Warning!

Do you know who your children are playing baseball with?

Falk asked the driver to pull over at the entrance to Sing Sing, the prison. “The school used to bring the ball team here to play the inmates,” he said.

W.A.T.G. X

Not quite sure what's going on there.

Because I'm more Coldplay than I am Ice-T

Oh. My. God. (credit: Kay-Dee)

The Wussiest Wuss Rock Band that Ever Rocked ('cept Dumbwaiter -- aye!)

But they do know how to cut a rekkid. The new jawn is pretty compelling. On par with Transatlanticism. I wonder if they make bank off having tunes on the O.C.?

BTW, more cogent thoughts coming on about 6 other recent and upcoming releases. Just haven't had the time to sit down and put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, as it were. To prove my gangsterism, one of 'em is Jeezy. This heater makes me want to break and steal things!

The Male Uniform

When was it exactly that “fashion” became something that meant anything to men? I mean, that entails some sort of work. Traditionally, a simple T-shirt with a logo or phrase that supported something we were into cut the mustard. Now, if you’ve left the house in the last few years and gone anywhere with a crowd, it’s quite evident that we’ve adopted some of the same ideals as women when it comes to dress. You know, the “Male Uniform.” The key is an untucked button up cotton/polyester blend long-sleeved dress shirt. Don’t button the cuffs and leave two or three of the top chest buttons undone. Perfect. Now throw on some fitting jeans, some dress shoes (make sure they match your belt, son!) and toss a palm of goop in your hair. Now you’re part of the army. The go out to get drunk and chase pussy army where sloppy is supposed to look sophisticated. It’s a rather unelite club because all you have to do to join is have a dick and dress this way. This is pretty much the standard get-up now with all these wanna-be metrosexuals (and I don’t like using that word, it’s WAY too Maxim/Men’s Health). I guess I’m just disappointed to see guys voluntarily dismiss their individualism. You’ve got to wonder if a girl will ever be able to pick you out of the crowd now. How are you supposed to stand out above the rest of these fools out there with the same motives? There’s no point of difference anymore, so you best get a really dope car or actually have a personality. Most guys just shit some cheese-dick garble out of their mouth. And that does work at times. Throw enough shit at the wall, and some of it is going to stick. Why not.

W.A.T.G. IX

1s and 2s Dept.

Come check me out on Thursday. At 9:30 pm. Here.

As Inevitable As a Hangover From The Hurricane Cocktail

Where was Nostradamus on this one? Looks like Neo Geo had the edge since this was published October 2004. Sure it's science and all, but it's interesting to see it predicted like this.

No, No, Yes?

Ok, that makes sense.


I can’t see this being a huge problem, but it must be serious enough to warrant its own sign.


But it’s okay to hang out the window of a rapidly moving tram car?

?

Things Realized, Decided or Reaffirmed

• Walking around everyday checking out new shit and drinking beers in the afternoon is where it's at. I gotta find some way to make a career out of this.
  

• It's highly likely I'll marry a woman of Eastern European descent.

• This album is aging exceptionally well. This one, too.

• Cam'ron kinda murders this "Dreams" beat (credit: hardly art, hardly garbage).

• I remember thinking when I first heard "Verbal Intercourse" that it was a pretty major song. Now it sounds fucking seminal. I believe that if you played this for a room full of heads right now, folks would absolutely lose their shit.

• Ed's on to something with that Kafka kick.

• The whole world hates us. Because we're ugly. They're on to something, too.

• This hurricane business is BUGGED OUT. I was really disconnected there for a stretch and had no idea how bad it was projected to be or what the immediate conditions were. The first piece I read detailed feces and rape in the Superdome. Come again??
  


• It's wild to observe significant US happenings through a foreign lens. I don't know when the press here began opining it, but the European media was all over the Kyoto shit right away.

• Budapestians really know how to live.

• FOOTBALL.

• The critics are still raving!

• Public service announcement from Greasy Kid Incorporated: The next joint will be called dj applesauce - Put'cha Breaks On. Coming this fall.
  

Homecoming

My Polska, my people! My wonderful, humble, resilient Polish people. We've been bullied around Europe for more than 1,000 years. They wiped out nearly a fifth of us during WWII. But we're still here, still repping that white, red and eagle.

My people! Of sour complexion, largely due to a diet that'll guarantee you maybe 50sumyears of existence. My brethren, with squared jaws and cursed hair (so that's where it comes from!). My sistren -- tall, stoic, ample bosomed and frequently with a sexy little ponch. Blond and fair in the north, darker featured and 'more Slavic' in the south. My folk!

A humble people. We never had the grand aspirations of the Dutch or Spanish, comrades to the east, or demonic neighbors to the west. Muhfuckas was just trying to live! Till the land of 'em. Have a comfortable little life. But heads kept treading on us. The map grew and shrank, but mostly shrank. It even disappeared.

But we don't die, all we fucking do is multiply. Fam came back. Survived 40 years of stifling economic repression. Sewed the seeds of revolution. And now -- on a come up!

Anyway, shit's been major. Defining. A love affair. A hajj. I've seen a fair amount of this earth, but nothing has affected me quite like this. You all will lose me to this joint for a while at some point. Just have to sort out the details.

Kocham was, Polska!

W.A.T.G. VIII

This is my cat. Although he's had dozens of names throughout his life, the one that stuck most is Barney. Let it be known, I am not a cat person. I was merely forced to live with him because my sister abandoned his sorry ass. I guess he's cool and all, but I can't fully respect any creature that religiously sneaks outside, eats as much grass as he can before getting caught, then pukes it all up within 30 minutes of returning inside. Not only that, but he refuses to vomit on anything but carpet. God forbid he huck the unchewed grass up on the easy-to-clean tile. Above and beyond that, he's not such a bad roommate.

It's a celebration, bitches!

Off to go connect with the motherland -- Schmessers and Danasauce: don't break 'nothing while I'm gone!

The Corpse Pimper

Oh man. Dude is rarely even in my realm of consciousness anymore. I typically forget he even exists. But then he goes and does some stupid shit like this...and people care! And granted it's E! Online. But still.

I can't help but think this guy has a karmic debt big enough to sink Mother Theresa.

This post filed under "bitching about rappers" (that's a preemptive dick cookie for you haters).

Wait, that sounds too salty. What I meant to say was: I *heart* all off you Cake eaters!

W.A.T.G. VII

¡Baile!

Fock, Carlos. At least to my untrained ears, this shit sounds pretty mega. It's a nice compliment to oppressive heat, though current status feels more like Mumbai than San Juan.

Annals of economics

Damn summer malaise. You know it's a slow day when I'm posting crap like this. This just in: quantity demanded outstrips quantity supplied!

Mmmmmmmm. Beer phone.

Wilted flowers

I really dig the character Bill Murray has morphed into the past several years, especially the way Wes Anderson has used him in his last few films. So I went into Broken Flowers with high expectations. Unfortunately, I found it to be much more this than this.

I'm a big fan of movies with not a lot of plot and very few 'splosions, but this flick draaaaaaaaags entirely too much. It's my understanding that Jarmusch has used sparse dialogue to great effect in previous efforts (I'll admit I'm in arrears on his catalog), however, here it's just boring. There are some very funny parts, especially the frames with Sharon Stone, and the score is top notch. Overall, a very under-whelming experience though. You can safely wait for the DVD.

As long as they spell your name right

PR'em: your boy gets a shout out over on soul-sides.com and sales go through the roof! Big up to my man O-Dub for the love.

When I'm in the Boogie I'm imported

STAND UP.