Archive for April, 2012

I’m just going to say it.

I wish to make a complaint.

The last time I checked in with Herro Prease! I complained about the lawmedy known as Franklin & Bash and it’s almost certain cancellation. Besides simply the unabashed lack of creativity spent developing the show, its other offense was the careless abuse of the actor Mark-Paul Gosselaar, also known as the blonde Tom Cruise. He deserved better.

But anyway, here it is:

Chinese takeout restaurants have been grossly encroaching on the safety standards of modern-American takeout procedure that had been in place for over 50 years. It’s been such a slow and often seamless overstepping of food safety that a communist takeover of this country seems more and more likely.

Think about ordering take-out as a youngster, even say, 10 years ago. You had the same brown paper bag, the same tin, paper box, or styrofoam container, a few napkins, and the timeless fortune cookie.

Fast-forward to modern day. Now try picturing the placid landscape of exotic fried food from the orient as it is when it arrives at your doorstep. At first it will seem normal, but now try simply opening the bag. The sweet, tender yield of a paper bag is supplanted with the resistance of atleast 3 staples on the opening of the bag.

Staples, commonly an office fixture for holding together documents that should seldom be pulled apart, are in no way at fault. They are a good office utensil. They are more permanent than a paperclip, and less permanent than adhesive, they are the best of both of the worlds, and should be lauded for that.

But chinese food take out places have irresponsibly, and possibly with malice, taken the virtue of the staple and placed it within the take out food realm. This is bad, and the reasons are as follows:

1. The use of staples violates the criteria required of a take out carrier container. Take out carrier containers require two criteria:

a.) The take out container must be able to adeptly hold the item.

b.) The take out container must have a clever device to which a human hand, and not a jostle of the container, is able to open.

An example of the "clever device" known as the tuck-under flap on paper box packaging.

The difference between the “device” I have described and the ability to “hold,” or the two criteria I just mentioned are radically      different, something that Chinese take out packaging procedure has ignored. One involves the intelligence of a human being, the other is the product of engineering. You see, the “clever device” is the part that is to be impenetrable to the wear and tear that occurs in transportation. It is “clever” because it is not activated by pure force, but by the willful employment of human intelligence. Examlples of “clever devices” are the tuck-under flap on styrofoam containers, the fold-over-the-sides margin on tin packaging, and the variation of the tuck-under flap on the paper box packaging. All ably do their duty. All are impenetrable to normal wear and tear but can be activated by a human readily. The use of staples clearly violates this construct. By attempting to use staples as a bit of added security to their already stellar packaging, the chinese food take out restaurant has thus impeded one essential element of the takeout container in lieu of the added support relevant in the “holding” element.

This creates a problem. Staples are not for the human hand. Yes, you could argue that staples do fit the characteristic of the “clever device” element I described earlier, since we humans are aware of how to pull them out. BUT the “clever device” element is not composed only of simple human intelligence, but human intelligence and ability. And human beings have not the dexterity nor the derma-strength to take out one of these bitches manually, and no one, should ever, under any circumstances, readily have a staple remover. Thus, the  bag becomes such a painful and tedious process that you end up tearing the bag and risk puncturing skin in the process.

2. Isn’t the idea to keep small pieces of metal AWAY from food? I mean, c’mon Chinese food, you already have a pretty miserable reputation on proper food preparedness/food composition that you can’t be taking risks with thin pieces of metal. The reputation, by the way, is no longer a reputation, but firmly a part of American lore.

That is all.

Please take note. Keep calm and carry on, and other phrases.

Worse than the holocaust

Something I always though was cool about my life, or life in general, is that I’m not blind and have a pretty good idea of what is occurring around me while I am “in the moment”. Such as at a concert or sporting event. The fact that I am there, in person, observing, is simply enough for me. The memory I created from being at that event at that point in time satisfies me in ways that a grainy cell phone photo or a muffled/shaky cell phone video can ever accomplish. Maybe that’s just me, but I like being in that moment, where I don’t have some 6’4 jackass high school quarterback pushing to get in front of me so he can raise his 2002 fucking flip phone in front of me to record this song that you’ll never fucking hear anyway because it sounds like the speakers in your phone are going to implode then upload it to youtube so it gets 56 views in 3 years because nobody gives a fuck about your shitty video when they could have just been there in person. You know I’m serious when I go off on an unpunctuated rant. Fuck you people.

What is so hard about using your eyes and ears to appreciate your surroundings? Do you really need to text your friend Becky and be all “OMG BECKY M AT THE CNCRT LOL U SHLD B HERE” and then when Becky sends you back a fucking frowny face because she is an idiot has nothing of actual substance to say back so you hold up your cell phone for 20 minutes trying to take a picture which will end up looking like a shit stain across a black canvass.

Don’t act like its the first concert you’ve ever been to. There are a few simple guidelines to live by. Be respectful of those around you (ex. don’t be a drunk meathead and start a fight because someone brushed up against your girl like every single dickhead that goes to the festival pier), help people up if they fall, and keep your fucking phone in your pocket. People around you won’t hate you and you will have a far better time because you are actually having a real experience. So go with it.

So, I have been trying to find a good follow-up to my ground-breaking deciphering of Tyga’s “Rack City”, which unintentionally outed the young rap star. I’ve received several good suggestions via Twitter which may work out eventually, but I forgot about this contemporary classic. This is the perfect sequel as it incorporates a lot of nonsensical rhyme schemes and profuse repetition…and ass remixes. 

No introduction necessary, Big Sean (B$) shoots us right out of the cannon with a ridiculously repetitive hook, like so repetitive that he’s not even trying to rhyme but it is still somehow really catchy. He hits you with “ASS” (or “A$$”, I think) about 22 times by my count, but in several different ways. The first set of asses sounds like how B$ would talk to his ladyfriends all smoothlike in a dimly lit nightclub when he’s too cool to speak above the music; the second set of asses is distorted in some sort of a burping-voice filter which finishes out the asses as a Donald Duck-like filter chimes in with the burping to finish out the first line of this hook. It sort of looks like this:

[normal voice] Ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass [burp-voice] ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass, ass
[Donald Duck joins in] ass, ass, ass, ass, ass
Stop… now make that motherfucker hammer time like…
Go stupid, go stupid, go stupid (do it, boyeee–) ..(or something)..

I threw the rest of the hook in there at the end, because I realized it took me about 200 words just to explain that ass is repeated 22 times. So I’ll stop and make that motherfucker hammer time, which, by virtue of most-popular definition on urban dictionary, refers to the phrase a man says before jackhammering his partner and consequently breaking his/her neck. Hmm, starting off oddly familiar here, I hope this isn’t literally another ambiguously-gay rap song. We’ll see.

Wobble-dy wobble-dy wa wobble wobble
I’m st-stacking my paper my wallet look like a bible
I got girlies half naked that shit look like the grotto
How your waist anorexic and then your ass is colossal
Drop that ass make it boomerang
Take my belt off bitch I’m Pootie Tang

Bible wallets and shit

I assume the first line is to get the listener into some sort of transmission where they experience a sensation of rocking or teetering their heads repetitiously. Or its just to dupe the listener into thinking wobble and wallet are a perfect rhyme, I don’t really care to be honest. I’m more-or-less interested in the transition from wallets looking like bibles to half naked girlies making shit look like the grotto. Really, though. I don’t always have the opportunity to have stacks of paper in my wallet, but when I do, I’ve never made the connection that it would even remotely resemble a bible. But then to make that

Colossal a$$, you're doing it wrong.

comparison and then just be like ‘fuck it’ I’ll just throw in this line about half naked girlies, I mean, I just don’t get it. And when have you ever seen an anorexic person with a colossal ass? That just doesn’t even sound healthy, or physically possible. Regardless, I have to give B$ some credit for the colorful imagery thus far. The last line finally gives us the closest thing we’ve had to a rhyme with boomerang and Pootie Tang which I have to admit is pretty funny because Pootie Tang could whoop anybody’s ass with that belt. I think the ass drop is that kind of gross dance all the ladies do in that “Back Dat Ass Up” music video by Juvenile. I guess its kind of like a boomerang when all that jiggle comes back around. I typed in “ass bomerang” on Urban Dictionary for some clarification and it pulled up “dirtpipe boomerang” which was invented by Bill Cosby in 1956 and involves two people pushing their assholes together and taking turns shitting into the others assholes, hence boomerang-ing…? Okay, on second though, I don’t care anymore.. Moving on.

Tippy tow tippy tay you gonna get a tip today
Fuck that you gonna get some dick today
I walk in with my crew and I’m breaking they necks
I’m looking all good I’m making her wet
They pay me respect they me in checks
And if she look good she pay me in sex
Bounce that ass (a$$) it’s the roundest
You the best you deserve a crown bitch
Right on that… 

"I'll take 30 of your finest whores, this check should suffice"

Just like the first half of this verse, B$ give us another nonsensical repetitive-y rhyme-y thing-y which for whatever reason involves one of his bitches getting a tip today or something. I don’t know, fuck that he’ll just give her some dick  today. The egregious use of today in the first 2 lines really sets off the second half of this verse for me. The third line is where it gets interesting, and verifies the hammer time reference from the hook because apparently B$ and his entire crew love to jackhammer their sexual partners til the point of severe neck injury. Not gonna argue with that. I just don’t know how any respectable lady is still getting wet in the pants as her neck is being broken from aggressive acts of coitus. I guess when you look as good as B$, it just doesn’t matter after a certain point. I guess respectable ladies who like having their necks broken always pay their man with checks, seriously, fucking checks. This is a rap song and you are talking about getting CHECKS from whores. Checks. Seriously, checks. Or sex (hehe, that rhymes) if she looks good. Ok, whathefuckever. Since checks kind of, kiiiind of rhymes with roundest, I can see why its in there, but really, you could have said “stacks” or something. Its really not that hard to write these things. You the best you deserve a crown bitch……right on that…  

The hook plays again. If you need a refresher course, please re-read the first paragraph.  

I was going to do the original version of this song, til I realized (no credit to Antonio) that the Nicki Minaj second verse of this song is way fucking better. She pretty much puts B$ to shame since she can actually rhyme, regardless of how silly they may be. 

Wobbledy wobble, wo-wo-wobble, wobbin’
Ass so fat, all these bitches’ pussies is throbbin’
Bad bitches, I’m your leader, Phantom by the meter
Somebody point me to the best ass-eater
Tell ’em “pussy clean”, I tell em “pussy squeaky”
Niggas give me brain ’cause all of them niggas geeky  

SEE THAT SHIT?! Bitch can fuckin’ rhyme. A, B, A, B, A, B. That’s how good rhymes should work. Although I’m not quite sure how having a fat ass would make one’s pussy throb, I’ll leave the semantics up to you, Nicki. She drives a Phantom, that’s cool. I mean, its no Bugatti Veyron, but its still cool and all. Its parked by the meter, so naturally we have to make an analingus rhyme. But I guess there are no good ass-eaters to be found since she pulls out the ‘niggas give me brain’ line, which, when I was 13 or so found out that ‘brain’ is another word for oral-sex. I’m just going to stop before this gets weirder. 

If he got a mandingo, then I buy him a dashiki
And bust this pussy open in the islands of Waikikiiiii-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Kiss my ass and my anus, ’cause it’s finally famous
And it’s finally soft, yeah, it’s finally solved!
I don’t know, man, guess them ass shots were off!

From what I understand, a mandingo is an African male who knows he has a huge shlong and can hit it all night long and keep you coming back for more. A dashiki is a garment usually worn by West

Ass shots, literally

Africans and hippies that covers the top half of the body. Not sure how these two actually correlate to Nicki’s pussy getting busted open in Waikiki.. I guess it has something to do with not wearing any pants. I promised myself this wouldn’t get weird again, but for whatever reason, Ms. Minaj is fixated on analingus again, as if we didn’t get the point earlier. I’ll just leave it at that. If the ass shots line seems weird, its not. She is actually clowning the original version of the song because B$ refers to cupid shooting arrows into somethings ass and he falls in love with it.. or something. 

Bitches ain’t poppin’, Google, my ass
Only time you on the net is when you Google my ass
Y-y-you fuckin’ little whores, fu-fuckin’ up my decors
Couldn’t get Michael Kors if you was fuckin’ Michael Kors
B-B-Big Sean, b-boy, how big is you?
Gimmie all yo’ money and gimmie all yo’ residuals
Then slap it on my ass, ass, ass…… 

He couldn't get himself even if he was himself, allegedly.

Holy shit.. I have no clue what the fuck any of this means anymore. Is Michael Kors the dude from Project Runway? Apparently he’s the greatest designer ever. Apparently, I could care less. I’ll just slap some residuals on its ass and try not to understand the craziness that is in Nicki Minaj’s head.  This brings us near the of this mess. The hook plays again. B$ comes back to talk about white girls, black girls, tall girls, fat girls, short girls, small girls, skinny girls, & all girls really and how they shake that ass. And he wants all of that. And then the fucking hook….again. For all of you who love the repetition. So what have we learned? Stacks of money can make your wallet look like the bible, anorexic chicks have big asses according to legend, B$ takes checks from hookers because he’s so respected, Nicki Minaj loves analingus and Michael Kors couldn’t even get with himself if he had a clone of himself. I know, this is all so much to take in. But what is this song actually about? I have no fucking idea.  Til next time.. 

I’m not advocating the sudden death of Dick Clark, which happened something like 2 minutes ago in the Internet world. World travels fast. However, I have claimed the second celebrity in my 2012 Death Pool after an extremely slow start to 2011. So after my 52 points from Whitney and the 28 from Dick Clark, my trusty calculator puts me at 80 total points for the year… and its only April. 

This now squashes my theory that Dick Clark was actually a hologram resurrected for every New Years celebration as some weird tradition that needed to be carried over for nostalgic purposes. I will officially be out of hologram theories if Joan Rivers decides she is ever going to die.