I’m just being had. I guess it’s okay. Like 5-Dollah Footlongs. Party in the USA. Can’t get the shit outta yer mind. So now BW, like the genius Rumpelstiltskin that he is, covers the twinkling-iest teen that’s ever twinkled in the land of teensters. Yeah, as in teamsters, but teensters, and as in teen cartels. When they talk about the bad economy, they never say how great poarn continues to do. Same with the teensters industry. It always does good, unaffected by any economic collapse.
Taylor Swift expresses–quite lovingly–all those soft jugular pillow-emoto-angst that any and all tween will encounter. That’s why she’s rockin’. In sales. In plays. In charts. Taylor took Avril’s place, cause A went to (albeit short-lived) connubial bliss with her bandmate, so like the teensters needed someone else. Like Taylor. From Apple-latcha. Miley was born with a banjo in her mouth. Nashville royalty. Taylor, on the other hand, is grown from pure nor-sow pine. Fresh and as old as the hills. That’s why she’s IT. Capital I.
So, BW, the Rumpel that he is, has a 8th sense for this. He is, afterall, the architect of the weasel-wombat sound. WTF is that, you ask? It’s kinda like young turk jizzy jazz. Fast jizz beats. I serve the impression that I’m long Caruso in the bed, but I’m really a jizzy jazzy boy. But you do forgive me cause I’m clever (weasel), with inchoate sleeves, and I do wail. But don’t get too close cause I bite (wombat), being that I is a product of non-stop techno assailments on my way to growing up so I dial it back a bit and come out like the Cutting Edge of Folk. I seen it all, as lived through video games. And I shall sing about it with theatricality: Fall-Out-Oy, Mannix at the Disco and The Academy Jizz. Progeny of the Green Dayudes, Wizzer, and all the upper clan of Eniks.
Okay, so anyway. BW. He is the master. And masters know what star to hitch. Just like he understands that the future of American music will somehow be intractably Hank Williams, he’s mastered the blue grass and he’s honed his sights on a purty little rough hewn that is Taylor from the Apple-latcha. So without further ado. Here is the Masterstillskin’s cover of Taylor’s, “You Belong With Me,” with BW wearing them britches to let us know he remembers the Skins of yester-yore who employed skinnies to hold–yes–even the tightest jeans in place (oi!) during the fights. Of course, the only reason why I write this way is that I’m like 5-Dollah Footlongs on BW. He is the Liege for now. Here is Master Brilliancy, y’all:
PS Can you cover David Cook next? He needs the stamp of legitimacy.
Started watching History Channel’s WWII in HD. Ok. WWII in HD. Nice. But WTF. Anytime text shows up on the screen. Ponderously hard to read. “It’s HD,” they’re thinking, “We’re not gonna check to see if it’s actually readable. HD covers all that shit.” Extreme fail on the text.
Hazard to guess that a good number of the audience for WWII in HD are the very respected seniors who actually have close to the heart memories of WWII. Did it ever occur that this goof of poor typeface with no contrast might make it extremely annoying on the retinas of our enduring seniors? Check it. The problem is very pronounced on the episode for US Japanese WWII soldiers. Can’t see a damn thing. Ironic as shit. HD/poor text/senior audience.
Just saw an interview on Fox with Limbaugh who relayed that he believes Palin is ready to be President. Can’t block the thought that the true time-clock might be PoarnReviewer. The teeth are a big give away.
Fake opaque sizable mincers.
Ms. Palin take note: Limbaugh wishes to relay to you that he is the only man, who with his mincers can rip your Bumpit off and chew through your fish nets with equal parts ferocity and gentleness if only you’ll let him. RRRrrgh. Aye, Sarehhh, he sayeth.
Limbaugh actually wants us to think that he was born with opaque white nashers.
The dental work only makes you wonder: WTF dentist? Maybe the reason that shade of white was chosen was so that the opaqueness could have a chance to provide adequate coverage for the yellow rotten mess trying to recover it’s natural born dominance. Like so.
Can’t stop imagining that this guy’s mouth and ass DO NOT smell benign.
From IMEEM: “So what did we do? We scoured the Interwebs to research each candidate’s music taste. After finding interviews and articles from venerable magazines like Rolling Stone and Blender, we pieced together Obama and McCain’s top 10 favorite songs as told by the candidates themselves!”
This little pig went to market;
This little pig stayed at home;
This little pig had roast beef;
This little pig had none;
This little pig cried “Wee, wee, wee!”
All the way home.
America’s dependence on oil. Banks too stingy to lend to each other. Disparate global rules on commerce and currency. Bloated valuation of assets. The contagious bubbles….dotcom, SUV, and real estate. Budget gaps. Corporate malfeasance. Credit freeze. Deregulation. Hush Derivatives. Speculation. Deficits. Hedging. Iceland.
The market experts appearing before us do look stunned. Pointing out to us that we ought to know that they earned that scout patch ayear ago, you know, the patch for“I-wrote-a-letter-book-editorial-blog-text message-warning-about-this,” in Camp Wallstreetcoma. See it? It’s right here. Nice, huh?
