Cracka Rappa Lack-a?

“Do these pants make my boner look fat?”

Hey folks! Exciting news! Recent events in my life have inspired me to undertake a fresh and super-interesting life direction. What kind of recent events in a person’s life could cause such a potentially ill conceived great decision? Why nothing less than the White Person Triumvirate of Life Experience Awesomeness: Unaccomplished Life Goals, Divorce, and Self-Pitying Depression! Awesome really doesn’t do it justice, people. We might even be talking super awesome here. So anyhow, the other day I was sitting around my swinging bachelor pad on my shitty futon in my underwear, feeling my ass fall asleep and munching on a Pizza Pop when it occurred to me. What the world needs now is a fresh new take on music! Sure we’ve got Lady Gaga, a true inspiration to drag queens and bulimic pre-pubescent girls everywhere, and bands like Paramore keeping the Twi-Hards busy cutting themselves waiting for JacobWard to show up and sweep them off to the Netherworld, but who’s doing something for those of us that are rapidly approaching *ahem* middle age and yet still yearn for some measure of relevance? Well, how about me? I have always secretly yearned to live the life of the Suburban Cracka Rappa, and what better time than now to follow my dream? Christ knows I’ve got nothing better to do, and I’m getting a little tired of the nipple burns from the hot pizza sauce squirting out of the Pizza Pops. I know what you are thinking. There may be a few minor hurdles to overcome to reach my goals, and I agree. The biggest one obviously is the selection of my new Cracka Rappa name. I’ve decided that my musical approach will be to combine fresh new world music sounds with traditional hip-hop bitch-and-bling lyrics. Can you say numero uno with a bullet, people? I’ve rendered my choices down to three potential candidates and hopefully my three readers will be kind enough to weigh in and help me choose the winner:

Tae-Kwon Joe

This one is a no brainer really. Rappers love barbecue, and Suburban Cracka Rappas love Korean Barbecue (mall restaurant style, not the real thing). I had considered Kim-Jong Illin’ but decided against it due to the possibility of offending my shitty-music-hungry massive new media purchasing neighbours to the south. Shout out! Love ya ‘mericans! The possibility of Dear Leader issuing a copyright infringement assassination order did cross my mind too. The mashup of traditional North Korean Demigod worshipping dirges and ripped off David Guetta riffs combined with videos full of miniskirted Korean girls washing my Prius with their soapy body parts should be a sure fire recipe for success. Speaking of recipes, intercutting images of slow roasting succulent Korean barbecue in between the tits, ass, and mayonnaise product placements should be a hit with my target audience too. First single idea? How about a Korean/Cracka fusion of a Pat Benatar classic: Rove is a Batterfield?

Al-Playeda

There may be few risks associated with attempting to meld traditional Middle Eastern rhythms with shallow, materialistic, and godless western jams. Chief among them are the possibility of inciting a Fatwa and/or intense scrutiny from Homeland Security types. Truth is, that should be good for a few downloads anyway. Let’s face it, these people aren’t doing a great job of getting along, so maybe it’s time for a true leader to emerge and take the bullshit by the horns, so to speak. For obvious reasons that leader should be a Suburban Cracka Rappa. What are my qualifications for uniting these worlds with my musical culture fornication? Seriously? I negotiated the return of a broken Ab Roller once with a counting-the-minutes-until-suicide WalMart customer service rep without a receipt. Case closed, people. First single idea? How about a Bedouin/Cracka mashup of the Frank Sinatra classic All of Me called Allah Me? Just a sec, I’ll be right back there’s a guy knocking at my door with a cell phone in his hand and a strangely thick waistline for such a skinny fella.

Mo-Ko-Rruption

I chose this name based on my interest in merging the musical styles of Post-Soviet Russia with big-chain and sideways Zoo York hat white rap. Mostly I was inspired by the rich variety of post-communist Russian music video fodder. If you had to make a checklist of stuff you need for a rap video, Russia can hook you up, be-i-ee-i-yotch! Slutty scantily clad new-money big haired tramps? Check. Tanks, fighter planes, and Nukes? Check. Scary sunglass-at-night wearing motherfuckers with freaky tats and guns? Check. More potato vodka than you could use in a lifetime of Cracka Rappa videos (a lifetime of Cracka Rappa videos=three)? Checkaroo. Getting a Russian manager would be a great idea too. It should only take about eight or ten A&R guys to show up in the trunks of abandoned stolen cars until a bidding war breaks out for a big music label to have me on their roster and promote the shit out of me. First single idea? Putin’ on the Ritz. I am sure the dude from Taco could use a royalty cheque. Super badly.

Apple © Brand-y

“Yes, folks, this baby can make large numbers of dollar bills disappear from your wallet at speeds darn near the speed of light!”

Know who this guy is? You don’t? Seriously? Well, for the six people out in the world who don’t know, the man in the picture above is none other than Steve Jobs, founder of Apple Computers, all around nice guy, and the free will-sucking Dark Lord of Branding Vampires. Steverino has posed in a similar position to the one above at countless media-blitz new product launches and annual general meetings for Apple shareholders, exuberantly extolling the virtues of the newest must-have Apple product. He’s been there for the launch of the iPod, iPod Nano, the Macintosh, the Macbook, the iPhone, and others. He’ll probably be there for the launch of the iPod Nano-Nano (sorry Mork) and the iPerfectSpouse as well. It isn’t Steve’s ebullient personality and deep commitment to the Apple product line that sets him apart from other pocket-lining corporate head honchos. No, the thing that sets him apart has been his ability to brand the Apple products in a fashion not seen since Coke became an all around word for a cola soft drink. Mmm. A nice fresh Coke would taste great about now. I think I’ll go get one…I’m back, and boy was that Coke refreshing! What!? I’ve got to pay the bills too, you know. Anyway, back to Steve. When was the last time you saw a movie in which an actor opened a laptop that wasn’t a Macbook? Yeah, yeah, I saw 2012 too. That must have cost Sony one pretty penny to outbid Jobs. How about the last time you heard some moron call any kind of MP3 player an “iPod?” Hell, after all those Lame PC Guy vs. Cool Mac Dude commercials, I sometimes feel like committing suicide when I switch on my PC to check my email or write a blog post. At the very least, I feel like I should try to be a little more like Justin Long or maybe get the same haircut. That way people could just assume I was a cool Mac user as long as I never let them enter my home.

Steve has certainly gotten the Apple brand out there, that’s for sure. His latest endeavour, however, might raise a few eyebrows. After a generous donation to Stanford University and a rumoured tidying up of the remaining relatives of Alfred Binet, Jobs has acquired the rights to the Stanford-Binet IQ Test. Through deep subterfuge and fabrication, in an operation that cost the lives of several undercover operatives and a half-dozen jelly doughnuts, Oh, For ****’s Sake! has managed to obtain a copy of the first page of the new IQ test, renamed, innocently enough the iQ Test. Although the questions seem vaguely familiar to anyone who has previously taken a standardized intelligence test, there are subtle differences, which are apparent to the trained eye:

iQ Test

Question 1:

If all Windows users are losers, and all losers are Windows users, how many loser Windows users are actually loser users?

A. All of them.

B. Every one of them.

C. The whole sorry goddamn lot.

D. Especially that Lame PC Guy from the commercial.

Question 2:

Rearrange the following words and letters to make a phrase:

YUB NA DOPi

When you have rearranged the phrase to the correct form, what does the phrase say?

A. The best darn thing I’ve heard all day.

B. A truly great idea.

C. Something wonderful.

D. The solution to blissful happiness.

Question 3:

STEVE JOBS is to GOD as GOD is to:

A. STEVE JOBS

B. STEVE JOBS

C. STEVE JOBS

D. The guy who runs Apple. Yep. STEVE JOBS

Question 4:

What number logically comes next in this sequence of new Apple product price points?:

$199, $299, $399, $499, …

A. All numbers above $499 in $100 multiples.

B. Whatever the market will bear.

C. I have to have it! Who gives a shit what it costs!?

D. The sky’s the limit, and even that isn’t a given.

Question 5:

What human emotion is the equivalent of the following symbol?:

A. Joyous happiness and joy.

B. Loving loveness.

C. Joyful Loving

D. All consuming envy and greed, much like the apple in the Garden of Eden.

As you can see folks, Steve has once again done a great job of insinuating the Apple brand into another facet of our daily lives. Heck, I only ever take one bite out of an apple before I throw it away now, it just seems so aesthetically pleasing at that point that it would be a shame to keep eating it. Even though I have blown the whistle on Jobs’ latest branding project, I still hope to one day be cool enough to own an Apple product. I’ve been practicing my disaffected, hands-in-pocket poser stance and air of repugnant superiority, so I’m at least half way there.

The Royals: A Lot Like Us, Really.

This post will have the most relevance to my two readers who happen to be from the colonies. There is much debate in this country over whether or not we should sever all ties with the British Monarchy once and for all. Any Americans (also, Albertans and Quebecers and other quasi-Americans) who might happen to read this will understand all too well the desire to distance themselves from the oppressive British and their Crusades, Viral Exports (see Simon Cowell and the BeckHams), and Fish and Chips (they’re called fries, for Christ’s sake!). Why, the Americans already rode those bloody British out once when they all threw their tampons into the bay and had something called the Boston Vampire Tea Party or whatever the hell it was. I can sort of see why the British left, if someone threw their tampon at me I would probably take the hint too. It would also officially make it my sixth worst date ever (don’t ask).

It is true that Her Royal Highness Queen Elizabeth the Second (or HRH Lizzy Deuce as I like to call her) has visited Canada on 23 occasions, and that’s pretty friggin’ annoying considering all the schoolchildren that have been forever scarred by cyborg nightmares after witnessing her robotic rotating wave-like hand gesture. We are also burdened with the expense and hassle of having something called a Governor General, an appointed person who is supposedly the Queen’s representative in Canada. The Governor General’s main duties appear to consist of ribbon cutting, medal hanging (draping?), Throne Speech reading, hobnobbing with visiting dignitaries (or in Obama’s case, drooling), and wasting vast sums of government money even existing. Thank goodness she is saving the Queen the trouble of having to do all that stuff here!

After all is said and done, however, I don’t think we ever take much time to think about what we all have in common with our Royal Family, and for that matter, other royal families around the world. Let’s look at a few examples of some of the day to day activities and situations Royals find themselves in that might strike a familiar chord with us, the little people:

“Do you ‘ear a rustlin’? I swear I can ‘ear an eerie kind of rustlin’, and it sounds like it’s comin’ from right near me ‘ead.”

Here we see Princess Beatrice of York, daughter of Fergie, Douchess of York, and Randy Andy, Pimp Daddy of York battling an all-too-common childhood problem. Let’s face it, you had head lice in school, your friends had head lice in school, and lots of people you knew had head lice in school. Hell, you probably have lice a little further south these days for all I know.I didn’t have head lice in school mind you, but I never was much of a follower. The only difference between us and the Royals is that they occasionally suffer from an attack of neon butterflies that have escaped from Her Royal Majesty’s Personal Genetic Engineericist. Sadly, in their frantic effort to copulate before dying, they often accidentally lobotomize their Royal Host, explaining the look on Beatrice’s face in the above photo.

“No, really, if the rice looks dry in the buffet, I can totally hook you up. Psst. FYI, it’s in my hat.”

If you had a nickel for all the times you wore that worn out backwards baseball cap on a first date or to meet your future wife’s parents, you would probably be rich. Royals make headwear gaffes, too. Here we can see Queen Beatrix of the Netherworldlands making the poor choice of a rice steamer as a hat at a function that is obviously more suited to a wok or George Foreman grill. Okay, I have to confess. Not even the most retarded peasant would wear a bamboo steamer to a gala ball. That’s nastay, Beeyatchtrix!

“Hello out there in peasant land! Would you like to come for a ride? Of course I’m joking, you filthy serf! Get away from my carriage before I have my Royal Stallions trample you to death. Guards, remove that insolent miscreant’s right hand for my personal collection. A strong message is needed here.”

Royals are also concerned about the environment, and issues such as Climate Change © and Global Warming (tm), just like you. Queen Beatrix hopes to have a Prius one day, but for now she is making do with her jewel and gold encrusted horse drawn carriage, much as you are making do with your doorless ‘76 Impala until your credit improves enough to lease a Prius too. There’s that hat again! In platinum! How trendy! I guess it’s better than the fucking napkin holders the two portly doormen are forced to wear on their noggins. Every time I see that hat I picture Wile E. Coyote smashing her right over the top of the head with a giant cartoon mallet. How else could you make a hat like that?

“Look, Lizzy, that stupid Git crashed ‘is ‘orse, and now they’ll ‘ave to shoot it!” “Oh, goody goody, Phillip. You know how much I love to be startled by the sharp crack of a rifle! Delightful!”

Just like you enjoy watching the UFC on pay-per-view so you can be in awe of the athletes’ abilities and skills as well as their willingness to kick the living shit out of one another for your amusement, the Royals enjoy a lovely morning of carnage at the racetrack. Why the Queen even has a race named after her, the Queen’s Plate, held every year at West Amblyshire Dunston-on-the-Mews By Wembleyford Royal Racetrack and ‘Ouse of Bettin’. It is said that when the Queen’s Plate race was initially proposed, the Queen herself insisted that at each running of the race “No less than one (1) thoroughbred filly or mare, or the other one that isn’t the filly or the mare shall suffer an injury so unsightly and disturbing as to require immediate dispatching upon the mews with the nearest sidearm or long gun at hand and in a fashion that is most pleasing to the gathered throngs of loyal Royal Subjects, including, but not limited to: the British, the Scots, visiting dirty colonial immigrants and the (sigh) Irish.”

As you can plainly see, we have more in common with the Royals than maybe we thought at first blush. Maybe that’s why they call us commoners! Ha Ha. Ha Ha….umm, actually I think it’s a term of disdain. Oh, well, we still love them!

Better Hos and Gardens, August 2009

It was recently brought to our attention that a member of our family was going to be appearing in a popular magazine with a worldwide distribution! Imagine our pride when we found out that our little cousin was going to be appearing in her own feature article in one of the most widely read and respectable home and gardening magazines on the market, Better Homes and Gardens! I mean let’s face it, a day with a new issue of Better Homes and Gardens, a new episode of Martha Stewart Living, and a trip to Bed, Bath, and Beyond is like the boring white people Holy Grail Trifecta for a Saturday!

We always knew Trixie would someday get the recognition she deserved for all of her hard work in her garden. After weeks of anticipation, her issue finally hit the newsstands, and we all rushed out to buy a copy. Imagine our dismay, when after leafing through the latest issue, her article was nowhere to be found. As I was muttering to my wife about the fickle publishing business, she pointed out another magazine on the rack, it’s cover mostly hidden by a black barrier. Better Hos and Gardens? Uh-Oh. Well, I guess on the upside, one member of our family finally made it, after a fashion. It could have been worse, I guess. I’ve excerpted the article here:

Better Hos and Gardens, Issue 342, August, 2009

“Turning Trixie”

“Hey, Sailor, want to help me in the garden?” “Oh, you’re not a sailor? Have you ever been on a boat? You have? Cool.”

This month’s pinup Trixie hails from the buzzing metropolis of Fort St. John, British Columbia, located smack dab between the North Pole and the North American treeline, or somewhere thereabouts. She likes to joke that “everyone can use more than one “hoe” in the garden!” In this photo Trixie is getting ready to go to work and she always makes sure she has all the essential supplies for an afternoon weeding the flowerbed: A couple of coolers (with a wine glass, quite a lady!), a pack of cigarettes, a gigantic feather duster, and a matching colour-coordinated hairdo and top.

“Look at all the weeds! This garden seriously needs a good Brazilian weeding!”

This action shot shows Trixie at a full gallop, inspecting the flowerbed for weeds! She’s so efficient! Look out, Trixie, that lawn is almost high enough to cover your hooker pumps, and that could cut down on visits from drive-by customers friends! Alternating standing legs in this fashion is highly advisable to ensure a girl is adequately advertising her wares avoiding fatigue.

“Is this shoot almost over? I go on stage at the Fort St. John Autobody Shop and Burlesque All You Can Eat Buffet Grill at four.”

Why so sad, Trixie? Could it be that you’ve just realized how important it is for a girl to always use a glove at work? Not using a glove can lead to all sorts of nasty fungus and molds growing in the garden, and that could keep a girl out of commission for weeks, not to mention the high cost of all those medications fertilizers and pesticides to deal with the problem.

“Oh, my aching morals!”

Finally, Trixie shows our readers the proper technique for weeding the garden. She knows a true lady never bends at the knee in order to avoid potential knee strain and a decrease in tips. She only did it in the previous picture to demonstrate the improper technique, and you can tell by the look on her face, she wasn’t too happy about it, even for educational purposes. Many thanks for having us along on your afternoon gardening adventure, Trixie. We can’t wait to come back this winter, when she told us she’s going to show us how to put a snowboarding halfpipe in the backyard while wearing a bikini and Mukluks.

(With many, many thanks to my insane cousin from Fort St. John. Yes, my real cousin. No, Trixie is not her real name. Her and her crazy friends were having a burlesque stagette for their girlfriend and decided to take some photos of working around the yard for a laugh. She put them up on Facebook and I asked her permission to use them for this post. Yes, my family is in fact this goofy and fun. Getting together consists pretty much of one thing: laughing.)