Saturday, December 20, 2003

guest blogger: muscle68

Keith's on a vaca, his clones went home...Red phone rang, picked up. Im coming, commish, be right there. Here to watch the henhouse, but Imma rooster, might be trouble.

6-8. Name's simple, but means much. To me.

Whatcha gonna do?

Imma switch it on em. Yeah, flipmode. Flipmode's the greatest. Consider the script, flipped. Sometimes, you gotta drop knowledge and sometimes a new venue is where that knowledge feels best.

Kool Keith, yeah, K deuce, gives me the canvas, blank, says take it and run with it, but I egged him on to do it, he caved, and said Fo Sho. You step out of your own little blog shell and you realize new neighborhood, new attitude. Gotta adapt, gotta make changes to survive. Evolve. Typing keys, letting Double K's template embrace and hold me. Feels good to be the first to do this, since this was where I first visited when I got plugged in Neo style to the Blogtrix.

Sometimes, you feel like Barbara Eden, but as Jeanie, you know? Trapped in a bottle, only coming out when someone wants you to, you don't have a choice. Cesar Romero, make up on to cover the real you. Frank Gorshin type style, half masks, not giving away all of you. Good or bad, you're putting on a front, a mask, something to cover you up. You got Batman, icon, man numero uno, top guy, and he's wearing a mask. Maybe you're on his style, ya know? Not ashamed of your true self, but afraid of what would happen if you did let yourself be you. Gene Simmons-esque, lose make up, lose support. Who knows?

Struggle everyday to do what's right, acceptable. Just one of those Robert Mitchum love/hate things. The world's black and white, good and evil, but sometimes, good's gotta be evil, get a little dirty to vanquish evil. White's gotta get a lil grey and smudgy to make it happen. Mischief to bring joy. Nothing wrong with that. Show 'em the left, blindside 'em with the right.

But do they want the truth? Lois did, she got it, and then Supes said, hell nah, gotta erase that, Krypton lips...slate wiped clean. Stately Wayne Manor held many beautiful women, some got the truth, and they bolted. Too real. Too true. Maybe you can find that ride or die gal, though, ya know? Mary Jane Watson type flava. Here's a whiskey glass raised for you, hope you find it. I'm still scannin horizons to find it.

So until then, I'mma ride into the sunset, Alan Ladd, Shane shit, ya know? Come back come back Shane! they'll yell, but I'll just keep riding. My job is finito, finished. Maybe pull an Art Vandalay, ride to the Hampton house, with my two solariums, and my horse, Prickly Pete. Import export biz, can always fall back on that. Architects are always needed. But ain't no way I'm selling latex. No future in that.

Stay true to yourself...Kizzol Keith always does, and that's why he's got my respect. I got his back, he's got mine. Green Hornet to my Kato. He can be Bats, I'll be Robbin'. Cloak Dagger style, but movie version. Dabney Coleman. Indy and Short Round, etc, ipso facto, blah blah. You get me.


Friday, December 19, 2003

this identity is my third one, specifically for Friday mornings. There are way more assassins out there getting their twerk on on a Friday morning, especially during the holidays, than you might think. They monitor the phone lines, helicopter surveillance, mechanized rodents, agents posing as drum kits, the whole nine yards.

So my 4th identity is supposed to show up around noon time to relieve me, this is Kurtis by the way, I take care of all Keith's security during the vernal equinox and body double for his publicity shots with the underground media. What about the mainstream? Huh, that's a joke right? Keith don't talk to cbs, keith speaks to the streets and a select few reps for small paper distribution firms, if you don't know don't axe anybody, shit like that.

So anyway, where I was getting with my, or keith's, rather, (shit the training IS that deep) 4th identity, is that holmes is starting to get on my nerves. He always shows up reppin' all like hot shit, like he's the butter and the muffin, I mean, shit, I been with the boss for like 3 months longer and I got the supply line for all of the boss's meds and add on top keeping the dvd's stacked. Shizzle. Young bucks these days ain't got no respect. The game has elevated and been denigrated at the same time, it really would be a goddamn shame if there weren't so much more money and avenues to embezzlement threaded up in there. I mean you look at the og dizzles, and yah, there was room for a buck here & there, but for the major coin you had to have an operation. For an operation you need able bodies, and for that you need major coin. Quid pro quo clarice and catch 22 style, you get the drift.

Prolly shouldn't be telling you this shit, but the boss says flow as needed and nobody will get any kind of repurcussionary type actions from anykines spitted in this here space. So I'm gonna take his word for it. this time. Hey once twice fool me three times lady, but don't be dippin in my apple sauce without preapproved credit, na mean?

And by the way, keith wanted me to tell all of you horse jockeys out there, the grits are burnt and the kettle is grumbling for more different kines of potatoes and onions. He said you'd know what that meant.

Well my shift is just about done. #4 will be here any minute and I wanna have enough time to hang a piss and comb my hair before I head out into the wild blue. Peace.

Wednesday, December 17, 2003

flight was pretty important.

100 years of flight. By ernest p. frankenwhiler. Esquire. The third.

But think about that, just a 100 years in the history of the universe.

You want to know how old the universe is? Do you really? Can you handle the truth? I wonder.

Think of the history of the universe as a calendar. January 1st is the moment of the big bang, when the universe was formed. The last millillillisecond of December 31st is right now. Ya dig.

So, um, the first EVER even sign of man in any way shape or form would not have been until like at 9 PM on December 31st. that was like when the first most cragged out something or other got up on two legs and didn't like jump in a tree at the first opportunity. WAY before cro magnon, oh that would have been a big improvement, truss, the og dayz, anyway...

Got off track. So at like 11:58 at night is like um, when jesus was alive. And the dinosaurs was like, um, in October? Can't remember. The milky way wasn't even around until like February. I mean seriously, you gotta think about it in retrospect like that with relation to how amazingly far we have come in just less than a blip in the grand scheme, a milliblip, mos def, and it's just something that we gotta live with but try not to forget, cuz just 115 years ago some really old skool guy was still like thinking he had to ride in a boat over across the lake to visit aunt ethel.

ain't too much shit going on, contingent. Waiting for godot so I can view some bondage. And that isn't how it sounds, well, um, maybe it is, depending on your perspective. Bumping some eric b & rakim cuz you knowz I keep it old skool. Sitting and typing on a keyboard and looking at a screen cuz you know we headed for the future like neil diamond. Werd.

Seriously doe, if the jurk storr calls, are you supposed to answer? It's a riddle wrapped in a jinx bathroom conundrum. Can you even imagine the aura that must have been floating around the room when Adam West and Bruce Lee stood not 3 feet from each other. Oh my fucking god, it must have been intense. And only now can we look back on it & fully realize the history that was made. Cwazy.

I think I'm liking yodels more than comments. It's much more civilized this way. Comments are for hoes, yodels are for yoes. Feel me? Ya need to find me, while I'm kickin verses in my benz doin 90. yah I stole that AND switched a couple werds, whutchu gonna do, call the get along gang? Nah I didn't think so. I don't even know where I snagged it from, I mean, I've got 20 years plus of hip hop floating through the medulla, ya think I always gots time to catalog that shit and make sure parameters are set? Hellz no, ya gotta flow, and as long as ya give props where you can and don't try to propogate like that shit you're spitting is yours if it's not, then everything should be cool.

If this fukn comment spammer doesn't back the fuck up i might just dump the comments altogether or just fukn bail out of this place for like 85 astromedallions.

cuz this ain't fukn sell your shit central and i'm not brainiac mcgillicuddy who can figure out how to like cock block this fuckbag and those two ideas don't seem to be meeting each other like at the perfect juncture.

yah it's like destroy the body to cure the soul, ok maybe not, but shit, desperate times, measures, yadda yadda yadda.

Tuesday, December 16, 2003

if you really want to know, ok I'll tell you. don't try to even tell me that suddenly you've lost interest, cuz I'll see right through that like prism on an hourglass. Yah, you know what I'm talking about, the aka, the pseudonym, the real angle? Shit, this is the real angle, and the fake one. You know it you told it you sold it, so don't owe it, screw it don't do it but be don't ski it. well, ski it if you really really want to. It's all good in the hood and you and I both realize that the ultimate level of this championship is happening in about 5 astro medallions.

So whut do you think of the new yodeling feature? Yah you're allowed to represent your heritage herein at the farm albeit only if you're from like the fjords of Yorktown or wherever yodeling is prevalent, but at least it's a step in the right direction, cuz seriously, those people have been given the raw end of the stick and shoved over to the other side of the tracks for going on way too long.

The other thing I was gonna mention was about the ice cream sandwiches. If joe is going to continue to monopolize that corner of the freezer then I'm gonna have to regulate via my duster and bowler hat down on 7th ave and don't even think that I won't out of some kind of prefabricated sense of commitment and or sentimentality, cuz that's just not the case. I'm real with this shit and I will step in and raise the umbrella high if it's what is necessary to keep this flag flying in the manner of which I and most of my colleagues have become accustomed. Sincerely, Alfred.

Dear Alfred. Fuck you. you can take your manners and your umbrella and stick them, shit, not just in your ass, up your man twat, you little ninny dander eating esophagus whore. If you even try stepping up into my block with that bullshit, believe that me and the boys will pound your lungs full of nougat until the shit is busted and coming out of stitches that got sewn on your ass when you were like 7 years old. Don't doubt it cuz I ain't about to pout it. cuz I'm 'bout it. dig? Hope so. Sincerely, kool keith's grandma's stepson.

Dear fake rapper ass bitch monkey. This is joe wanker stanker the banker with the beef flanker. Get it, got it, good. No more words shall be required from the juncture that I'm heading down, so just a little advice, don't act so big that those britches over there no longer hold the package that the good lord blessed you with and the holy ghost allowed for to be properly functional what with your proclivities and bad habits and misunderstood dirty deeds up on 3rd street. Keep it in check, cuz you know I will. Aloha.

Ok I'm kind of freaked out cuz I just found out that Alan Napier died in Santa Monica. Circles are converging, long thought forgotten undersea gyres are going off with the geostrophic effect in full gear, for all those that are wondering. Yup.

Monday, December 15, 2003

sometimes you gotta orchestrate shit.

some clowns gots to step so we can get on some odb type shit.

tell me I didn't see odb in that video with that nsync guy. And I'm not talking Justin timberlake, one of the other ones, a real deuschebag. The really really forgettable one. All I can remember are jt, and the oldest one with the goofy ass hair, and then it's just like this big blank, there were what, 3 other guys? And no face comes to me, but when I see them I know. AND when I see odb I know and they were together and it was not good. Like trying to act REALLY tough with MASS chicks everywhere like half naked and it was not will never be pimp. Yah.

Jason Blakemore is a badass DJ. He used to be DJ Trance way back in the day and he used to take me to places that only palookaville had thought of at that point. He doesn't know about it though cuz it was in my mind. A lot of it, and for a long way. Thank you.

I am not mentioning and not by purpose but out of lack of motivation to throw my nickel bag of funk in an overfettered field referencing that big ol thing whut with that guy with that big ol beard out in that big ol desert in that itty bitty but well equipped hole that they finally corralled.

Treacher, as usual, though, has a nice take. Takes, I guess, actually.

Peace in bitten effect, stuck with a late pass, step.

I just want to have a peaceful morning. That’s all I want to do. And then the crowd can fizzle down the avenue to the ocean break and see the surf and the sand and the water and the people and the sounds sights smells of ocean meeting terra firma. What the fiddler said on that roof was so correct in a lot of ways. He said, simone, you know that you can tear a man’s heart into shreds and then try to sew it back together for like 500 astromedallions.

Shit, it was the jurk storr again. They said that the shrimp and the pineapple are meeting with the gorilla squad on 59th street to discuss in great length why they are running out of you. hopefully they’ll get some kind of consensus before they’re all shithouse drunk and running around the rooms grabbing everyone’s underwear.

But I wouldn’t count on it. you never can these days. On anything. That’s what my uncle remus said. People come & people go but you’ve always got massive amounts of medication right around the corner, that was from my aunt evelyne, the one from 12th street, who wasn’t really my aunt, if you catch my drift, she was like, this crazy vampire lady and I’d bring her her blood from the local blood banks, like delivery joe mcgrow, the old skool version, and she’d be there all like blood shooting out of her eyes when I showed up, but it didn’t bother me that much ya know, I’m pretty impervious to gross out shit except barf so like then this big dog walks in and like pisses all over her, out there style, but not that bad, kind of funny, and then I woke up and walked to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and I didn’t have any eyes, except I could see perfectly clear, out of my belly button.

Which was strange, if I’m seeing out of my bellybutton then how am I being at eye level with the mirror? This was totally insane. I knew I had to investigate.

So I said goodbye to my aunt evelyne, who, all things considered, was having one of her better days, and then the milkman showed up, but I really don’t want to get into that. he’s this guy named homer wagner, and he runs this store, yet he still personally delivers 95% of the milk to the oldest customers, I mean, you have to have been doing beeswax with wagner for way many years, like at least 25, before you’d get the personal service. But you could get it grandfathered in, and I should know, cuz I used to work for him, and the younger clientele still have their parents’ accounts, and I would handle that shit, straight up & down, ya know take care of business with the sizzle like ‘fredocious mimicries but original. Except it was my alter identity of pat boone’s stepbrother.

Anyway, once you got it, the special treatment from any of wagner’s well versed associates, you couldn’t go back, it was the wagner way and she taught him some wackey hijinx on the downlo and they were laying in the back of his dodge rampage thinking about runway lights when he asked her what the meaning of life was and she said fuck it and crawled all over him and it was just right.