wes anderson

what asshole went and told this dude he could write a story? if i can track down his high school english teacher i'm gonna beat 'em stupid with a fucking first edition catcher in the rye. sure, i dug bottle rocket (though now i mostly appreciate it for introducing me to the proclaimers' classic first album, and anyone who thinks the proclaimers can suck it can suck it), but come on! i'll admit his shit looks real nice and blah blah blah mise-en-scene blah blah blah, but his movies have got me's-in-censed (you see how i flipped that shit?!). i could give a fuck about all these people. i'm supposed to feel bad for these dudes that are travelling around india by train, doing drugs and screwing a stewardess? i'm sorry, what? that sounds like my dream vacation, why you sad asshat? i got over feeling bad for rich, self-indulgent white dudes when i read bright lights, big city 10 years ago. you know what though, wes? i'd rather watch that fucking michael j. fox trainwreck again than one of your movies and that may be the harshest insult i've ever spat out. go be someone's art director. if i wanna watch a beautiful movie that nothing happens in, i'll go watch antonioni's the passenger for the 57th time, that way i won't have to listen to a bunch of spoiled shits whining for two hours (plus, nicholson is so much sexier than wilson). oh, and, get up off the kinks' jock already, jeez.

common

yeah. i fucking did. i am so sick and tired of this shithead's mug. how come there's never a backlash for conscious rappers? they just go from being loved by hippie kids to loved by liberal yuppie soccer moms with jungle fever (once they've starbucks-ed out their sound enough). yeah, fine, "the corner" was pretty tight but suck it pitchfork that record is not an 8.6. and that new one, jesus, i didn't think it could be worse than the cover art but lo and behold. take your stupid hats and your sensitive little poses and your meticulously groomed facial hair and your fucking i love my strong black sisters (and totally know how to pleasure them) raps and just go away. you made one dope record and that was fucking fourteen years ago! ok, fine, your spots on stakes is high ("i used to love her but i now i bone her") and black star ("my circumstance is between cabrini and love jones") were on point but that's like 2 minutes of verse from 10+ years ago. oh, yeah, and didn't you hear from your buddy kanye? you can't be conscious and hate homosexuals anymore, it don't jibe. go be unconscious somewhere.

p.s. remember when you got sued by the shittiest, limpest ska band of all time? yeah, that was funny.

don nelson

ok. let's get one thing clear right off the bat, i love this kooky old drunk. he was around the last time this team was worth half a shit, when that raging homophobe was running the show (ed note: we would totally do a post on homophobes except that it would be obvious and, well, kinda gay). and he's got this wacky hands off zen approach to coaching that generally rules (suck it phil jackson, you got nothing on nellie). but come on! at some point did it ever occur to you to sit these fools down, slap them around a tad, and tell them to stop shooting up threes with the combined accuracy of an epileptic circle jerk? if you made a video of the ugliest warriors moments from their last 3+ weeks of phoning it in it would look something like this, except, you know, without the sexist, racist, incompetent pistons legend at the helm. well, shit, i guess warriors fans will just go back to punching themselves in the balls, it has the same effect, and you don't have to pay your cable bill to do it.

bret michaels

oh, bret michaels. yes, i watched "rock of love 2". and i am ashamed. i am what is wrong with america. i gave this person my valuable time and consideration. yet i still blame bret. in a way that i cannot put into complete, logical sentences, i hate bret michaels and i hate the people who watch his brand of dating show with the very real possibility of a scorching case of hepatitis, therefore, i hate myself and i hate little baby lips over here for making me hate myself.

in fact, just look at his lips. this man is probably on the dark side of the forties and he's making little baby lips. don't you just want to kiss those baby lips? no, bret michaels, i will not allow you to turn me out as you have so many others. put those irresistible baby lips away. maybe put them in one of your many bandanas or fashion cowboy hats. maybe wrap them up tight in one of those bedazzled t-shirts. i am going to go ahead and say with complete certainty that not only is bret-bret bald underneath those head pieces, but also completely hairless everywhere else on his body. no man who has perfected his baby lips into such a pout can resist manicuring his pubic hair into the perfect little triangle, trimming and primping more and more until there is nothing. nothing but sleek bronzed pure sex. this man actually looks like a penis. look at him. seriously, look at him. get lost in the steely sex gaze of baby lips.


as my friend andy said, "i bet bret michaels tans his dick."

and i think that says it all.

bret michaels, you can suck it.

city of berkeley parking officer #837: a certain ms. blackmon

or perhaps mrs., in which case my condolences to mr. blackmon. this bitch (ed note: picture not actually of parking officer blackmon) straight falsified a parking ticket and the hoops through which you must jump in order to register a complaint are, of course, in the end more trouble than paying the $36. congratulations fucker, you've won. i know, i know, thanks dr. obvious, bureaucracy blows, but that doesn't mean we should stop bitching about it. in fact, it's the only recourse us little people have (and i don't mean midgets). so SUCK IT, #837, you're the reason that meter maids get attacked. sweet name though.

atlas sound

i was hoping to get this here blog started off with a bang rather than a whimper (a "suck it!" for the ages if you will, some asshole we could all agree upon), but shit is all about being timely and this little fucker's blog half-life is awfully short (fingers crossed!). bradford cox's musical cock is getting blown all up and down the interwebs for his lackadaisical spacemen 3 rips and i, for one, am calling bullshit. SUCK IT ATLAS SOUND! oh, you too deerhunter, and animal collective can get them salivating glands ready in the wings.