You're hungry, but I'm starving
He cuts you down from the tree
He keeps you in a box by the bed
Alive, but just barely
He said, 'I'm your lover, I'm your friend'
I'm pure and he hits me again
With a bullet, number one, kill the family, save the son
Himself
Himself
The pieces of Jennifer's body
Found pieces of Jennifer's body
Found pieces of Jennifer's body
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep
Just relax, just relax, just go to sleep...














one two three four what is it good for outside outside outside

(I don’t wanna go)

outside outside outside

where there are people push push pushing, passive aggressively with their elbows and shoulders like it’s all just an accident, like they aren’t really mean assholes with bad coffee breath casually passing gas on the train, addicted to reading, eating, tsk tsking the odor of my herbal essence. hypocrites. old shitty fucks.

I’ll show you what it’s like. I’ll give you freedom from freedom. I’ll strip you down until the only thing you can be is true.

I’ll fuck you in yr fucking fuck

I’ll overcome you with patience, I’ll endure all those uncomfortable frictions that occur when people first get to know each other…the little annoying things that put you off to someone…the things you give them the vibe to shut up about


the freeway entrances you barricade

(let me in let me in let me in)

when I wake up all I want is to go back to sleep

come here, come over, come inside

let’s stay in bed all day

(can you remember feeling any other way?)

outside I know everyone I see

all the songs on the radio are all the ones in my head

the internet is in my back pocket

I have a headful of pills and a handful of dead batteries

there is no service

there is no mercy

only my disgusting needs

and the earth waiting for scars




the longhaul

yesterday morning was my trial date. "but i'm a rebel to the system so i might not be coming". I got as far as city hall and then I skipped that shit and spent the day riding the trains with my hood pulled tight writing rhymes instead. holy bender, batman. i'm so hung over right now my teeth hurt. it’s like the roots are atrophying, deep inside my gums. blame it on Belgium: the chimay hit me like I grand piano outside the blind tiger; all i could do was keep ffalling against the parked cars.

I kept huff huff huffin but I couldn’t blow that shit down

people had their cellphones flipped open--nice people who asked me if i wanted them to call 911 or get a police officer or somethin. i laughed of course and someone from off to the side shouted,

"hey, she's been sniffing glue! all day! look over there!"

my little white laminated bag had fallen by the back wheel

it’s the kind they put expensive chocolate in

and i was like, yeah yeah yeah fuck you.

all the puddles were purple and green and my shoes were untied.





this is this

so badge it would make medicine sick.


i can't help it: i'm into those kids from montreal. we listen to some of the same music. plus, they have bad attitudes and they wear their jeans the right way, as far as i can tell.

also, they're like a tight crew...inter dating and making art and getting high together...it makes me a little jealous, especially now, when everything's so fucked up between the three of us.

it all started with aurore. she found me and vice-versa and we were like two peas in a pod. i wish i could roll through her scene and show her that i'm not the monster or weirdo she might think i am.

i'm a real person--

i'm just anonymous and always will be...

fuck it. i'm a little messed up right now.






badge

meltingdolls

i made a bubble bath for myself using a quarter bottle of this cheapo juniper scented green shower gel. in clean, pharmaceutical font it promised invigorating thoughts and tried to tempt me with tranquility, better pheromone flow or some horse shit like that. i lit a smoke to cut the smell. It bubbled better than I thought and pretty soon the bubbles were piled high above the tub. For a while I let the water keep running and watched the foamy white mass grow larger and larger, until shadows appeared between the towering bubble mountain peaks. It swelled like something alive, yet unthinking.



I shut off the water and got in. I’d been standing there, stupid and stoned, so long that the water in the back had gotten cold. As I sat with the hot water pouring down beside my lap, I had an intense flashback to baths I took when I was a little kid. I remembered being happily dazzled by the way the bubbles twinkled like disco bits in the bright light, and yet, at the same time, I’d be vaguely troubled by the feeling of the cold water creeping up on me.

it was like the coldness out there was getting closer and closer to invading my happy little womb,

(out there was the dark and unfriendly world, where anything could happen)

i noticed a pubic hair stuck in the bubbles.

it was like a little black sword, swaying there in warning or salutation or both

(like the strange character you meet along the highway strip, as you make yr journey to the place yr fate has prescribed)

the bubbles were suffocating, swelling—sizzling and evaporating in the air.

(they were mimicking every single second which is gone as soon as it happens)

and yet out there the cold water was beating the warm

it was down by my feet and making its way up


(blood turns purple beneath the blue streetlights what color is it now?)

how strange

i thought

the cold has somewhere to go and i have nowhere




i’ve got nowhere to go.





(i had myself a smoke

and i slipped into a dream)


him: there’s a sense of longing…of loneliness

Theartistformerlyknownas: yes

Theartistformerlyknownas: it’s like, the better it feels, the more alone I get

him: you pull back

Theartistformerlyknownas: Yes, it’s like I’m there by myself. You could probably plot it on a graph: the greater my pleasure, the less I’m present.

Theartistformerlyknownas: The funny thing is i’m not there but i’m also not holding back…there’s an inverse relationship—the better it feels, the more freaky it gets—and it gets pretty freaky—the less i’m really there.

him: i see

Theartistformerlyknownas: what do you think of that? pretty banal given my history, huh?

Theartistformerlyknownas: …except it’s NOT wounded dove syndrome…it’s not like, oh, poor little me…

Theartistformerlyknownas: cuz i’m not like, all closed up and refusing to be touched, mmmk

him: yes

him: ok.

Theartistformerlyknownas: yeah, i mean, it’s like…

Theartistformerlyknownas: fuck i don’t know what it’s like…

him: i think there’s some part of you that wants to be protected.

him: i think there’s a part of you that you’ve pushed away

Theartistformerlyknownas: errmm

him: we can work on getting that out, if that’s something that you want

Theartistformerlyknownas: maybe

him: ok.

Theartistformerlyknownas: I don’t know, though

him: what?

Theartistformerlyknownas: I might just be telling stories…

Theartistformerlyknownas: or maybe i’m just high and aggressive

Theartistformerlyknownas: or maybe i’m treating this like one big video game and scoring all the easy points really fast.

him: i’m not competing with you. this isn’t some kind of mental contest.

Theartistformerlyknownas: i didn’t say that it was

him: it’s ok for you to try on other selves in here. that’s something that you can do.

Theartistformerlyknownas: ha. boy is it ever.

Theartistformerlyknownas: you have no freakin idea.







i didnt know


missed forever

i’m so amped, even w/o the coke, that i only sleep about three hours and when i eat i usually shit it out right away, especially if the food is natural in any way.

i keep busy, no matter where i am, no matter who’s around. i’m like that dude in a beautiful mind, finding the secret patterns in people magazine.

i can see the frontier and it’s closing down.

silver turnstiles turn into crosses in the shadows.

(on the parkway tonite)

i figure i only have a couple more years before this look of mine goes sour.

NO MERCY

YOU HAVE SHOWN ME

it’s a bitter sweet symphony, this life.

exactly.

“I’ll take you down the only road i’ve ever been down”

That right there is the sadness we all share

of only getting to be one person

and living only one life.



dubhamaro


(i’m stuck with this face now and so are you.)

second sight=dot calm



the cop with the garlic breath was like

15 shots and five beers?

wouldn't it be easier to just put a gun to yr head?

I don't know, I said

give me yr gun and let me find out



they were all over this shit

they hit all the links too

and went to yr sites

check yr stats and you'll see

they were sniffing around

hungry for stink

I'm sorry I wanted to warn you but I couldn't

i only had one phone call

(this is America after all)

they couldn't find my stash so they confiscated my hard drive

they couldn't shut me up so they shut me down

(this is America, after all, the judge said)

i'd explain but my hands are heavy like rocks

crack rocks, of course

ha

no, fer real

the damage is already done but anyone who wants me to take their link down

just let me know

i promise i won't cook any beef over it

my name ain't tony pierce.

peace.

fuck the police.

oworneyerbluetoy: so what’s next?

sterlingfassbinder: it’s not about what’s next, it’s about what’s now.

oworneyerbluetoy: what’s now IS what’s next. ha.

sterlingfassbinder: so you tell me, wise prophet.

oworneyerbluetoy: don’t call me that. i don’t like ‘Little Buddha’ either.

sterlingfassbinder: i think that was more like a joke

sterlingfassbinder: but i don’t know because i didn’t start it

sterlingfassbinder: not that one, anyway (-:

oworneyerbluetoy: i don’t like to be anything except the names i told you to call me

oworneyerbluetoy: i don’t want you to use any of yr own pictures or descriptions either

sterlingfassbinder: right

oworneyerbluetoy: that was really mean that you wrote that about me. being fucked up in the bath and calling you.

sterlingfassbinder: i know, i said i was sorryh.

oworneyerbluetoy: & yr the one who makes the big deal about trust? pfffff

oworneyerbluetoy: why youd playt me out

sterlingfassbinder: it wasn’t like that

sterlingfassbinder: i told you

oworneyerbluetoy: oh yeah what was it like?

oworneyerbluetoy: even though a lot of those people out ther prolly went through the same thing or something similar it doesn mean i wanted them to KNOW about it.

oworneyerbluetoy: that it happened to ME

oworneyerbluetoy: i’m a very private person,

sterlingfassbinder: i know.

oworneyerbluetoy: i thought you knew that.

sterlingfassbinder: fuck…

sterlingfassbinder: hello?

sterlingfassbinder: look

sterlingfassbinder: it was just that i was down on myself, you know. because i was having such a hard time writing the first post of the new site

sterlingfassbinder: and you were so cool, you didn’t say a thing

oworneyerbluetoy: so that’s why youpissed all over me? wtf

sterlingfassbinder: i know it’s fucked up

sterlingfassbinder: it came out the wrong way

sterlingfassbinder: i didn’t mean it to sound like that

sterlingfassbinder: i meant to tell you how great i think you are and how much talent you have

sterlingfassbinder: and how angry i get at the catastrophe you’re making out of your life

sterlingfassbinder: how you’re turning out to be a boring drug casualty

sterlingfassbinder: you were scaring me and i’m sick of being scared by you

oworneyerbluetoy: ha

oworneyerbluetoy: they were just playing long way home—supertramp

oworneyerbluetoy: he says catastrophe in that song like you just did

sterlingfassbinder: are you listening to the classic rock station again?

oworneyerbluetoy: yeah so what?

oworneyerbluetoy: sososososososososososososososososossssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

sterlingfassbinder: what

sterlingfassbinder: are you going to respond to what i wrontte

sterlingfassbinder: *wrote

sterlingfassbinder: ?

oworneyerbluetoy: sorry i was just putting on a cd

oworneyerbluetoy: if yr feeling sinister—belle and Sebastian. classic

sterlingfassbinder: it’s like someone with selective hearing. you have selective reading

oworneyerbluetoy: the beauty of chat

oworneyerbluetoy: is that you can dream it and not be it.

sterlingfassbinder: i know that’s your favorite

sterlingfassbinder: “two people who are in love but never do it”

oworneyerbluetoy: that’s right

sterlingfassbinder: time or distance or the fucked up rules of a fucked up situation keep them apart

oworneyerbluetoy: that’s why the internet is so great

sterlingfassbinder: i don’t know…

sterlingfassbinder: i’d rather be talking to you in person

oworneyerbluetoy: oh por favor

oworneyerbluetoy: we’ve “said” more to each other over this blog than we ever have in real life

oworneyerbluetoy: it’s my fault, it’s all my idea

sterlingfassbinder: i just took it all too far

oworneyerbluetoy: and boy you could never play guitar

sterlingfassbinder: hardy-har

oworneyerbluetoy: listen, i think fitz is going to post the first thingy.

oworneyerbluetoy: he and i, actually.

sterlingfassbinder: what do you mean?

oworneyerbluetoy: he wrote the first bit and i wrote the second

oworneyerbluetoy: they like, go together

sterlingfassbinder: i see

oworneyerbluetoy: i can’t keep waiting

oworneyerbluetoy: too many people aren’t following through on other shit

oworneyerbluetoy: i at least need the text, youknow

sterlingfassbinder: yes, but i’ve been working on something

oworneyerbluetoy: i haven’t seen anything

sterlingfassbinder: but i told you about it

oworneyerbluetoy: the Martha stewart thing

sterlingfassbinder: yes

oworneyerbluetoy: yeah well, you can post that later

sterlingfassbinder: no i can’t, man

oworneyerbluetoy: you can put it up now if it’s ready

oworneyerbluetoy: but i know it’s not

sterlingfassbinder: c’mon

oworneyerbluetoy: no, YOU c’mon

sterlingfassbinder: i’m trying to bring shit up a level

oworneyerbluetoy: good—i’m all for it

oworneyerbluetoy: i just turned to the soul station btw

oworneyerbluetoy: where they’re inexplicably playing yesterday, by the beatles.

oworneyerbluetoy: are the beatles white soul or did paul mccartney die or something??

sterlingfassbinder: i think you like the internet because you’ve learned now to command a conversation on it

sterlingfassbinder: when in real life you’re so shy—stuttering your words

oworneyerbluetoy: that’s not true

sterlingfassbinder: that IS true, TRUE

oworneyerbluetoy: it’s not going to work, you know

sterlingfassbinder: what

oworneyerbluetoy: all yr goddamn negativity

sterlingfassbinder: ?

sterlingfassbinder: w hat’s that supposed to mean

oworneyerbluetoy: it means the show must go on

sterlingfassbinder: what show? i thought this site was going to be about writing?

oworneyerbluetoy: life’s a bitch and then you die

sterlingfassbinder: i thought it was going to be the start of a whole new stylo

oworneyerbluetoy: that’s why we get high

sterlingfassbinder: and what not?

oworneyerbluetoy: cuz you never know

sterlingfassbinder: fuck this shit.

oworneyerbluetoy: when yr gonna go…

clammy hands on the subway

today i'm going to spread millions of germs.

FUCK BUSH

this morning howard stern played a really good april fools trick: instead of his show starting as always, the station manager of k-rock came on and explained that due to the troubles with the fcc and the station's desire to appease its sponsors, it was no longer going to broadcast the howard stern show. taking its place would be a new, "clean" morning show called cross and lopez.

i heard the replay of the opening jingle of the show and i'm telling you it was pretty good. it was this super slick, sound collage of guitars, britney samples, and voices shouting yeah! in excited r-r-reverb. "Cross and Lopez," an announcer crooned, "Now, fun without the filth!" and "More fun than getting dirty!" As electronic alarm clocks went off and people sang, "Wake Up!" in the background.

It was at that point that the two new hosts, Cross and Lopez, introduced themselves as the replacement and antidote to the indecent Howard Stern. From the playbacks I thought they sounded totally legit. They had that seamless corporate glossiness to them, if it's possible to use such a word when describing a medium based in sound. Anyway, it was so believable that channel 11 news (The WB) reported the story, Howard Stern Fired! "It shows how the WB really gets out there and checks the facts before they broadcast a story," remarked Howard. The station later retracted the story. (you can go look it up yrself, i can't be fucked to put in the links)

In addition to supposedly reputable news stations, a good portion of Howard's loyal legion of fans fell for it. They started calling the new show and having hissy fits. A lot of what they said couldn't be aired under the new, cleaner format of CNL, (that the new clean show duly censored callers only made the joke more believable) but Howard played it after he came back on the air when, an hour and fifteen minutes into the broadcast, CNL's "crack" newsteam reported the story from the field--"In what appears to be an elaborate April Fools joke, Howard Stern was fired today and replaced by a new morning show team, Cross and Lopez".

One of the callers was this totally hilarious russian dude who went off on CNL and demanded to know why the FCC hadn't consulted "all americans" to find out if they wanted Howard or not.

"Americans like me!" he shouted in his thick accent. He then declared that he hoped CNL got cancer.

Meanwhile, ultimate opportunist Donald Trump wasted no time appearing on the Imus show.

Whatever. Fitz called and said everyone was talking about it at his spinning class this morning. The point of me writing about this is it was a funny joke, and that, as irregular listener of the show, I was pleased to check in today and hear that the dude still has his stuff. i've had a thing for howard ever since i was little, when my father listened to him, despite the fact that he drove my mother nuts.

he's racist! she shouted, and he hates women!

whenever we drove somewhere in the morning and it happened to be just the two of us, my father would put on the show at the super loud volume that he played everything at, on account of his bum ear with the blown out ear drum.

now don't tell yr mother, he told me, in between us cracking up.

and if ever something super racy came on, he'd switch the station or punch in a tape, and the car would fill with the fine young cannibals or the bangles or some other equally odd band from that time that he'd taken a liking too.

he's always considered himself something of a pop connoisseur. i used to tag along when we went into the mall record stores to buy "tapes." i got to read the inside cover while we drove home and he blasted his new purchase.

listen to that--the harmonies! he'd exclaim excitedly.

i guess that's where i get my whole flipping-out-while-dancing-and-jumping-on-someone's-back-and-screaming-in-their-ear-thing from.

at any rate, howard makes me laugh. he's been doing the same daily, four hour show for years and now they make a scapegoat out of him...he really might go off the air... victim to this lame ass culture of decency 1950s throw back dealy we got goin on.

SO ANYWAY. my real point is that sometime while i was listening to all this, havin my first high of the day with the newspaper spread out before me--with its litany of violence, destruction and region wide crisis--it came to me all at once. the slogan. the mantra. it was to be from me that it was transmitted.

FUCK BUSH.


everywhere. on t-shirts on graffiti on stickers on billboards on trains on the internet. maybe we can get that dude from giant to help.

i'm serious. think of ways to spread it.

like making it the number one search term in google

skywriting

put it on yr skateboard and crack yr head open, i don't know

(and it has to say 'fuck' and not be blocked out or whatever)

i'm gonna think some more on this.

happy birthday, raymi

you gave me blog food and i ate it,

you fake it more real than i fake it

young but not dumb shit gets complicated,

high but not dry no time to reiterate it

my birthday wish is dollars to light yr stove

may birthday ish give you powers to fight the mother lode

of haters who are going nowhere fast--

small town taters who wish they were smackin that ass

lovely as it is in those tight blue jeans,

i dig it how you slip through a scene

come out the other side and create yr own space,

photoshop a self portrait and put stars on yr face

and on the floor like the hollywood walk--

fuck other bloggers their shit is just talk

raymi the minx is one site i read close,

can't front--i ride her brastrap

like butter rides toast

she's what's happenin

i'm just the host

now go give her props cuz she is the MOST.



pix

Enfin on respire

you wanna know something? of course you do. well i'll tell you: i got my name when i dropped a single on my friend young and hungry's label. it was called houseboy records. he created it just after he moved into his girlfriend's studio apt and quit his day job. it wasn't a real label. i mean, it almost was. it had artists and musicians and master copies and sorta contracts but nothing ever came of it. commerically speaking.

the first album, "houseboy records 5th anniversary special" sold like four CDs at Other Music. it was this whole piece of art--the two of us made up different bands and personalities, album names and song titles for his various homemade fruity loop tracks. i wrote the liner notes.

i remember some of it: there was a band from Japan who were obsessed with Joy Division. one of them stood on an ice block and hung himself while he was high on smack. we had a scottish band called 'drunk and white'. all these little stories relating to this weird, dark electronic music. apparently it was one guy from like, denmark, who bought all four copies.

anyway, my track wasn't on that CD.

i never really made it to CD. i'm lost somewhere on a tiny little tape. some camera footage too--of me with a forty. rocking out to my self-penned jam La Sonique. chain smoking.

anyway i just liked the name TRUEBOY. i could see it as a nameplate. on a chain or whatever.

it went with my stylo. wearing my hat backwards and rolling with the guys but having big tits and an ass. fuck that shit i was down for whatever.

that's back when i used to suck cock like it was my job.

anyway,

that's how i got my name.

young and hungry had some hard times and headed west to california.

i don't think he uses that name anymore.

actually i don't know what he uses. he might be dead for all i know

yo money yo money yo money

i'm gonna be pissed-off and knocked-up. that's how it's all gonna end. i can feel it.

I had bananas for breakfast

you had bananas for breakfast

he, she, it had bananas for breakfast…


all that yellow turning brown in our guts at the same time

even while we’re having this conversation

telling each other how hungry we are for lunch





stacey

ghetto of the mind

whats up motherfuckers?

I’ve got one thing to say:

fuck fassbinder.


and fuck that headshrinker too. man I’m marchin in there tonight and telling him he dropped the ball. he isn’t my friend. he isn’t even some droopy eyed dried-up lush at the bar putting up with me spilling my guts, patiently waiting until I’m done showing my wounds so he can show me his. the only reason scrawny doc dude is gonna hang in there is cuz I’m paying him. and that’s a cold comfort, if it’s a comfort at all.

and love. pfffff. I doubt I really used that word. I like what Andy Warhol said--when you say you love someone or something it really means you want to BE that person or that thing.

"for example", he said, "I love plastic idols."

well, I love the world trade center.












aurore

yesssssss death to sitemeter!

I don’t do the technosnotti thang either.

it’s pretty simple, pimples: if you don’t speak up, I don’t know you’re here.

that said, fuk a comment


hi ciance

let's put our heads together

and start a new country



i've got a half ounce of real estate

right here in my bag


you spit whiskey

and play the part of the president


while i'll sit still

and play the part of the document under glass.

originally I was going to have rotating coverstars for the front page of the new site. I asked bing to be the first one but she was too busy making power moves in hong kong. i had this idea of her getting thugged out and posing as Chingy…I think it would have been hot. still can be. will be. although i came up with a new cover concept for now. whatever.



chingy



bingy

i’m bubbling over with ideas...come with me if you want to live, fer real. I’ll put you to work. or I can do it all on my lonesome…it’s like that babes in toyland song from back in the day, “Sometimes All I Really Need Is My Finger.” yep.

good god I’m gassy today



i started a buzznet account.

torn together

in other world news, it turns out that stereolabrat shares my jeff goldblum fetish. ugly sexy is the new black, party people. you heard it here first.

I’m writing this on a super thin titanium laptop that sterling snagged for me from her nine to fiver. I’m deep in the Bryant Park hot spot, listening to ambient techno and staring between the skyscrapers in front of me at the blue ones off in the distance. As I sit here the sky shifts and the sun burns off some of that blue, but my Persols keep the overall movie glow firmly in place…

if you want you can come and find me. you out there. come right now to the center of the park and don’t forget to bring it.



anti



as he ran over to me i thought, stab me, please, but i didn't REALLY think it.



it was just like how i wanted to jump on the tracks but i didn't REALLY want to, that was 3 years ago...



Then you think of all the things that you'd have liked to have been
That you might have been,
If you had...more...TIME...



we have all these really different things in common



yr hungry...i'm starving...



are you awake?

are we here together?



(the hum of the AC filled the hotel room)

*got to got to know got to got to know got to got to know got to got to know*

one love, madrid

from nyc




if you were in The City on september 11th it's hard not to feel a special kinship with other places decimated by terrorism.

man, just thinking back on that feeling of being totally unsettled--of being unsure and struck through to your core with a violence-induced exhaustion...

sleep was fucked up

people filled tables in restaurants and barely said a word to one another

everyone's head was filled with the images from TV

(you drank and smoked, you smoked and drank)

the headaches...The Cough

(the one some people still have)

the low simmering anger

the spanish aren't holding it in like we did, party people.

i don't know what it was, but we turned into sleepwalkers who couldn't wake up.

we just couldn't get over the shock of it all.

(we were attacked...AMERICA!...how can that be...how can someone hate us so much...was it because we were so rich? what the fuck had we DONE?)

we kicked our legs like a turtle on its back

we showed the whole world our flabby, unprotected belly

we got stupidly introspective and in typical, christian style wondered if we didn't somehow deserve what had happened

we didn't demand answers like the spanish are doing.

taking to the streets!

they're blaming their government for not protecting them.

and i'm sorry but that's what it comes down to

what the fuck else is the government there for?

why am i paying taxes?

i don't think it was so my president would fly the hell out of there supersonic style in airforce one as soon as the shit hit the fan.

to the americans reading this

(especially my fellow new yorkers)

how come we didn't take to the streets and demand to know who was running the country that morning?

our president was AWOL

the vice president and them were in the bomb shelter

who was actually on the scene, running the show commander-in-chief style?

we give all these props to that tyrant giuliani

just because he didn't run on out of there like everyone else

he actually did the job he got elected for

and so we're like, wow, way to go, man you're a hero

we forgive you all the crap you did

and the way you ran this city into the ground emotionally and financially

thank god mike's here to pull us out of the hole you dug.

(ground zero indeed, motherfucker.)

i'm not going to praise you.

i don't know who i'm going to praise

i feel like the praise is issued to humanity itself in the form of tireless rescue workers and ordinary citizens giving blood and time and tears

i feel like whatever i say is just empty words and it's time to go out and do something.

here at BRANDTRUEBOY we believe it's time to take action

it's time to demand the capture of those cowards who attack innocent citizens

as the practical implication of their ideals

i AM NOT one of those idiotic liberals

who believes, "yeah, well, everyone is ENTITLED to their own ideas"

no man, sorry. yr not.

a person should be allowed to peacefully express whatever they want

but as soon as their ideas include the necessity of exterminating or subjugating another group of people

then those ideals are just not OK

even as a means to an end

religious or otherwise

fuck that. if you come up into our piece with that

then you and you're ideas are going to get flattened.

it's like how we've gotta let the klu klux klan march in rallies

but we sure as hell don't let them get away with burning crosses.

like, i'm sorry i just don't think it's OK or that i have to honor your culture if you believe women are little more than property and treat them accordingly.

why do certain liberals say, well that's their culture and we need to be sensitive to it but when it came to apartheid they were all up in arms, demanding south africa to change?

how do they get the nerve to pick and choose and then blame others for doing the same thing?

why do we blame our government for acting in its own self-interest (like every other government on the face of this planet) when what we should be blaming them for is doing such a fuck-up job of it?

why aren't we out there MAKING NOISE about the failure of all those republicrats who allowed us to be attacked and then made us go to war after having the audacity to lie about the reasons?

who chipped away at our rights at home under the guise of keeping us safe, while admitting just yesterday that "hardly anything" has been done to protect" our rail system, which is perhaps the most exposed and likely target of the next al queda attack?

what the fuck is the point of keeping 13 and 14 yr old kids in prison in cuba for a year without charging them for shit when you leave your train tracks sitting there like big, fat, yellow ducks?

i'm sorry. yes, i'm pissed. i'm going to have to go now and walk around the block with a bop. i'm going to listen to some hip-hop and smoke some la la la so that the rhymes lift off and levitate over the beats. i'm going to imagine what it would be like if all the young people stood up and said fuck you and your polls and your censorship and your hissy fit over janet jackson's titty and your moral high-horse crapola and your money going to anti-aging drugs when little kids are dying of cancer and your greed and failure and stench of war and racism and homophobia--all of you who grew up divided, with your culture and their culture, your food and their food--right there in the same goddamn country. you and all your sad sack academy award winning movies and your viagra and over produced, deep meaning ballads and your pathetic po-mo ad campaigns and your good intentions turned flaccid like the no cholesterol, no taste soy cheese in your fridge. we're coming it's our turn we're sick of your shit

the beat is over.