deep throughts

i once worked for a big shot advertising agency coming up with new viral marketing schemes for young web companies. for one particular campaign i sent vials of AIDS to everyone who signed up on the company's website, simultaneously with cool emails saying "you now have AIDS. pass it on at singlesweb.com!" it was very avant-garde but for some reason the agency could not get their heads around my concepts of creative realism.

a woman should have the right to choose, since the fetus is part of the woman's body. but since the fetus is also part of its own body it should have the right to defend itself from the woman. if i were president i would implement a policy of firearms for fetuses so things can be resolved in a standoff. the woman might say, "hey fetus, you're really inconvenient to my aspirations as a unique member of human civilization. too bad your complexity isn't as life-affirming as mine." to which the fetus might reply, "see this glock, bitch? how you like me now?" john woo could direct.

there is an undiscovered technological goldmine out there in the invention-o-sphere. remote controls for remotes. think about it. never having to reach for your tv remote again. is your tv remote over there on that *other* chair on which you are not sitting? never fear, because with the remote-control-remote-control you'd never have to get up again! just press what you want your remote to do on your other remote and voila! the press of a button is achieved by the press of a button. awesome!

Al-Gangster

thanks to mos def on bill maher's show for this idea: what if rival gangsters and thugs were to incorporate video and audio media to communicate their battles for dominance the way terrorists do?

location: malik jones secret spot
[malik sits in front a bullet riddled wall on a dark street, reading into a camera he just jacked from a punk ass fool:]

" yeah yeah. dis be malik jones, aka brooklyn's grimiest. i just wanna shout out my homies mortar and pestle. but, nah son, this is about you, t-hog. t-hog, you been encroachin' on my block for the last two weeks son and niggaz ain't havin' that shit, son! daz why i made this video and put it up on youtube for all the gangsters to know that malik jones don't play that shit. t-hog, if you don't get your crew to step off my turf by, in the next week, man... i'm gon come for you nigga, i'm comin' for YOU, son. that's right you heard it first here, i'm gon kill t-hog and his crew wherever they be."

a couple days later....

location: t-hog's block
[t-hog and his crew of anal-z-ysts are viewing malik's video threat, reviewing it for clues.]

"that nigga bluffin' man. see dat sweat peepin' out from under his doo-rag. shiiit. he trippin' yo. what.. what the hell? do you hear that in the background? sounds like the J train son. run dat shit back. now cross-reference that shit with the graffiti and bullet holes on the wall. i wanna know all the blocks near J train stops where they use that kinda ammunition son. shit, enroach, mutha fucka imma show you how to encroach up in here! the hog nation ain't nuthin to fuck wit! arrrf! arrrf! arrrrf!" [t-hog barks.]

in the court of the crimson king

a tale is told of mighty men
fighting for their place
plots unfold for pots of gold
dying for the taste

withered souls and armored chests
the streets parade away
quiet times awake unrest
and fools' songs ricochet

a golden calf is born again
the children clap "once more!"
sharing laughs of blunt disdain
blind as those before