Relax...

Shammy's!!

The Day... The Music.... DIED
Editor's Note--> I Know It's Long But I Swear It's Worth It.
My stomach burns this morning after observing the performances, acceptances and appearances last night at the 51st Annual Grammy Awards. This post is going to be disparate from my priors because today, I will not be sugar coating my opinions with satire and humor but rather laying them out directly to inform everyone how last night at the Grammy Awards, “Rock & Roll and everything that comes with it…. DIED. This is no new-fangled news to me, as I have assumed music to have ended a long time ago, however this program reaffirmed my notion and piled a little more repugnance on top. Here, presented to you, is my top ten list of how devastating the Grammy award ceremony was (in order) and how it bled the heart of music forever.

10) Bono humping the stage, again.

I know everyone tears up when they think of Bono’s charity towards saving the world, however I don’t feel that gives him the authority to exhibit the most provocative and inappropriate hip/body swivels while performing on stage. We all have our favorite front-men (Jagger, Plant, Daultry, Tyler, etc) and they all have there own flamboyant mannerisms, but Bono simply crosses the line when he heaves his entire carcass all over the place like the music is Cumming (note the pun) out of his dick. Last night at the Grammys, Bono was convulsing all over the stage and thank god the cameraman cut to EDGE once in a while or else I would of turned the program off right from the get go. At least he could have played Pride or With or Without You… what a shame.

9) Rhianna and Chris brown incident

Who cares? All I know is that they both didn’t perform for some odd reason and I was thrilled.

8) Whitney Houston : To do crack or not to do crack?

The re-emergence of Whitney Houston was the “crack up” point of the evening. She stood front-stage, acting sober (note I said “acting”) rambling on and on about Al Green and what not, while attempting to control her crack twitches… however this proved to be unsuccessful. The producer’s couldn’t wait to heave her off the stage and even used their strategic “celebratory cut to commercial music” to scratch the speech short. Back to the streets you go.. gotta make that money ma’ine.

7) You know how I know you’re gay?

Wow! You Know How I Know You’re Gay?! Talk about a disaster. Chris Martin decides not to lip sing and do the show the correct way however he neglects to take into account the toll cigarette smoking does to your body. After five seconds of running around the stage, Martin could barely get a word out without gasping for air. Not only that, he invite Jay-Z to accompany him on stage, further proving my point of how shitty music has become. You can’t save music by throwing together tandems of successful musicians in various fields. The desperation is abhorrent..

6) Who are “The Beatles” anyway?

And best pop song of the year goes to…… Not Paul McCartney! Wow! Am I on crazy pills? Am I being punked? Where’s Ashton! Paul McCartney gets defeated by John Mayer for his number one song, “Say.” There must be no God for this to actually happen. I can’t even talk about it anymore… fuck my life.

5) Lil Weezy…. Fo sheezy

The New York Times labeled Lil Wayne as, “the bawdy and gifted New Orleans rapper,” after winning four awards Sunday night. Bawdy, yes, but gifted? Bill Gates is gifted. Doctors and Scientists are gifted. Lil Wayne is gifted? Did this reporter accidently inhale the chronic fumes exerting out of Lil Waynes lips as he unveiled the swagger all-star group, “The Rap Pack.” Dean Martin and Franky Boy would be turning in their graves if they ever heard themselves being compared to T.I., Lil Weezy and Jay-Z. Come on guys… the rap pack. Lets be a little more original. How about the Mick Swaggers?

4) Dave Grohl and Paul McCartney play one song

The greatest performance possibly in Grammy’s history, consisting of a duo of rock legends Dave Grohl and Paul McCartney gets scheduled for a one song set? And the argument simply cannot be made that their wasn’t enough time because Rhianna and Chris Brown’s performance was cancelled, issuing a block of at least one extra routine achievable. Not only do they stiff McCartney for best pop song of the year, but they rush him off the stage so that the Jonas Brothers get their chance to “Rock Out.” Again, I must be O.D.ing on crazy pills.

3) Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift

What possibly can I say? If you want to see two twelve year old girls singing on stage rent a Mary Kate and Ashley Olson DVD. Don’t waste my time.

2) Swagga All Stars aka The Rap Pack

As stated before, possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Comparable to Mumbai and Rwanda.

1) Jonas brothers and Stevie Wonder

This one without doubt takes the cake. Here’s what I think of when I hear the name Stevie Wonder; legend, God, performer, composer, Motown Deity, pianist. Here’s what I think of when I hear the Jonas Brothers; gay, gay, gay, gay, Hanson Brothers Resurrected. Who’s stupid idea was this to compile a Rock & Roll legend with a bunch of rookies for the finale of the biggest music award show of the year? Does this academy have no soul? Is music really dead? It has to be, it just has to…..

Other notables.. Katy Perry's wouldn’t even waste a second writing about her

Well there was my revelation of this year’s SHammy Awards. It hurts me so much to say it but the thing I love most in life is finally on it's way out. As the Greats age, grow old and grey, so will their music… I leave this article with one last statement. Don McLean had it all wrong when he pronounced the death of Rock n’ Roll the day Valens, Holly and Bopper took the grave. The Grammy’s folks…. This was the day that music really died....

Who's Next?

It's All Downhill From Here...

With the unemployment rate declining at such a cataclysmic velocity, what I’m most apprehensive about is the burden that my fellow New Jersey-ans may have to face by having to depart their vehicles and pump their own gas!For as long as I remember, my family, friends and fellow NJersy-ans on no account have had to step out of their temperature controlled vehicles to execute the mundane assignment of having to pump their own gas..... and what comes with it, especially smelling like shit throughout the day. It is absurd for it even to be a discussion, however with job losses approaching new highs, who knows which jobs will be cut next?

Imagine this....

Our friend Mitch.... eating a jr. bacon cheeseburger, fries and a frosty in one hand while maneuvering his vehicle with the other. He’s guiding his electric blue stallion into the Valero gas station on route 9 south, Marlboro. He puts the car in park, undoes his seatbelt, and sinks his teeth into his deliciously scrumptious .99 piece of heaven. He looks out the window, but no one seems to be approaching. Humored by the situation, Mitchell presupposes that the gas attendant is simply using the bathroom or what not, and returns back to his reclined position. The nest 3 minutes are spent churning his Chocolate Frosty with a multiple licked spoon (provided by his wet and juicy tongue.... Mmmm) Minutes pass and still no attendant has drawn closer to the aid of our relaxed and content friend. He takes a quick glance to the station behind him and notices that the man who’s driving the mini-cooper behind him has stepped out of his vehicle and is pumping his own gas (DuN DuN DuN)! Mitch immediately begins choking from bewilderment on his JBC and Frosty and can’t believe his eyes. “Is this true?” he asks himself. “Has the time really come when I can’t relax and enjoy a burger and fries while a man pumps my gas for no fee, tip anything! “Preposterous,” he screams!He takes a minute or two to ponder the situation and comes to a conclusion. “I am going to sit here until someone pumps my gas!” And he sat, and sat, and sat.....

Anyway you get the point. The story can finish however you’d like it to but the fact is I couldn’t keep talking about Wendy’s before I literally sliced my own ass for bacon. So the point is with unemployment going in the direction it’s going we, as Americans, cannot be too sure who will be laid off next.

Story of a Boy

The story of a boy is one yet to be told,
‘bout the time he was young til’ now when he’s old,
And what you will hear is the truth I suppose
But none other than the boy for certainly knows.

He was born to a family of thirty five,
And none he swears are still alive,
For only he was the phoenix who rose from the ashes,
of the fatal and horrific avalanches.

But who would believe a story so uncanny,
Only he would survive? Not even granny or nanny?
And on he avows his tale to be true,
Urging the need to tell it to you.

He learned how to fly when he was only seven,
And would frequently visit both hell and heaven,
On weekends he’d return back to Earth,
To finish his homework, for what it was worth.

And who would believe this boy’s petty lie,
Who would swear on his life he could actually fly,
And touch ground on the Earth whenever he please,
......................to be continued

Hello Baby, Im Gone, Goodbye...

The products of this WaSTeLaND are innocent occupants unfamiliar with outlandish and selfish behavior. They are solely accustomed to the expectations and directions blanketed onto them by their superiors. Out of the marsh grows their head, along with brains and all that other shit. They march where they’re told to march and live how they’re told to live… and it’s sad quite honestly.

The great minds of this generation have been desecrated upon by past generations mistakes and molded for protection, so they say. What I say is that a student of life must live in order to learn, without intrusion of exterior and foreign beliefs. If they lose an arm, leg, etc. (dramatic but a point) exploring eventful horizons than so be it. At least they have the experience and the knowledge rather than just the latter to show for it. We Live and We Learn….We Learn and We Live.

With Eyes Wide Open

I awoke to a beaming light intruding both eyes like jagged shards of glass. Just a memory lingers of past decisions, which I am unable to recollect right now. My mind races’ trying to decipher the puzzle but it is limited to restrictions beyond hearts control. It will be spelled to me…like 5th grade English…spelled to me…like codes of conduct…you get the point. It is beyond my control and I’ll say it again, but previous actions were at ease to my control and there’s where it all fucked up. Those imprudent and juvenile decisions I shot to the back of my throat and swallowed with self-importance and gluttony have put me here in a wasteland of paralyzed dreams. I feel a weight on my chest and a hold on my breath which is obstructing the chances of life I have left. Tis’ the evening when the countdown of my amateur legacy will be put to a close and forgotten; like so many instances prior to my own.

I awoke in a wasteland of paralyzed dreams, strapping me back down to the earth like timber falls.