Posts tagged ‘rap’

It’s bigger than hip-hop

– posted by russellmania3000

Damn, son. Fuck coffee, I’m awake now, ready to go 12 rounds. My employer is a professional sports franchise that will go unnamed, whose mascot is an outsized mutant rabbit named Hip-Hop and he has a supremely gay theme song. I’ve been trying to get it changed to Dead Prez for a while, but to no avail. Something about being family-friendly or whatever, I hear them talk about kids and I tune out. By the way, in our office we can use “gay” as an epithet as much as we like without being sent to sensitivity training or whatever. So if that’s your beef, I really don’t want to hear it.

I work in interactive marketing so I check out the Google competition for anything I’m involved in, just for kicks. I checked for Redikulus a while back and there used to be a lot more that has since dropped off the face of the nets. There was a pretty cool clothing company that I can find neither hide nor hair of anymore. But there are two interesting things of note.

this image's file name is Blexican.jpg. Really.

The first result, regrettably, is for a misspelling of Ridikulus, a Harry Potter spell. Christ, we are in poor company. But more importantly, as luck would have it, there’s a rapper who goes by same, and why shouldn’t there be? We really asked for it when we chose this spelling. Listen Mr. I Started Rapping At 6, I don’t care if your pops is in jail or what part of Las Vegas you’re from. I watched CSI and it seems like a goofy as all hell kind of place. If you so much as even think about purchasing, you will be in for a world of hurt, mon ami. No wait. What I meant was: perhaps we can come up with a business arrangement that will benefit both of us…

Dag, yo! Hodag!

The other and infinitely more compelling item of interest with which we share a name is Redikulus Dae, an annual street fair/shopping festival in Rhinelander, WI. Sweet crackers, there’s even a second annual Hodag Roaring Contest. I am so there. Back up a minute. Hodag, you say? Yes. Think of it as a Midwestern chupacabra. There’s not enough drugs in this city for me to make up shit like this. American folklore is truly fascinating and batshit crazy.

Anyway…as you were.

February 8, 2009 at 10:50 PM Leave a comment

Public Conversation

the people's bus

I’ll start a conversation with just about anyone. Most strangers seem to know this about me, because they readily start conversations with me. Often times, the friends I am with just sit back and watch, as though they were a studio audience. This particular time, my friend had lost her voice the day before. Had she wanted to talk, it was virtually impossible to hear her, much less have the ability to interrupt the shitstorm that is a conversation with me. On a Friday night, this man stumbled onto the bus, and made eye contact with us. Luckily for him, the seat directly in front of us was free for him to lounge on, and he took it by force.

With lazy eyelids bouncing up and down with the wheels of the bus, he looked at us.

“Whasssss your name?”

“My name? My name’s Sam.”

“Sam. Sam.” He takes a swig of his black plastic bag.

“How you doin’ Sam?”

“Oh, I’m good. How are you?”

“Good. I’m real good.”

“What’s your name? I didn’t get your name.”

“Say, are you wearing make-up, Sam?”


“You know who you look like, you look like the Joker!”

“Maybe that’s because I am. You enjoying the public bar?”

“Oh yeah, this the 800. The 800 bar. The Old E 800 bar.” This is accompanied by him pointing out each word on his can of beer in the plastic bag.

“You still didn’t tell me your name. What’s your name?”

“Jesus. You can call me Jesus.”

“Oh so you’re Jesus? You’re the second coming?” He nodded to assure me. I addressed the rest of the people on the bus. “Did you hear that? We have the new Jesus here with us! The new Jesus!”

“You’re funny, Sam. Why doesn’t your friend talk, Sam? Hey, Ashley! Why don’t you talk? Ashley! Say, what’s your friend’s name? Why don’t she talk?”

“Actually, herĀ  name is Ashley.” It was not.

“Nahhhhhh, you joshin’ me. You’re kiddin’.”

“I am not, I can’t believe you guessed it right.” Ashley was laughing too hard to defend herself and had no voice, so of course I ran with it.

“I can’t believe I guessed her name! That shit’s crazy. So what you ladies doing tonight, Sam? Where you going? I don’t even know where I’m going. I don’t know where my stop is…”

“Maybe going dancing, we’ll see.”

“Oh! You like to dance? What you like to dance to? Do you know how to PB&J?”

“Wha? Peanut Butter Jelly Time! Peanut Butter Jelly Time!” I keep chanting this, getting louder, and singing to everyone, while the new Jesus starts rapping.

“Now tic-tac-toe, oh yeah, tic-tac-toe, ya got it, Where he at? There he go!
Peanut Butter Jelly with a baseballĀ  bat.”

Needless to say, it was time for me to leave. I left my poor friend Ashley with the new Jesus. Maybe she would be the next Mary Magdalane, who knew. Only Friday night would tell. Jesus later pressed his cell phone to Ashley’s face, requesting she enter my number to his phone. Ashley of course, declined, but without first thinking maybe she should give Jesus my number, just for leaving her alone with him.

-posted by samsquared

December 18, 2008 at 4:06 PM Leave a comment