fun facts about the world

Hey. I just wanted to further stress that I am not the person who sends you emails stating that "Your friend James has updated his blog", its someone at Friendster. You can turn this off, so that you won’t know when I update my blog. Then you’ll life will be complete.

On the reals though, a lot of people have said to me (I’m looking at you!) "I only read the bulletins you post, not your blog." Big mistake homie. Even as I type this in 2005, I know that spell check will not let the word homie live. These are the sort of fun facts y’all are missing out on. For word!

Anyway, I was thinking about the geopolitical climate in the world the other day in between drags of my p-funk c-note (just step your whole fucking talking game up son. oh 5, oh 5) and I realized that the quality of my life would be somewhat improved if I could get all my peoples in the same place at the same time. I made this "map" to show where all my friends are located at. I’m no geographer and neither are you, but we can both clearly see that

a) my map making skills are not what they once were.

b) the vast majority of my people are in the North East.

Anyway, what I’m trying to do is get all the red together and then have a big, fun party with chips and pop (yo, I know people who used to call soda "pop" before they moved to the city) and krills and hookers. Then your life will be complete.

In other news, last night at like 2am when I was taking the train back to the crib with these kids for purposes of GBH’s and some poker, this crazy lady (fucking straight whacked in the head stee) was angrily brushing her hair and screaming "fuck the world" and looking, shall we say, volatile. So of course we’re all like "yeah" and "wheres the crack" and she was in her own world and didn’t really respond, she just switched cars and declined our offer to come chill at the crib and play cards.

Then at like 4:30 I ate the #1 at E.I. on Vernon, and I was all like "my man, can I get hot peppers instead of roasted peppers."  And you thought your friends were long winded.

Some flicks from Satelite. stay tuned for the next jumpoff.

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When I got to college in the summer of 2001 (that’s not when I started attending, I’m talking about when I arrived there to start my junior year) all we did was get really high and watch Heat. For about a week straight, we watched Heat like 4 times a day. Shit was bugged.

Anyway, it was really hot this weekend. I’m not sure if anyone else did anything other than try to picture me naked, but I was all over the fucking place.

On Saturday, I did some early morning adult-sized drinking with my homie Abraham before getting on the LIRR heading off towards Belmont for a day of drinking and betting. It was a great day, my man hit a trifecta. It was sunny. Racing season is through July 24th. Go check it out. It’s even actually a decent place to take a date (no homo).

On Sunday I met up with some people headed by the ex-GF at Penn Station to go out to Long Beach. Long story short, you cannot drink beer on Long Beach and you do need to put suntan lotion on your feet.

That’s all now.

I’m nice and hungover here at the job-piece on a Friday morning, so I figured I would let everyone know some important information about their favorite band: they probably suck.

I used to work for The FADER (all caps) which is a magazine I partially blame for the influx of a lot of this garbage. The FADER was probably started with noble intentions and there were a bunch of nice people that I met while working there who honestly believed in what they were doing, or were good liars.

In retrospect, I realize that the mag was really pushing this bullshit hipster ideal, just a couple of years earlier. It was laughable to me that some cats from Connecticut were trying to tell me what was popping in the city and what spots were hot. But what they failed to realize is that anyone from NYC shits all over those same scenes that the out of state motherfuckers wait on line to get into. To each his own, I suppose.

My promotional duties for the mag "put me on" to bands like The Strokes, The Vines, The Hives, Coldplay, The White Stripes and a whole laundry list of other bullshit.

Here are a couple of other band names I’d like to see. The Dirty Looking Herbs, The Hipsters, The Dead Hipsters, The I Moved To New York To Reinvent Myself and It’s Not Working, The Ass Clowns, The Guys Who Couldn’t Retain Their Anal V-Card, The Unpopular, The Dissonance, The Din.

Yeah, so basically fuck those bands.  Playing a guitar in todays age is about as outdated as sitting around playing pong for Atari when PlayStation 2 is out. We have hip-hop now, it’s OK.

And has their been a rock lyricist (oxy moron?) in the past 10 years who could write a fucking song. My drunken chicken scratch non-sequiturs burn most bands entire discography. As far as I can tell most rock song lyrics are comprised of two parts.

1: whining like a bitch

2: directing the whining at a female from your past

Honestly its 2005, grow the fuck up and put the guitar down. It’s all been done before (by people more talented than y’all) who at least had the decency to OD at a fairly early age.

And just on a side note, I bump some rock every couple of months, but it’s kick-ass American rock like AC/DC (I know… I know).

PS: I’M SORRY IF YOU HAVE BEEN GETTING THOSE "JAMES UPDATED HIS BLOG" EMAILS I DON’T SEND THEM, MY PEOPLES AT FRIENDSTER DO.

So, in an attempt to try and go a whole day without saying anything negative (in my blog, mind you) I decided to post the lyrics to "Punched in the Mouth" (off our first CD "Krewe D’Etat") which was the song that first made Chronikill famous.

A lot of people think we first blew up with "Slick Rick", and I’m not sure of the actual time line or what was first but "Punched" is the first song we did that I felt was "unfuckwitable" (which was also a phrase I invented around the same time, which has been jacked over and over). The hook I wrote back in 2001 and the track was recorded in early 2002. I "know" Cyphers verses to this, however I’m not going to attempt to transcribe them from memory.

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Intro: (Cypher) "N-Y to N-O-D, N-Y to N-O-D, N-Y to O-D, N-Y to O-D, any why to OD?"

(Rox) "All you motherfucking bitches out there don’t even realize how fucking sweet shit really is, I’m coming for you son. I’ll take that silver spoon out ya’ mouth, file it down and shank you with it."

Verse 1, ROX

"It went from survive and reproduce to get high with girls that we seduce/

This is your last meal, the feast of fools/

It’s never peace to crews, crusade the least to lose/

Rep, life, jewelry…. mc’s can Choose/

They Own Adventures, I’m sinning boldly with no repentance/

Making your every sentence seem senseless/

You need practice flossing like a dentists apprentice/

The situation tense as the present tense is, fenced in/

Smoking weed in public places, running streets blatant/

It’s sacrilege, but every sack I twist seems sacred/

My minds spacious; a mansion situated on obscene acres/

My teams flavor? Just hope that a hope and a dream save ya/

We don’t need no more jaded optimists without a pot to piss, your picture of reality gets doctored quick/

Confident ROX’ll rip some proper shit, the first handed when I document, I’m living live from the apocalypse/

Hook:

For years, I been running around with some of the sound from under the ground/

When suddenly now you uttered it loud in front of a crowd like frontings allowed/

For years, I been running around with some of the sound from under the ground/

When suddenly now you uttered it loud in front of a crowd like frontings allowed/

Do you really want to know why you get punched in mouth?/

Son do you really want to know why you get punched in the mouth?/

(Cypher raps for a bit)

(hook again)

ROX: Acting silly with static, fucking with Phillie Fanatics/

I got mad addicts in my attic who not homeless just nomadic/

Your flow had it, its so tragic our dope status got pro patented/

our songs phatten ’till dawn cracking so we coasting like no traffic/

(hook again)

www.chronikill.com -don’t get punched in the mouth

This is some shit we (Charlie "Carlos" Cypher and myself, Rox "Motherfucking" One) have been working on.

You’ll either see it on the new Chronikill CD or my "I Thought That Kid Died" mixtape and we performed it live at the last show.

I wrote the hook recently, the verse is pretty old. I can’t even remember writing it, truth be told. Anyway.

" Everyday is just a one way trip/

With a shoestring budget and my unlaced kicks/ (and that’s it)

Everyday is just a one way trip/

With a shoestring budget and my unlaced kicks/ (and that’s it)

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When you’re out searching for gold, it’s so hard to sit still/

And everydays another fistful of sand to sift through/

Wishful thinking got me singing and hitting the wrong notes/

"I Can’t Chill" y’all know just how that song goes/

You reap what you sow and son I’m warning you/

You still wet behind the ears like picking corn up in the morning dew/

I got more to do than act all avant-garde and witty/

Because most art imitates life, it’s fucking shitty/

Carving out a niche in this granite is kinda gritty/

But before I more to the ‘burbs, I’ll die in my city/

I can’t hold on to memories, mementos or knick-knacks/

It was pitch black, dropping verses and empty nick sacks/

Naive dreams, schemes and broken promises/

Breaking bottles and forging ’scripts from the pharmacist/

Sitting on stoops chilling draining a 40/

Looking like weed is my whole life and blazing just bores me/

When you got a rep, introductions are kinda corny/

But "I’m Rox, your friends friend from all those amazing stories"/

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Everyday is just a one way trip/

With a shoestring budget and my unlaced kicks/ (and that’s it)

www.chronikill.com  killing time until the killing time.

There has been a lot of muttering going on about Congress trying to pass this amendment that would ban flag burning.

I’m a pretty huge fan of being able to say whatever the fuck I want to whoever I want and I certainly don’t believe in most forms of censorship. But with things like say airing gangbangs on national television during the "after-school" hours or allowing some freakishly out of touch liberal faction to burn a flag that people are dying for everyday, I’ll say "show some fucking class."

And don’t fucking get it twisted either, there is a whole long list of complaints I have with whats going down in the country these days. I don’t always love the USA with every little bit of my heart, but I ain’t about to put America on Front Street either.

I don’t understand why anyone living here in America would be motivated to burn the flag. If you have such a problem with this countries policies and laws, and you lack the ability to articulate these problems in the conventional democratic way (which I suppose would be to holler at your congress(wo)man) than you should just leave before someone who has fought for this country gets their hands around your skinny little neck and teaches you some respect. I thought all these pussies were moving to Canada. What happened??

These are the same fucking people who cry like little bitches whenever someone uses a term they don’t like. Grow the fuck up already.

I would imagine the people who burn the flag are members of some stigmatized group who lack the collective brain power and motivation to even attempt to make a change. So they try and use shock value to get their point across, and it comes across loud and clear as "we’re fucking idiots."

I would like to be the first to propose that anyone who is caught burning the flag gets burned to death by someone wearing the American flag.

The NY Post reported on page 6 that their "spies" saw "STAR Jones, with hubby Al Reynolds, asking for mayonnaise on her cheese-steak sandwich at Carl’s Steaks at Third and 34th while their chauffeur-driven van waited outside."

and I’m like "you fat hideous bitch, no wonder you had to pay a homosexual lapdog (that would be Al) to pretend to marry you because no one of the opposite sex would ever touch you because you are a fat hideous bitch, you dropped all this cake on lypo and shit and your fucking overweight ass and kicked in grill is eating a cheese-steak and asking for mayonnaise. If I had an army to deploy, they would be deployed to your crib, they would slit your throat, put an apple in your mouth and roast you over a fucking open fire. Then they would carve you and serve you to starving people. Everyone loves roast pig you nasty bitch."

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Yeah. It’s your boy with the 2 for 5 nicks, the pre 9/11 kicks and the 100 shot clips back to drop some knowledge about the new craze sweeping urban areas throughout the United States, Urban Hunting.

Now it may or may not be true that I invented this game on my way home from work yesterday because some deuchebag tourist/hipster (why split hairs?) was standing in my way preventing me from passing him as I tried to run for the 7, but that is fairly irrelevant. I wanted these types of people dead well before yesterday. Hence the game.

To play you need these simple household items.

Camouflage

Alcohol

Automatic Weapons

Bullets

Good Lawyers (the cases don’t beat theyselves)

There are no official rules, but the general goal is to shoot and kill as many people in an Urban Area who don’t belong there as possible. The best part is that you decide who belongs where.

Don’t like seeing Asians in Harlem, buck em down!

French people in Chinatown, not no mo’!

Don’t like the cracker influx in Spanish Harlem, lick shots!

Think Williamsburg should look like Hiroshima? Make it!

A point system can be devised for getting extra points for hitting specific targets, for example I would love to brutally murder some fucking y’ats from Texas right about now, so it stands to reason i should get more points for them than say, Nebraskian people, for whom my hatred is still simmering and has not yet boiled over and spilled onto the stove top of random shootings.

Its very important to have lots of bullets and a team of lawyers. Get your plea right son!

I’ve been arguing for some time that with a bit of strategically placed crack and some late 80’s early 90’s style street shootings (where all the victims are innocent) the hipsters and tourists will pack their bags and go home. "I hear that" Boston, Philly, LA, Houston and Atlanta are all really great and viable places to live.

Or, if you are politically inclined, move to a swing state early and start drumming up grass roots support.

Commit suicide!

The possibilities are endless, and playgirl, there is life outside of NYC. Unless I get you in my sniper sights.

Now, I’m yet to reach the level of global fame and (assumed) fortune that Tom Cruise has attained.

But at least I’m not a cult member, and the last girl I had relations with looked a lot better than Katie "barnyard animal" Holmes.

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(she’s the one on the right)

And if someone, reporter or otherwise, squirted me in the face with water, I would either take it as a joke and let it live, or knock homie out. Tom Cruise decided to take choice c) whine like a little bitch.

"Do you like thinking less of people, is that it?" Cruise whimpered to the fake reporter who squirted a non-lethal amount of water on him.

If I was the reporter, I would have then followed the first "prank" by spitting on him and screaming "you married that fucking hideous whore Nicole Kidman, how could I possibly think any less of you after that."

But that’s me.

Many reports have surfaced that Tom Cruise is in fact, a homosexual and that his relationship to Katie Holmes is nothing more than a publicity stunt to promote his movie "War of The Worlds" or as they call it in the Bush Administration, "The War on Terror."

Holmes, who came to fame as a salad-tossing stunt double on the HBO hit "OZ" had this to say.  "My friends at home are into rap. I’m like, yeah (bobs head), trying to fit in. They’re like, Katie, you’re such a nerd. I’m like, I know I’m a nerd. I never said I was cool. I’m always the girl that’s like, what? What’s going on?"

I was always under the impression that every girl was the type that’s like "what? What’s going on?". I was going to make up a quote to make her look like a stupid whore, but once more, an actress (a female one at that) has made my "job" easier than it should be..

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In other news.

the war in Iraq, still

spell check: won’t let "homie" in

helicopters = bad

BBQ’s = good

Tulane Vs. Texas, 7pm Monday, ESPN.