When and why is this crap?
That’s right. Deep within the recesses of MS Word, burning a hole through the hard drive, lurking with infinite purpose, were the half posts. Now they want to come out and play. Be careful, the half posts raise more questions than they answer…
I am the New York City day droplet, heretic prince of dripping liquids.
From upon high, I await my prey. Silently, I gather strength. Pregnant with kinetic energy and epic filth, I buy my time. Ah, there you are my friend. There you are with no hat on. You are a silly man to not wear a hat. Let me show you that you are silly. Let me birth myself from my unholy womb and spill wretchedly into the ether. My birth is but a fraction in a zero sum equation, because my birth is the death of your morning.
Cringe as you feel the weight of my infectious cargo. Shutter at the impossible amount of surface tension I possess. Marvel as the energy pauses, transfers, and explodes like a fat kid’s bathing suit after an ill advised jumping jack. I hope you weren’t enjoying that “California frittata,” because my disease ridden liquid shrapnel has covered it fully. Not so California now is it? Unless California means something worse than Bangladeshi flood water.
Whats that? What are you looking for? Where did I come from? Alas, no mortal can answer that question. This is New York. I fell from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Why, it certainly isn’t raining. No, there are no overhanging structures from which I could have logically departed. Let us just say this, I’ve been around. Take a deep breath and consider my ingredients.
1 part scaffold sauce
1 part pigeon butt
1 part hipster scarf extract
1 part overwhelmingly dull New Yorker article juice
1 part last ounce of Manhattan tribal blood
1 part evicted minority child’s tears from rent being too damn high
1 part Alex Rodriguez’s body wax
1 part ambiguously Asian rapid bus transit
1 part kid from high school who makes more money than you
1 part girl you never dated but you tell people you did
1 part Yoga pants
1 part unnecessarily large add for not so prime time hour long TNT legal drama
1 part audience sweat from slightly old and overly enthusiastic 106 and Park fan
1 part truth http://sarahjessicaparkerlookslikeahorse.com/
Say I won’t add pumpkin to everything
Exec 1 – Run your idea by me again, I’m not sure I understand, so you’re saying we put pumpkin… in everything?
Exec 2 – Exactly, pumpkin in everything.
Exec 1 – Why pumpkin?
Exec 2 – OK, so here is the pitch. It is common knowledge that fall, like the average consumers life, is worthless. Fall is the bastard child of summer that winter can’t kill fast enough. By the time October rolls around people need some kind of gimmick to continue living. I mean for Christ’s sake, kids hurl their bodies into piles of dead plants during fall… for fun. What kind of season is that? Anyways, the gimmick we are going to give them is pumpkin.
Exec 1 – OK, I get it, we need a gimmick, but pumpkins? Pumpkins suck. They are the worst vegetable… or fruit… or whatever the hell they are, that you could possibly think of. They are heavy, they smell, and they aren’t really good for anything. People only buy pumpkins for Halloween?
Exec 2 – I beg to differ. Let me tell you a story about Jim. Imagine Jim wakes up on a brisk Fall Thursday and heads to work. Jim feels groggy. What does Jim need?
Exec 1 – I don’t know, a cup of coffee?
Exec 2 – Wrong, its fall, so Jim needs a cup of pumpkin coffee.
Exec 1 – Go on, I’m intrigued.
Exec 2 – After Jim’s pumpkin coffee, Jim has a piece of pumpkin bread. At lunch Jim orders a bowl of pumpkin soup. For dinner Jim has pumpkin ravioli and a tall pumpkin beer. For dessert, Jim has a good ole piece of American pumpkin pie.
Exec 1 – I like it, but I see one glaring problem. Most of what you describes sounds disgusting. I mean Pumpkin ravioli? Pumpkin beer? That sounds terrible.
Exec 2 – Very true, but here is the best part. We are barely going to be putting any pumpkin into these products at all. If these things were really made of pumpkin they would taste like shit, which is literally what raw pumpkin tastes and looks like. So instead of adding lots of pumpkin, we are going to add almost no pumpkin at all… and then jack up the price.
Exec 1 – Brilliant, we can jack up the price and say its fancy or something. Kind of like we did with “Chilean” Sea Bass, whatever that means haha. Lets do it! Role out the new pumpkin products this month and see how they sell.
Two Months Later
Exec 1 –My lord! I’ve never seen numbers like this. The pumpkin products are selling like hot cakes. People really love pumpkin infused shit. It’s like they have some sort of primal pumpkin lust. Shit, if you could cut a hole in pumpkins I bet people would… haha, well you know.
Exec 2 – You can cut holes in pumpkins…
Exec 1 – …
Exec 2 – …
Exec 1 – Ummm, yea. So, anyways, lets talk more about this tomorrow.
Exec 2 – Yea, maybe that’s a good idea.
You don’t think I’ll write a song about this street?
You are sorely mistaken my friend. My best friend Lucy Six Strings and I wrote this gem in my studio last night. Not a music studio, mind you, but my studio apartment. That, my friend, is called authenticity. You see, I moved to New York City for the street credit, so you all better give me credit for living on this street. It takes a special type of person to just up and move to the big apple with nothing but a dollar and a dream. Of course by “dollar” I mean 75,000 dollars that were begrudging withdrawn from my fathers IRA, and by “dream” I mean a commercially manufactured idea of what it means to be creative. So listen up folks, here is my newest track entitled “Three Word Band Name”
Bip beba de dope, dobby duap
bop bedope doey, dobe duap
I’m playing four chords, all in a row
A little off beat, and slightly to slow
I slap my guitar after every chord
I bet you’ve never heard that style before
The band that I’m starting needs a cool new name
I’m thinking three words is the secret to fame
So here is a list that I’ll sing a cappella
Arbitrary words that I strung all together
Bebop a dodop and it goes like this…
Light House Jones, Stair Way Days,
Burning Down Virginia, Great Eight Jays
Foster Parent Cookies, China Doll Crime
Mr. Ed’s Vengeance, Running Outa Time
Quality Blue Crayon, Biscuits n Love
Retro Virus Answer, Baby Face Glove
Under Paid Strippers, Pony Butt Problem
Tasty Mc What, Interns in Autumn
These were all good, but I needed a gimmick
So I threw in street names, to make it authentic
51st and Sexy, Broadway House Basement
Park Ave Jesus, East Even Pavement
Upper East Slide, Mercer Intha Middle
Union Square Dance, No Ho Fiddles
Holland Chunnel Tunnel, West 9th Clouds
Beaver Street Dame, Tryon out Loud…
Say I won’t beat level one of this battle…
1“Predator drone Zulu Seven to tower, over.”
2“This is tower, go ahead.”
1“Permission to blow up barn to see what happens?”
2“…Say again Zulu Seven.”
1“Permission to attack barn with hellfire missile to see what happens?”
2“…Negative, continue surveillance”
1“OK… permission to continue mission, but when I’m finished with mission can I blow that barn?
2“Again, negative, you are being ordered to hold your fire.”
1“…This is gay”
Your Jersey Shore theme party required very little shopping shopping?
Soup isn’t food
Soup isn’t food. This isn’t Ireland. This isn’t a prison camp. You want to know how soup got started? Somebody had a whole bunch of normal food that they accidentally got wet, and then tried to play it off like it was good. “No, I like it this way, all wet, it’s delicious.” Lies! Soup is a joke. If adding soggy crackers improves the dish, it isn’t food. If you are talking to me about soup for dinner, I am going to say the same thing I’d say if you asked me about central Mexico… Don’t even go there.
Say I won’t set the record straight
Cows don’t go moo
Cows don’t go moo. Cows go merrrrrawwww. Why the hell are you teaching me this shit anyways. When the hell am I going to talk to a cow? I don’t know any cows. I live in New York. When is the next time I am going to hear a goat? Ducks don’t go quack. Ducks don’t have the phonic skills to pronounce a Q-U sound. Ducks don’t even have lips. Maybe ducks go errraannt. Maybe. This whole scene is bullshit. When am I going to learn how to tell time?