... down a hole.

 
 
Picture
Too me, the new and young Andy Sandberg bites the old and old Weird Al Yankovic.  'Two Jews in a pod' one might say. 

The recent MTV Awards was the first time I’d seen Andy in action; I usually avoid T.V. because it raises my testosterone to unmanageable levels where all I wanna do is kick people in their overexposed dicks. 

New style can’t cover up old concepts.  We Americans pander to youth and love gorging on 'up-to-date' slang even if they're empty calories.  Oxford unabrizzled.  Besides, one isn't hip if they can’t muster up some ebonics or maintain the interest of a 15 year old for more than 10 seconds. 

But watching teenagers reminds me of things that should've stayed yesterday, and not in a good way, like day-old French pastries--rather like the morning blow-ass after a night of hard drinking capped by a carne asada burrito and too much hot sauce. 

The beauty of youth is that everything is fresh and surprises do exist.  When one gets older, and the novelties dry up, we pretend to have forgotten the punch lines so we can still enjoy the jokes.  That is until we’re really old and blessed with senility. 

MTV is the voice of America’s youth and it reminds me of a thrift store where I dropped off a pile of old shit 10 years ago.  Pretty soon Emimen will be forced to salvage that neon pink Alf shirt from the box in his mom’s garage because its $100 remix is sold out in every self-respecting boutique on Rodeo Dr and his daughter simply 'must' have one. 

Things come back around: bell bottoms, aviators, punk.  I get that.  But if life's made up of things we can’t do yet and things we can’t do anymore, I can no longer pretend I haven’t noticed.  My life experiences are becoming a vintage shop. 

Maybe that’s the ticket for generation X.  It’s our turn to start dumping old shit on the newbies.  Anyway, a youthful colleague suggested I watch “I’m on a boat.”  What can I say?  Andy’s the mutha' fuckin' captain... I'm on this boat, bitchaaaays!

 
 
Picture
But sex appeal, evidently, is like a rock-hard popsicle. 

Now, I say the following without the slightest hint of exaggeration and in a tone of the utmost sincerity: if there has ever been, in the history of the world, such a thoroughly satisfying monument to a man's ego as what you see here, I will lick one, s-l-o-w-l-y. 

To merely conceive of 1 million women simultaneously and lustfully, licking my likeness is more awesomeness than there are adequate words.  Unfortunately, for most men this is but a dream, but as you can see for James Bond, aka Daniel "the man" Craig, it's total fucking reality...
 
 
Picture
Seeing the Eminem drama on MTV last night reminded me of some time ago.

 It was the summer of 99' and I'd long since drank my first 6-pack and smoked my first dime. The novelty that summer was a job at the Four Seasons, valet parking cars.  It was also the summer that Eminem was 'blowing up.' 

Hearing Eminem rap was the first time I became genuinely enthralled with hip-hop lyricism outside a passing fancy for Nas, Bone Thugs and Biggie.  He was unique.  He was white. 

I would listen to his songs playing in Bentleys, Ferraris, and Porsches and it wasn't long before I was mimicking him during "work." 

One day I got into an altercation with another valet.  His name was Dave.  I don't remember why we'd annoyed one another, but I do remember we had an audience. 

Dave hurled a couple of standard insults at me, backed by a few jeers from the crowd of valets.  But then, out of the blue, I unleashed a most hellish, ass-ripping freestyle upon him that was so purely devastating, it not only resulted in the complete defamation of Dave's character, but the utter annihilation of his very soul. 

It went something like this:

Dave
you better behave
I may wave
but if you cross me I'll put you in a grave
beat you so hard you'll cave
become my slave for three days
on your knees, serving me and my G's
in a basement, you die
I get a replacement, you lie
by the furnace decomposing
I'm supposing
I could use your body to heat my house for a week
don't fall asleep
I'll creep into your room, with a broom, it's over soon
you wake up your ass is swollen
like somethings been inside you, POKING YOUR COLON!

...The valets went ape-shit, and I was lauded for the next six months.  It was mini fame, or infamy.  Either way, it felt good.  It was genuine reverence, the most significant I'd experienced.  I didn’t chase it though.  I let it come and go.  Those were the days.
 
 

Ask Eminem.  Last night, to a crowd in shock and awe, Slim Shady enjoyed a 'cup-a-tay' on MT-Vay, brewed fresh right in his mouth, with Bruno's bag.  Sasha, you may be doing stuff Howard Stern did 20 years ago, but your timing, and aim, are much better.  Of course, no stunt, like no 69, could go this well without the consent of both parties...