September 2013
By Akira The Don on Friday, September 27th, 2013

Jimmy Kimmel is filmed behind Wade’s house where I’m staying in Hollywood right now. He bought Paul McCartney out to ruin our recording session the other day, that asshole.

— By Akira The Don on Friday, September 27th, 2013

Monday, September 23rd, 2013

Just re-upped Full Metal Alchemist (I Walter White) to the brand new ATD Youtube channel in glorious 1080p, after Wade and Xavier and I watched the penultimate Breaking Bad in Wade’s buddy’s home cinema and nearly suffered deadly trauma on about seventeen occasions over the hour or whatever it was. Mild spoilers will follow.

Holy shit batman. Todd Of The Lambs, AKA Meth Damon is truly a terrifying creature off Joffreyan proportions. More so, perhaps, as we can understand the causes of Joffrey’s empathy-devoid psycopathy (incest, “royalty”). All we know about Todd is his Uncle’s a Nazi. And he puts the ice cream in the basket. (“He puts the ice cream in the baaaaasket!“)

Todd and the ice cream

I do hope he gets his girl though. She is as crazed as he and her reasoning equally baffling to comprehend. Perhaps the empathy-free products of our increasingly mental dystopia can help each other.

Speaking of which, I hope all you “Walter White Is An Evil Monster” people with whom I disagree violently could muster some of your JesseSympathy for poor ole Walt doing chemo on his fucking own in a hut in the middle of nowhere (the visual opposite of ABQ, a beautiful visual Fire And Ice). Although your JesseSympathy probably got used up on, um, Jesse, who really should have paid attention to the G Code.

At least Walt’s real son, despite those payphone protestations, still loves his pappa. He kept the surname after all, even when his Mamma did not. And Walt’s other “son” will be fine, in the end. Jesse will get through, and wander off into a blood red sunset with Brock, to whom he will be what his own cunt birth-father never was. Jesse was supposed to die at the end of season one, after all, so it will be a sweet irony that he is the only one that survives next week’s inevitable bloodbath, which I will be watching, along with the cast of the greatest TV show of all time (we can pretty comfortably say that now, I can’t see a single way in which they can fuck it up at this point) in the Hollywood Cemetery.

Sayonara Saul, may your Cinabons be the sweetest. See you in the past. Oh, and RIP Marie’s purple shit.

Meanwhile, my LA adventure is going awesomely, thanks for asking. Wade and I have been taking exciting meetings, writing HITS at improbable times after improbable parties, and cranking out lush symphonies in the lab with Xavier, a little of which you can see below, along with some flicks from the past few days (I was hanging out with Dipset’s Duke Da God on Friday, amongst a fucking plethora of super safe fuckers! Ridiculousness!) More come soon. Be safe out there. And fuck Elliot and Gretchen, I hope they get the ricin. Although I suspect that’s for Walt himself, as opposed to his first true love, who brought him out of hiding where poor loyal Skyler Lambert could not.

— Monday, September 23rd, 2013

By Akira The Don on Monday, September 23rd, 2013


Basically. Meth Damon cares.

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— By Akira The Don on Monday, September 23rd, 2013

By Akira The Don on Monday, September 23rd, 2013


This one’s for Walter White.

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— By Akira The Don on Monday, September 23rd, 2013

By Akira The Don on Saturday, September 21st, 2013

Man, what a beautiful record this is.

Wade’s got HBO Go, it’s pretty awesome.

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— By Akira The Don on Saturday, September 21st, 2013

Saturday, September 21st, 2013

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Met The Simpsons last night just off Hollywood Boulevard. Homer’s in a bad way, some asshole cut his arm off. Peak for him.

Hey, guess what amazing foolishnesses I managed on the way to LA? Not only did I leave my luggage on the Gatwick Express, I also managed to leave my passport in a rubbish bag that I promptly gave to an air steward to put in the bin early on in the flight, not realising my mistake until we’d landed about 7 hours later. I assumed they just dropped the rubbish out the plane over Denmark or something, but luckily I was wrong, just as I was wrong about the people of the Heathrow Express being the sort of assholes that wouldn’t put one’s bag on a returning train for you. They totally did, and I totally managed to get my bags on the plane with 24 seconds to spare, and I totally got through security in the fastest time I have ever got through security,  and my passport totally wasn’t ejected over Denmark, and an air steward who was deeply enamoured with me totally pulled on some rubber gloves and waded through the impressively compacted and time-organised rubbish drawers until he found my passport at which point the whole plane erupted with joyous celebration.

Last night Wade and I wrote a hit record about sex and driving, hooked up with Xavier to plan our live set-up, and today we wrote a fucking glorious, ambitious and dictionary definition EPIC video treatment. Tonight Angel Haze is coming down Wade’s night at Teddy’s, so we will rehearse our dance moves for Wednesday’s big shoot day.


akira the don and wade in hollywood alala

— Saturday, September 21st, 2013