Anybody Wanna Go To Warped Tour And Cause Problems?

There are few things that get me foamin' harder than the very notion of the City of Baltimore and non-Chainsaw Diaries iterations of The Real World. Thus, combining the two is a guaranteed Level 5. Sure, it has been confirmed that a season of the (shit)show is to be filmed in Bmore. But this shit right here gives me one more reason to long for Death To Man.

Video of the walking abortions responsible for this super-funny video getting their dicks sucked (unfortunately, not literally) by 14-year-old know-nothing cunns is found below.

In Consideration of the Future (Fuck 2009).

"If/when I move in(to a certain local living space that shall remain unnamed), I'm just gonna save up a bit and quit my job, chain-smoke Reds, shadowbox, pound liquor-n-hollywoods, lift weights, blast "Intro" by DMX on a shitty boombox and J my D (in the nude) in the hallways and elevators all day and night".

- Kasai Rex to The Cheeseburger Man no more than 2 seconds ago. Tomorrow.

If I Ruled The World... I'd Free All My Sons...

FACT: 98.5% of blogs are utter shite, poorly written and conceptually flawed.
FACT: There isn't much point to this when things are so one-sided.
FACT: I had no idea there were so many fake titties in Bmore.

Pretty Pink, Baby Blue

i. I've got a 9mm bullet casing hiding between the blue and pink layers of my reversible BoxFresh jacket. Funny, as I have no idea how it got there. I don't own a gun (n.b. - given my professed derangement and past outbursts of warrantless and excessive violence, probably for the best), so that's out.

Most likely, I found it somewhere and was carrying it around, fully in the throes of TOUGH GUY Mode. And it's highly possible that someone in "The Circle" advised me to put it in of the "Keep New York City Clean" trash cans on some Brooklyn corner, so as not to draw unnecessary police attention. Holding, you see. Funnier still is the fact that, short of cutting the jacket open, which I'm not fucking doing, there seems to be no way to get it out.



ii. By around 4pm this day, I should've been fully prepared to hang myself. To think that my drug counselor (and former addict) uncle visited the family home, well mashed, driving around my young cousin and her friends, advising me to stay away from the "drug scene". Farbeit for me to stop a drunken sermon. Let him run. He'll wear himself out, with lots of talk of how the mental illness/savage drug problems that plagued him and my grandfather "skipped" me. Assuring nods, yeah. Guess that's my M.O. Case ya didn't know. To paraphrase, The Spark In His Eye Belies The Apocalypse Inside Him (thank you TVOTR). And don't you fucken forget it.

But hey. I did gain some insight through all the Newport haze and Jack Daniels belches. A sober-eye view of what cats look like when totally mashed. Not enough to shut the lights out when I get back to Brooklyn though. The Fatal Flaw. Drag the Waters.


Epilogue... Bullet troubles aside, it occurs to me now that the aforementioned uncle in Article ii. was the same uncle who gave me my first beer. At age three. And apparently, getting toddlers wasted has been his M.O. for quite some time. The More You Know...

iss like this iss like that iss like this and-aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! you fucking shot me man! what the fuck! you fucking shot me dude! fuck!

while downtown during lunch today, out the grimy window of the sub shop, i saw her, and instantly i cursed myself for not having a digital camera/legit camera phone.

no, i didn't see some multi-racial perfect 10 (dime) from the Hustler Club strolling down Saratoga St.

i'm talking politickin' mang!

you see, one of the benefits of living in a moderate to large sized metropolis is that inevitably, you will lay eyes upon some pretty fucked up, often destitute wizards of weird. sure, small towns have their nuts, but the population density just ain't man.

this particular crazy was jaywalking(?) in one of those motorized invalid carriages. like the shits i try to get, pretty much every week. they shouldn't promise a 30 day free trial if it's not really free. people like me really depend on that shit.

but yeah, this woman, possibly in her '70s, disrupting the flow of traffic and not giving a fuck, her carriage literally plastered in huge "Obama '08" campaign stickers. with an array of Amurrrican flags as additional adornment. and of course she was rockin' the crucial Amurrrican flag denim long sleeve. so what if it's fucken 91 degrees with 88% humidity? she loves her some America.

and...

she loves her some Obama. she doesn't give a bitch's tit about whether this country is ready for a Black head of state or not. she wants him in there, BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!

so roll on you tiny diamond. keep hope alive.

god bless vocoders!

if this doesn't restore your faith in humanity, i don't know what will.

baby you're gettin so lazycrazyswayze lately, won't chu come down from that tree and date me?

"There is a mountain of snow,
Up past the big glen,
We have a castle enclosed,
There is a fountain,
Out of the fountain flows gold,
Into a HUGE hand,
That hand's a held by a bear,
Who has a sick band,
Of goats and cats and pigs and bats,
With brooms and bats and wings and rats,
And great big dogs like kings and queens,
And everyone plays drums and sings,
Of big sharks, sharp swords,
Beast knees, bees lords,
Sweet cakes, mace lakes,
Oh mamamamamamama
- Dan Deacon, "Wham City," courtesy of Baltimore City Paper

english motherfucker! do-you-speak-it?!?!

pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop! cars don't backfire in staccato, and firecrackers don't resonate the way this did. yeah. pretty sure i heard gunfire. though i was in the twilight phase between full wakefulness and dead-to-the-world sleep. not to mention my recent hallucinogenic experimentation has activated some sort of latent schizophrenia, so i have been hearing shit from time to time. haha.

but this was unmistakeably real.

not too far-fetched either. about a decade ago, a student at nearby morgan state university decided to test-fire his newly purchased tek-9 (the number one gun in street crime; it actually says that in the brochure, like they're proud of that shit!?!) in a parking lot.

right next to the northeastern district police station. neighborhood association raised a big stink with the city council, blah blah blah, who fucken cares?

regardless of the precedent, this scared me shitless. sucking my thumb got me through the night.

god i love baltimore.

I (Heart) City Life

I Love City Life! Yayyyy! living in a bad neighborhood, all cozy in my overpriced rowhome, driving my hybrid, drinking my chai tea and walking my small dog after dropping my perfect little kids off at their elite school. maybe i'll go to the museum today, maybe i'll open my own gallery. who knows? the possibilities are endless when you live the city life!

"I Love City Life!" previously i'd only been aware of the bumper stickers, but apparently, livebaltimore.com offers a plethora of merchandise (dog leashes, fleeces, and other yuppie trash) to propagandize their veiled vision of Harm City.

having gone to private school in north baltimore for 12 years, i saw my share of these ridiculous fucking stickers, plastered on the backs of volvo station wagons, luxury machines, and various sport utility vehicles driven by small mothers with limited agendas.

if this wasn't baltimore, maybe i could ignore them. i mean, every city in this country, in the world, is stratified along class and racial lines. classic haves and have nots scenario. but this is baltimore you fucking yuppies, have some empathy.

fucking 78 murders in 2007 so far. i could stop there. but i really want to indict these sons of bitches.

past distinction as the heroin/std/aids/teen pregnancy capital of the country. troubling jobless/illiteracy/poverty rates. the public domain nightmare that is the east side. numerous tv shows attesting to our (yes, our) crack/heroin problem and the hyperviolence that characterizes the real "city life." even our police are downtrodden, so much so that they just aren't brutalizing as much as say, lapd or nypd (though there was some buzz around mayor-induced arrest quotas last year). this is the city that bleeds, and even our cops acknowledge it.

and our public schools. jesus. characteristically american, in the vein of houston, la, south carolina, or new orleans. but there's a distinct character to the baltimore school, helped along by a city hall too busy bickering with one another to do much about it. hell, recently, a board executive was caught stealing three million dollars from the public school system's budget. gotta love city life.

reading the police blotter in this town is akin to reading a report on the day's war dead. it's just fucked up, and the fact that the city's better-off make light of the plight of urban baltimore with their yellow stickers is even more fucked up and discouraging. but it's a classic case of us v. them, the duality of modern life that is both our greatest asset and our greatest foe.

and beyond baltimore, with a global shift towards urbanization (which of course means overcrowding, then increased pollution, rises in crime and unemployment, and ultimately the death of the earth), we'll see how much these yupster fucks (heart) city life in 10, 20, 30 years.

ps. big ups to baltimorecrime.blogspot.com, hit it up

Don't Fuck Wit Me Cuzzzzz, Ima Go Get My Gun

"all these fake djs, fake producers trynta make baltimore club, ya'll not makin bmore club, ya'll makin fake club" - "sex machine" by labtekwon feat. dj booman

i guess every generation of Black Americans experiences it, the straight up pilfering (reverse signifying?) of their cultural expression by white hipsters/enterprisers that then go on to success, fame, and fortune. we seem to have taken it all in stride though, proving ourselves artistically dynamic in the face of it all (i.e. the exodus from rock to rap in the late '70s/early '80s; enough was enough i guess). imitation is the most sincere form of flattery we're told.

but this aggression will not stand man! the latest case of stylistic hijacking is of great significance to me, as my hometown is the battleground. baltimore club has gained a relatively broad national audience in the last few years (like miami bass a while back), and a number of artists that i respect and love have used the staccatto, repetitive beats as backing for their flows and rhymes. but honestly. honestly?! it was cool when M.I.A. and Diplo hooked some shit up. but honestly!? ya basta!

the permeation of bmore club into the hipster remixer scene is indelible; in a recent downloading frenzy on limewire and the mp3 blogs, a huge number of the remixers used bmore club as backing for songs (remixes?) that were otherwise unchanged.

don't get me wrong, when this shit is done well and with some restraint, it pops off. but when i hear a track by some swedish cat that's completely off tempo and not mixed well, it's just plain horrific.

i grew up with this shit, this bizarre genre of music that's rooted deeply in the house, detroit ghettotech tradition and that often samples doo-wop and r+b/soul tracks from the previous generation (as well as the spongebob theme, southern rap, and chris rock stand-ups). repetitive, but hard hitting, grimy shit to get your gun off to.

summers spent banging 92q's club mixes, feverishly recording the joints onto cassette straight off the radio. shady nights as a kid spent at club choices (a local strip club that 92q broadcasts from; i grew up with the owner's son). hotboxing SUVs and storming around town bumping 90-track club mix CDs straight from the radio station. good times in general.

it should make me feel good/proud that two cats from new york tried to con me and my boys (all baltimore natives) into believing that baltimore club started in new york. but all i can think is that all this sampling from the bin is gonna deplete the supply that much more quickly. but hey, i can look forward to the shit that blows up in its wake, right?