It's a reoccurring theme spot that I just invented! Starting with every one's favorite little dish of bacteria scum left to dry in the sun, Soulja Boy. This little shit has turned out to be raps equivalent of Hanson if they had been run through the wardrobe of Michael Jackson and then bedazzled. Or is that a redundancy? ANYWAY, the fact is, there are small children all across this country that are in love with this demon and I am extremely concerned about their well being. If the last few years are the standard, this country is going to give itself downs syndrome listening to nonsensical, effortless bullshit like this. Granted, he's not the only one to blame, but this kid is the youngest of them all, so he's gonna be the longest running threat music faces on a whole. Unless Def Jam or So So Deaf sign a kid straight outta sixth grade. SO, hit up youtube, look up Soulja Boy Bird Walk Official Video and you decide if I'm right or not. K? Watch it now, then continue reading. Watch it. Ok? Did you watch it? Now tell me, is it wrong to think he should be brought to a boil in a vat of canola oil? THAT RHYME WAS BETTER THAN EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENED IN THAT VIDEO! Some one PLEASE show some initiative and get that red dot on his dome and SQUEEEEEEZE!
Soulja Boy album drops tomorrow. I'm numb with a mixture of confusion and disgust. I'm restless and hungry but the thought of food makes me want to vomit. Soulja Boy. What the hell? Is this what happens? can any 16 year old cereal eater with a pirated copy of pro tools put their musical abortion on myspace with an equally inane dance and get millions of hits and a record deal? Listening to the music player on his myspace only cements the musical invalidity of this whole mess and confounds me further. I heard you got some BAPES motherfucker, run that shit! That's what I would say if I saw him. No I wouldn't, I'm afraid of black people. Maybe I'm just jealous. That's probably it, I'm jealous that I didn't corner the internet savvy pre-teen market with a rebel yell, "Yuuuaahhh!" What does that mean even? The skin on my head feels tight. I need to go for a walk.
ReplyDeleteFeeling better now, more in control. The path to the stream is comforting and familiar but I know there's such undiscovered beauty beyond the well trodden earth. I feel like the woods are calling me. I feel like Daniel Day Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans. Time to explore. I turn from the trail at a large oak tree with a hundred bark eyes. I put a loaf of bread on the ground so I can find my way back and begin my venture into the unknown. Three miles later I realize I'm completely lost and I'm kicking myself for dropping the entire loaf of bread. You're supposed to break off pieces and leave yourself a trail of bread, idiot. I'm hungry. Damn that was stupid, Daniel Day Lewis would never be that stupid. Then I see it, the red beer cooler, 40 feet south, tucked behind a shrub. I make my way over to this mysterious capsule. What's in there? Black tar heroin? that'd be sweet. Maybe some money, I could dig that too. I think about all the different possibilities, imagining physical manifestations of them swirling around me. In my mind, ideas are balls of light, every color of the spectrum, each separate thought a different hue. My brain tornado gives me vertigo but there will be no tears this time. I collect myself and kick open the cooler, pretending that I'm being filmed from a low angle.
The lid flies off. There's a severed head in this cooler. A human severed head. This cooler has Soulja Boy's talentless severed head inside it. I know it's soulja boy because his ass-ugly custom glasses bear his moniker. His mouth is contorted in a snarl that suggests his last words were, "Yaahh, trick, yaaahh!" Looks like you super-soaked the wrong ho young Soulja Boy. Looks like I'm going on Oprah. The irony is almost too much but I stand tall. I wonder what kind of prize money I'll get for my discovery. Do they give prize money for stumbling onto crime scenes? Who are they anyway. Grownups I guess. Jesus, I need a lawyer to secure the book rights, I stand to make a fortune. In my mind Soulja Boy's head says, "murry chri-mus." I realize that this is the best thing that has ever happened to me, but the police are gonna have a lot of questions. I'm the number one suspect, I've seen several cop dramas and I just know I'm wanted for questioning or something. You'll never take me alive, coppers. That's what I'd say if I had killed Soulja Boy and put his head in a cooler in the woods. I didn't kill Soulja Boy, no, but I'm glad it happened and I'm glad I took this walk. His album drops in 7 hours on the east coast and I'm the only non-guilty party who knows of his cruel fate. What did I do to deserve this? Just lucky I guess.
Asking anything more of these most generous woods would be pushing it so I decide to make my way out. The cooler feels lighter than expected. I read in Highlights for kids that the human head weighs 8 pounds. Soulja Boy's head and the cooler feel about 10 together and the cooler weighs at least 5. Soulja Boy's head weighs less than others' because he's an idiot. I choose a direction and start walking, imagining how DDL would find his way out of the woods. Effortlessly, thats how, he'd navigate these woods with such ease. I bet if Soulja Boy got lost in the woods he'd be so ill-equipped for survival. All he has is a pair of BAPES and those glasses. Now he doesn't even have a body so he's totally fucked. You can't survive in the woods without a body. I bet even Soulja Boy knows that. Daniel Day Lewis definitely does. I imagine I'll be greeted with a hero's welcome when I make it out of the forest. I'll probably just get arrested.