Following a spate of reports from several attendees at Thom Yorke’s recent solo set at the Echoplex last week, the Vatican has created a commission to investigate reports of celestial visions and miracles performed, including a Los Angeles native who claimed that Yorke’s celestial wail and boisterous dance moves miraculously cured his gout, rickets, and anemia of funk.
According to attendees, the unexplained phenomena occurred shortly after Flea started slapping his bass and Yorke unveiled a host of gumby-limbed dance moves learned following a careful study of Soul Train VHS tapes from 1981-1983.
“When Thom announced that he had spontaneously decided to play a warm-up show that had been planned for three months, I knew that I’d better start waiting outside,” said Joseph McGillicuddy, a 23-year old shepherd from Barstow, who was stunned upon hearing of the invention of Ticketweb.
BUSTA RHYMES and jovial sidekick, SPLIFF STARR, stroll through a barren wasteland: famished, high and disoriented.
Busta:Where are we, Spliff?
Spliff Starr: Yemen.
Busta Rhymes: Don’t yeah man, me…I pay you for two things: carrying drugs and geographic know-how.
Spliff Starr: No, Yemen. It’s nearly 600,000 square kilometers, approximately the size of Thailand. It’s chief exports are oil, coffee, fish….
Busta Rhymes: (pointing) Put your eyes where my hands can see.
Spliff Star: It’s a bird…it’s a plane.
Busta Rhymes: It’s an Arab!
Busta & Spliff Starr (together): With money!
Greek Chorus Consisting of RICK ROSS, JIM JONES, AKON, DJ KHALED, SOULJA BOY, PUFFY and RON BROWZ.
Woe and peril are the fate of the man forced to confront the burden of getting Arab Money. We getting Arab Money.
Shaking them off, Busta and Spliff hold hands and frolicgleefully towards the palace.
The Scarecrow Obviously Being the Weed Carrier
INT. THE ARABIAN PALACE-TIME CEASES TO HAVE ALL MEANING
Gone are Busta and Spliff’s threadbare hoodies, in their stead are magnificent garments made from the finest tailors in Aden.
Busta: Look at us, Spliff Star and Busa Bus, dressing the craziest, like an Arabiest.
Spliff: Does this mean Dre is taking our calls again?
Busta: No, it’s Middle East women and Middle East bread.
Spliff: Pita?
Busta: (ignoring Spliff’s response, fingering his new duds). Does this vest make me look fat?
Spliff: You look beautiful. But tell me if the sunglasses inside are too much?
They approach an Arab gentleman perched on a throne, surrounded by beautiful women. He extends his arms.
Arab Moneyed: Ah, Spliff Star and Busta Rhymes, I have been expecting you. Can I offer you a flute of champagne, an orange, an odalisque.
Touch It-Bring It-Pay It-Watch It-Turn It-Leave It
Busta: Whoo-hah, you got’s it all in check.
Spliff: Thank you sir and may I say, your hair looks magnificent.What hair gel do you use.
Arab Moneyed: Bedouin Head.
Greek Chorus of Rick Ross, Jim Jones, Akon, DJ Khaled, Soulja Boy, Puffy and Ron Browz: Only at the golf course, can the secret of Arab Money begin to to be revealed.
Shrugging his shoulders, a melancholy Rick Ross leaves the Greek Chorus and addresses the crowd, holding a skull.
Rick Ross: Great shame has been brought to the house of Ross. No longer is he the biggest boss, he has seen thus far. Ross has been eclipsed. Ross is speeding no longer.
Ross looks gravely at the platinum chain of his own face that dangles around his neck.
Ross: Here hung those lips that Ross has kissed I know not how oft.
Seeing Ross disconsolate, Akon sidles up beside him.
Akon: Hang in there Rick Ross, you’ve sold millions of records, you’re beloved the world over by high school basketball coaches, the Florida Penal Community, and irony-loving bloggers from Texas to Tanzania.
Ross: But Ross pushes, he pushes.
Akon: You don’t know that he’s a bigger boss than you. You have no smoking gun.
Ross: Ross does not like your choice of verbiage.
Greek Chorus of only DJ Khaled: Greek chorus taking over. We the best.
Skull Gang! Santana!
INT. YEMENI PALACE-SUPPERTIME
Busta yawns and taps on the shoulder of his new associate.
Busta: Take me to a 7-star hotel! Busta Rhymes has Arab Money and Busta Rhymes intends to spend Arab money.
Arab Moneyed: Your wish is my command. Treat me like a genie, whatever your most stereotypical desires are, I shall obey.
Magically, they are transported to a lavish casino in Dubai.
Arab Moneyed: How would you like to play pinochle with the ghost of the great Muhamed Ali.
Spliff Starr: Just because a motherfucker got Parkinson’s don’t mean he dead.
Arab Moneyed: No, you don’t understand. I meant the other Muhammad Ali, the late-Pasha of Egypt.
Spliff and Busta stare quizically.
Arab Moneyed: Then the ghost of Yassir Arafat it is. But watch out he cheats.
Greek Chorus of Jim Jones waving dollar bills at the camera with a pelt on his back: SABLE! GET FURRY!
DipSquirrel: The Latest Hare-Brained Scheme
EXT. CROWD SHOT
Busta Rhymes and Spliff Star cavort triumphantly, watching a crowd of Middle Easterners affirm their love of petrodollars and the rappers who love them.
Spliff Starr: The people adore us again. It had been so lonely since “Pass the Coirvoisier.” Who needs Andre anyhow?
Busta Rhymes: They respect me in Maui, Malaysia, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Iran.
Spliff Star: Less than one percent of the island of Maui is Arab.
Busta Rhymes: But they know that we get money.
Spliff Starr & Busta Rhymes (together): We getting Arab money!
They hug. Spliff Starr sheds a single tear of joy.
Busta Rhymes: And you said I’d have to start wearing dresses again.
Last week reggaeton star, Daddy Yankee and Arizona Senator John McCain met to discuss immigration, education and a possible Yankee endorsement of the Republican candidate for president. While a transcript of the interview has not officially surfaced, my top-secret sources have thankfully provided the details of what transpired during Daddy Yankee and Granddaddy McCain’s summit.
Int. Secretary John McCain’s Washington Office-Early Evening.
A knockis heard. John McCain turns off the episode of Wheel of Fortune.
McCain: Come in.
The door opens, Daddy Yankee enters.
McCain: Hello Daddy Yankee. Can I call you daddy?
Daddy Yankee: Yo, it’s your boy Daddy Yankee, I got this game locked down.
McCain: I too enjoy a good game of Monopoly or Clue.
An aide whispers in his ear.
McCain: And Bible Bombardment. Gotta’ appeal to the base.
Daddy Yankee: Pump the bass. Move it. Move it.
McCain: That’s precisely what I’ve been telling my advisers. The base isn’t set in stone. We just need to devise a strategy that can get our point across. If only the media wasn’t so in love with Barack. Don’t they understand that my energy plan makes the most sense . I’m about lowering the cost of gas now!
Daddy Yankee: A ella le gusta la gasolina.
McCain: Of course, she does, it’s about off-shore drilling, nuclear power, tapping into the US strategic oil reserve. Everyone likes driving their car. When I used to be stationed in Pensacola, Florida as a young naval officer, I used to go cruising to the malt shop with this floozy named Trixie. We necked and necked and necked.
Daddy Yankee: Dame mas gasolina. Como encanta la gasolina.
McCain: Ha ha. You sound just like George there.
Daddy Yankee: I got my heart. I got my balls and enough heart to break y’alls jaws.
McCain: Have you ever given any thought to enlisting in the military? We could use a few more thousand people just like you if we’re going to be able to secure a peace in Iraq for the next hundred years.
Daddy Yankee: I’d rather round out my n—s from Puerto Rico to help me out with this war.
McCain: The Army is always recruiting too.
Daddy Yankee: Bring it on.
Another knock is heard at the door. Cindy McCain enters, pomegranate martini in hand. McCain adviser Carly Fiorina follows her inside the office.
McCain: Hello pookie, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine, a uh…Mr. Daddy Yankee.
Cindy McCain: I know who he is. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Yankee.
Daddy: You know who I am. I’m your papi, papi, papi, papi.
They shake hands, she looks seductively into his eyes.
McCain: How did you know who he was?
Cindy: C’mon, John. Get with the times. Everyone who’s anyone in Washington reads Dub.
Daddy Yankee: Daddy suena activa. Con el sandel Caribe. Les mamis se lo vive. Pega y te melato.
Cindy(squealing): Ooh, I just love it when he speaks in Spanish. It reminds me of back home. Can I offer you a beer?
Daddy Yankee: Tienes medalla?
Cindy nods blankly.
McCain: Ok, Daddy. Let’s talk about big things. Immigration policy. Education. This Ragu-tons thing you were telling me about over the phone.
Daddy Yankee: What you know about big things? Chrome wheels own deals.
Cindy: See John, this is why you need to read Dub.
Daddy Yankee turns to Cindy.
Daddy Yankee: Me and you, holding it down. It’s all real, come on.
Cindy: (blushing) Well, I’m flattered that you think it’s all real, but I have had a little work done.
Daddy Yankee: Yo lo tengo, whu-whu-what. Mucho carnito ma. El papi lover te lo da.
Carly Fiorina turns to Cindy.
Carly Fiorina: Did you know that viagra is covered under some health care plans but not birth control?
McCain grows flustered and grabs his wife’s hand.
McCain: Who said anything about viagra?
Daddy Yankee turns to Cindy.
Daddy Yankee: With a girl like you, you forget the nonsense. We peeps don’t give a fuck about the chicos and gossip.
McCain: This is positively preposterous, Cindy. Besides, at least I don’t plaster on my make-up like a trollop, you cunt.
Cindy: There you go with the trollop stuff again. That’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m leaving.
She grabs Daddy Yankee’s hand.
Cindy: C’mon Daddy Yankee, give me the straight talk express.
As the voters of Texas, Rhode Island, Vermont and Ohio filed to the polls yesterday to help decide the Democratic Party’s nomination for President, will.i.am., the capitalization averse mastermind of the Black Eyed Peas continued his steadfast efforts to help elect Senator Barack Obama of Illinois. Indeed, while most election-day volunteers focused on get-out-the-vote efforts, i.am. sat down in his studio to concoct his most powerful campaign song yet, one that reveals his inner-most feelings for the candidate, as well as offering tantalizing sexual favors that have been hard to come by on the campaign trail.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gay,” i.am said giggling and adjusting the pink fedora that he wore on the set of the new Peas video, “Shake Yo’ Lumpy Love Bumps. “But if Obama needs a little stress relief, I want him to know that I’m there for him. That’s how dedicated i.am to the message of hope and change that Obama brings to the table. Rest assured, I won’t like doing it. At least not much.”
While i.am’s, first two videos featured cameos from the likes of intellectual powerhouses such as John Legend, Scarlet Johansson, Tyrese, Jessica Alba and George Lopez, the Los Angeles native decided that for video number three he needed to offer an honest revelation of the depths of his man-crush. While various beautiful starlets offered to help i.am. in giving Obama hand jobs, i.am. said that this time he needed to go solo.
“When I look into Barack’s baleful brown eyes, he touches the depths of my inner artist,” i.am. averred. “I’ve written many songs that have meant a great deal to many people. “My Humps,” has been proven to cure cancer, “Let’s Get Retarded,” has helped millions of Americans cope with mental retardation and “I Got It From My Mama,” artfully explained the complicated world of genetics. Yet the song-writing process was never more natural than for ‘Hands Holding Hope.’ One second I was wondering what more I could do for Barack, the next I knew the answer: hand jobs.”
While Obama was unavailable for comment as he gathered at his Chicago headquarters to watch the primary results, an Obama campaign spokesman, Ellis Frumerberg, denied reports that the candidate took i.am. up on his salacious offer.
“Those allegations are preposterous,” Frumerberg said. “Obama has been happily married to his wife Michelle for over 16 years and he would never think about accepting illegal campaign handtributions. And might I add, that if he were to accept one, it would most certainly be from Jessica Alba.”
Clinton campaign staffers were quick to spin this as another example of Obama’s lack of experience.
“When the President is woken up at 3:00 a.m with an emergency crisis., who do you trust to make the right decision?” Clinton said. “Do you want a president willing to go to third base with the man who introduced Fergie to the world? To say nothing of his solo record. He’s the only man on earth capable of making Wyclef Jean look like Bob Marley.”
Anonymous sources inside the Clinton campaign confirmed that Tina Fey had proposed to make out with Clinton on camera in an attempt to woo the MTV crowd. However, the offer was promptly rebuffed.
After an intense scrutiny of the video for “Sensual Seduction” confirmed what a battery of MRI exams had already hinted at, neurologist Gerald Schwartz of The Mayo Clinic has decisively concluded that the rapper, Snoop Dogg, has smoked himself “retarded.”
“Retarded isn’t a term we even use anymore, but in this case it just seems to fit,” Schwartz said, furrowing his brow and waving his hands in air as though he actually does care. “Sometime around The Doggfather, Snoop’s chronic use of chronic began to take its toll. Subsequent forays in the world of pornography, youth football and whatever Doggy Fizzle Telefizzle was, are further evidence of his burn-out, “The unfortunate reality is that 98.3 percent of Snoop Dogg’s cerebral synapses are smothered in THC like birds dying on the beach after an oil spill.”
Schwartz displayed the results of the questionnaire that Mr. Dogg filled out upon being admitted to the Mayo clinic.
“Look at this!” Schwartz said, showing reporters a Mayo entrance questionnaire where Dogg had written his name: Calvin Broadizzle Deezle. “The subject is unable to properly spell his own name correctly, not to mention he’s exhibited classic schizophrenic behavior, by frequently requesting a voice box to sing into and asking the staff if they know whether or not he’s a freak. He also kept on repeating the word, “Bootsy over and over again.”
Let’s Just Cut to the Chase, There is Never a Bad Time To Post a Cover of a Zapp Album
Dogg’s former mentor, Dr. Dre declined to comment on his colleague’s medical condition, cl claiming to be too busy with his rigorous daily routine of snorting power shakes and bench-pressing baby elephants.
However, Dre’s half-brother, frequent Snoop collaborator, Warren G, opened up to reporters about his fallen friend.
“Snoop….man….Snoop likes his weed,” Warren G said, pausing, sighing and staring at the heavens. “I don’t know why people still give him so much attention. I mean, you people do you realize that he’s spit the same 16 bars in every verse since 1997? What about me? I’m Warren G. Don’t you guys remember “Regulate?” Or “This is the Shack” Those were awesome, right? ”
After initially turning down several interview requests, Snoop Dogg gathered reporters to his house out in the hills right next to Chino, to deny reports of Schwartz’s damning theories. Wearing nothing but a rhinestone studded lame jumpsuit and an electric guitar, the Long Beach bred rapper waggled his finger at the assembled media.
“You’ll reportizzle is off-fizzle…Snoop Dizzle is still number wizzle. Pizzle, bitches. Pizzle.”
Dogg then dismissed the crowd with a wave, an air pimp-slap and a villainous laugh. As for Schwartz, he contends that Dogg is slated to report back to the Mayo clinic in two weeks for some highly experimental brain therapy.
“We’re determined to try to recover as much of his brain matter as possible,” Schwartz said. We’re going to get him on a manageable five blunt a day diet with no more than two glasses a day of Gin and Juice. We’re also playing him an endless loop of The Chronic and Doggystyle and we’re also considering showing Snoop re-runs of The L Word, specifically his guest appearances as ‘Slim Daddy.”
If you need more drug info for specific reasons, such as to find out if marijuana will have any sorts of drug side effects during pregnancy, then while you should consult a doctor about the drugs you are taking you can also use the Internet to find out a lot about drugs and their effects.
Marring an otherwise peaceful weekend, Harrison Lancaster of Williamsburg, Brooklyn, was pronounced dead on the scene, at 9:45 p.m. on Saturday night, after his head reportedly exploded in the midst of Yoko Ono’s headlining set at the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago. No by-standers were apparently hurt, though several hirsute spectators complained to festival organizers about being irritated by the violent and geyser-like eruption, as it disturbed their enjoyment of Ms. Ono’s gong playing and cauterwauling.
Lancaster’s friends expressed shock and sadness at the loss of the man, they called “Hipster Harrison.”
“I started to worry about Harrison the moment, we arrived,” his best friend Bradford Sadler, of Park Slope, Brooklyn said. “He loved Slint. They were his fourth favorite American post-rock experimental noise collective of the 80s, but when Sonic Youth played Daydream Nation, Harrison almost hyper-ventilated. He always loved that record. Well, maybe not always. At first when he came to Brooklyn, he hated Sonic Youth. So we told him that he was too stupid to understand their brilliance. So he locked himself up in a closet for 48 hours with nothing but a copy of Daydream Nation, some nude pictures of Kim Gordon and a case of PBR. It really earned our respect.”
After Sonic Youth’s set closed down the first night of the festival, Lancaster returned to his hotel room and according to his friend, Sadler , he seemed fine. Yet interviews conducted with other guests at the downtown Chicago Sheraton, Hotel, speak to a reality that was anything but.
“I don’t know what that kid was doing in his room and I’m not sure I wanna’ know,” life insurance salesman and Sheraton guest Marvin Bradshaw said. “I kept on hearing loud moans and he kept on screaming ‘GIRL TALK’ ‘GIRL TALK’. Maybe the kid was calling a phone sex line or something?”
What’s that? You Don’t Love Girl Talk? But you HAVE to love Girl Talk. That is, unless you’re a conformist. You’re not a conformist are you? ARE YOU?
According to Sadler, Harrison’s hysteria only seemed to increase with every Saturday set.
“It was so hot and Harrison refused to rest for even a second. He wouldn’t miss anyone’s set. He was so excited to see Battles that he brought his calculator. I tried to explain to him that that wasn’t what Math Rock was, but he was just so thrilled to be there.”
It was only after the Battles performance when Lancaster’s health truly started to go downhill.
“I told him that he couldn’t actually be in three places at the same time, but he wouldn’t listen,” Sadler said. “He kept on running around in circles, trying to see all of Mastodon, Clipse, & Dan Deacon’s set. When I tried to stop him, he just sneered at me and told me that “I’d never get to go to Blood Mountain. And that Hell Hath No Fury for anyone who wasn’t Spiderman of the Rings.”
Dan Deacon: So Irritating, He MUST be Brilliant
According to Dr. Lewis Applebee, the first physician to attend to Lancaster, the 22-year old Sarah Lawrence graduate’s death stemmed from over-stimulation produced by the festival’s blend of esoteric and challenging independent music, the heat of the Chicago Summer and Yoko Ono herself.
“Everyone knows that when you mix heat, hipsters and Yoko Ono, tragedy is bound to strike,” Applebee opined. “Seeing Yoko must’ve put Harrison over the top. Her high-pitched shriek is the anti-dog whistle, in that normal people hear a shrill, obnoxious wail, while only the specially trained finely honed hipster ear can decipher it’s true spastic brilliance. Add that to Harrison’s already fragile condition and you have a recipe for spontaneous combustion.”
Sadler eulogized his fallen comrade, pouring out a little Pabst Blue Ribbon for the dead.
“It’s just so sad that Harrison didn’t get to see Deerhunter. I think he would’ve really loved those kids. There was nothing Harrison enjoyed more than a band making music that really challenged the notions of what it it means to make avant-garde music for art-school kids with trust funds, music critics and avant-garde art-school kids with trust funds who write online music criticism .”
Harrison Lancaster was survived by his parents Chad and Veronica and his turtle, Captain Beefheart.
When I woke up up this morning, I was struck by the horrible realization that this is the first morning of the rest of my life without the King of Queens. Sure, I knew the day would eventually come, but I guess in the back of my mind I never believed that the network suits would actually go through with it. And yet, today I woke up and lo and behold, the jelly doughnuts weren’t as sweet, the sun wasn’t as as bright, the mail wasn’t delivered as promptly.
They say that bad things come in threes and as if last night’s disaster wasn’t harsh enough, this morning I read an article that hinted that According to Jim and The George Lopez Show might get the ax too. Et tu, ABC? Et Tu? Where in God’s name will I be able to go to tune into the lovable follies of an overweight man and his encounters with his very hot sitcom wife and their eccentric but kind-hearted neighbors and children. Thanks, network executives, for killing all my role models.
Every so often, a figure emerges that claims to be the spokesman for a generation. Indeed, The King of Queens provided a thirty minute safe haven each week, for a generation of heavy-set males to dream of snagging the chick that played Stacey Carosi on Saved by the Bell despite our clogged arteries, four chins, and low-paying bureaucratic jobs. And hell, after being forced to watch Roseanne all through the 90s, it felt good to dream big (though not literally).
Farewell Sweet King , You Shall Never Be Forgotten Today a new world rears its ugly head and life seems to have no direction. 205 episodes, nine years, and one Emmy nomination later, it’s been a wild ride. I remember those early days like it was yesterday, those periods when I foolishly that I might get tired of watching Honeymooners episodes poorly updated for the present. Yet I’ll be damned if bowling jokes never get old. The critics can have their Arrested Developments or their Freeks and Geeks, I’ll take a bored housewife calling her husband fat every single time.
The King might be Dead, but believe me, I’ll be looking elsewhere for a new hero, for a new role model, one with a similarly unrestrained waistline and a knack for making killer fart jokes. Hell, I already have some ideas in mind. As Hendrix once said, somewhere a king has no wife, but somewhere else, the wind cries I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry.
What are the odds of this being Halfway Decent? 13 to One.
After seeing a preview of upcoming crime caper, Oceans 13 before the 7:30 showing of Blades of Glory, Tampa, Fla. resident Beth Flournoy remains convinced that Oceans 13 will easily be the finest film of the Oceans trilogy. A conclusion that in recent weeks has put her at odds with both friends and family.
“I don’t care what they say,” Flourney said matter-of-factly. “I remain 100 percent positive that Oceans 13 will tie up all the loose ends started in the first two films. What people don’t understand is that Danny Ocean is very complex man. You can’t tell his entire life story in just two movies. Did they tell Elijah Wood, hey man, you’ve got to wrap this whole Lord of the Things thing in two movies. I don’t think so.”
Attempts by Flournoy’s husband to dissuade Beth from her beliefs, were to no avail.
“You should’ve seen how excited she got when she saw the preview and George Clooney had a mustache,” Jacob Flournoy said. “I know she can’t actually think that this one is going to be good. She doesn’t even know any of the characters names other than Clooney. She thinks anything Clooney’s in is brilliant. Even The Facts of Life.
The Facts of Life: The Mullet Years
Jacob Fluornoy was not the only one in the Flournoy household convinced that their mother has poor taste in movies. Rebecca Flournoy, the couple’s 14-year old daughter also expressed displeasure with being forced to hear about Ocean’s 13 at the dinner table.
“Oh my god, my mom is so lame,” Flournoy said rolling her eyes. “Everyone knows those movies are just an excuse for a bunch of rich movie stars to go on vacation all over the world and get paid $20 million to do so. And the only people who really want to see it are women who totally want to see George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Al Pacino, and Matt Damon in tuxedos. Whatever, that’s lame. They should put Bright Eyes in the movie or something. Than I’d go see it.”
Bright Eyes declined to comment, despite his geographical proximity to the Flournoy family. Reportedly, the singer known as Conor Oborst was attending another psychic camp in Florida, trying to figure out what sort of magic potion to take to actually make a good record.
Bright Eyes: Just Like Bob Dylan. If Bob Dylan Really Really Sucked However, despite her daughter’s request for Bright Eyes to be added to the cast, Beth Flournoy claimed that the film will be perfect, just the way it is.
“This film is not about commerce, it’s not about the major studios wanting major franchise blockbusters to prop up sagging box box office, this film is about Danny Ocean saying to his gang of lovably handsome rapscallions, ‘hey guys, Andy Garcia is out to get us, let’s go fuck shit up while drinking martinis in tuxedos,” Beth Flournoy said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a trailer to re-watch.
But did they really need to decorate Don Cheadle in an American Flag jacket?
Off the strength of his powerhouse performance at the Radio and Television Correspondents’ Association dinner, MC Rove has been signed to a multi-album deal at “gangsta rap’s” most renowned label, Interscope. With hip-hop sales flagging of late, Jimmy Iovine and Co. claim that MC Rove is exactly the sort of new talent that the label needs to actively pursue.
“It’s no secret that we like our rappers oozing with street cred,” Iovine said. “From 50 Cent to Young Buck, to back when we had ‘Pac, the big bucks come when rappers forget about skills and lyrics and focus on the important things: keepin’ it “gangsta.” After watching Rove help run America for the past seven years, I knew he could keep it gangsta. After all, he’s helped kill more people than all of our rappers combined. But I didn’t know he could rap. If I had to make a prediction, MC Rove will in fact be our next treasure trove. I just hope he looks good with his shirt off on the album cover.”
Rove himself seemed excited by this latest venture, anticipating the challenges of the world of hip-hop.
“I’m not gonna’ lie, I’m excited about my first beef,” Rove chuckled sinisterly. “Shit, its been since 04 since we had beef with John Kerry and my trigger finger’s growing itchy. I’m thinking about taking on that punk-ass Admadinejad on wax and letting my boy Dubya handle it on the ground. Know what I’m saying? It’s like what BIG said: “What’s beef? Beef is when you need two gats to go to sleep. Beef is when you roll no less than 30 deep. Beef is when I see you, guaranteed to be in I.C.U.” I told that to Colin Powell right before handing him a dossier of fake evidence to present before the U.N.
Whatever Happened to a Good Ol’ Fashioned Tar & Feathering?
Rove’s label-mate, 50 Cent says he’s looking forward to meeting with Interscope’s latest roster addition.
“I’m thinking MC Rove could fit right into G-Unit,” 50 Cent said while finishing off the details of a new deal to license his name to a new line of women’s panty-hose. “That mothafucka’s gangsta, he’s not scared to walk into town and just start blasting, with no plans to clean up the mess. Those GOP dudes roll deep. If we can get MC Rove in the Unit, he can bring us tons of automatics from his hook-up at the NRA, maybe even bring in some oil tycoons to finance the operation. And you know he can’t rap any worse than Banks or Ya-Yo.”
But not all parties were pleased with Rove’s new position. President Bush expressed despair at the loss of the man often called “Bush’s Brain.”
“I’ll miss turd blossom. He’s been one of my most trusted advisers since the get-go, but when he told me he needed to do his duty to help the ailing hip-hop labels, I told him he needed to go,” Bush said. “Fewer and fewer records each year, mean fewer and fewer record industry billionaires. If we can’t bail out the industry and those billionaires lose all their wealth and power, who will be left for us to pander to? After all, there’s only so many Evangelicals you can slavishly obey.’
When asked about his debut album’s title, Rove told Passion of the Weiss Sources that it will be entitled “More Bombs Over Baghdad.” When informed that there already was a rap record with a similar title, Rove double-checked and soon realized that he had been merely been reading his outgoing policy recommendations for Iraq.
With an estimated 50,000 copies purchased by members of NAMBLA, the eponymous debut from Rich Boy scored the #1 slot on the Soundscan charts last week, moving approximately 250,000 units total. While some have decried the unsavory politics of the North American Man/Boy Love Association, America’s chief pedophile defense organization, others maintain that Rich Boy and men who love to kiss boys are a perfectly natural pairing considering the ever-increasing ties between mainstream hip-hop and homo-eroticism at large. One such proponent of the link was NAMBLA president, Chester “The Molester” Rollins.
“When I first saw the album cover, I knew this was something that would interest our membership,” Rollins said. “All of our members love rich boys. Not to say that we don’t love poor boys too, but coupled with that oh-so-sexy cover shot of Rich Boy without his shirt off, this is an album that we knew our roster needed to jump on. Literally and figuratively.”
Vance Miller, Rich Boy’s A&R for Interscope Records seemed little troubled by Rich Boy’s burgeoning child molester fan base.
“Hey if child molesters want to support a talented artist like Rich Boy, we’re all for it. Sure, it’s a little weird that they want to cornhole an underage boy or two or 37, but hey, at least they don’t download music illegally. That’s the real crime,” Miller said.
How About We Throw Some Talent On That Bitch, Instead?
Arthur Fenster IV, a media critic, adjunct professor at Cal-State Chico and self-proclaimed “hip-hop scholar” expressed little surprise at NAMBLA’s adoption of Rich Boy as their new favorite hip-hop artist.
“To be honest, I’m surprised NAMBLA hasn’t been more involved in hip-hop before,” Fenster IV said. “From 50 Cent, to Ja Rule to L’il Wayne, it isn’t a real hip-hop album if it doesn’t involve a young muscular black man oiled up and shirtless posing next to an expensive car. Rich Boy is simply the latest in a proud tradition of homo-eroticism in hip-hop that stretches back all the way to 2002.”
Rich Boy himself seemed similarly non-plussed by the discovery of his NAMBLA fan-base.
“Damn right NAMBLA know Rich Boys and they know who’s the greatest reppin’ all us Rich Boys,” Rich Boy said. “I don’t give a fuck who likes my music as long as I get paid. Throw some dollars on that bitch! More Money + More Rims=Good.”
Though some naysayers predicted that the NAMBLA members would be disappointed, Chester “The Molester” Rollins, NAMBLA president spoke for the organization when he said that they are pleased with the album.
“From the name Rich Boy, to “Throw Some D’s” to “Boy Look Here,” to “Good Things” to “And I Love You” to “Touch That Ass” to my personal favorite,”Role Model” this album has homo-eroticism for days,” Rollins said. “You best believe I’ll throw some D’s on that bitch! And I’m not talking rims.”
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