “Be an anti-social monster and eventually people will love you.”
Everyone is given a break once-in-awhile. It’s natural. A cop lets you go. You inherit some money. That 14-year-old’s parents isn’t going to press charges…
And I’m not saying that celebrities should have to live up to some kind of moral code or tell kids to stay off drugs. Kids know to stay off drugs; Amy Winehouse taught them that. Lady Gaga doesn’t have to change. She doesn’t have to do anything differently; we just have to stop celebrating her for it. Fine, we can sing along while we ignore her. Happy?
Long story short, we can’t sit back and say “We’re ruining things for our children, and our children’s children,” anymore. Only old people say stupid shit like that. We’re ruining things for us. NOW. Just because we destroyed our taste in everything, it doesn’t mean we’re not going to be around to deal with the repercussions of it all 40 years down the road.
Run and tell that.
Filed under Arts, Irrationality, Mistakes, Music, Review, Top 10 List
ICP has done it AGAIN!
Is there no peak to the Insane Clown Posse mountain of triumph? It seems that whenever they reach a plateau of great magnitude, they only decide to look up and climb higher. It’s no secret that ICP is universally considered one of the greatest modern rap/rock groups in existence, but I didn’t think they could ever outdo themselves like this, their most recent release!
The term “miracle” is rarely used as haphazardly as it had once been. Medical breakthroughs or ridiculous occurrences that fall outside the realm of known explanation are often given the title of “miracle” while researchers get to the bottom of it.
Don't judge me!
For example, a Croatian girl has recently awoken from a coma speaking fluent German. That’s fucking weird!
But nevermind shit like that. Why aren’t we asking the real questions? The important questions need to be considered–and thank christ we have talented and philosophic musicians like the Insane Clown Posse to really put the magnitude of our Universe into perspective.
I don’t want to place myself on a pedestal anywhere near as high as ICP. I mean, I’m down with the clown as much as the next guy, but I their music can be so mind-alteringly genius that I must only humble myself and look up to them not only as my heroes, but heroes for the entire country.
FREE THE POSSE!
Purely for the sake of education, I would like to set this time aside to dissect and consider all of the difficult, dark, and enlightening questions posed by Mr. Joseph Bruce and Mr. Joseph Utsler under the guise of the “wicked clowns” Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope. And to think–our brightest philosophers used to have silly names like Plato and Aristotle. JUGGALO 4 LYFE!!11!
To put this into perspective, let’s just list a few of the things that ICP thinks are “magic” or otherwise immensely perplexing:
Oceans, stars, the sky, mountains, trees, the seven seas, everything chillin’ underwater, hot lava, snow, rain, fog, long-neck giraffes, pet cats and dogs, childbirth, the Sun, Moon, and even Mars…the Milky Way and fucking shooting stars.
Grab yo hatchet and let the Faygo flo!
UFOs, a river, gardening, waterfalls and pyramids, things kids believe, fucking rainbows after it rains.
Feeding pelicans, the idea that you can’t see sound, music, the idea that you can’t hold music…and that it’s just there in the air.
Pure motherfucking magic.
Water, fire, air, dirt, and fucking magnets!
courtesy of Ryan Sun
The idea that scientists are all liars and don’t know about magic. Solar eclipse and vicious weather. Fifteen-thousand Juggalos together.
A caterpillar turning into a butterfly, the idea that your children resemble you, crows, ghosts, a midnight coast?
The truth is, I really wish I had an answer to give them. When I think about the weight of the universe and the implications that they’re making through this song, I have to say, “Magic is everywhere in this bitch.”
…or…
Perhaps the purpose of this video–and for the Insane Clown Posse in general is to keep up the notion that they’re playing music for the downtrodden youth, the kids who get picked on, and the boys and girls who want to rise up and say: “Fuck the world!”
But who is their audience, really? 12-toed inbred redneck hicks and pieces of shit from Jersey.
it's true.
The reason they can get away with writing a song like this–and making a video for a song like this–is simple: Magic.
There exists a certain level of inexplicable magic in this country that somehow, some way, causes individuals to be so supernaturally retarded that they:
a) Don’t know how fucking magnets work.
b) Think that this bullshit is legitimate music that should be taken seriously.
I’ve had my disagreements with Insane Clown Posse fans in the past, and they tend to make some attempt at the English language, so I can’t fault them completely. I do realize that I am building up what will inevitably be another wrath of angry ICP fans as well.
But ICP fans fucking should be angry–not just at the world for asking them how they manage to dress themselves in the morning–but at ICP for keeping them unified in a subculture of obvious and arrogant stupidity.
Whether you write, sing, or listen to a pride-ridden rap song about the “magic” of long-neck giraffes, you’re fucked…and if this song gets anywhere near the top of any iTunes or Amazon list, so is our society.
–Alex G/ I will read your hate mail and laugh at you.
(return to MAIN PAGE)
Filed under Arts, Educational, Fun Stuff, Music, Rant, Special Guest Blogger
It’s high time….
So, fair readers, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from ole Davey. Let’s fill you in on what you’ve missed in the last few weeks or so….
Still unemployed, however, I’m now doing some part time stuff for our very good friends at Derisory Designs, based out of Good Ole Port Richmond. Cool-ass t-shirts and such, awesome people, and great quality. If you ever need shirts or anything else printed, give em a ring. Tell em Dave sent ya.
Oh, how could I put this second? Super Dudette Michelle and I finally got married after dating for like four years. Actually, our four year anniversary was 2 weeks before the wedding, and we both totally forgot about it. That’s gotta be a good sign, right? The wedding turned out to be a pretty rad event, I think everyone had a good time (us Super Dudes and Dudettes had a blast!), great food, free booze, and a bedroom full of presents. Much thanks to the well-wishers out there.
But you, readers, don’t care as much about my personal life. You should, but you don’t. That would be INSANE.
I come to you, dear readers, today, to talk about something very important to me. Pennsylvania House Bill 1393 (HB 1393, for short), the Compassionate Use Medical Marijuana Act.
May I start out raising a loud, passionate WTF before I get into my true tirade. Pennsylvania, the state that said the gay’s are not just icky, but constitutionally icky, is actually considering legalizing marijuana for medical uses. Yes, PA. The Great Southern Oasis in the North. Pennsyltucky. Pennsylbama. The great Keystone of Conservatism is actually considering something not only logical, but downright progressive. I am proud, this week, to be a Pennsylvanian.
But Dave! Think of the children! Won’t somebody PLEASE think of the CHILDREN!?! Well, sir, or ma’am, I am, quite earnestly. I want children have their parents.
The CDC reports that from 1999 to 2004, unintentional poisoning death from prescription drugs sleeping pills, antidepressants and tranquilizers grew 84 percent to 20,950 deaths, overtaking cocaine and heroin combined as the leading cause of lethal overdose.Read more:http://www.injuryboard.com/national-news/prescription-drug-deaths-soar.aspx?googleid=29488#ixzz0YSpXHXPN (courtesy injuryboard.com) The first argument many make for the legalization of medical marijuana is that there are no deaths associated with smoking it. Well, we know that’s not REALLY true, people smoke and drive, or smoke and do other stupid shit ALL the time. Inexcusable. How many people do you interact with on a day to day basis, including bus drivers, other cars on the road, doctors, bosses, etc., and how many of them do you think are taking an opiate painkiller? I would bet good money that it’s a WHOLE lot more than you think. It’s illegal and stupid. Smoking and driving should be too, just like taking Oxycontin and driving technically is. Ok, so now we’re starting to think of the children. Let’s throw it out there that I believe driving under ANY (chemical) influence should be illegal and punished the way drunk driving is. If it’s clouding your judgement, you shouldn’t drive. There, happy? But what about that fact up there…Ambian, Lunesta, Roserem, Lexapro, Valium, Oxycontin and all of their friends are now more deadly than fucking COCAINE AND HEROIN. Let that mull around in your head for a few minutes. Legal, “safe,” prescribed drugs are more deadly than the big H. Wow. Just fucking WOW.
Deadly
New York, The Nanny State
So we know prescriptions CAN be very dangerous. I’ve taken some of these “FDA APPROVED” “SAFE AND SOUND” medicines. Pain killers for various injuries and surgeries, and countless sleep medicines for various sleep disorders. Pain killers suck. They really do. They shred your stomach like glass, and they make you crap funny (if you’re lucky and CAN crap) for days. They disorient you, and leave you wanting more of them. You can died if you drink a beer and take them. Sounds really fucking safe, huh. Sleeping pills might actually be more dangerous, in my opinion. They actually leave you WANTING to go to bed so you can take your next one. They can make you SERIOUSLY depressed (ask Super Dudette Michelle about this, she told the doc that I would die if I kept taking Ambian, because SHE would kill me…). They are bad news bears. Perhaps the even greater danger with them is that people THINK they’re safe. Just an Ambian. Just a Lunesta. But no (and if you have sleeping problems, PLEASE see a Sleep PSYCHOLOGIST instead of asking for pills from your doctor. They really help you, far more than any pill EVER can). Also, Ambian, for example, has a tendency to make you…well…retarded before you fall asleep, leading you to do stupid shit and FORGET THAT YOU ALREADY TOOK ONE. A double Ambian hangover is no fun, hear you me. Not to mention all of the people who DRIVE, GAMBLE, and WANDER OFF after taking the shit. In my personal experience, Ambian and most, if not all, of its little sleeping pill friends should be ILLEGAL.
Sleeping pills can make you a zombie.
Wait, what?
Hey, Dave, I don’t have cancer or AIDS, why should I give a fuck? Well, friend, have you ever had chronic sleeping problems? I have. Have you ever been depressed, in physical pain or had surgery? Okay then, you should care.
The conspiracy theorist in me has a damned good reason why the Feds have this drug illegal. Is it true? Who knows, but based on some other stupid policies Uncle Sam has (Agricultural Lobby, anyone?), it wouldn’t be hard to imagine that Big Pharma doesn’t want a drug that you can grow in you closet or backyard legal when Lunesta sells for four bucks A FUCKING PILL. There are so many reasons why this NEEDS to happen for us Pennsylvanians. Just google “Medicinal Marijuana” and you’ll be amazed. I’m not some pothead going out there trying to legitimize use. I simply think this is something we have to do for our elderly and suffering that has been stigmatized for FAR too long.
So, dear friends, I have a simple thing to ask you….no BEG of you…. PLEASE visit THIS SITE, fill in your information to contact your PA State Representative and urge them to support this very important and progressive piece of legislation. I’ve done it, and encouraged everyone I know to do it. Post it to your facebook, twitter, crackberry, whatever you have. Let em know we want it, and want need it now.
-philamaneto (return to MAIN PAGE)
Hipster on S-E-P-T-A
Let me tell you the story
Of a bearded Hipster
and his tragic and fateful time…
Hipster grabbed his bike
and kissed his Vegan Girlfriend
Went to ride on the Frankford Line
Hipster
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn’d
He may ride forever
On the Market-Frankford
He’s the Hipster who never returned.
El oh El
Hipster swiped his Transpass
At the Spring Garden Station
With his bicycle lock and chain
When he sat down, some Punks
locked his bike to the seat,
Hipster couldn’t get off of that train…
Don't let it end...
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn’d
He may ride forever
‘neath the streets of Fishtown
He’s the Hipster who never returned.
The streets of Fishtown
Now all night long
Hipster rides through the tunnels
Crying, “What will become of me?
How will I get to my Pabst
in West Philadelphia
Or my cousin in Nor’Liberty?”
Clark Park, West Philly
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn’d
He may ride forever
Under Powelton Village,
He’s the Hipster who never returned.
WKDU, Hipster Radio
Vegan Girlfriend goes down
To Girard Street station
Every day at quarter past two
And through the open window
She hands Hipster falafel
As the train comes a’rumblin’ through.
It looks like poop
Did he ever return,
No he never returned
And his fate is still unlearn’d
He may ride forever
Under 56th and Market,
He’s the Hipster who never returned.
University City IS West Philly
As his train rolled on
underneath the river wards
Hipster looked around and sighed:
“Well, I’m smelly and disgusting
And my skinny jeans are crusting;
I guess this is my last long ride.”
It's beer!
Now all you Philadelphians,
Don’t you think it’s a scandal
That the Hipster has to sit and whine?
Fuck the Saviour!
Vote for Larry West!
Get poor Hipster off the Frankford Line!
The Saviour
Or else he’ll never return,
No he’ll never return
And his fate will be unlearned
He may ride forever
On the Market Frankford
He’s the Hipster who never returned
phila maneto!
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Filed under Fun Stuff, Irrationality, Mistakes, Music, Rant, Uncategorized
Tales of a Graduate Nothing
You probably wake up around the time she does. Not really by choice, that’s just when the alarm goes off. You’re practically conditioned at this point, you couldn’t stay asleep past 6:30 if you tried, and believe me, you could really try most days…
As she gets ready for work, you lay in bed, thinking to yourself that you really should get up, stay in that work-mode habit that the rest of the world seems to be in. Yeah, right. Fuck that. If you aren’t going to work, you might as well enjoy staying in bed and going back to sleep for a few more hours. But you know you won’t. Your brain is already awake, going back to sleep is pretty pointless. Too much to think about. What sites to check out today, how to cope with the boredom after you’ve combed over the half dozen new job postings that you’re either over or under qualified for. You think about these things instead of doing them, for some reason. The most unproductive of all activities, you lay in bed and ponder what you’re going to do, or perhaps going to avoid doing. Other options creep into your head. Stay in bed all day, too boring. Drink all day, too expensive. Video games all day, been there. It’s getting as expired as watching yet another daily dose of Judge Judy would get. You look over at the clock. It’s finally 9, or maybe 10. You realize most productive people in the world are already working hard at their jobs. Not just that 8:15-get-to-work-and-kill-30-minutes-on-the -coffee-and-bullshit-mode, but actually doing productive things that contribute to society. You’re loafing in bed. You grab your laptop. Thank god someone took the time to invent that thing. You check your favorite news aggregators, google news, digg, and so on, hoping against hope that today would bring good news of economic recovery, a public works project, the expansion of Unemployment Coverage to recent college grads, but nothing. Kim Jong Il this, Michael Vick that. You open a half dozen articles, thinking you’ll be entertained by them, only to grow tired of them a few sentences in. You check the social networking sites, hoping a long-lost friend messaged you, maybe having that perverse notion that some long lost love interest is romanticizing over you, even though you’re more than happy with where you are in life. Well, at least in relationship terms. Myspace, facebook, livejournal, deadjournal, blurty, some days you check the sites you joined 5, 8, 10 years ago and have abandoned shortly thereafter. Hoping something has changed…maybe some new excitement pops up. It doesn’t. You dwell on facebook, the only one of those god awful sites that is actually somewhat useful. A comment here, a poke there. Nothing useful after all. Nothing entertaining. Are any friends online to chat with? No, they’re at work, of course. The days of constant friends online to chat with at all hours of the day are long gone. You’ve known this for some time, of course, but it still stings. You grow restless, checking sports sites, gaming websites, anything you can think of that you might be interested in. But you’ve seen it all before. Wikipedia is stale with articles you’ve already glanced through, grabbing whatever tidbits of information your wandering mind picks up. You wander to your favorite pornographic and otherwise explicit non-pornographic sites, which you immediately realize will do little more than bore you as much as the rest of the internet does. Your laptop battery dies, far sooner than it should. You realize your laptop is ancient by modern standards, of course it is. You got it your freshman year of college. It was a beast. Unstoppable, invincible. Then again, so were you. You realize the irony of then, plug in your computer, and consider sitting near naked at your desk to continue your miserable morning, but you eventually head to the shower.
The shower isn’t as refreshing when you’re already awake. When you’re still half asleep, the shower is your wakeup. It’s like being baptized every day, a new life given to you with water. Not today, not lately. The showers you usually enjoy are little more than another stale routine in your day. You smell nice, and you have to dry off. Lather, rinse, repeat. Brush the teeth dry off, back to the bedroom. You consider crawling back into bed, but you’d just be as bored as you were before. Without the computer.
You get dressed, eventually, putting on the same pair of shorts you always wear when you want to be comfortable. You pick out a nice looking shirt, even though you have little doubt that you’ll be staying inside today. You head down to your kitchen. By now, it’s anywhere from 10:00 to 12:30. Half of your day is already wasted before most of the world even eats lunch. Which brings your next problem to rise. What to eat? Slimfast shake? Lunch meat sandwich? Soup? Leftovers? These are the things you would be eating if you were at work, but god damn it, you want the variety and luxury of choosing what you want. You want Bruger King, Wawa, a hoagie, anything but what you have in your pantry. You struggle to reason with this, but come up with no conclusion. You close the pantry or fridge door unsatisfied. You decide to make coffee while you think over your options Pull the zip lock baggie of ground beans out of the fridge, it reminds you of a bag of cannabis. Alluring, potent and pungent. Your drug of choice, the coffee.
Your coffee routine is equally as repetitive as your others, however this one is different. No one can destroy your coffee routine. Not now, not ever. You dutifully scoop the grounds into the bottom section of the fake espresso steamer you have, fill the water to just the right level, screw the Ikea contraption back together ad wait. Flame on. The pressure builds in the coffee maker until you hear the steam and boiling water shoot through the crushed grounds. It hisses, gurgles, and steams until the warm, thick fluid erupts into the top chamber, like a coffee-pot orgasm. This is why you got out of bed today, you realize. You dutifully pout half the carafe’s contents into your mug, topped of with milk for a makeshift latte. It’s not Starbucks, it’s not Dunkin Donuts or even god damned McDonalds, but it’s the way YOU like it. And you make the best coffee in the world.
You still haven’t figured out what to eat for breakfast. Or is it lunch, by this point? It’s probably both. You decide either meal’s food s would be acceptable. Eggs? bacon? Hamburger? teak? You still want that hoagie or cheese steak sandwich from your favorite shop dwon the street, but you resist. Spending money now means that much less for beer later (or rent…or bills, god forbid you lose your HBO). You settle for tuna fish. Again. The tuna fish that was on sale last week at Shoprite, not the fancy, tasty, non-mercury filled kind. It will have to do today. Open the can, find your favorite condiments, mayo, dressing, you’re out of onion powder, garlic powder will have to do, even though y ou know you won’t like it as much. Mix with a spoon, slap onto bread. Chew. No, wait…something different. You have wraps today. Hot damn, a break. You pile your tuna onto a spinach garlic wrap, load n some croutons and carrots, and roll it up, realizing that this might actually be the highlight of your day.
You avoid looking at your computer while eating. You’re going to be staring at it all day anyway, why burn out your eyeballs during lunch/breakfast? What now? You’ve finished eating Go out? no money to STay in? don’t feel like it. You want to do something spontaneous. Climb onto a roof, get a tattoo, sneak into a building, climb a water tower, but you know these things would no work out. You swear to do them tomorrow. You check your email for the 100th time, hoping against hope that one of the people you contacted for a job will get back to you, but they won’t. They will tomorrow, you’re sure. You check for jobs. Indeed, monster, careerbuilder, the same jobs you saw yesterday. And the same that were there last week.
new one pops up here ad there. Someone you know heard that such-and such- company was hiring, so you check their website Unqualified, overqualified, or not applicable. Same as usual. You fire one or two resumes off in hopes that someone will realize the hidden talents you have, despite your lack of experience and professional license. Now comes the phase in your day where you’re worse off than before. Worse than boredom, worse than frustration. Bored frustration. This is where you start to worry…where dangerous things pop into your head. Maybe you could drink a few beers and kill the afternoon. Maybe you could find some pot and watch a movie. You don’t have the money for either, and wouldn’t even know where to find pot. You consider video games, but realize that your collection hasn’t expanded since you looked yesterday. The same old games. The ones you’ve been playing for 2 years because you can’t fathom spending 60 bucks on a new one. By now, it’s already 3pm. Only a few more hours until the missus gets home. Then maybe you’ll go do something fun. But she’s been working all day, like most good grown ups. She won’t want to go crazy tonight. You get a phone call…a second interview, scheduled for tomorrow, are you available? You are now. This is the scary one, the technical interview. You can bullshit your way through HR, but this is a different beast. But you know not to get your hopes up. This interview will go like all the others. Thank you for your interest. They’ll let you know real soon.
You slink back into the couch, glad you didn’t have that pot connection, or else you have sounded the damned fool on the phone, and maybe failed your drug test. Email, CNN, syndicated reruns, CNN, email, reruns, CNN, email, reruns. You can’t choose, because none are satisfying. You grab a beer from the fridge, just one, to cool off with, or perhaps to comfort you just a little. 4pm, 4:30, 4:45, you’re almost there. Your day is almost done. You yearn for 5 o’clock to come around, but you don’t know why. The missus won’t get home until almost six. But something in you still strives to make it until then. You start making dinner, eat when she gets home. She’s your breadwinner, it’s the least you can do. You’re exhausted for some reasn, and lay on the cough until she gets home. Then you eat dinner, clean up, and watch TV. At least you aren’t doing it alone, and can share a laugh or two.
You watch the same shows every night, TMZ, Simpsons, Family Guy, and whatever prime time show of the day that’s on afterwards. Then you go to bed, following the same routines you do every night. Wash your little face, brush your little teeth, take your little pills to keep you alive for another day. Things you used to take simple pleasure in, but not so much anymore. You head to bed, knowing you won’t sleep well, wondering how to pay your part of the bills and rent, hoping that tomorrow will be the day you hear from a job, and get your lucky break. It’ll happen. Maybe tomorrow.
Filed under Irrationality, Mistakes, Porn, Rant, Television, Uncategorized
MAKE!
I like projects. Ones that actually serve somewhat of a purpose so that I have a reason to finish them. I also like building shit. Putting things together to make something more awesome from their parts. Currently, I have an education in engineering, and no job, which would allow me to spend lots and lots of time on my said project. The problem there is that I also don’t have any money. Fail. So here’s where you, dear reader, can help. I’m going to list a bunch of shit that I want to do/build/experiment with/make/etc, and you can help me decide which to do first/next.
Some criteria/goals here…like I said, I don’t have any money, so I’ll need to get my supplies as cheap as possible, if not totally free, so I’ll list the major parts I need for each endeavor, and perhaps you, dear readers, can help me out (donations? take shit off your hands? point me in the right direction?) and as a thank you, I’ll blog the shit out of the project, and let you play with it when I’m done! Some of these are totally doable, some are a little more pie-in-the-sky. But that’s for you to decide. What do you want to see? What can you help me with? Materials? Skillz? Moral support?
So here we go…..
Genuine Nerd
This has a number of cool things about it. It’s moped, which already gets crazy good MPGs, and if I can make a diesel one, it’ll get BETTER MPGs, and will be able to run on all sorts of crazy shit like vegetable oil and kerosene and stuff…alt fuels, FTW.
- A bicycle (old is okay, as long as it mostly works)
- A small diesel engine (small as in just a few horsepower. I’m not even sure something along the lines of what I’m looking for exists, but if anyone has an old diesel lawnmower or weedwacker, something like that would work!)
- Maybe welding skills/supplies? (I’m sure I can get along without this, but I want to learn to weld, damn it…)
Puddle Duck Racer
Like a wee little yacht
You can build a little bitty boat made of plywood and bedsheets for next to nothing. Awesome.
- Plywood
- Rope
- Sail material (this is probably really easy)
- And most importantly, SPACE! Anyone want to build/keep this bad boy? I need somewhere to keep the damned thing while it’s being built. A garage? A backyard under a tarp? Whatever works for you works for me, and since it’s at your place, it’s basically YOURS! So who wants a free boat?
Punkin Chunker
It's Punkin' Chunkin' time again!
We can enter the Punkin Chunkin competition in Delaware. It’s totally worth it. There are any number of different types of pumpkin launchers, though, so I’m open to whatever shit you have laying around.
- Wood, metal, pipe, etc.
- Maybe a compressor
- Lots of misc. pneumatic parts, perhaps.
- Again, SPACE!
So yeah, there are three projects for starters. I can do whatever you suggest, provided I/we can get the materials for it! So be creative! Give some suggestions, and let’s make some magic happen. It’ll be insane.
–Dave
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Filed under Fun Stuff, Hot News, Irrationality, Mistakes
California Uber Alles
Last call for alcohol.Last call for your freedom of speech.
Drink up. Happy hour is now enforced by law.
Don’t forget our house special, it’s called a Trickie Dickie Screwdriver.
It’s got one part Jack Daniels, two parts purple Kool-Aid,
and a jigger of formaldehyde
from the jar with Hitler’s brain in it we got in the back storeroom.
Happy trails to you. Happy trails to you…
Well, it’s official. California, the Bear Flag State, is more ass-backwards than the northernmost state still fighting the Civil War, the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. California’s Supreme Court upheld the legality of Proposition 8 today. Okay, the people voted on it. It’s banned here, too. Here’s the rub…the law here in Pennsyl-hick-ia was approved by representatives in the state legislature. We have a shit ton of state reps who end up over-representing the rural areas and under-representing the places where people actually live, but that’s another story. We, the people of the state, didn’t vote for it directly, and it’s only done by law.
The people of California voted on it themselves. “Can Dudes Marry Each Other? Yes/No.” They said no themselves. And worse yet, they said no in such a way, a constitutional change, that makes it incredibly hard to change it back. They said “Fuck you,” locked the door, and threw away the key. Us inbreds in Pennsylbama still haven’t done that. Go figure…
I want to sit back and say, “I’m not specifically Pro-Gay Rights, I’m Pro-Everyone Rights,” and as true as that is, ya know what? Its time to say “fuck it,” and admit that I am pro-gay marriage. I have a few good reasons, too, it’s not just liberal college kid bull. First off, I, personally, have zero problem with people of the same sex getting married. So there’s that…
Also, even if I had a problem with dudes or chicks getting married, I’m mature enough to step back and say, “Ya know what? It’s not doing me any harm.” Now I know a lot of people out there are sort of intolerant over tolerance (the whole, everyone HAS to accept everything, except not accepting things…). I recognize that in this great country of ours, you are SO free to sit back and hate anyone you damned well please. Thank god we have that right, too.
Okay, back to the point at hand…ya know, even if I really thought that those darn gays were going to rot in hell for being….gay…that’s their decision. You know who is making a mockery of marriage right now? About 90% of the people I’m related to. Straight, all American types who cheat on their spouses, leave their significant others and abandon their children in one way or another. Not a homosexual among them. So much for the family values of the straight, traditional household. Insanity.
Here’s the thing that kills me. It’s a little more emotional and more opinion than anything else, but hey, I’m the one writing here….The marriage age in New Hampshire with parental consent is 13 for girls and 14 for boys. THIRTEEN! Pennsylvania is under 14 with the approval of a Judge of the Orphans Court. Jesus H. Christmas (at least New Hampshire lets same-sex couple marry…). Think about this. A 13 year old can get married, but NOT two PhD’s who are in their 40s. Something to chew on, isn’t it?
So what do we do about all of this? I sure don’t know. Maybe we can just let people know how pissed we are (if you are. If you aren’t, I guess that’s okay too, just make sure you have a good reason for it and I’ll respect your opinion). Write the letters, VOTE for the people who know what freedom means, and don’t be afraid to speak up. Also, make sure you don’t become more hateful and mean than the other side is. Take care of yourself, and each other. California Uber Alles, indeed….
*Yes, I know…I wanted to keep all this SuperDude a-political…I just had to rant. This is a Dave rant, not a SuperDPS rant. The other SuperDudes don’t necessarily agree with a word of this. Some probably do, though. Some might not. Take it for what it is. (return to MAIN PAGE)
Filed under Hot News, Irrationality, News, Rant
