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03/02/01
Mystikism...

 


I taught him well

Check it out: Mystikal, the very famous rapper who shouts all of his lyrics the way Candace Bergen used to shout all of her dialogue on Murphy Brown, came over to my house! (Credit for the Bergen line goes to Libby Gelman-Waxner/Paul Rudnick, by the way.)

He was totally kicking it old school in A-Town (he was getting his taxes done in Austin), and he stopped by because Mystikal and I are "homies." We go way back. In fact, we composed his first rap together. It went like this: (my part is red. Mystikal's is blue.)

 

So I'm fresh like a pita (hot! It's a pita!),
Rockin' out at Wendy's (Wen-DEES!)
Jack cheese 'a drippin'
(liquid!),
Turnin' suckas righteous
(ow! With the righteous!)
Like my name was Scottie Pippen.
(No Jordan!)


It may not sound like much, but it was the Krush Groove of its day.

So, one thing led to another and Mystikal was like, "Yo, man, let's kick some of this shit on your Athlon over there. I know you gots the Sound Blasta' Live."

"Aw, I dunno," I told him. "It's been a long time since I wrecked a mic."

"Yo, yo, yo, yo. I'll lay down the track. You just kick in, all Mystikal-style and shit."

So I did. We reworked one of his songs and created "Duck Soup (Marx Brothers Mix)." Tell me what you think:


Download it in .WAV format (huge) | Download it in MP3 (much smaller)


We're totally going platinum. Triple, beeyatch.

 


 

So to follow that up, I've prepared a new entry, special for Friday, that contains... (wait for it...)

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

Not a damn thing! I walked over to the Inspiration Barrel, kicked it, and found it full of dead fish.

Smelly dead fish.

But there are lots of little things to talk about that I've been hoarding up, all Nuclear Winter Survivor-like, for just such a Friday.

Shall we begin?

If all else fails, I'll just bust out some more Copperfield.

 


 

Okay, about the David Copperfield thing.

I was in a really bad mood the other night. One of those, "What am I good for, life sucks, I'm ugly, work stinks, 'what's this ass smell?', who cares," moods. So I did what anyone feeling those Pure Moods would do late on a Tuesday night.

I grabbed on to David Copperfield's huge equestrian face and slapped it until my hand turned blue.

Not that I don't think it's funny because just saying the words "David Copperfield" makes me laugh.

But it was nothing personal.

He is kind of a dickweed, though, isn't he?

Yeah. I think so, too.

 


 

This is probably around Beer #2.

 

There's Yvonne, Andy, Greg and I at the Weezer concert. Yahoo! (Out Loud, beeyatches!) had these little useless Web kiosks set up where you could play guitar into some headphones or take a picture of yourself and e-mail it to someone. Yahoo!, you have to understand, is so on the cutting-edge of technology, that it took five days for them to e-mail this simple Web cam snap.

You should completely invest all your money in Yahoo! stock is what I'm saying.

I would have posted it sooner, you know, but a glacier must have hit their building or something.

Oh, before you ask, I have no idea why my head is roughly twice the size of anybody else's head in that photo. It must be the, uh, perspective. Yeah. The angle is all screwy. I'm sure of it.

 

Beauty pageants, some deliberation... ==>

 

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