a n i m a t i o n . w o r d s & p i c t u r e s . f o r u m
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Shitty Music Magazine - Summer CD ReviewBy: Ass-Slapper07.11.02 Its summertime, and what better way to celebrate on the patio than by playing some fresh, mindless, popular music? Tired of all that good shit like Nine Inch Nails and Aphex Twin? Need some ideas on how to help in the slaughter of real music? Then check out our first in a series of summer CD reviews, and prepare to immerse youself in sonic feces!  I know you be up on in there, BIG, up in heaven...eatin cheeseburgers, bein all fat and shit... 1. P-Diddy Check it! Double deck it! P-Diddy's back, being all badassed in the 'burbs while pining for the filthy ex-girlfriend who dumped his ass! Listen to his ludicious lyrics as he whikkedy-whaks his way through track after track of tired, mundane vocal blackrobatics, all in an effort to grasp tenaciously onto what little self respect he still possesses! Check out his hit single "bad boy for life" in which he rides a scooter around a posh suburban neighbourhood, playing golf, and relaxing on his front porch as white person after white person stroll by in disgust...OUTRAGEOUS!  Thanks for buying my shitty CD! Now I'm off to fuck a white woman while snorting cocaine off of her sister's tits. I love you all. Just look at yourself, Diddy...life's pretty rough when you aren't riding the coat tails of a fat rap-bastard, or the success of a Spanish dirty, isn't it? Notorious BIG sure got the raw end of the deal...Mediocre stardom, shot in the face, and in possession of a friend like you. What next? A horse grows opposable thumbs, digs up the guys body and proceeds to anally rape whats left of it? He launched your music career, and J-Lo kept it alive for you - a fact which must absolutely eat you up inside at night. P-Diddy is a current events whore, plain and simple; after all, he based his success on it.  Regardless of how rich he is, P Diddy always reverts to his most primal instincts - attacking from behind, for no good reason. BIG dies, and Combs vomits out 20,000 songs, all of which at least mention tubby's passing to some degree - and as we all know, no one can push record sales like the deceased. Combs is on top of the world now...millions in artistic revenue, Mace as a bitch in his back pocket, and whores as far as the eye can see. All of a sudden, people realise that BIG actually was a worthless, run of the mill gangsta rapper with good taste in clothes and a SEVERE weight problem. Hietus. Out of nowhere, J-Lo and Puffy are discovered to be having a passionate relationship. Suddenly, the world cares about him, and he tosses out a couple of songs for the sniveling masses, followed shortly afterwards by the global realisation that there is good reason for their forgetting about him in the first place. Hietus. J-Lo wakes up one day and wonders why she's in bed with a lanky, smelly black man with a predeliction towards shooting people at clubs - they promptly split, and Puffy is thrown smack dab in the middle of a conspiracy laced trial with his freedom at stake. What happens? People start to care again. "Poor Puffy." "What a sweet guy, so heartbroken in a primal African savage sort of way." Just the justification he needed to regurgitate more "hits" about his obsession with a woman he can't have, and a badass reputation he'll never possess.  I did not mean to shoot that man. He simply looked at my bitch, and I was forced to defend...to...fuck you, cracker. I don't know...there's just something so creepy about basing your entire career on misfortune, isn't there? All of the high points in his career have revolved around the worst possible personal experiences. Isn't that grounds for suicide? Shouldn't he be forced to eat the burst setting on an uzi? I personally believe in karma, and the basic truth that, what goes around, comes around - fate has a way of balancing things out. That being said, keep an eye out for Diddy about a month after his popularity once again, and invariably, dies out...the only thing that'll bring him back again is Mace suffering some horrific death.  Ugly. Stupid. Weak. And she makes millions! 2. Pink Bad to the bone, and confused about her own self perception, Pink is back with an all new CD chalk full of Grrrrl power - unless, of course, heavy lifting is required. Listen to her confusing range of emotions and opinions, as she shamelessly whores herself to every generalized adolescent dillema in an all out effort to increase her own market share - all while rockin' the miggety-mic! Hear her toot her own horn and call herself a sexy, popular party woman in "Get the party started," and then change gears completely as she portrays herself as an ugly, unpopular, and unloved young woman in "Don't let me get me." What a crazy girl! What phat rockin' beats!  You see? Look at how hot you can be when you don't think you're black. What a media slut - and not in that sexual, hot, buns of steel Ricky Martin sort of way. Pink is the culmination of every bad forwarded joke email that, although you saw it for what it truly was, and promply deleted it from your inbox, somehow manages to fool the masses into chuckling and passing it on. Her success is merely a womb fart, squeezing forth from a brief birth of the Gyrl craze - shocking women trying to break the mold and toss the female image on its head. If only they knew just how ridiculous they looked. Come on...yo've all seen Dark Angel, Alias, Black Scorpion (okay...maybe only a few of you have seen Scorpion...*shudder*) No matter how good the writing or acting is, you still can't get over the image of a girl trying to kick ass. Jessica Alba needs the filming to be sped up in order to give the impression that she's actually not a clumbsy bumblefuck. The chick from Alias can actually move, but watching her stringy arms and legs injure enormous beefcake men still strikes me as silly. And Pink is no different - in one of her videos, she's in a boxing ring, and her stance/punches reek of "I don't know what the fuck I'm doing." Ladies, empower yourself in more believable ways - your intelligence, maturity, and. dedication. And Pink...well, there's a reason why men's and women's sports teams are kept seperate. The only ass you're capable of kicking are the rest of the trash artists on the top 40. I have no problem with women who are tough, intelligent individuals - just those who pretend to be.  Look at her pose all cutsey like...does she even know how wretched she is? In the immortal words of Liam, here are a few memo's that Pimk may have missed, what with the cocaine and copius amounts of hard, black cock: 1. You're not hot. At all. In fact, I'd be so bold as to classify you as the anti-erection. No matter how much you work out, or how gorgeous your body looks, it still won't detract attention from that point-blank shotgun wound you call a face. Please, for the love of Christ and everyone else, quit plonking your scary ass into whore suits, shaking your bits and pieces in front of the camera, and singing about how men fight over you. We seriously don't buy it.  Someone's brother...I swear to God. 2. You're not a badass. Even when you drive a motorcycle off a roof, and into your (obviously) evil ex-boyfriends window, your celebration dance shows just how lanky and gumbi-esque you are. You punch like a bitch, you weigh 20 pounds soaking wet, and your mother's SUV running out of gas on the way to J.C.Penny is about as inner city as you've ever been. 3. You need to make up your FUCKING MIND. Are you a tough as steel 'hood slut? A cabaret centerpiece? A lonely and out of place adolescent? Perhaps a popular club diva who everyone wants to be around? I don't know how you do it, but every time a social trend rears its ugly head, you manage to piss out a video to match. Please, just pick a God damned cliche - your CD is full of them, after all. Pink - Now on sale...for far too long. 3. Limp Bizkit Its been out for a while now, so if you haven't already been suckered into its mezmerizing tracks, now is the time to give in like the salivating whores that you are! Limp Bizkit is here, lacing the phat beats in their latest marriage of rap and metal - an unGodly union that no one ever asked for! Watch as crazy eye guy goes crazy on his crazy guitar! Listen to Fred Durst spend half the CD informing you that Limp Bizkit is indeed present, and the other half trying to convince you that, not only can he kick your ass without the help of his army of bodyguards, but that he is the reason why an armada of hot sluts are constantly leaking pussey juice all over him, and not the sack of money he gave them earlier! The baddest group to ever come out of a failing U.S. school system - Bizket is in the hizzouse!  He even looks like a fag when he's illustrated. This is the professed saviour of alternative music? Are you fucking kidding me? I realise that I'll sound so very old here, but I still remember a time (early - mid 90's) when alternative music was truly an alternative - it was different, new, and revolutionary in a media desperate for revolution. Now, there really isn't a definitive line that seperates the different musical styles...rap mates with rock, soul ass-fucks folk, alternative rimjobs disco, I pound the ever loving shit out of your mom in the back seat of my Tercel so that her head bangs against the door every time I take a run at her fat, juicy slit...Its the only explaination I can give as to why bands like Nickelback and Staind enjoy as much air time on easy listening and pop 40 radio stations as they do in their native broadcast environment.  Yo yo yo! Bouncing off the walls! I just got kicked in the balls! Er....I'm all out of steam here. Limp Bizkit is the worst offender by far. Its as if their failure to pick a genre is more their doing than that of a fickle audience, or overzealous radio industry. They lash out on drum and guitar in such a way that you're forced to acknowledge the presence of raw, powerful, undeniable talent. Suddenly, your admiration changes to anger and disgust when Durst grabs hold of the mic, and proceeds to zikkety zak all of his bands credibility out the window. No matter what the beat, rythmn, tone, or pitch of the music is, Durst yells at you, the audience, informing you that he is a culmination of sexy, cool, and badass - all of which ultimately result in his getting laid on a frequent basis.  What next? An action figure series based on the cocks of Fuck Society? 'Collect them all! Dave's evil cock leads the revolution against MegaTrouts fat tool! Can Ass-Slappers slightly bent penis save the day?'. Have you seen this genital wart? He bears an uncanny resemblance to that one little prick we all knew in high school - the little annoying guy who talked smack, yet no one touched, because he had huge friends. Now look at him...ugly, stupid, and paid exhorbant amounts of money to spout shit into a microphone. His very existence is an affront to humanity, and bears a striking resemblance to evidence against evolution - some mountain lion or pack of wolves should have snatched his sorry ass out of momma's trailer-carriage a long time ago. Considering the talent of his bandmates, Durst frustrates me to no end. Its an unfortunate cause and affect relationship; The band is great...Durst is shit...Durst influences the music and songs...the band plays towards Dursts' ideas...see where I'm going with this?  A smirk not only a mother could want to smack the fuck out of. Limp Bizkit's contribution to music is negligible. How can it be anything but? 80% of their material deals specifically with how good Limp Bizkit is, and the rest revolves around Dursts' quest for pussey - one which you know damn well has only resulted in quickly exhausted jars of Vaseline, wad after wad of Kleenex, and an overwhelming sense of despair. Lyrics aside, the sound of the music itself is more regurgitation than evolution - take two band members who love metal, two who love rap, and an extremely strong sense of comprimise. Let's face it...Limp Bizkit is fleeting. They're already as memorable as a fart in the wind, and equally as substantial. One can only hope that they're put out of their mysery soon...or, should I say, ours? 4. Ja Rule and Ashanti Music's biggest whores tag team it up in a few songs, along with a hoarde of other rappers who can't seem to plan out a single music video without one another. Listen to Ja Rule sing with Choclair! Check out Ashante singing with Missy Elliot! Ja Rule with Ashante! Ashante with Fat Joe! Fat Joe with Missy Elliot! MY FUCKING BRAIN! Its music's biggest frat house and sorority, all rolled into one, chocolatey brown paper bag of shit...so go out and get one of their CD's, so you can hear a dozen other people you never paid to hear! PEACE!  A tag team of fuck. Two alternative artists meet on stage and team up on a song, and the blissful rarity of the situation is sheer heaven for the audience. Two rap artists do it, and its business as usual. Why is every rap video a big fat group hug, a celebration highlighting all of the money they've made from the attention of a retarded audience? Ja Rule has snuck into every R&B video made since Jesus died, contributing his raspy voice and puppy-kicked-repeatedly bad looks to the overall mood of each video - namely, the justification of slamming some slut behind her boyfriend/husbands back. Two classy thumbs up.  Can you repeat the question? I'm TOO FUCKING BLACK to understand what you said.. Likewise, Ashante, a woman with honest to God talent, has been passed around from song to song like a white stripper at the L.A. Lakers celebration party. Fat Joe persuaded her to slam him and another whore behind her man's back..."Murder Inc." has her pining over a man who treats her like complete and utter shit, while cheating on her incessantly. What, pray tell, does she do for an encore? 69 one of the sluts from Moulin Rouge while Mace and Choclair jerk off in their faces, all the while singing about how much money, and how many cars, they own? Its painful enough to actually hear one of these songs, let alone swallow the notion that a nation of morons have made them wealthy beyond belief. People...they're staring you in the eyes, and showing you exactly what they have bought for themselves with your money! "Me and Ja Rule own a sweet ass Corvette!" Fucking retards.  So...she actually has her own cd? I'm so confused... To be perfectly honest, I've never seen the CD's, and I shudder to do so. Regardless, they must be a mess of shit...I mean, who get's to have what song's on what CD's? Ja Rule has shared the spotlight in almost every single one of his endeavours - does that mean that the same song is on several different albums? Does he even have any songs featuring he and he alone? If so, what does it say about his career that he needs the help of others to have a hit? We all dress the role for our careers. I wear a suit, the poor bastard down the street wears a bear suit to sell flowers, and Ja Rule wears a miniskirt, leopard print bra, and stands on the corner of Church and Dundas asking passing men if they want a date. You're a classy guy, Rule...nothing like being a hired gun on other people's artistic endeavours. Say hello to Vanilla Ice in rehab for me when you see him - and you will. Cock.  All that's missing is the prehensile tail and the stolen TV. As for Ashante, I pray to God that she finds it within herself to break away from the shit reeking slumber party that is her gang of rap buddies. As it is, regardless of the cash she is undoubtedly raking in, all she is to the world is another pretty voice in the R&B gangbang that is Pop music today. Just run down the list...Fat Joe fucked her, Ja Rule fucked her, Murder Inc. fucked her...now, it seems like she's fucking herself.  Not even downes syndrome could stop her from blackin it up. Make sure to check the next issue, when we take a look at some new discs from Sum 41, Blink 182, Metallica, and everyone's favorite loaf of bread in the middle of a circle jerk, Shakira |
