Saturday, March 17, 2007

From DJ Satisfaction Pony's Stack Of Stuff: Warlord/Death-Merchant Declares Homosexuality Immoral!

In a discussion with editors of the Chicago Tribune, General Peter Pace said, "I believe homosexual acts between two individuals are immoral and that [the U.S. military] should not condone immoral acts...I do not believe the United States is well served by a policy that says it is okay to be immoral in any way...As an individual, I would not want [acceptance of gay behavior] to be our policy."

Senator Sam Brownback (R-Kansas) chimed in with a resounding 'amen, brother!'. Senator Sam Brownback is a Republican candidate for 2008's Presidential election.

As of March 17th, 2007, more than 3,200 U.S. troops have died as we approach the fifth anniversary of the conflict in Iraq. In January of 2007, President Bush (who appointed General Pace as Chairman Of The Joint Chiefs Of Staff) put forth a plan to dispatch an additional 21,500 troops for duty in Iraq.

Jesus would do that...right?


So now that we're all being held hostage at gunpoint on the last Greyhound to Crazytown, I propose that we all put in our iPod ear-bud-thingys, close our eyes, and summon for ourselves a playlist that transports us to that zen-y zenith of transcendent insanity; that special place where nothing or nobody can hurt us anymore. Here's mine:

"Just A Friend", Biz Markie: "Youuuu/Got What I Need/But You Say He Just A Friend...". Funkless, tuneless, utterly batshit and yet it scaled the charts in 1989. I played it out the other night and the lesbians looked at each other, giggled, kinda smiled their mysterious, sexy little half-smiles and promptly got diiiiirty (NOTE: Doesn't take much these days). Oh, snap!

"Denis", Blondie: A mash note to unshowered Euro-skank replete w/ gratuitous French phrasology and girl-group 'bee-doo's. This track is like an aural Strawberry SlimFast brain-freeze and after the fade, if you're feeling a little more wordly but also just a tad're totally forgiven: Me too (bee-doo).

"Faith", The Boy Least Likely To: The world needs a jug-band rethink of George Michael's 'Faith' just as much as it needs Edie McClurg and Crunchberries. Absolutely essential.

"Attitude Dancing", Carly Simon: "It don't really matter if you stretch or shake..." The cowbell-banging Simon & Schuster publishing dynasty heiress advocates doing The Hully Gully in the mirror while trying on different attitudes. 'Haughty entitlement' works for me...PUBLISH MY ATTITUDE DANCING ASS!

"Home Is Where You're Happy", Charles Manson: Manson croons it up like he's Jack Jones (The Theme from 'Love Boat' guy) and you know what? I'm sold! Home is where you're happy! Where do I sign up?

"Sticky Green", Devin The Dude: Devin The Dude loves to blow weed and he's nice enough to teach us how to roll a blunt. I'm too shy to ask at parties and so my man Devin has done me a real service. Thanks, dude.

"So, Do The Zonk", Donna Loren: Yes, there's a comma that prefaces this directive to perform some sort of sinister, jerky, grunty, bottom-heavy routine to a song that name-checks exotic locales such as The Congo and Cucamonga. Does the comma imply that I have the option of doing The Zonk or not? Is Donna merely hinting that perhaps I should maybe consider doing The Zonk but if I opt out, that's perfectly fine? Why so nonchalant? Should I Zonk or not? So many questions...

"Around The World", DuJour: All issues addressed by this boy-band as fronted by Seth Green and featured in the horribly underrated big-screen adaptation of Josie & The Pussycats are ass-centric (download DuJour's "Backdoor Lover") and so I think we can all agree that this Top 40-friendly ode to analingus is about as subtle as a closeted Joint Chief Of Staff attacking that little piece of himself he hates most of all. Analingus should be celebrated, after all. I mean, at the end of the day, isn't that what Dusty Springfield's 'Breakfast In Bed' all about?

"Ballad Of Bitter Honey", Eef Barzelay: The song kicks off with: "That was my ass bouncing/Next to Ludacris" and after a troubling couplet reporting the effects of class disparity, Eef kicks into a twee 'bah-dah, bah-dah-bah-bum'. The whole thing is a miserable listening experience but I have to tip my hat to Eef and his balls-to-the -wall willingness to explore the outer limits of lyrical subject matter: He's a white guy plugging into the mindset of an MTV video rump-shaking hoochie momma. Quite a stretch, but he pulls it off.

More to come...

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