Super interesting conversation with one of the funniest dudes on the internets.
I met this guy at the Roxy when I was DJing for Fat Tony, and had no idea who he was at the time. I thought he was a rapper, cos I saw him perform some lit-ass song with Lil Aaron before we went on. Anyway he was super chill and nice, excusing himself to go and puke at one point during our conversation, then returning, refreshed, offering cigarettes like a super safe nice human.
Wherein ZE INTERNETS has The Hoff recreate the The Fresh Prince Of Bell Air theme song. Because that’s what Ze Internets is FOR.
Via Man Like Whitey.
PS, let us never forget:
This is some very serious, high budget, purest INTERNETS right here.
Wired have the answers to that questions here.
So right now lots of Ze Twitterati (some of whom I am friendly with and some of whom’s dinner parties I have been invited to by friends of theirs and whose company and work I have enjoyed, full disclosure alert) are not tweeting on Twitter unless its to tweet a hashtag about not tweeting, and I swear to holy Xenu and The Pirates I though the whole thing was an elaborate Brass Eye-esque ploy and at they were gonna wait, like, 12 minutes, then all be like, “BAHAHAHA! GOTCHA! WE AIN’T SHUTTING UP FOR NOBODY, NO MATTER HOW MANY SPAMBOTS YOU CHUCK AT OUR TIMELINES! FOR WE ARE ZE MIGHTY TWITTERATI AND WE GIVE NOT TWO FUCKS! BAHAHAHA!” Then everyone would clink their virtual glasses then go back to hilariously commenting on whatever the big show on TV is right now at a rate of five tweets a minute.
But nooooo! They’re fucking serious!
Hey yo, it’s your movie, let that thing ride out the way you want it to, but a motherfucker like myself, ain’t no way I’m shutting up cos someone told me to shut up cos they were protesting people being told to shut up or some other crazy shit that seems to have been summed up pretty well by this thing – that you can see after this entirely-too-long paragraph – that I just saw on Twitter, which I’m pretty fucking sure has less misogynistic assholes on it that so called Real Life, where taking vows of silence does not stop assholes behaving like assholes and shouting shit at you out their car windows and stuff, nor does it make them consider changing their asshole ways for even the time it takes to read the average tweet.
Be silenced by them? What kind of crazy aresebackward logic is that? We have tried and a tried and tested solution, and is DON’T FEED THEM, BUBBA! They are like the turtle in Terry Pratchets Small Gods, and their power only grows with attention, and that means ANY attention! Grow a fucking hide! Sticks and stones may well break your bones, but the 140 character ravings of forcibly retarded, broken human beings (and spambots) can only hurt you as much as you allow them to! And bomb threats from actual spambots really are nothing to get in a fucking tizzy about! Get ye not in a tizzy about a fucking egg! Get in a tizzy about a near future in which only super polite non humorous online discourse is allowed, because we’re gonna need a new “dark internet” Twitter if these potentially manufactured explodeybots and rapebots and what have you succeed in their missions of terror and censorship.
If thick assholes are flooding your timeline, its time to put that thing down and go read a book, or write Twitter a letter asking them to hurry up and implement that totally common sense panic mode idea. In my life I have endured fucking torrents of abuse, and never once have I considered the solution to be stopping the assholes from expressing their asshole selves. No one is born with an overwhelming desire to go out and ruin other motherfuckers’ lives. That shit is hammered into them, by many fucking factors including school and government and food and TV and newspapers and fucking billboards, and you don’t stop it by stitching your gob shut in silence, you stop it by looking for the fucking ROOT CAUSE(s) and then making as much fucking NOISE as possible about that festering fucking bedrock, and never fucking stopping.
I had some crazy nightmares last night. At some point these gnarly EDL dudes were surrounding my house lobbing bricks through the windows and shouting “FAGGOT!” and shit. My girl was all like, don’t go out there, clutching little Hercules to her bossom, trying to comfort him as he bawled and bawled in shock and confusion. But I ran outside, right up in these dudes faces, and was like, yo, brothers! Your anger is misdirected! It is your government that is fucking on you and making your lives shitty! Those brown people never asked to be ran out of their homes and dumped en masse in your hood! Your proud history is a fiction created by rich motherfuckers who used to see you as nothing more than plant food and now have little use for you and hope you fucking die! You only hate women and blacks and browns and gays and handsome hirsuite international rap superheroes because they did a fucking massive ungodly number on your poor tiny child brain when you were a poor tiny child, and now you’re a tragic fucking mess of an aborted ghost of manhood and IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT, MY BROTHER! AND YOU CAN CHANGE IT! I SWEAR TO ALL I HOLD HOLY, YOU CAN CHANGE IT NOW! JUST REALISE THIS TRUTH AND TURN YOUR SWORD ON THE TRUE CAUSE OF YOUR SUFFERING!”
And one of these dudes was actually listening, this silver haired, orange peel skinned, heavy set motherfucker with an explosion of seething blood vessels for a nose and hands like vast hams, and he was all wide and dewy eyed, and he put his hand in his pocket and took a huff of this weird little plastic boxey rolled up minature tabloid thing that looked like cross between a crack pipe and a mobile phone made of parchment (oh dreams, how fucking disappointingly pedestrian your visual metaphors can sometimes be), then his eyes glazed over and he started gnashing his teeth, and one of his friends, a thick set lady with wire cleaner hair told me I needed to get the fuck out of there, and I was all like, “but the TRUE SOURCE OF HIS AGONY…” and she was like, ‘no really, get the fuck out of here,’ and I was like, ‘BUT!’, then this dude pulls a fucking kitchen knife out of his pocket and just starts fucking wailing on me with it, SLASH SLASH STABBITY STABBITY STAB! And I’m fucking spraying blood everywhere an trying to grab at the knife with my hands and they’re getting slit to ribbons and my wife and my little boy are up in the house looking out the smashed windows screaming at me.
HOLY SHIT THOUGH. What’s super fucking weird is as I just finished typing that, some actual real life flesh and blood EDL-sounding dudes started screaming at each other right outside my window, “DON’T YOU LOOK AT ME YOU CAHNT!” “I’LL FACKING FACK YOU UP YOU FACKING CAHNT, YOU FAAAAHCKING FAGGOT, YOU AND YOUR FAAAAAHCKING WHORE WIFE, STUPID LITTLE GIRL CAHNT, MY MATE JUST DIED HE LIVES ROUND HERE, FACK OFF!”
There was the sound of some smashing glass, then footsteps running across the road and off into the distance, and then all was silent once more, but for the whirr of the fan in my computer and the breathing of my sleeping wife.
I thought, all of those dudes started out looking something like this:
Some truly horrible things must have happened to those people along the way to make them into the things they are. And tighter Twitter controls are not going to change any of that, and neither will not Tweeting stupid jokes and observations about television shows for a day then writing a million fucking newspaper columns about the whole no-doubt wonderful experience.
Anyway, that’s what I think. Don’t take it personally if you disagree, oh my Twitterati digi-buddies, and stop tweeting my videos and stuff, please, because that would be WELL MEAN and it would also be a kind of CENSORSHIP when you think about it, and we’re all agreed that censorship is BAD MMMKAY, right? We might not respect what you have to tweet but boy will we tweet till the bloody death your right to tweet it, and that goes for spambots too cos we are are proud non-racist, non-speciesist educated motherfuckers living in the big white house at peak of the plantation, and we thank our lucky godless stars for that joyous fact every fucking morning, right?
Now here’s David Chapelle making funnies out of his experience as a black man in in a country that treats black men worse that it treats those weird genetic abominations in the eyes of the whispy-bearded skygod, AKA dogs. Just because it’s funny, and brave, and beautiful, and a perfect and entirely human reaction to unimaginable fuckery that I was enjoying as I rendered pop videos from the comfort of my studio earlier this afternoon.
In which PAPI drops by Jack’s yard to discuss super interesting shit (like how Combat fucked up his publishing) with majestic candour.
This show gets better and better every week. SO PROUD OF THESE GUYS.