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Union Haters Unite!

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Published by K0NY on November 16, 2007 in Manifesto.
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Union Rat

Unions suck. Seriously, they are just a bunch of bullies trying to muscle poor, defenseless little business owners into forking over more of their hard-earned profits. Alright, granted the owners of these companies may not be poor, little or even defenseless. Never mind all that. I’m just saying Bill Gates is entitled to be a zillionaire after working so hard to steal young software developers’ ideas all those years to build his monopoly. There’s no reason a bunch of garbage men should inconvenience him by refusing to pick up his trash unless they get medical benefits for their kids. It’s not Billy’s problem, people! He didn’t tell you to go bareback that night after the tequila shots. It’s your kid, you work out the health care, buddy.

Who the hell do these people think they are? What gives them the right to decide they aren’t going to write scripts for my reality shows until they get more scratch? I don’t pay dick for my fix of reality shows on TV.  Why the hell should the writers expect to get paid if we the customers of broadcast televisions aren’t paying anything for it? Shouldn’t these writers just be writing for the love of their art? Doesn’t accepting money for your work make you a sell-out and a hack? Did Aristotle ask for money? Were the Wright Brothers or the brothers Grim looking to get paid for their contributions? Well maybe they were, but you didn’t see them starting a coffee clutch and banding together to create safe work conditions.

The point is, we don’t negotiate with terrorists (unless we’re scared of them and their nukes like the crazies who run South Korea and Iran). Unions are just like terrorists. They threaten to hurt you and your trade -maybe even the whole world- if they don’t get what they want. Mel Gibson didn’t give those bastards who kidnapped his son any money in that movie because of the principal. And damn it, that’s what we should do to these people who form groups to lobby for longer lunch breaks and more time off.

I mean, am I crazy? The subway system is supposed to deliver me to work and, the taxi cabs get me home after a long night of tequila shots so I can go bareback with my wife. If they decide to strike, where does that leave me? Sure, I may not be part of a union, but I have my rights too.

I DEMAND that there be a reasonable means of transport to get me to and from adjacent boroughs in a timely fashion. Come hell or high water, I want a worker to get minimal pay for providing me with maximum service. I want the option to tip this person poorly, if at all, and the right to not hear any complaining about it. These should be basic human rights that every patron of any service gets. If you’ve ever given money to anyone for any service, be it a shoe-shine, a hummer, or mixing a drink, then you know what I’m talking about. Maybe together we can form a group to advocate the rights of the business user. We can start having some meeting, hire a lawyer and some lobbyists, then perhaps draft a list of demands and present them to businesses everywhere.

We can threaten to stop purchasing services if these bastards won’t respect our freedom to get what we want and how we want it. If they don’t like it, well then they are just a bunch of oppressive fascist dictators only after the money. After all, shouldn’t our happiness be payment enough? Stand with me now, brothers and sisters. Together we can become a force for change. We can really make a difference by standing up for our rights. We’ll call our new group the “United National Initiative Of Non-servers” or U.N.I.O.N. for short and make up some nice fliers and logos and slogans. Our U.N.I.O.N. will ROCK!

-King 0f New York

Goldieloxxx The Empire Strikes Back

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Published by Goldieloxxx on November 15, 2007 in Magic Pot Recipes.
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So with the recent strikes in Hollywood and on Broadway I can’t help but say… I told you so. I’ve been saying it for years. Too many people have taken a stand for their civil rights. Demanding opportunities without sexual exchange. This whole strike thing would not have happened 50 years ago. A time when jobs were earned through dedicated daily Blow Jobs. A time when you checked your dignity at the door for a walk on roll as guy number two on the ever popular Yee Haw. A time when people wouldn’t dare strike cause 90% of Hollywood had there first shot handed to them after wearing 1300 pearl necklaces and 2456 money shots to the eye. You don’t hear prostitutes threatening to strike for higher pay and benefits. I’m one of the few writers not striking during these trying times, and do you know why?

1.I’m not a very good writer.

2.I dare not deny my fans. And finally,

3. You guessed it, I sucked a mean Weiner for the chance at the top.

Listen Hollywood, if you’re going to take your town back, you’re going to have to go back to your roots and say, “SUCK ON THESE NUT EEZ.”

Goldieloxxx I LOVE NEW YORK

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Published by Goldieloxxx on November 14, 2007 in Magic Pot Recipes.
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So New York (Tiffany Pollard) brought back Buddha last week and I’m all like what the fuck? Listen that guy may be hot for a Mangalore… you know, one of those creepy shape shifting Yoda looking warriors from the “Fifth Element.” Yeah I said it. That guy is fucked up looking. Sure Tailor Made is a pushover douche bag, but at least you know he’s not some violent ass hole who covers his assholishness by pretending to… well, not to be a violent asshole who covers up his assholishness. Which only backs up my first statement, that he’s a shape shifting Mangalore from the planet who gives a shit from the movie fifth element. Come on Sister Patterson, what the fuck. Doesn’t your third eye pick up on psycho abusive men who beat on people half their size. New York, Tailor Made is a pussy and you’ll eventually dump him cause in the end you don’t really want a guy you can boss around, but please do not pick Buddah. Also, in case you guys missed it, New York dumped Wolf this week because he busted ass in her face while she was sleeping. I don’t care how big your dick is. If you fart on me before I fart on you, You’re out! None of these guys are good enough. Next season, ZAG’s auditioning for I Love New York 3, and you know there’s gonna be one. So be ready to Vote, Vote, Vote. I LOVE NEW YORK!!!!!

ON STRIKE!

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Published by K0NY on November 14, 2007 in Manifesto.
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Due to the writers strike in Hollywood, we will be unable to bring you K0NY’s usual, long-winded blog post. Instead, here is some art work from a second grader who is now on the FBI watchlist:

Happy!

 

Surprised!

Where my “One Hit Wonders” at?

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Published by K0NY on November 13, 2007 in Magic Pot Recipes.
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Totally Radical!

At the risk of dating myself (In the chronological sense, you perv!), I’d like to admit my tremendous fondness for the music of the 1980’s. Sure, that was a particularly great part of my life, so nostalgia is a factor. However, I believe that generation had something that the current is sadly lacking: originality. Eighties music is littered with strange and quirky characters who came from obscurity, delivered unique and memorable music, then disappeared again. We call them “One Hit Wonders.”

These days, musicians who still sing and play their own instruments are scared of being too strange. With the advent of musical market research, sensible artists do their best to appeal to as many groups as possible through testing and fine-tuning. Nobody wants to be a “one hit wonder” intentionally. Those who go into music want to make it a career; they aren’t simply looking to get laid anymore. The results are generic and not very memorable.

What people don’t realize about the “one hit wonders” of the past, is that they were responsible for literally defining pop-culture. Their songs are timeless reminders of our past. That music sticks in our heads to this day. Groups like Devo, Men At Work, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, Bananarama, Toni Basil, A Flock of Seagulls, A-Ha, and many more live on in history because of a singularly amazing contribution. Having only one true hit, if it’s a timeless classic, is nothing to be ashamed about.

Sure, some of those groups may still be trying to make a comeback to this day. That doesn’t take away from what they once gave us. In the long run, setting your sights a bit lower and shooting for a single great song might be wiser than trying to become an enduring band. Achieving the mass acceptance of a single song might be the first step of your career or the last. It doesn’t matter if you can’t make more money from your not-so-great songs. What’s important is contributing at least one great work of art.

As a musician who played to get laid and for the fun of it, I’m offering my advice: If you play, go nuts. Do something original and crazy. Find a look, a sound, or a style that has not been done. Then make it yours. Concentrate on pouring out your wildest thoughts in your music. It may fail, but it will be yours. I’m pretty sure that the guys who recorded “Pac-Man Fever” and “Video Killed the Radio Star” had no idea of how successful their music would be. You could be the next one of those, and that would be a great thing for those of us who enjoy music.

-King 0f New York

Goldieloxxx Homewreckers reunion.

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Published by Goldieloxxx on November 12, 2007 in Magic Pot Recipes.
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Back when I was about 18 years old, I hooked up with this guy who already had a girl friend.  Yep, that’s right I’m a home wrecker.  He broke up with that zero and got with this hero.  I’m what you call a professional. Once you get a taste for breaking up a relationship, you can’t stop.  You get better at it, more efficient. You work your way up to more scandalous relationships. First, engaged men, then married men, then married men with children.  If you’re a mega pro, you get the guy to completely abandon his children and only love yours.  I’m personally after the biggest catch of them all. Mr. Brad Pitt.  Married Jennifer Aniston, divorced her for another Angelina Jolie, has 4 adopted kids with the ho and even one straight from his weiner to her uterus. This makes him totally unatainable - except for me. I’m coming for your man Angelina… there’s nothing you can do.

An Open Mind

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Published by K0NY on November 12, 2007 in Conspiracy.
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An Open Mind

“Conspiracy nuts” are people with whom an intelligent discussion of anything complex isn’t possible. By being labeled as such, one is automatically written off as non-credible or unreasonably suspicious. In fact, discussions of anything from religion to politics to business, by their very nature, require a certain level of credibility. So having a reputation among your friends and colleagues as someone who buys into conspiracy theories, leaves you at an intellectual disadvantage. Before presenting any evidence about anything, no matter how logical and sensible, you must first conquer the obstacle of inherent skepticism.
 
For this reason, people with an interest in uncovering conspiratorial and secret information frequently look for credible third parties who can deliver evidence to their audience. Folks like Gerald Rivers (who uses the stage name “Geraldo Rivera” to make himself seem more ethnic) will often have “experts” explain the details of his television news investigation because most informed folks know that he’s an attention hungry hack. Alex Jones (an admittedly zany government watchdog) will cite news reports, and government memos to make his points because he’s bat-shit crazy and nobody would believe his word. If you’re known as the town idiot, it doesn’t matter if you have an epiphany one day and discover a cure for AIDS while picking your nose. Nobody will take you seriously.
 
If you think about it, the people who are trying to debunk a conspiracy theory instantly have more credibility than those who have potentially uncovered one. Even though human beings are sneaky and deceptive by nature, we tend to believe strangers who tell us there’s nothing underhanded going on more easily than those who are trying to warn us of treachery. Considering that those hiding something have a lot more to lose than those trying to uncover it, this kind of thinking is backwards.

I’m suspicious of anyone who tells me that there’s no reason to be suspicious. Maybe that makes me paranoid, but I like to put my trust only in people who have earned it. I’m going to assume that the hot dog vendor on the corner is scratching his ass all day with his serving hand. That water in which his franks boil, is rarely changed as far as I’m concerned, unless he can prove otherwise. In my mind, that’s the healthy way of thinking. I may choose to ignore these gross food safety violations because the wieners are just so delicious, but at that point I’m making a choice after considering the possibilities.

A lack of willingness to contemplate all the possibilities may ultimately be a happier way to live. It’s true that ignorance is bliss. If that’s the way a person wants to be then more power to them. I choose not to close my mind off to the possibilities and as a result I think I worry too much. So since I’m doing it anyway, you the reader can feel free to not worry. K0NY’s got a handle on it. All I ask in exchange for doing the worrying for you is to not be judged harshly when you read something on these pages that may be way outside the scope of your understanding or interest. You don’t have to keep an open mind, just don’t dismiss things off-hand as lunacy until you’ve let them digest a bit in your brainpan.

-King 0f New York

The Ride of My Life

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Published by K0NY on November 9, 2007 in Magic Pot Recipes.
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Taxi!

Due to problems with the train system in New York City last night, I was forced to take a cab in order to arrive at home on schedule to retrieve my son from his after-school program. Believe me that I have no intention of making this blog a travel log of my commutes to and from my day job. However, this particular experience left an impact on me so profound that I wanted to share it with you, the readers.

Before I continue, there’s something you need to know about me. You may have noticed in a couple of my posts, that smell has been among the central themes. There’s a reason for this. I was cursed with, among other things, a very strong sense of smell. It sometimes has its benefits, but not last night.

The moment I entered the back seat of the cab, I detected the strong smell of vomit. It was so strong I actually looked around for the puddle. There was no visible sign of it. However, I was able to detect that it was likely caused by too many light beers the night before, perhaps buffeted by an order of curly fries.

I asked the driver whether someone had been sick in the car recently. He shuffled around the front seat as if looking for a cue card with the proper response. I said again, “Was someone sick back here? I smell vomit.”

The driver’s eyes opened wide as he looked back at me. We were pulling onto the Brooklyn bridge at that moment and the driver said with a thick Middle-Eastern accent, “BOMB?”

Reflexively, I called back, “No, no! Not BOMB. VOMIT! Did someone VOMIT back here?”

Again the driver looked down at his front seat for a moment, shook his head and quietly said, “No. No bomb.”

So we had established that there was no bomb in the car and that there was clearly a language barrier in addition to the physical barrier between the driver and me. With that out of the way, I tried to establish a sense of urgency by explaining that I was running late to pick up my kid. That was a mistake.

The remaining twenty minutes of my cab ride were terrifying. The car would lurch to life and speed along briefly before stopping short with very little room to spare between us and those in front of us. The driver seemed to not have a firm grasp on the concept of gradual breaking. He seemed to disregard safety completely in his quest to get me to my destination in time. The way we drove, I wasn’t sure we’d make it to the destination. We actually had two near escapes from car accidents along the way. I’ve comfortably ridden on almost every coaster along the East coast and this car ride scared me more than any of them.

I’m sensitive to the plight of taxi drivers because my father was one. The best way to make the most money is to give the customer what they want. In my case, I wanted to pick up my son on time, and the driver made that happen. It was terrifying and stinky, but ultimately I got where I needed to get on time. The driver got his tip. It was a rough and dirty example of a symbiotic relationship and I was glad it was over.

-King 0f New York

Goldieloxxx Let my pee wee goooooooooooooooo

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Published by Goldieloxxx on November 8, 2007 in Conspiracy.
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Today I read an article on  aol about ” Fallen Stars.” The article begged the question, “who will shine again?” It was of course referring to the countless number of Hollywood celebrities that have made an ass of themselves and tarnished their reputations. Lindsay Lohan is a drug abusive whore who wants to drive drunk and run over little kids, Mel Gibson hates Jews, Eddie Murphy pays transvestites to blow him, Tom Cruise is a couch jumpin, media attacking cradle robber, Woody Allen married his lovers underage adopted daughter… the list goes on and on. Surprisingly each of these people have continued to have a relatively successful career.
Here’s where I get angry.

The author of this article gave just about everyone she listed the thumbs up for a possible come back. All but the one we truly love and adore - Mr. Paul Reubens aka Pee Wee Mother Fuckin Herman! What was his transgression? Well he took his dingo dong out in a Adult movie theater. Pardon me, but aren’t those places made for you to shoot your hot glue all over the place. What? Do you just sit there and watch porn and meditate with your boner poking your jagged zipper. NO!!! Why would you watch porn if you can’t beat your meat? HOW CAN YOU HAVE ANY PUDDING IF YOU DON’T BEAT YOUR MEAT??!?!?!?

Now I agree, the underage porn charge looks bad, but according to Pee Wee what the police found were a handful of images from “an extensive collection of vintage physique art.” Questionable, but not out of the question.

This story is old and worn out. I wouldn’t even be talking about it except that the chick said Pee Wee was fucked and unforgivable. Lacey Rose, you’re a whore. You don’t know anything about Pee Wee! He’s a hero, innovator of the arts, totally creepy and we love him. What more could you ask for in a human being? Stupid hater bitch.

Spicy Donut Hey Little Timmy!

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Published by Spicy Donut on November 7, 2007 in Blogroll.
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Aqua Dots

 

Feel unpopular with the ladies? All the other kids getting in that cubby hole but you? Now there’s a new way to get some of that Pre-K poon!

Aqua Dots! Worthy of many exclamation points, Aqua Dots have been recalled across the globe due to the glue like substance coated on its many colorful balls. This glue has the same properties as some of your favorite date rape drugs. And kids just can’t get enough of the stuff. With its patented dot-release syringe© you too can make a rufie-colada just like dad. And all the colors will make sure the only blue balls you see are in your classmates’ juice.

 

And that’s not all… with a little imagination you can Aqua Dot your own shankin knife for when the bitch wakes up and tattles.

Shankin’ knife

 

Alright little Timmy have fun out there and remember the Aqua Dots motto; “If she doesn’t remember… it didn’t happen.”

 

here’s the real story if your curious:

http://www.reuters.com/article/newsOne/idUSN0758602120071107

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