Sunday, October 31st, 2004
“We’re dicks! We’re reckless, arrogant, stupid dicks. And the Film Actors Guild are pussies. And Kim Jong Il is an asshole. Pussies don’t like dicks because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes. Assholes that just want to shit on everything. Pussies may think they can deal with assholes their way. But the only thing that can fuck a asshole is a dick, with some balls. The problem with dicks is they fuck too much or fuck when it isn’t appropriate. And it takes a pussy to show them that. But sometimes pussies can be so full of shit that they become assholes themselves. Because pussies are a inch and half away from assholes. I don’t know much about this crazy crazy world, but I do know this. If you don’t let us fuck this asshole we’re going to have our dicks and pussies all covered in shit.”
Gary Johnston, Team America, 2004.
Man, I so love living in the future. Me and Wade just watched Team America on my PC. Perfect quality. Cinema sound out my amp and my monitors. It isn’t out here till February. Word. And man, Team America is the best action movie since, like, Terminator or some shit. Well, it’s better than Hero. Hero was the shit too. But that didn’t have Thunderbirds puppets blowing up the Eiffel Tower. It even recycled a load of South Park’s best jokes without pissing me off. That the main baddie was a cross between Cartman and Mr Shitty Wok was in itself genius. And whatddya mean, the requisite sex scene, acted out by plastic on strings, was the most realistic I have seen in an American movie, like, ever?
PLUS! Who was it moidering me about Matt and Tre being crypto-facists or whatever, and Team America being a pro-war anti-Michael Moore movie? Are you dumb or what? Does everything really have to be spelled out to you people? Y’all can’t see this satire, word to Raymond Briggs.
Yuh. Seriously. This is an awesome movie, and its says more about humanity than anything since, like, that episode of South Park where Butters goes missing.
ANYWAY! Last night was fresh to the max, despite the usual issues surrounding events organised by Sean and Wade. Cazals were amazing. I found myself enjoying Towers Of London (the singer of whom got arrested for shoving some douche in the audience’s head. It was retaliatory! I was there man!). And I, man, was the best I have ever been. Like, I was completely in control of my shit for the first time ever. I did two new songs, ‘I Should Have Cut You In The Face’ and ‘This Is The Way We Ball’, and I fucking mad enjoyed it. The scheduled set seemed to be over in seconds, and Wade was all tied up with the coppers, so me and that Birddogg entertained the people with an impromptu, and ACTUALLY REALLY GOOD freestyle decks and raps thing. Being real, I was disappointed with what we did on the Bethan And Huw show, it could have been amazing, and it wasn’t. I worried we weren’t, almost. But last night we were, like The Best. So.
I got this whole, “when I say Chris De Burgh y’all say genius” thing going on. That was so sweet. That was, like, one of the greatest moments of my life or something. And I met loads of safe clarts who read this thing on the regular, and I met some safe clarts that don’t, Gwil had this magnificent gown he found on the ground going on… and in general had a damned good time. At the end I smoked some bones with the Towers, then had a wee dance to portions of the new Stunners mixtape.
I was at some kind of weird scene with posh people at the Great Eastern after. That kind of weirded my drunk head. I was walking home at 7 in the morning or whatever, and I burst into tears and sobbed all the way home. I awoke today with that morning after coldgutsickness for a second, but within moments of being awake, I was overcome with a tremendous sort of warmth. Which lasted me throughout a fine day, in which I have enjoyed fine discourse with pals male and female, dined on tender, fine steak, supped a glass of fine red wine, amd watched a fine movie. Me and Wade might go see Erol DJ at goddamned Catch now, what with it being Halloween and all. I can’t think of a more suitably gross venue for it. Word.
Word. So, because it’s Stunners International today, it makes sense to hit you off with the first Stunners International mixtape. This one glides like a snake in the grass, flowing like T2′s weapon arms. It is all here. Wu. me, CDB, Europe, Alter Ego, Skid Row… Go cop it on the music page. And when you’ve done that, hit the media bit and cop some hot new ‘Drinking Song’ wallpapers. Uploaded today – Chris De Burgh! Phill Bush! Nanny!
Lalalalala I am in Cardiff to be doing this Radio 1 thing, lalalala it is wicked lalalala. Yes. So far I have done a photoshoot in a barbers with some safe clarts, an interview, and a soundcheck.
Damn, today was on some hectic ish. Birddogg, amazingly, was on the nine o clock train, and I was up in time to help him from the station despite being up all last night battling nutters and reading interviews with the comics icons of my youth. Word up Simon Coleby, you chunky steelo WAS Death’s Head II!
“A “rapper” is typically a talentless black who wants people to subsidize him, so that he doesn’t have to get a j-o-b. Rap aka Hip-Hop (r/h) has refuted the racist stereotype, according to which blacks have “natural rhythm,” and revealed that the average black cannot sing, dance, compose music or write lyrics any better than the average white. Rappers’ rants often consist of nothing but narcissistic self-promotion, where the performer brags about himself in the third person. When r/h recordings do include something recognizable as music, it is invariably through plagiarizing someone else’s earlier recording, which is known in r/h by the euphemism “sampling.””
OMG THIS IS SO MY JAM 
