fun facts about the world

……..and with a disinterested smirk, she averted my eyes and said "I’d rather be in Paris."

Ha, ha.

Seriously, what sort of police force do they have in Paris that a couple of Muslim kids with rocks and matches can have that whole country on smash in a couple of weeks? Someone should call in the Israeli army, as they specialize in killing Muslim kids for throwing rocks and garbage at Police with guns.

I’m not one of those people who hates France either. I mean, I have no real love for suburban France, but I’ve often verbalized the fact that I probably have more in common with your average Parisian teenager (I frequently forget I’m not a teenager anymore when I make points like this) than I do with your average teenager from "Alabama" -excluding the language barrier.

But then again, your average Parisian probably speaks better English than the average person in Alabama. I’ve been in Paris twice for roughly 9 days total and strangers gave me hash twice. I’ve been in America for the better part of 25 years and no one ever gave me hash -even when I faked tears and made puppy dog eyes. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been to Alabama or not, but I can’t imagine my "New York City, Motherfucker!" style would go over too well there. They wear a bible-belt to keep their Jesus Jeans from falling down in those parts.

Anyway, I’ll be keeping an eye on the situation in both France and Alabama and letting you guys know if anything further develops. Any hot girls from Alabama who want to prove me wrong about our lack of compatibility, holler. Something should be done before the whole country burns. If the Euro keeps losing value, I may just have to book a trip to the Dammy. To see art.

Back to America, by which I mean the greater tri-state area.

Today is election day. I was pretty upset to find out that I’m not actually able to vote in all the elections that I’ve been seeing ads for on TV. I mean, if I want to vote for the Governor of New Jersey, I think I should be allowed to. Either that or they should reimburse me for the minutes, maybe hours I spent carefully deciding which candidate was more personally appealing to me based upon their TV ads. They owe me at least $7 by my count.

Why the fuck else would they have bombarded me with all this information about the merits/flaws (mostly flaws) of Doug "Bush’s choice" Forrester and Jon "I let down my wife" Corzine?

I mean I don’t see them showing ad’s for Virginia’s Gubernatorial race on my TV. And they wasted valuable space in my brain storing this useless information about the candidates (Corzines GF once, maybe had an abortion. He is in favor of lowering the drinking age, but he didn’t know the drinking age was 21) flaws -space which I could have used to remember important things about my own life.

Also, wouldn’t it be nice if you could somehow sell off all the useless information you accumulated throughout your life? Kinda like a flea-marker of random facts? I’ve been thinking about that for a while, and there is a plethora of shit (for example all this useless info about the Gubernatorial race, when I don’t even have a say in who the Gubernator of New Jersey will be.) I would be willing to sell or trade for, say, a better sense of geography.

If anyone finds a way to purge the mind of useless data, you get at me. Bonus points for being a hot girl from Alabama who has this knowledge.

While I was initially wary of teaming up with my non-rapping homeboy SkinnySlim and his non-rapping (but yes-singing) co-blogger Philabuster to make a rap song dissing some kid none of us had ever met, it actually turned out to be a funny and rewarding experience, not unlike suicide.

I should have assumed that the herb (Jeff "make it stop" Baum) in question was a worthy target of my wrath and the publicity associated with the song would continue to garner Chronikill fame and notoriety on the www. However, it took numerous 40-oz Budweisers and many gravity bong hits before I wrote my verse and then I was waaaaaay too drunk to spit it on beat or even really read what I had wrote. So I neated my shit up a week later, Cypher put the finishing touches on the mix and off to the internet it went. Central Village, the dissed herbs website, was never the same afterwards.

Now, months later I am pleased to announce that Philadelphia’s CityPaper has awarded the song the Best Blog Diss Track of 2005. They called Chronikill a rap group, and they didn’t even use quotation marks! And what? http://www.citypaper.net/articles/2005-11-03/cover2.shtml

I’d just like to thank SkinnySlim, Philabuster, Charlie Cypher, Jeff "fellatio" Baum, The Citypaper,  www.badmintonstamps.com , the gravity bong and my mom for making all this possible.

If you haven’t heard the song yet, you can download it here http://www.badmintonstamps.com/zarchive0509.html#97.

Philadelphia, if you are reading this and would like us to perform in you (doesn’t that sound naughty?) holler at me zerox@chronikill.com with an email and we’ll work something out.

My lyrics, for people who are rap illiterate:

It’s time to separate the deep from the internet geeks/

My humor is tongue in cheek while your life is sonned in streets/

Don’t reach -the jury is in and you a token jock/

Being a groupie went out with Prussia and polka dots/

I be smoking hot and you be quoting ROX/

Hos are shocked when badminton playlists bump out my broken box/

Is this a joke or not? You’re mad stupid/

Use of language is putrid you fucking ESL student/

Looking for cum to funnel with butt-plugs that you juggle/

Typing away in the dark until you get carpel tunnel/

-"Yo ROX you ever seen this kid?"/

Nah I don’t think even did, plead the 5th hermit Jeff shook to fucking leave his crib/

I hate weakness, although i pity it/

So that’s why we’re tutoring the central village idiot/

I understand that men can’t hit women, but shouldn’t there be some sort of law that allowed men a certain time-frame (maybe 6 hours) to find another woman to hit them?

I think that there should be, and I’m in the process of writing to my congressman (because ain’t no way in hell I’m writing to a congressWOMAN) about proposing a change in our penal code.

I mention this because a situation arose last night where a girl was being verbally abusive (screaming actually) to me to the point where if she was a man, there was no way we were not fighting. Instead, I was forced to walk around in a rage the rest of the night because I was the Bigger Man and I walked away.

Unfortunately, I later took my anger out on a cab driver while drunk. While I was positive his meter was fast, I could have handled the situation with a little more tact than "are you fucking kidding me, your meter is fast. Give me your ID #." The driver politely told me (in a very heavy Indian accent) "Sir if you do not wish to pay the stated fare on the meter you may leave the cab now." Which I did, yelling and cursing. I was probably sweating too.

Who said I don’t go off on tangents anymore?

Anyway, my run in with the out of line whore reminded me of an incident which occurred in January of this year, back when I was a virgin with no blog. Me and Carlos "triple-C" Cypher were performing at The 5 Spot -which is a piece-of-shit establishment run by dumb coffee shop dudes in Brooklyn- and these dumb whores (mad, no doubt, that beauty AND brains had eluded them) from Pratt by way of Middle America became physically confrontational and there was nothing we could really do. At one point this girl came on stage and grabbed my ski-goggles off my head (what? YOU don’t wear ski goggles on stage?) and attempted to run out of the bar. I slammed the microphone down (I’m pretty sure I at least broke the mic) and chased after her myself while the DL-brothers tending bar and working the door stood there thinking about modern jazz and butt plugs.

After I caught up to the girl and grabbed my shit back, she pushed me aggressively. I told the girl that if she touched me again I would glass her (break a pint glass on the bar and cut her face with it) and I picked up a pint glass for emphasis, which seemed to do the trick. I also told her I hoped that she got gang-raped (have I mentioned how classy I am recently?) by junkies with venereal disease. But threatening violence and saying awful things was the only thing I could do, legally.

**I want to be clear that no matter what happened I was not going to put my hands on the girl or any other girl, however I would imagine I was doing a pretty convincing woman-beater impression.**

So, while agonizing over the slippery-slope of neo-feminism or whatever and smoking tree at a friends house down the block shortly thereafter, Cypher and I wrote this song, or more accurately, I wrote it and we developed the harmony together.

Sung in the voice of Borat from the, excuse me, Da Ali G Show.

I wish, I wish

I wish I could punch bitches

I wish, I wish

I wish I could punch bitches

I wish, I wish

I wish I could punch bitches

I wish, I wish

I wish I could punch bitches

Honestly, remembering the song today made me feel a lot better. So, if you see me walking down the street humming that tune you’ll know that somewhere out there lies a bitch who has NOT been punched.

I just walked by an anti-war protest where a bunch of protesters were saying "No justice, no piece. End the war in the Middle East." And "Asians, Latin’s, Whites and Blacks united to end the war in Iraq."

And I was just thinking that maybe if they hired a ghostwriter (me) they would have the type of fresh anti-war slogans necessary to actually do some good.

For example.

"Fuck the fighting, fuck the wars. Let’s go see some tits at Score’s."

"Get a job and take a shower. Then meet back here in an hour."

"Troops have guns and troops have knives. When troops come home they fuck our wives."

"War is bad I want to cry, thank God weed still makes me high."

"We didn’t find any W.M.D.’s, lets play monopoly at Mickey D’s." (they could even try and pull some sponsorship cake from McDonalds)

"Christians, Buddhists, Muslims, Jews -it ain’t as bad as World War 2."

"Rising high is the death toll. That’s a cop, put down the bowl."

"We loathe your lies we hate you game, 1,000 dead is pretty lame."

"Bush sucks cock for dollar bills. Pray for peace and pray for pills."

There, the war is over and you owe me $5.

Now that Halloween is over and there aren’t slutty nurses everywhere (which I imagine must really annoy feminists, not unlike the fact that Susan B. Anthony once gave me head on the G train) I can refocus my energy on the alcohol laws in England, or the issue at hand as I call it.

You probably recall me having repeatedly raved about how you can drink in the street and on the train in England -I’m on record as thinking that is a great thing. One problem our  brothers from another mum across the pond have with their alcohol policy is that pubs close early (even if they have a "late license"). This means that you need to go to an "off-license" and get a "carryout" if you want to continue drinking. However these stores close really early as well, before midnight, if I remember correctly.

Enter the Labour party; imagine them as the crips to the Torries bloods, just to put it in terms you can understand. The Labour party has proposed a ban on drinking on buses and trains, citing increasing violence being committed by drunk people on their way to and from the bars. Somewhat inexplicably this proposal has also been tied-in with a proposal to keep pubs open twenty-four (24, XXIV) hours, which the Torries feel is "rubbish."

So I began to consider, if I would prefer twenty-four hour bars, or being able to drink on public transportation, assuming they were proposed here in New York City.

I gotta say I’d prefer being able to drink on public transportation. How many times have you been home, enjoying a beer, listening to music and not wanted to leave your house because you hate to stop drinking once you’ve started?

Millions of times.

If it were legal to drink in the transit system, you would never even have to go home in the first place. If they put bathrooms and televisions in the train stations, as I’ve also proposed, ridership would soar and so would television ratings. If they had this proposal coincide with my pending recycling initiative there is no doubt the MTA would quadruple revenue while only spending about $59,340 (estimated).

Also, as I’ve argued in the past, if you can prove employment and residence -you should be allowed to drink in the street. It would be a little awkward to carry a pay-stub and last months electric bill, but totally worth it for the right to booze on your way to work. Stop me if you think I should be the president.

Here is a quote from English defense secretary (really) John Reid: "It is right that people should be able to have a civilised drink at whatever time they want, but it is right also that people should be responsible about not being abusive on buses and other places."

I agree with the first part of his sentence (although I would have used "correct" instead of "right"), however he loses me at "people should be responsible about not being abusive on buses and other places." I agree that there is no room for alcohol induced belligerence at a funeral or in the operating room of a hospital (perfectly okay at an animal hospital, btw), but if you somehow think it isn’t my right as an American citizen to get ridiculously drunk in England and physically abuse someone just because they are wearing a funny hat on a public bus, you are sadly, sadly mistaken.

*Notes: I almost lost this entire post, but this time I saved my work before Friendster decided to delete. This may actually be the only time I’ve ever learned from a mistake without having to sit around locked up for 18 hours. Ha!

I found $47 dollars on the street last night, as if you needed MORE reasons to be jealous of me.