The bagpipe originated in Scotland several hundred years ago, when your closest neighbor lived 10 miles away and you could practice your bagged horn device in a field all damn day without bothering a soul or having your frazzled neighbors want to stab you in your sleep. At least that’s what I would assume Wikipedia would say if I looked up the history of bagpipes, but I don’t want to type “bagpipes” into Google and have to deal with personalized bagpipe ads every time I browse the internet.
The next parade that rolls through town, be sure to watch everybody’s face as the bagpipes pass by – everyone’s expression looks like they’re changing a diaper on an 13 year old.
Today Kanye West released his latest attempt at music with an album entitled Yeezus.
In other related news, I was about three seconds away from instagramming a titanic-sized turd I had taken earlier today but I opted not to because, you see… just because some things are created doesn’t mean they should be shared with others, no matter how big a pile of shit it is. And thus begins my album review of Kanye West’s Yeezus.
First off let’s explain the title for those readers older than 45. Kanye named it Yeezus because Yeezus rhymes with Jesus (whom he often compares himself to, though I highly doubt Kim Kardashian would ever marry a carpenter) Then take the last two letters of his first name (YE) and add a Z in there to make it all hip-hoppy because for some reason rappers don’t like the letter S. And voila, a ridiculous title sure to attract kids that have to keep one hand on their pants to keep them from falling.
The opening track On Site was produced by Daft Punk and rightly sounds like it was produced by throwing baked potatoes at the drums and keyboard for 2 minutes. Not the strongest start for an album but my curiosity was piqued.
Next, I thought the track Black Skinhead would surely tear the roof off by the sound of the title, however the opening lyrics left me bewildered and reaching for a wall: “For my theme song, got my leather black jeans on” ...I’m starting to regret wasting the 3 minutes it took to illegally download the album.
The following track, I Am A God is sure to raise a few eyebrows but mine were already raised by the “black leather jeans” lyric from the last song… can jeans even be leather? I thought denim was a requirement for pants to be considered jeans? West’s lyrics are so provocative and deep on so many levels, they really make you think… and for that I will pardon him if he wishes to wear leather from the waist down.
Another attempt to shock the listener, New Slaves leaves me thinking he must have left the studio unlocked for some stray animals to wander in and walk all over the gear, accidently recording this 5 minute mess. But the liner notes say nothing about strays. Hmm?
Next, Hold My Liquor leaves much to be desired in the hip-hop lyric and beats department, so far I’ve managed to make better beats vacuuming up pet hair and Cheerios.
There are five other “songs” on the album and they’re pretty much par for the course. If you ever decide to throw pots and pans into a wood chipper in an attempt to create music, don’t be surprised if you get sued for copyright infringement by Kanye West’s label.
Yeezus ★☆☆☆☆ (couldn’t figure out the keyboard shortcut for a half star, so he gets one whole one.)
Sorry for being absent over the past couple of weeks. I’ve been really busy getting drunk and crashing my bicycle into newspaper kiosks around the city after losing my job. No biggie though, one door closes on your penis another door opens.
But things are finally starting to look up, I even found a picture of DMX on a horse today, isn’t that great!?
The month of April just wouldn’t be complete without one more journal entry on gangsta rapper extraordinaire, Gucci Mane.
For those of you not familiar with Gucci Mane, he raps about shooting his rivals, consuming codeine-infused lemon flavored beverages and sitting reclined in shiny vehicles the general public can’t afford. I’m sure he also has a hand in shaping U.S. foreign policy and works closely with the American Heart Association as well.
Contrary to popular demand, Gucci Mane was not born with his plentitude of extraordinary talents, but rather rose through the ranks of obscurity to become the worlds greatest musician to ever have an ice cream cone tattooed on his face.
Well, after many long nights of research and about $60 worth of 5 Hour Energy supplements, I was finally able to complete the Mane family tree for those interested in his genealogy and ascent to music super stardom.
For more Gucci goodness be sure to check out:
“It’s not easy being a cowboy hat. Especially when you’re hired to cover the bald head and grotesquely misshapen forehead of a country star 24/7. I mean really dude, who the hell sleeps in a hat!? KENNETH FUCKING CHESNEY, THAT’S WHO!
Sure he takes me off to shower, but he wears me right up until he steps under the water because he doesn’t want his girlfriend to find out he’s fucking bald – it’s just absurd! So I’ve gotta sweat it out for the next 30 mins on top of the toilet while he showers without the fan on, then it’s back on his sweaty head for the next 18 hours!
Dear Hardcore Gangsta Rapper,
I realize that the word Amaretto rhymes with many other words in your highly developed, mind-expanding raps. However, what you may have failed to realize is that Amaretto is usually a spirit consumed by those aging individuals who poop their pants and wear Life Alert® bracelets in case they fall.
Of course I understand that after a long day of holding your pants up and limping around like you have a leg that doesn’t bend at the knee, you just want to sip a mild, refreshing beverage distilled from apricot pits because strawberry daiquiris hurt your hardcore tummy. I totally understand after a busy week of swearing in front of children, that you just want to take the edge off with a beverage Italian nannies use to cook with. But consider what this may doing to your hardcore image.
In conclusion, please don’t kill the messenger or smash a bottle of expensive bubbly across my face next time you see me in VIP. I’m only telling you this because I think it will help your tough-guy image if you start rhyming about single malt Scotch or Bourbon while you serenade society’s downfall.