Lets All LOL At Hollywood Vol. 1

Have you seen this thing?



HUH?

Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela? Matt Damon as a Afrikaans Rugby Footballer? CLINT EASTWOOD making a picture about one of the most delicate and pivotal times in South African history?

I say again: HUH?

Here's how this went down:

Clint Eastwood (on the phone): Hey Morgsy, remember when you did Million Dollar Baby?
Morgan Freeman: Hey Clinty, yeah I do! That was sooooo cool!
Clint Eastwood: This new movie I'm doing isn't anything like that, but kinda.
Morgan Freeman: IM IN! COOLSIES!
Clint Eastwood: YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!!!!!!!
Clint Eastwood (switching lines): Oh hai, Matt Damon? You wanna be a white rugby doood?
Matt Damon: FUCK ME, YES!!!!
Clint Eastwood: Now to find a concept and write a script! YAY!

Penis.

This movie still might be awesome, but no.

no it won't.

(s0rrry bout the embedding but fuck you, click on the link or something)

It Was A Good Day

This commercial is simply so much more. I really can't understand people who ignore the beauty of skateboarding.

Nike SB Shoe Commercial.
In case you don't know who this is, it's Paul Rodriguez and Eric Koston skatin' around. Kobe shows up. If you don't know who he is, you're done.



Also in another case of me knowing much more about music than you, I know what song is in the commercial. I'm sure you want to know what it is, because it's so fucking good.

Ice Cube - It Was A Good Day

fuck your band.

this is your band.



fuck it.

Song Of The Day

Artist: Aesop Rock
Album: Labor Days
Song: Labor
+
Song: Daylight

"I gotta inklin' this is going be tha one the children bicker over..."

Double dipping is an activity of the elite.

Stories.

Hello All. I'm going to begin posting my short stories here.
Please choose your friends carefully.


-----------------------------------------------

Wicked Sons.

By John P. Spies.

-----------------------------------------------

I love cigarettes. It's rare that you are aware that something your doing is actually killing you, bit by bit. Every breath of poison air is like calmly staring death in the face and saying, fuck you, you bastard. I will have my day in the sun now. And that is why I can never quit. I want to have my day, right here, now.

_________________________________________

Do you know who he is?
No.
Well, what, is he dangerous?
Very.
I’m too young for this horseshit.

_________________________________________

Do you know who I am?
No.
I am a very powerful man, a…captain of crooked industry shall we say.
-Silence-
I need you to get rid of somebody for me.
Why can’t you do that with your own men?
Well, see, that’s the fuck of it…we…we fucked up. And now we don’t know where he is.
You have literally no idea.
Yes, that’s correct.
How much?
We’ll pay you fifty large ones if it’s done by Wednesday morning. It’s Monday. That gives you a day. Understood?
What is his name?
He goes by Danny, but we’re fairly sure that that’s not his real name. Remember, he needs to be dead for you to collect. No free riding here.
-Silence-
Look. My life consists of two things, money and revenge. I embrace my lot, Mr. Young. I know that when I die, I will burn forever. But you want to know something? I don’t give a fuck. If I can shake my fist in the face of God for a moment, only a moment, then in that moment I have become something no other man has ever been.

Well then, for your sake I hope heaven and hell are there. But I wouldn’t hold my breath, my friend.

________________________________________

Everyday I get up with the sun. It’s like an eternal friend who gives us a reason to step outside in the morning, something to wake up to. I don’t mind it watching me work. When you must kill, do it with somebody watching. That way you can never say, oh God, what have I done? You have to be strong when someone is watching.

The scent of blood is strong today. The time is right for fighting in the streets.

_______________________________________

I need to know.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, please don’t kill me!
Just tell me. I really do need to know.
I swear to Jesus, I don’t fucking know!
Danny. You knew him. He was here.
Yes, I told you, but not for years…

When my hammer clicks back, I feel so free. The power surges through my arm. It’s addicting.

Look. I will kill you. Right now.
No, please, I swear I’m not lying!
One more time. Danny?
I DON’T KNOW

Punk. He’s going to crack. What a fucking punk.

…Danny?
He came here last night…I hadn’t seen him in years…He said he needed 50 bucks no questions…I gave it to him…he said he was going to his mother’s house…I swear that’s the truth. Don’t kill me…please…
BLAM.

_______________________________________

Work is hard. That’s why I don’t work. Why put yourself through the struggle of labor when you can steal or cheat or kill your way to happiness? Some people say they find the lack of moral direction in my life disturbing. I find the lack of reality in theirs to be much more disturbing. Suburbia is an unsustainable fantasy world. It is the breeding ground of all of the failures this country has endured. It is a place that begets bigotry, elitism, apathy, angst, and fear. Anything can be fed to these people and they will believe it as long as it comes from a trusted outlet. They are the reason a fool is president, and a rabble of over sexed drunks are running the country.

I don’t mind killing.
The trigger is more real than a remote control.

_______________________________________

He killed an associate of Danny’s early this morning.
Well I’ll be damned. Did he clean up his mess?
Yes.
Well its fine I guess. I just hope we haven’t unleashed a hound of hell.
We didn’t do a thing, sir.
I know. Did you ever find out anything about his background?
Nothing. He’s not a citizen as far as we know; he has no registrations anywhere, pays for everything in cash.
A real ghost type, huh? One too many Eastwood flicks.
He’s the only hit man we know of who has never once failed to kill a target. For a job of this importance it would have been insane not to use him.
Yes, but still, this better not come back to me. My cover is very fragile.
It won’t.
If it does, you’re going down too, you know that right?
It won’t. Danny will be dead by the morning.

Yeah. I need a drink.

_______________________________________

I walk through Danny’s mother’s house. I take stock of all that’s around me. Pictures. Lots of these. What is it about us and our pictures? Who are you, Danny? What did you do? Were you good to your poor, poor mother?

Well, she isn’t here. What a fucking waste of my time. I should burn the place just for the fuck of it. Just annihilate it…what’s this?

Oh Danny, what have you done? You’ve left your new address on the counter. What have you done, my friend? You’ve been your own Judas Iscariot.

What was that…line…ah yes. “When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.”*

And now, to kill.

Funny. I said that out loud.

_______________________________________


You think you’re safe now, Dan?
Yeah, there’s no way those fucking goons could trail me here. Even if they did, we got enough guns here to light them up like it’s goddamn Christmastime. I’m home free.

Why did you do it?
What?
What the fuck you mean what? Why did you kill Yamin’s brother? You know that all that does is derail his takeover of all the crooked outlets in this excuse for city for a while? He’s gonna come back with more hands and more guns than a fucking gun expo...

Shut the fuck up, alright?

I did it because he needed to feel the hurt, the burn that we feel, yeah? The fucker sits in his tower; all protected and shit, nobody touches a hair on his head…the bastard wouldn’t even know what to do in a shootout, he’d probably shit his pants and call his Jew mother. The streets are his but he doesn’t own the people that walk on them. So yeah, I killed Paul. I had the shot, the chance…I couldn’t let it go.
And fuck me Danny, you never miss.
Never. I don’t know a damn soul in this world whose got a better gun.
Nope. Nobody has got a better gun, Dan.
Yessir. I don’t know what it is about the violence Bill, but dammit… I was born to kill. It’s like God created me to be a fuck up. He makes some of us to taste the good life, and others to destroy it. I was born to destroy all that is beautiful in this world. I got a taste…and I spit that shit back out. I wasn’t made to consume. I see these fake ass gangsters selling crank to little punk mall rats, see schools close down because too many kids show up with guns, most of ‘em don’t even show up at all, see these politicians bow to fucks like Yamin, and I just think…God I’ve got to end this. How did we get here, Billy my boy? How?

I have no idea.

Whatsup, Nick? Don’t just bust up in here without asking, ya bitch. God, you look like a ghost…
He killed…he killed…
WHO? WHO KILLED WHO?
He killed…Gates…and Eric…and Lazy Eye…He let me live…to tell you…
BLAM
SHIT, NICKY! WHAT THE FUCK?!!

Hello.
_______________________________________

As the shell casings fell at my feet, and the room glowed with light of a hundred gun blasts, I couldn’t help but smile. I will not die.

You cannot run from a bullet headed for your chest. You can only turn and face it. Then there is no fear.

______________________________________

He got him.
Thank God! That was for you, Paul.
He wants to know if you want Danny dead, sir.
Dead? You mean he hasn’t killed him yet?
He was waiting for your approval, apparently.
Oh god yes! Shoot him; shoot him, or whatever he wants. Tell him we’ll pay him whenever he gets back here.

______________________________________

As I hung up the phone I thought, I love cigarettes. It's rare that you are aware that something your doing is actually killing you, bit by bit. Every breath of poison air is like calmly staring death in the face and saying, fuck you, you bastard. I will have my day in the sun now. And that is why I can never quit. I want to have my day, right here, now.

Die, motherfucker.

_____________________________________

END.


this work is mine. please dont copy it, unless you tell me. i'll let you, i promise.
thanks

jp

Song Of The Day

Artist: White Denim
Album: Fits
Song: Syncn

jaw droppin'.

Video: According to Ken

According to Ken,

we're fucked.



Mindboggling. I swear he is being sarcastic, but I could also equally swear just as hard that he is not. What the fuck is going on here? How do you get like this? Where is Rush Limbaugh when you need him?

Video: The Most Epically Depressing Stop-Motion Ever

Wowsers.



I defy anyone to explain this. Defy.

and that song? lulz.

"WE KILL THE DRAGONS"

Something Wicked (Awesome) This Way Comes...

Hello all.

My friends and I are about to do something very shit-happy awesome, and I will be chronicling our adventures on this here website. I can't tell you what exactly it is we are doing at the moment, for that would spoil all the fun. And all the fun can't be spoilt. Not one damn drop. But I can give you a picture, that if you know any of us, will give it away:


Stay tuned, my friends.

A song for this special occasion? A song?

mp3: Funkadelic - Hit It And Quit It

Song Of The Day

"Not too many hours from this hour...
so long!
The storm comes, or is it just another shower?

Artist: The Chameleons UK
Album: Script of the Bridge
Song: Swamp Thing

Song Of The Day

Hey yallsers.

One more thing that I'm starting today. I'm gonna put up one song a day (no shit sherlock), with no explanation, just know that I really dig that song that day. It could be anything, no rules. The idea is that if you don't know the song, you download it (virus free!) and if you
like it you check out other shit by the artist. If youseguys got any suggestions for SOTD, or something you just couldn't live without hearing right now, lemme know. So here goes.


Artist: Bibio
Album: Ambivalence Avenue
Song: Jealous Of Roses

(links are ta mediafire. text yoself befo ya wreck yoself)

Wait...So They Suck Now? Vol. I

Hello all. Here at Solid Gold Easy Action, I am beginning a new once-weekly feature that highlights certain bands' fall into the abyss of suck. Too often in this post-post-post-post modern culture, bands are given free passes for too long after they have shown the obvious inability to put two good songs together. While this often pertains to older bands who have overstayed their welcome in the world of music (ie: Rush), those bands are not what I will focus on, mainly because they (ie: Rush) have a history of contribution to music and still are influences by way of past records.

Rather, I would like to focus on bands that showed so much promise, seemingly with so much talent, that were given too much goddam money to do what they wanted and who then proceeded to go and fuck it all up. So without further ado, I present the first ever weekly feature on Solid Gold Easy Action:

WAIT...SO THEY SUCK NOW?

FEAT. BLOC PARTY

Happiness is fleeting for the fool.

The Year is 2005.

Possibly one of the biggest bands in the world following the release of the where-the-fuck-did-this-come-from album Silent Alarm, Bloc Party looked like they could become something that would effectively steamroll indie rock for the next 10 years. Instead, they fucked up the formula that brought them so much success, which I will set out here...

Bloc Party's Formula For Success:
(Do not take this if you are pregnant or think you might become pregnant. Consult your doctor before taking BPFFS, as it can have serious side effects if taken in large doses, such as compulsory dancing and screaming of things like "We've got crosses on our eyes, walking into the furniture" in an English accent)

Success=dueling guitar lines+driving rhythm section+repeatable lyrics+cool factor/being British

Sadly, this band that spawned such fantastic (dare I say classic?) songs such as "Positive Tension", "Helicopter", and "She's Hearing Voices" among others, has released possibly two of the WORST records I've ever forced myself to listen to, namely 2007's atrocious A Weekend In The City and 2009's yawn-fest Intimacy. If i could understand why they just...for lack of a better way to say it...stopped being good, I would tell you, but goddammit, Bloc Party make no fucking sense.

Bloc Party make about as much sense as this.

From a unbiased and completely musical prospective, you might say that their label should drop them so fast it would make their ears bleed. But this music bullshit is a business, so Bloc Party and their mess of a career is shoved down our throats. Bullshit abounded everywhere. In magazines and across the blogosphere, accolades came raining down upon the heaping piles of shit that were the second two albums. But oh, wait a second, nobody was listening to it. I mean, really listening to it. Lets take A Weekend In The City for a jaunt, shall we?

A Weekend In The City:

In two words, this album is both pompous and dull. The single highlight of the album is the second track, "Hunting For Witches", which again, makes no goddam sense, but hey, this is becoming a theme isn't it? This veritable hoo-ha retard circus of a record switches between its own upper-class narcissism and overwrought dramatics, making it almost impossible to listen to in one sitting. It's like they sat around and actually thought that putting a ballad every other song was some sort of genius idea. It's not. It's fucking insane. A Weekend In The City wears on the listener, which is the exact opposite effect of Silent Alarm. The brilliance of Silent Alarm was wrapped up in its ability to constantly bring us back for another spin, another discovery of a lick we love or a lyric that gets stuck in our heads. Instead of this, we are forced to endure the endless self-important social commentary about modern life from frontman Kele Okereke, who disturbingly begins to sound more and more like Bono for indie kids. He drones on and on in "Uniform" about how indie kids are so mad hypocritical, then moans for a fucking queen's age about a young lost love in "I Still Remember". We don't need this new you, Kele. Give us back the iconic lines, like in "Positive Tension": "Something glorious is about to happen/ The reckoning". Or from "Luno": "I can heal all the blind/ I can cure all the sick/I can say the right things".

Those are real expressions of inner passion. Not the bullshit all over A Weekend In The City or Intimacy. Honestly, I'm not even going to give Intimacy a fair trial, because I swear to jesus it's not an actual record. It's a collection of electronically manipulated sounds with wailing over it. "One Month Off" is alright, but only alright.

Where did this all go so wrong?

Like I said in my introduction, some bands are given too much money and too much artistic license. There is such a thing. And this is what I believe happened to Bloc Party. Yes, nobody expected them to make another Silent Alarm. That's fair. But what people did not expect was that Bloc Party would sacrifice their wonderful combination of songcraft and balanced righteous aggression in order to "progress" musically. Progression is sometimes a very horrible thing. Just ask Rivers Cuomo. Not that they care though, they just keep on forging ahead into this netherworld of suck without reserve or restraint.

And that is why Bloc Party sucks now.

I'm coming for your old dumb ass, Bob Dylan.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

If you have any suggestions as to what band should be featured next
week, just leave their name down there in da commentz. If I pick your
suggestion, you win so much stuff. I swear, so much stuff.

Really though, plz leave suggestions/feedback/social security numbers.

4 Reasons Why Iran Sucks It Hard

Don't you just love the news?

It's full of happiness and joy, bringing hard-working Americans together in front of the television set to learn about the world which they inhabit. It informs and entertains without losing any journalistic integrity. It is not biased toward any political or social agenda, and is an equal opportunity employer. Anyone can be on the news! Even you! They care about giving the American public the nitty-gritty facts they need to get through tomorrow. Our world, our children, and our land is safer and a better place because of the news.

You wanna know what that paragraph was? Satire, asshole. Satire.

This whole Iran thing has got me down, brothers and sisters. Today from the AP press wire came this wonderful piece of info:

"President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad vowed Saturday to make the U.S. regret its criticism of Iran's postelection crackdown and said the 'mask has been removed' from the Obama administrations efforts to improve relations"

Friends, this is why we don't do anything about shit that goes down in shitholes. It gets all shitty in there. Shitstorms.

Explaining the length and girth of his penis.

Apparently, he IS the president of Iran, so that's sweet I guess. But seriously, fuck this shit. I think somebody needs to put all this in its place.

1. Iran is effectively run by a group of clerics called "The Assembly of Experts"

Seriously? That sounds more like the title of Michael Bay's next movie. Maybe if we lobby hard they will change it to "League of Extraordinary Gentlemen". Now that's a legislative body I can get behind.

This is what an Assembly of Experts looks like. If you were wondering.

So that's that.

2. It's a fucking Theocracy.

Some people might find this to be an attractive form of government. Well, I am here to tell you those people are the reason the terrorists are winning. You don't want the terrorists to win, do you? DO YOU?

Your New President.

3. If you lived in Iran, you would be poor. I guarantee it.

It has a highly concentrated sector of wealth. Essentially, if you think about how Mexico is, and then compare it to Iran, they have similar distributions of wealth. Only Mexico has drugs, whereas Iran has oil. And you know, Mexico is fucking Mexico. So there is a difference there.

On a related thought, is it any wonder then that the people rioted? They were trying to get attention. Obviously. But it seems that everyone (in the news) missed that. They weren't specifically rioting against the election but against the tyranny of the regime that oppresses them and sends their sons to nuclear factories instead of to school. They were rioting for a better life. If people died, it was worth the exposure.

Only time will tell if it worked.

Father Time ain't nuttin' ta fuck wit.

4. If you committed a crime, but you actually didn't, but still got the death sentence anyway, you can't appeal that shit.

I'm not even gonna explain this one. Look it up for yourself, lazy bastard.

Basically, we need to stop giving a shit what happens in Iran. Let it be. We have enough problems of our own. Yes, they may have nuclear weapons, but honestly, can they hit us? No? Oh, okay. Let's stay out of it then.

Bob Dylan, I'm fucking coming for you.

Fuck U2

Seriously.

Fuck these guys:

Fuck them. Fuck them for all time.

Do you like U2? You do? Oh good. See this? Thats my middle finger. In your face. In your girlfriend's face.

Today, I actually listened to the entirety of their "new" album No Line On the Horizon, and I can say with a high degree of certainty that it was one of the poorest decisions I've made in my nearly twenty years upon this green earth. To sum it up, as my good friend Robert says often, "This is some bullshit, John. Some bullshit". I can't actually believe people like U2. I feel it is all some huge international joke that I failed to get the email about because I transferred schools and the asses deleted my school account off their server. Asses. I look at you, registrar lady. You are an ass. May your children one day feel the whip of the slavedriver.

But back to the task at hand. I will deal with her rebel scum ass later. As I was listening to No Line On the WHOREizon my mind kept wandering to other things, such as how I should spend the remaining $15.34 in my wallet, or which one of my friends had the most advantageous qualities for surviving a zombie apocalypse with me. Then all of a sudden the album was over...and I was all like, "holy shit, I just listened to a fucking hour of nothing". I swear to you, I did not hear anything through my headphones. If I really think hard, I think I remember hearing like one or two words from the single off the album, "Get On Your Boots", but now that I say that, my brain is just probably making that up. The point is, there is no music on this album. Which brings me too my next point nicely:

When can we say that, officially, no one gives two fucks what U2 does?

One way ticket to Rapetown, please. No, there will be no luggage.

I would like to declare that moment upon us.

U2 has been around since 1976. Nine. Teen. Fucking. Seventy. Six. You know what that means? That means it's time to stop. Put on the brakes. Quit. Die. Old-folks homes. Animal shelters. Mall walking.

The problem really lies in their (Bono's) desperate attempts to stay relevant. Despite the fact that they (Bono) could package cowshit in a CD case and it would sell like hotcakes, they (Bono) have sought, from the Joshua Tree onwards, to be loved for their (Bono's) music rather than the monolith of stardom that effectively serves as a life-support machine for their (Bono's) career. And thus, they (Bono) realize they (Bono) have to put out something that can at least pass as musical progression. But lackaday fair reader, they (Bono) have finally failed.

2004's awfully titled (tittied?) How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb got a free pass because it spawned a number one, the lyrically obtuse "Vertigo". And by lyrically obtuse I mean Bono didn't count right in Spanish. Or sing about anything in particular. But man, did he sound like he meant it. Anyways, Nobody except assholes actually listened to the rest of it. Itunes used the shit out of "Vertigo" to promote their new ipod campaign, so people felt like U2 was relevant. I mean, product placement is key to success, right?

Right before he wallowed in a pit full of money.

But on No Line On the Horizon, there is no single to save it, no new reinvention that makes it worth a spin on the old computer. Fuck, the cover is a fucking LINE ON A HORIZON.

God, would I have loved to be in that meeting:
Bono: So what is the artwork?
Artist: Uh...A line on a horizon?
Bono: Fuck me and call me Sally, its perfect. Subtle, yet bold.
The Edge: My asshole hurts.
Artist: God damn my life.
Bono: AFRICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Edge: My asshole hurts.
Larry Mullen: Wait, am I still in the band?
(silence)
Larry Mullen: Okay, I'll just assume yes.
The Edge: My asshole hurts.

And Rolling Stone gave this shit 4 and a half stars and called it a modern masterpiece. That is precisely the moment I stopped reading Rolling Stone forever. You may be saying, no shit, why didn't you stop reading it earlier, and in answer to that, I confess I am a whore for interviews. A skeezy whore. But everything is changed now. No more will I give a damn what U2 does. They are more dead than Weezer.

You know what?

U2 = Moby Dick.

Both are overrated and full of gay themes.

In conclusion I would like to leave you with this:

What did you expect, really?

Should I do Bob Dylan tomorrow?

3 Reasons Michael Jackson Dying is a Publicity Stunt

This is you:
"HEY YOU GUYS! DID YOU HEAR?? MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD? I KNOW, I KNOW WTF!!!!!! I LIKE, SO LISTEN TO THRILLER ON MY WORKOUT MIX!!!! YEAH!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE HE'S GONE!!!!!"

Fuck that.

I swear to Jesus, this is a publicity stunt. Apparently, at some point yesterday, Michael Jackson, the self proclaimed "King Of Pop" kicked the ol' bucket. One too many chili cheese fries at Sonic. Do they sell those anymore? That shit gets EVERYWHERE. Fox News, CNN, NBC, and all the other bitch-ass "news" networks have been covering this "breaking story" "all day" and whatnot.
And I don't believe it. Not for one goddamned second.

Actually Not Dead.

I feel as if Wacko-Jacko had much to gain from a RocknRolla "Paul Is Dead"-esque type disappearance act. Besides the fact that the guy is a fucking balls-out lunatic, this seems to fit in well with his generally fucked up life. Very little self control, this man. But there are some other shady going-ons that I quickly realized were signs of tricks. Trickery. Highway robbery. Manslaughter. Assorted other felonies.

1. No-Shows:

Jackson only showed up for two rehearsals in preparation for his huge comeback concert series beginning in London and carrying on through the fall. Bullshit? To the promoters, very bullshit. Fearing for their investments, the people (and I say that assuming robots did not put up the capital to fund these shows, which may or may not be a correct assumption) that funded the tour were legitimately starting to freak the fuck out on Mike. And he was all like, screw you guys, I'm going home. To L.A.

Would prudent businessmen really invest in something they knew was going to tank?

These are prudent businessmen.

Not likely, I say. But Jack just wouldn't show up. So in efforts to postpone the concerts a second time, they came up with a devilishly genius plan. Fake Michael's death. And that children, is how you do business. Fake deaths and plastic surgeries.

2. Sales:

This is the obvious one. I went to a CD Warehouse today, and the guy behind the counter that pretty much plays only Iron Maiden and wears shirts that say "I please one person a day, and today isn't your day" said that he had at least 10 people come in the last hour asking for Jackson CD's. Which if you think about it for one fucking second is retarded because one, just because you bought it the day he died doesn't make it any more significant or worth more and two, the internet is laughing at you because you bought something from a store.

The Internet.

So today was a good day for the sales of whatever it is Michael Jackson sings, although I don't know any of them because the torrent I downloaded of his number one hits was password protected.

3. The man is a FUCKING LUNATIC:


So in conclusion, when he comes back from a holiday in Rapetown or wherever they sent him, I told you so.

THE FUTURE OF THE LEFT IS NOW

New Future Of The Left.


they have to be one of the most overlooked bands in this blogsphere.
its like the entirety of the internet has avoided them for some reason.
anyhoo, to the song!

mp3: Arming Eritrea

its a barrage of goodness .
here's a couple of tracks from their brilliant album "Curses"

mp3: Manchasm
mp3 Adeadenemyalwayssmellsgood

new album "Travels With Myself And Another"
out middle of June. Shell out a few bucks for it, will ya?

JAPANDROIDS R HEEEEER

Holy God.

This is fantastic:

mp3: "Heart Sweats"

i hate it when i do this, but this is like...DFA 1979+Black Mountain=HOLY S

this is just what we need, yall...this is aggressive.
JAPANDROIDS:

Lisztomania.

Phoenix.
mp3: Lisztomania

its kinda funny how foreigners take their appearances on our television shows a hella
lot more seriously than american bands. american bands dont want to appear to serious
or make a big deal of how COOL and IMPORTANT it is to be playing a T.V. show like SNL.
anywhoo...their performance on SNL singlehandedly made me a fan forever:

Lisztomania:



and

1901:



hooray.
music is fun.

God Dont Need Ya

Well it's 1969 OK
all across the USA
It's another year for me and you
Another year with nothing to do
Last year I was 21
I didn't have a lot of fun
And now I'm gonna be 22
I say oh my and a boo-hoo
It's 1969 OK
all across the USA
It's another year for me and you
Another year with nothing to do
Another year with nothing to do
It's 1969

"None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free."
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"If the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of their currency, first by inflation and then by deflation, the banks and the corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of all property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their father conquered."
- Thomas Jefferson

FCK THE GVMT

mp3: The Stooges "Search & Destroy"

mp3: The Stooges "1969"

THIS IS THE FUTURE. THIS IS AMERICA.

This is what my whole life has been building up to.

Ladies and Gentlemen,
Leaders of The Free World,
Leaders of the Not-So Free World,
Jesus, Buddha, Mohamed, and Ghandi,
I give you,
the one,
the only:

JIM DENG!CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

a song for this grand occasion!

Mr. Loco!
mp3: Bubble Gum

Listen. Here's the deal. Bow. Bow Before Jim Deng.

U KNO IM HAPPY UP HEAR

Royksopp.

Not a fan. But fan of this:




BWAIN ASPLOSION!

i like music sometimes.

Royksopp: Happy Up Here

f the system, yall.

100th Post. Why?

If anyone actually read this I'm sure they would be interested in the fact
that I have been bloggin' my noggin' for two years. But nobody does so I'll
just move on to what i have to say today:

WTF PITCHFORK.

love/hate this site.
today hate.
This clown's review of N.A.S.A's Spirit of Apollo is just stupid.
I love this album.
Its better than fucking Max Tundra's album Parallax Error Beheads You.
Trust me.
This is a stupid exercise in
"OMFG THEY R SOOOO INDIE, MUST GIVE AN 8.5!" vs. "OMFG THEY ARE SO MAINSTREAM AND FUCK WITH SOUNDS I DONT APPRECIATE MUST GIVE 1.9!"

fucking dumb.

I personally find N.A.S.A to be super awesomesauce.

And no pitchfork, they dont suck at making songs. In fact, I think they are 30 million billion times better than Girl Talk or any other genre mash up "artist" at combining diverse blends of music to create something catchy to both mainstream bro and alt alike.

Evidence:

N.A.S.A: Money [Ft. David Byrne, Chuck D, Ras Congo, Seu Jorge & Z-Trip]
N.A.S.A: Gifted [Ft. Kanye West, Santogold & Lykke Li]

Shepard Fairey did the video for Money:




FU PITCHFORK.
THIS BLOG THINKS YOU SUCK TODAY.

I dont understand anything anymore.

I was on espn.com today...this?:

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/thelife/news/story?id=3910900

a story about animal collective? on espn.com?
i hate everything. dont jack my music too. Hollywood already sucks at its job,
radio sucks at its job, tv sucks at its job, preachers suck at their job.
i dont want artists to start sucking at their job.

related/unrelated:


Serge Gainsbourg: Elisa

WHY THA FUCK IS NOONE EXCITED ABOUT THIS?

"EVERY MAN UNDER MY COMMAND OWES ME ONE HUNDRED NAZI SCALPS...AND I WANT MY SCALPS"

I have never been more excited for a film in my life.
This is going to be my generation's The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly.
Doubt me at your peril.