Archive for March, 2012

Oh herro there! So you just bought a computer and are on the Internet for the first time, let me be the first to welcome you to it. I understand you have a choice in websites, and I appreciate the fact the you chose mine.

A brief history of the Internet: It was invented sometime in the 1960s by Kim Jong-il who just simply willed it and POOF, Internet created. The American media would have you believe that Al Gore invented this, but I am here to tell you, brothers and sisters, it was not. So don’t believe everything you read, ya turkeys. I don’t really know how it works, I imagine there are wires all over the place and massive underground hamster wheels who are pumped full of amphetamines running 24/7 so people could share pictures of cats and stuff. So there you have it.

Anyway, let me also be the first to warn you about a few things on this world wide web. I know you didn’t have to take a test to get on the Internet, but honestly, everyone should understand a few basic principles.

Nobody gets anything for “free” on here. NO ONE. I’m dead serious about this one. You will probably create a Facebook account so you can share pictures of your little twat children or friend request some person you liked in high school and creep on all of their pictures, because that’s what Facebook is for.. but don’t be ‘that guy’ that clicks on “OMG FREE STARBUCKS GIFT CARDS CLICK HERE” and spams (not the edible kind–spam is a bad thing on here) your entire friends list, who, in turn, click the fucking link and wonder why their computers are infected with a virus (yes your computer can get sick) and all of your friends hate you now. See where I’m going with this? This goes for you too, mom, nobody randomly selected you to win anything, so knock it off.. you aren’t that special.

Don’t open every single email you receive. Again, you are a nobody on the Internet, so always assume someone is trying to scam you out of something. You reading this, Dad? Nobody selected you from a list and thought “hmm, I bet this Tom character would really enjoy some free Viagra”. My general rule of thumb is, if you don’t know who its coming from, then just delete it.

Always assume everything is too good to be true. I think this just piggybacks on my first too points. If it sounds so awesome that you might shit yourself from all the awesomeness, then its probably a scam. You will never get a free vacation, free airline tickets, free cars, free anything. So let me just burst your bubble now. Don’t get your hopes up.

Don’t give out your credit card number. I mean okay, you can give it out if you are buying trinkets on ebay or that 5 gallon poly-bagged foldable collapsible water carrier on you just HAD to have. But other than that, don’t go on shady ass websites and just give out your credit card to anyone who asks for it.

I don’t know there are probably thousands of tips I can give, but I’m lazy. This post was actually going to be about you racist fucks that somehow find my website with your ridiculous search terms. By the sheer chance that the words ‘black’ and ‘people’ appear in various spots on my site, you somehow found this website. So if you are a racist, go fuck yourselves. But I’m going to share a few of my favorite search terms anyway, and these are terms that have been searched-for more than once, so enjoy:

“ugly pictures of black people”, “random black people pictures”, “italian and black people”, “niggers smell bad”, “black person vs ape”, “do people think black people are ugly”, “ugly black kids”What the fuck is wrong with you people? Go put a gun in your mouth, seriously. There have been hundreds of you finding my site with these search terms, fuck off already.

“Mike Jerrick sucks”. Agreed. Mike Jerrick is the worst human being on the planet, luckily I don’t have cable anymore.

“Danica whoring it up for go daddy”. Agreed. Glad I’m not the only one who despises her presence on this planet.

“potatoes bra”. Riiiiiight. I don’t even have a snarky comment for this, and the fact its been searched more than once is even more disturbing.

“good celebrities for a celebrity death pool”. And every combination of that imaginable. How about this? WHY NOT TRY BEING ORIGINAL YOU RETARDS. There are also searches for wildcard picks too. Its not hard to think up celebrities that you hope will die in the coming year. Try using your brain, you’d be amazed what you might actually ‘think’. Unless you are this moron: “celebrate deats 2011”. 

“5 facts about north korea”. Only 5? Why stop there. I’ll give you 35 facts, so deal with that shit.

“fructyou”. Umm, fruct you too?

“fancycatfaces”, “tough feral cat”. I love you. All of you. Just, not more than I love feral cats.

“jailbait story”, “kiddie porn comic”. I’ll notify the proper authorities.

“pictures to draw on my starbucks cup”. Again, try being original. Just fucking draw something, its not that difficult. Oh, but I need Google to tell me what to draw.

“Sean Rossman“. Stop Googling yourself, Sean.

And finally..

“Herro Prease T Shirt”. Fuck yes. I’ll start selling hand-made t-shirts by request.

I’m trying out something new these days, since I apparently never keep my promises to write something at least once a week. Recently, I was introduced to a genre of music known as “contemporary shit-hop” or something which requires little to no talent to write a least that’s what I assume. How I long for the days of Straight Outta’ Compton again.

Today I’m going to break down Tyga’s “Rack City”, which is a lovely song about making lots of money, fucking your grandmother and bitches or something. I will examine each stanza in an attempt to figure out what the hell a “Rack City” might actually be.

Rack City Bitch, Rack, Rack City Bitch
Ten, Ten, Ten, Twenties On Yo Titties Bitch
Hunded Deep VIP No Guest List
T Raw You Don’t Know Who You Fuckin Wit
Got Ma Other Bitch Fuckin Wit Ma Other Bitch

From this first stanza of this song, we see that Tyga is clearly no John Keats when it comes to writing romantic poetry. From what I recall about poetry or rap music in general, is that there is generally some sort of rhyme scheme, which most often takes place at the end of each line in some sort of consistent pattern: A , B , A , B | A, B, B, A | and so on.. Within the first 5 lines, Tyga rhymes “bitch” with “bitch”, “bitch”, “list”, and “wit”. Off to a good start. The first 2 lines (the hook) also throw us right into the fun that is “Rack City” by employing my favorite part of contemporary hip-hop music: repetition. I get the impression that “Rack City” refers to the copious amount of stripper’s breasts that Tyga showers in ten, ten tens of twenties. The next line is not a misspelling. When phonetically transcribed, Tyga indeed says “hunded deep” which I believe refers to his entourage of 100 people or so, and since everyone apparently knows who Tyga and his ‘hunded deep’ entourage are, they clearly do not need to be put on any guest lists! I believe “T Raw” in line 4 is a clever nickname for “Tyga” because there is no other frame of reference in the song except for titties which makes no sense in the context of the song. Basically, when Tyga and his crew step in the club VIP style, you just don’t fuck with it, got it? Because when you see his one bitch fuckin wit his other bitch, boy you best watch out. Moving on.. 

Fuckin’ All Night Nigga We Ain’t Celebate
Nigga Said I’m Too Dope, I Ain’t Sellin It

(Raw?) Fresher Than A Ma’Fuckin Peppermint
Gold Letterman’s Last King Killin’ Shit
Y-Young Money, Young Money Yeah We Gettin’ Rich

 This next stanza gets a bit clever in its rhyming, however we still haven’t really deviated from the A, A, A, A, A scheme just yet, although I’m really giving him the benefit of the doubt on these loose rhymes. Continuing with the “bitch” rhymes we get to “celibate”, “it”, “peppermint”, “shit” and “rich” (what?). I assume at least one person of his 100 person entourage had a thesaurus they let Tyga borrow when they realized he couldn’t think of anything else that rhymes with “bitch”. Anyway, Tyga is by no means a virgin. In fact, neither him nor his crew are celibate and presumably all have sex together. I’m not sure if its with each other, if they run trains, if they do it tandem-style, or if he is just referring to the royal “we”. I guess we may never know. “Nigga said I’m too dope, I ain’t sellin it | (Raw?) Fresher Than A Ma’Fuckin Peppermint”. W-W-What? Where the fuck did that come from? Not that this song had any real direction to begin with, now we are just hitting foul balls to the parking lot and breaking windows. This next line would also make no sense had I not found out that my pint-sized hero has his own line of Letterman jackets called Last King Killin or some bullshit. Which is why y-young money gettin’ rich (and shit).

Get Cha Grandma On My Dick
Girl You Know Who It Is

Indeed, let’s just move on.

 Now we get back to “the hook” of this masterpiece, otherwise known as the chorus. If you are a fan of repetition, then look no further. Rack City Bitch, Rack, Rack City Bitch is repeated about 17 or 18 times along with the ten, ten, ten twenties nonsense. You get the point. Now, on to the second verse!

Imma Ma’Fuckin Star (Star)
Look At The Paint On The Car (Car)
Too Much Rim Make The Ride Too Hard
Tell That Bitch Hop Out, Walk The Boulevard
I Need My Money Pronto

As before, repetition seems to be the key here as we need to be reminded that my little munchkin is a fuckin’ star, right? I mean, look at the fuckin’ paint on his car, have you ever seen a car with paint before, bitch? Its fucking AMAZING. Since we are talking about stars and cars (holy shit..a real rhyme!), naturally we gotta talk bout ‘dem rims yo, they make that ride hard! Unless, he’s referring to an act of gay-sex which really wouldn’t surprise me in today’s rap culture, especially being a product of Cash Money Records. But Tyga is a pimp to the rest of us tho, suddenly, as we focus our attention away from the rims and paint to all of a sudden telling hookers to get out and walk the boulevard and start making this tiny man some money. Whatever, this song hasn’t made any sense from the beginning, why should it now?

Get It In The Morning Like Alonzo, Rondo
Green Got Cheese Like A Nacho
If You Ain’t Got No Ass Bitch Wear A Poncho
Head Honcho, Got My Seat Back
Niggas Starin’ At Me, Don’t Get Bapped
Got My Shirt Off, The Club Too Packed

Ass Poncho?

Alright, I have to admit the clever use of the double entendre in this first line, referring of course to retired NBA star Alonzo Mourning, although I can’t confirm that Alonzo actually “gets it in” every morning. Naturally, we just throw “Rondo” in there because it kind of rhymes with Alonzo and Poncho, and ends in ‘O’ with pronto, nacho, etc. Whatever, congratulations Rajon Rondo. “Green got cheese like a Nacho” is clever, associating the color green of Rondo’s jersey and comparing it ‘cheese’, slang for money–nacho. I know, deep stuff here. This next line is a bit confusing. If a bitch got no ass, why would she wear a poncho? If I correctly understand the physics of a poncho, they don’t necessarily cover the ass, but generally end right around the area where the ass begins. Maybe Lil Tyga just got a little too clever with the ol’ thesaurus for his own good and needed a perfect rhyme for “honcho” as we start to see a little bit of in-rhyming for the first time, yay! For some reason now, we go back to the car reference again (I think) cuz he’s got his seat back, black guys are staring at him, so he issues a stern warning “Don’t get Bapped”. Whatever the fuck that means. According to Urban Dictionary, ‘Bapped’ means “to bump into something, to hit something, to get into a small accident and damage something”. So if you be staring at Tiny Tyga, you best be sure he will come bump into you without his shirt on if the club is too packed.. or something. Again, I think he may be gay. Or if you are staring at him, he’s going to stare back and crash his car. Whatever.

Its Too Turnt, Going Up Like Gas
Goddamn, Pull Out My Rags
Mike, Mike Jackson Nigga I’m Bad
Ra-Ta-Ta-Tat Tatted Up On My Back
All The Hoes Love Me, You Know What It Is

 Finally, this stupid fucking song is almost over, so again why should this last stanza even remotely tie the song together? I had to refer to my trusty Urban Dictionary, much like I do when I try to dissect the meanings of the words of Shakespeare in the Oxford English Dictionary, to look up ‘Turnt’. Turnt can mean “horny, drunk, smoked out, fucked up”. In this case, “going up like gas”, I assume refers to him being horny and his penis may or may not be getting hard. Being as this line follows the whole niggas starin’ / got my shirt off line, apparently it gives him a boner being shirtless and rubbing up against other dues, alright.  So naturally, goddamn. He’s gotta pull out his “rags” (tampons?) cuz like Mike, Mike Jackson (rumored to also be a homosexual of sorts) he’s back. All the hoes (boys) love lil Tyga’s rat-tat-tats on his back. Finally, “You know what it is”. Yes, Tyga, I do think I finally get what “Rack City” is all about. You. Are. Gay.

The rest of the song is the repetitive hook about 70 more times, and he throws ‘hundeds’ around instead of twenties now. But in summation, I thought this song was going to be about showering hooker’s titties with 20 dollar bills and fucking grandmothers, to a revelation that Tyga is a massive homosexual. So there you have it.