Monday Mood: Mick Jenkins – “Your Love”

“Have a Dream in New Orleans, Fall in love in Chicago”

Why do I get the feeling this song is more about drugs? Hear me out here. The shiny shoes and everything around Mick shining indiscriminately? Check. That stolen borrowed line about a New Orleans dream, and Chicago love? Then when all this “dreamy $hit” occurs (featuring a drive-by shooting harmoniously transitioning to a disco), all his home boys fall out and pass out… YEA…. that’s drugs, boys-n-girls…or love – both have unintended illusions and side-effects. SCARY $HIT!

Advertisements

Potato Of The Day Episode 85

cucumberloveHey, Cucumber? Have you seen my…WOAH! My bad, dude! Did not know you had uh… company over. Hey, yeah, hi, how’s it going? I’m Ben and I’m… well, you know what, this is kind of awkward…  isn’t it? I mean I know I’m interrupting and all, but dude, you really should have put a sock up on the edge of your 1/3 6” deep clear polycarbonate food pan, you know? That’s just standard code for “hey we’re playing pickle my pickle”, you know? It’s just nice to give a guy a heads up, let him know you’re busy. As in, getting busy. You know what I’m saying? You feeling my vibe? You picking up what I’m putting down?

Oh no, no! You don’t have to go! I’ll just leave you and my dude Cucumber to ferment in a little vinegar. You know what I mean? Haha, of course you guys do. Bathe in a little brine, am I right? Maybe get your creeping vine on? Oh, I’m sorry, yeah… you’re probably getting really uncomfortable right now aren’t you? My bad. For real. Super sorry, you guys, I know I’m overstaying my welcome here. It’s just, now that I’m taking all of this in, I sort of have a few questions…

Like how the hell did you guys even meet? I don’t want to sound ignorant here, but I didn’t even know slices of cylindrical gourd fruit even hooked up? I kind of just assumed you guys were asexual, inanimate not intimate. Do you have places you go to meet other cucs? I mean, I get that this is hellaz ignorant on my part, but like, how do you guys even… swap seeds? Is that what you do? Oh wow, yeah, I can tell I’m really making you uncomfortable. Overstepping my bounds! My bad! Did NOT mean to pry. Just curiosity, cats, etc. You know?

But hey… one thing real quick before I go? Are you guys, well, being safe? Because Cucumber, dude, you should always be safe, you know? Like I know you’re capable of being safe, I saw an old lady in health class put a rubber on your brother one time. Oh no, no! It’s not like that. It was just a demonstration! I swear! His brother isn’t a weirdo, cross-species, vegetable-human breeder. Relax, it’s all cool, for real! Oh wow, I’m really killing the mood in here, aren’t I? This… is… unfortunate. Umm… my bad.

But uh, yeah. I’ll just take off now. Well… have fun you two! Let me know if there’s anything you need! Oh, crap, no not like that…  I…  time to shut up now, right guys? Annnnndd… Ben is out. Goodbye! See you later, Cucumber and… friend. Nice to meet you! Add me on Snapchat? What? Too far, right? Yup, too far.

Who’s The Bigger Troll, Jon Stewart Or Arby’s?

Arby’s KNOWS. They KNOW they’re terrible. They know you know that they know also. They’re not here to impress you! Their slogan is “WE HAVE THE MEATS” and they diaBETE that into your grey meat with the baritone voice of your bad conscious (aka Melvin from “Baby Boy”, aka Golden Globe winner Ving Rhames).  This was a common trope for all things terrible for outgoing political fun-poker, Jon Stewart. Arby’s kinda loved it:

One has to wonder – as The Daily Show comes to an end tonight – were they in on it the entire time? If so, will Stewart or Arby’s ever admit it? Either way, break bread one more time for this last supper with the odd couple in Arby’s hilarious goodbye commercials that aired last night.

May your time among us come to a graceful, yet far too soon and unexpected ending. Arby’s wouldn’t have it any other way 😉 . Mazel Tov, Jon!

Potato Of The Day Episode 73

brusselssproutOkay, so you think your sex life has taken a turn for the worse? Well at least you’re not my good friend Brussels Sprout. Brussels Sprout never gets laid. As in never, ever. Sure, you might be going through a six week, seven month, or eight year dry spell, but at least you can whack around your private petting zoo with your fingers. Brussels Sprout? Bro, Brussels Sprout doesn’t even have hands. Brussels Sprout ain’t ever getting off. We’re talking about a lifeform with negative orgasm probability, a body constructed of anti-sex-matter, a black hole of hole hope. Yeah dude, it’s THAT bad.

Look, you could try to help Brussels Sprout out here, really you could. Even ignoring the fact that Brussels Sprout doesn’t have internet access, you could try registering Brussels for eHarmony or OkCupid, but those algorithmic apps will just crap out a big old bag of electronic dust. They’re not built for a desperate case like this. There isn’t even a gender option for Brussels Sprout. You could lower your standards for online dating, thinking that maybe Tinder or Grindr or, god help us all, Plenty of Fish, might seem like the sort of low-hanging option that could get even the sleaziest scum a shameful sex score. But it’s not going to work. You have to chat on those apps. And Brussels can’t even read. Besides, who’s swiping right for a picture of a green, shriveled testicle? People want faces. Not sprouts.

Hey, you think to yourself, let’s just fly Brussels out to Amsterdam or Vegas or somewhere, anywhere where prostitution is legal. Which, in theory, totally could work. But how exactly is Brussels supposed to fly? You see a lot of vegetable identification cards and passports laying around? I sure as shit don’t. Without that paperwork, you’re not catching a flight. The TSA don’t play, son. And really, are you going to pay for that disappointing half-hour shame shower? Because Brussels can’t pay. Brussels doesn’t even have a job. No bank account. No life savings. Zip, zero, zilch. Do you see now? DO YOU FEEL THE FEELS OF BRUSSELS SPROUT YET?

There’s no fixing this problem, and that’s okay. It’s okay that Brussels Sprout is going to die alone, fading away from life in a sad, virginal wave goodbye to the waking world. It’s okay that Brussels Sprout will never feel the touch of loving embrace, the glowing warmth of sexual contact. It’s okay that Brussels Sprout has a pathetic, hopeless sex life. Don’t let that get you down. That’s nothing to get sad about. It’s just the way Brussels’ life was always going to work out.

But you, you’re different. Yes, you. You, on the six week, seven month, or eight year dry spell. You on the lifetime train of virginity. You about to give up on love. Don’t’ do that. You can find someone. Don’t be so hard on yourself. At least you’re not a Brussels Sprout. Just remember that!

Humpday Hymn: The Internet – “Girl” (Ft. Kaytranada)

The Odd-Future break up hasn’t slowed down the one girl member of Odd-Future one bit! Syd Tha Kid has been busy with another former OFWGKTA member, Matt Martians on their Acid-Jazz/Trip-Hop project, The Internet.  Maybe coincidence that the video was released several days before the U.S. Supreme Court ruling legalizing same-sex marriage, nevertheless the DJ/Singer/Producer croons with some help from Haitian-Canadian new R&B sensation, Kaytranada. Smooth space sailings all through this sound!

This ain’t just songs, Syd Tha Kid was caught with women pourin out of her bedroom in the documentary footage below:

Continue reading Humpday Hymn: The Internet – “Girl” (Ft. Kaytranada)

Potato Of The Day Episode 54

elopingmelonIf you really start to look at them, you’ll find that cantaloupes are wonderfully unique creatures. There’s their twine-like, hardened skin, tough and uninviting. There’s their brilliant pumpkin insides, a pulsating orange mess of seeds and pulp, a dangling silly string ball of intestines. And there’s the name itself, cantaloupe, British in spelling, American in popularity, tinged with a first syllable of such negativity. CANT-a-loupe. How does something so wildly appreciated in breakfasts and fruit salads get dinged with a name like that? Its closest friend in the whole world, muskmelon, got stung by the same naming bee. Musk. Yeah, that’s appetizing. Why do we hurt our melon’s self-esteem like that? Why do we brand them such awful names? Who’s to say a cantaloupe deserves treatment like that?

Even the way we physically display cantaloupes leaves a lot to be desired. We stack these hardened, round fruit eggs up in large grocery store pyramids, making them totter and balance for our amusement. Why do we try to mold their shapes? Why do we force everything to be something it’s not? Can’t a sphere just be a sphere? Enough with the melon pyramids and square boxes. Let’s build a world that better suits the melon. Let’s create an environment for a melon life worth living.

Cantaloupes are soft, delicate creatures. They just want to fit in. They just want to be loved. Yet we cast them aside, time after time, holing them up in fruit quarantine, shelving them only with melon family members, watermelon, muskmelon, honeydew. Well no more. It’s time to let cantaloupes and all their melon brethren shine. It’s time to let them smile, to dance, to be merry and free. It’s time to let them play in rounded boxes or roam freely through the countryside until it’s their choice to be eaten. It’s time to let our cantaloupes find love, not just of life, but in themselves and each other. Who are we to take love away from our melons? Who are we to say they can’t pair off with Galias or Crenshaws? Who are we to say a cantaloupe can’t elope?

Love our CAN-aloupes. And let them love each other. The world can always use a little more love.