You In The Jungle Baby, You Gonna Die!

Guns N' Roses - Welcome to the Jungle

I wanna hear you scream!
And best believe i wanna see you cream!

Cos' if you can't beat 'em, eat 'em. and for those of you not close enough to witness the train wreck first hand, just know that this is the unofficial end of a deep and dark, annihilating, seemingly infinite blood-and-sorrow saga that somehow finds me in the hipster haven of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, residing in the catacombs of Shooting Gallery Studios myspace.com/shootinggallerystudios, headquarters of Brooklyn beef rock outfit Lion On Oil (myspace.com/liononoil).

which leads me back to the crack again, yeah. because this habitat inarguably serves as one of the bastions of the GNR resurgence that coincides with the 20th anniversary of "Appetite For Destruction."

So when we blow lines off that Rolling Stone with Axl and Co. on the cover at 9 a.m., don't think it's some kind of cunt stunt, some fucking fashion statement. Naw munhhfucka. It's carrying the torch, as it were.


Dirty Wedding.

the way his face kinda just exploded, i mean, it was kinda fucked up. as in really fucked up.
i still see it to this day, no joke.
just fucking burned into my optic nerve like some kind of fucking, like a fucking... i don't know man.
she told me there'd be days like this. but what she neglected to mention was who exactly i'd be spending those days with.
it seems that no matter how thick shit gets, there's always room on the broom.
and i guess that's the lesson to take home or to the bank or wherever it is you go when you're not with me, cutting your life short by years at a time.
this was meant to fucken be.


Dizzy New Shite, Blinded By The Trite. But She Saved Me, Yeah. She's Real Old Fashioned, Like Mae West With A Taste For Morphine.

I have but one rule to govern my general conduct.

The Prime Directive, if you must.
"To move about the detritus with the polynomial piety of a picturesque precis."

Brevity is the Soul of Shit, yeah.

And for the record, that's "Pray-See" for all you public school (US) grads out there.
As in, PRAY-You-Don't-SEE-Me-In-A-Dark-Alley-FatherFucker!
Or a well-lit one for that matter.

If i coulda reached my rod, i woulda blown his guts out
and all that.

That is, if i had brought my rod along at all.
I'm strapless for her. for them out there too. but mostly for her.

Her face is so painterly under those White City Lights.
Eyes filled with diamonds and the like.
Which makes sense, cos' the coif's as dark as anthracite.

A comely conduit to both Past and Future.
Truth and Deceit in the same sheath.

Absolute Zero fucks Infinity, but doesn't call the next day, like he said He would.
Doesn't bother Her much.

A true giver in a categorically Vampiric world.

I Can't Feel My Face!

You'd think that by now motherfuckers would get the picture.

You go to a Lil Wayne/Juelz show (especially one in a second-tier city like Baltimore), and you gotta expect the unexpected.

Intrusive searches.
Traffic stops.
Overlong opening acts.
Poor acoustics.
A fashion show.
A severely abbreviated set from the headliners.

For a show that was barely advertised (many found out the day of the show), Clarence 'Du' Burns arena was packed with hip-hop heads bursting at the seams in anticipation of a barnburner of a show... Weezy and Santana, furthering the campaign launched by their mixtape 'Blow: I Can't Feel My Face.'

Much to the chagrin of the Baltimore Sun (and others), all fans were patted down upon entry, like common criminals. Shouldn't be a surprise at a show like this. Like Weezy said so many years ago: "The Block Is Hot!" And Streets Is Watchin'!

And when the opening acts literally get five times the stage time of the headliners, remember kids, this is a rap show. In the way of an excuse for their chronic lateness (which led to their protacted set), the opening act claimed they were unlawfully searched on the way to the venue and were held up by the Baltimore Police Dept.


Then came the main event. Weezy strutting onstage, plaided out, with Juelz soon to follow, both shouting their lyrics, trying in vain to compensate for the miserable sound dynamics of the indoor soccer arena.

Then, silence.

Sent home like teenagers at a busted kegger.

The promoters claim that they cut the show short because, with all the histrionics of the openers, Juelz + Tha Carter's 25 minute set ran up against the 2 a.m. curfew blanketing the city.

Add all this to the fact that the last time Lil Wayne came to town (@ Morgan State University's typically raucous homecoming), three chicks were hospitalized following a stampede after a hype-man threw fistfuls of cash into the crowd.


So it goes, so it goes. Quid Pro Quo and all that. Maybe next time Baltimore. If there is a next time.


French Kicks.

Yelle - A Cause De Garcons
it doesn't get much more French than this.

or this
Yelle - Je Veux Te Voir (aka Short Dick Cuizinier beef rap)

i'm officially in love with this chick.


Keep On, And Ya Don't Stop! Don't Stop Till You Get Enough! I Mean It Bitch! I Paid For 2 Hours, I'm Gettin' 2 Hours! Get Back In There!

Shannon - Let The Music Play

kinda like her 'fuck you' to Madonna.

shit this song brings back memories. wearing a soiled, sweat-soaked Victorian wedding dress, cruising through Bed-Stuy at 1000 rpm in our stolen stretch 1983 Lincoln Towncar blaring Purple Rain on 8-track, sittin' on wire wheels and flicking through all 225 channels of the multi-band satellite television. a kilo of yay in my lap and a billion parties in my head.

it was about two hours before we realized the hooker was dead.

negligent homicide?

motherfucker, do you know who i am?!!? I'm the Original Born Jamerican Taliban Clairvoyant Child Prodigy Quiz Kid Shit-Talker Cock-Walker Pushaman Dreamweaver With The Slangsta Lean That Don't Take Shit Offa Nobody!

huh? that? yeah. yeah man, i got a permit for that AK. what's it to you you summumabitch!?!

weed is not a drug. it's a NUISANCE!

Musical Youth - Pass The Dutchie

jesus these youth were musical! like Jackson 5 type shit! this generation rules the nation and junk.

keep bangin' kids. and remember U.S. government/adolescent nerds of all ages...

So Stop Fucking Acting Like They're At All Similar You Fucks!

Sit Down! Stand Up! Now Sit Down Again!

some guy on pcp.

i've come to the sad yet somewhat hilarious realization that there's a strong possibility that i could end up like this sorry motherfucker, strung-out on some venomous and complex chemical compound, ass naked and sweating bullets, ranting and raving about 2012 and the aborted fetus living in my crawlspace and the hidden cameras and the "listening devices" and the "SG/Saudi Arabia" interface and incontinence and the earth's albedo and immaterial truths and the primary selector and all dat.

i can't wait.


see these crooked fingers? they're the ones that's gonna fuck you tonite babydoll!

a doc on how beast the Libertines were/are. a perfect follow-up to the post below concerning the matter of Hinge v. Lion on Oil.

now note what dude says around 1'50" or so...

"And they were great to watch... they used to have little fistfights on stage, bang into each other, and they could barely hold it together in the music... it was great by the same token, cos' it was kinda unhinged ya know."


that's right motherfucker. but what am i even addressing you for? what's to be expected of a scene who's hardasses are best mates with Pete Wentz? sod off ya butty men. there's real work to be done here.

Fan Mail, Phun Mail, Can You Feel The Coke Hail?!?!

What hath these Lions wrought?

From the desk of "Hinge", chief proprietor of Asbury Park, New Jersey's 'The Saint.'

To Brooklyn rock band Lion On Oil,

"I'll be honest.
You guys suck completely.
One of the worst bands i've ever seen.
You probably shouldn't announce that you are from Brooklyn because you just don't represent Brooklyn very well.

"It's really not fun or funny watching a bunch of incredibly wasted guys barely make it through a set. You are un-professional, and have no idea how to behave in a club.

"Do yourselves a favor and get your singer and guitarist to rehab. And please, don't contact The Saint for any future gigs. We won't have you at our club ever again.

(and as it pertains to social networking site MySpace...)

"Why would you guys want to be my friend? I will say this... I think you have some really good songs, but, the way you behaved at the Saint last week was very very sad.

"Believe it or not, i've been in the music biz for 30 years. I've toured the world both as a guitarist and a sound man, so I think I have a pretty good perspective on things.
Seeing you guys incredibly wasted and hardly able to play pissed me and the rest of our employees off, and made us never want to have you at our club again.

"To me, it's a huge waste of time to have a band come out and pretty much waste our time and make a mockery of what we do. It was unprofessional and quite frankly sad.

"With songs like yours, you could probably have success, but you'll never get anywhere until you get your drinking and drug problems under control."

lovingly concerned,

thanks Dad. sorry they're not the "hardcore" faggotry you're used to. haha.

Lion On Oil, huh? sounds like just the kinda band i need to get myself involved with. fortunately, i am. planning to move in with these fucks in about a week and a half that is.

you know, they said the same kinda shit about Captain and Tenille in their nascent years. so...

visit these "Brooklynite" fucks at their MySpace page.

and why not give Hinge a holler as well. and yes, that is the GEICO caveman as his profile pic.

and how perfect it is that the pic at the top is from their performance at The Saint. jesus.


I Been Cluckin' Since Been Cluckin'!!!

courtesy of EBaum's World.

Jesus. Yo is tweakin' hard as shit!

No, fuck that. Dude is cluckin'. Straight cluckin'!

Maybe it's Scopolamine.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (1 of 9)

there may be some of you who believe that i am fucking about when i ponder where i can get some of this narcotic Plutonium. but obviously, you don't know me well enough (or at all).

otherwise, you would know that i am a total fucking scumbag and would literally give anything to get my hands on an unlimited supply of this Wunder-DRUKQ. mostly for personal, recreational use.

follow your nose, wherever it goes.

sure. all the narco-trafficking and civil war has turned a lot of Colombianos into "survivalists." but can you imagine what things would be like if this shit permeated the tenuous membrane of American drug culture? fuckemos!

add that to our coke/weed/heroin/crack/meth/gasoline/submachinegun/money/war/animal/tv/pussy/internet/blowtorch problem, and you've got a nation of mindfucked fools eager to go down on ANYTHING.

god bless Amurrrica!
god bless Spike Jonze!
god bless Vice TV!
god bless burundunga! i think... it is the Devil's Breath after all. yo well. somebody fucken bless it! or i'm gonna have to. and trust me, you don't want that. you really don't fucken want that.

nota bene: if any of these are giving you shit while loading, just click on the title of the post to watch them individually. pain in the ass yes. but it's either that or slipping it some Scopolamine and coercing into anal. anal and letting you watch it. surely it would oblige. now if only you had some Scopolamine. asshole.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (2 of 9)

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (3 of 9)


It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (4 of 9)


It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (5 of 9)


It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (6 of 9)

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (7 of 9)


It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (8 of 9)


It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (9 of 9)

fucken ay! i shoulda known those pussies at Vice wouldn't actually try it. though my desire to get my hands on a gram of this shit is a bit tempered by sobriety, i'm still down. i just wanna know what it would be like to function sans a significant portion of my higher brain. back to zero and all that.


I'm So Gangsta Prissy Chicks Don't Wanna Fuck Wit Meh! I'm So Gangsta Ghetto Bitches Fall In Love Wit Me!

Matt + Kim - Yeah Yeah (Flosstradamus RMX)

though the very essence of this song goes against everything i stand for, i can't help but twostep to the shit. can't a motherfucker twostep?


Steady, Are Ya Ready Hmmm? What's Goin' On?

Fucken Belly. There will never be a moment in cinema more unfuckwitable than the black-lit opening shot of Nasir Jones, Earl Simmons, and Co. on the mean stroll through that strip club.

That Def Jam 2000 shit, before the Southern Invasion. And don't even get me started on the small face money son!

Hey, Remember The '80s!?!

A-Ha - Take On Me

mmmm... makes me wanna start breastfeeding again. any takers?


You Prefer Ko-Kaine, Dance Like A Ma-Chine

That Motherfucker Mr. Machine...

You set the fire in me, you sonofabitch.
What with your wild-ass whistle and your wacky wind-up action, your gears and your tears,
I knew him well kids.

This was in the Land Before Time, you see.
Or should I say the Land Before (Teenage Mutant Ninja)Turtles?
Back when Ideal Toy Co. and Mattel had shit on lock in the Realm Of KASAI.

Playmates and their wares would come a bit later,
Much like another set of Playmates and their silicate wares would revolutionize my physiology years later.

And while we're at it, if I were able to hop, skip, and jump to Way Back When,
I wonder if young buck KASAI would appreciate my analogue...

Eagerly awaiting the Magic Eight Balls' opinion on whether or not tender little Deirdre Smith liked me liked me...


Eagerly awaiting the arrival, on the verge of tears, standing on the stoop of a Baltimore rowhome, wondering how much longer deadly little Donte would be with the Magic Eightball I overpaid for.



My old man once told me that for a time during the "Vietnam-era",
the toymaker sourced various parts of the M-16 to gun maker Colt.
Gats were fragile, misfiring pieces of shit, inferior to the AK in virtually every way.

I wonder if one of my G.I. Joes was made in the same mold that one day fabricated the trigger guard to a gook-killing boomstick... hmmm... makes ya wonda... Mr. Machine in the Killing Fields?

Timmy said you can tell a true war story by how grotesque it is. yeah.

Even the true stories ain't.

Can't believe everything you hear.
But you can certainly relieve all that you fear!
Just take 500 of these and I'll call you in the morning.
I promise baby.

Say au revoir to that long face babydoll!
Fancy-free and flat-out fucken fantastic


i get my thrills at Blueberry Hills.

do you mind if i get a bit Pleistocene for a moment?
I've grown rather jaded with the Hollow-Scene.
the present. as the technocrats would have you believe.

i'm all for a quantum leap of sorts.
a bit of Paleolithic Japonisme to satisfy the OLD guard?
pre-dating Hokusai and Hokkaido alike.

nevermind the Champagne Supernova.
pay too much attention to it and you'll be Blinded By The Lights.
dizzy new heights, to be sure.

mama said there'd be days like this,
there'd be days like this, my mama said.

but she didn't mention anything about the shredded septums,
the pregnancy scares, the 4-car pile-ups, the rap sheets, the sleepless nights,
the spinning rooms and the tainted looms,
the drug debts, regrets, the dealer's threats,
the hyperviolence and her petty silence.

didn't warn us about any of that shit.
but we still love her, don't we?

so i guess i'm headed off to Gee's Bend.
population, 700. give or take.
head down in the 1986 Porsche 959 i stole from the estate of one Jerry Seinfeld.
Bahnstorm to where the living's easy and the girls are breezy.
or vice versa.

and as for my return?
don't wait up.
i wouldn't want to waste your time.
Stars Falling. at the Speed of Right.
it's Capriciously Delicious motherfucker!