Some Have a Bucket List, Seriously Hip has a Fucket List. Five Things I'll do before I Die......When I've fallen upon the, I just don't give a "Fuckets."
5. I will find myself at a major political event. I'll climb up to the top of a very high building. I'll demand things regarding political issues. Things like balance, truth, and justice for all. I'll address the core values of each party. I will say, "keep doing that, but stop doing this, come together, right now, over me." I'll demand I'm appointed the one and only member of the current Presidents Cabinet. Assuming the many positions, duties, and responsibilities that are usually given to, senior appointed officers. If I'm not granted my position in the Cabinet, a quarter share of all the oil on Mars, 1000 googol dollars, and a rocket out of this world, I'll threaten to leap to my death. Whether or not I receive my demands, I'll jump anyway. As I'm falling to my death, I'll release my parachute with my middle finger in the air screaming "Fucket."
4. I will find myself at an irrelevant Jam band Festival. Most likely in CA, TN, NY, FL, TX, AK, WA or maybe somewhere near the great lakes. I'll show up with a shock collar around my dogs neck. I'll have a remote that controls the voltage and allows me, or any random hippie that ground scored it after I lost it, to induce the pain. Every time I walk past a male or female with dreadlocks, or past someone who smells like patchouli or a skunk, I'll shock my dog. I'll tell the bongo bros to shut the "Fucket" up. I'll be sitting around the campfire at my neighbors campsite, starting deep conversations about relevant music. I'll get into an extensive argument. Boasting my superiority by listing pages worth of genres, and artists they've never heard of, and some they have. And then proceed in listing every LP, EP and single ever recorded. All studio recordings, all compilations, and all live shows. The set lists, the venues, and the versions of each song ever performed in a live setting. I'll dissect and break down the long improvised jam, into all it's relevant parts. Listing side projects, and citing every appearance on Fallon, Letterman, or any other late night show. I'll give Pitchfork ratings for each artist worthy of having one. Also, throwing in the amount of music I own, calculated in gigabytes. Then leave my campsite completely trashed and littered with ripped up peace flags and prayer flags, empty balloons and a lot of wasted nonorganic food. Leave the festival flipping off every hitch hiker with a sign reading, "Headed East," Screaming "Fucket.
"Sorry Bro, Im headed West."
3. I will find myself at 3701 W. 12th st. Topeka, Kansas U.S.A. Outside the Westboro Baptist church. I'll be scantily clad. I will step out of my car, the one that's plastered with "support our troops" stickers and American flags. Once I step out of the car they will ask me, "who are you, and what are you doing here?" I will say, "I was born this way, bitchez." I will grab my high quality boom box, with volume levels that crumble buildings. I will begin playing the new Lady Gaga single, set for release on February 13th. I'll press the repeat button. Begin stripping off my skimpy clothes and proceed to dance naked on my own. All while flipping them off screaming "Fucket."
2. Take my ass to east ST. Louis. The city recently named most dangerous in the country. I'll do some hustling and sweet talking to some of my homies and girlfriends. I'll be given a chance to participate in a rap battle. I'll be wearing the most redneck get up I got, overalls, boots, hunting gear, and a cowboy hat, the whole glock nine. Next, I will sleigh, kill, crush, and destroy every mc that I battle. Leaving those tough dudes in the dirt. With their confidence shattered, dreams broken, shoulders slouched, and heads hung low. And leave, waiving my skinny white middle finger, giving a loud, I don't give a "Fucket."
1. I'll continue writing this blog, even though I only average 19.1 hits a day. I'll continue my quest for relevance in this sea of blogs. Still posting hip music, hip poetry, hip commentary (rants) on philosophy, politics, and religion. Also, still providing personal entries, and my opinions on current events and news. I vow to start writing less depressing poetry, songs, rhymes, or whatever you wanna call them. I apologize for my grammar, which will remain somewhere between the 8th and 12 grade level. I'll always be waiting for that dream, vision, or revelation that comes, that will separate me from the rest of the blogosphere, and catapult me to internet super stardom. Filling my buzzaccount with more buzzbucks than I would even know what to do with. Until then, I'll just be another, unoriginal blogger, making an ass of himself. "Fucket."
THE KILLS NEW SINGLE
The Kills - Satellite by DominoRecordCo