Politicians making music

Is bad. Very, very bad. Exhibit A:



Why a man with the personality of a wet blanket decided to appropriate the braggadocio world of rap as the most appropriate medium to get his message across is unclear. It just ends up making me side with Bashy on this one: "Put Prescott in a headlock / then piss in his eggnog." Indeed. When you're getting out-dueled with those types of lyrics it's time to give it up.

Equally I think we all know how wrong it is for Gordon Brown or David Cameron to go on about their favorite bands. Shut the hell up. You're not meant to be cool and like music. Just get on with doing boring things like setting VAT rates and making policy about pensions. Politicians and music is like sex and your parents. Two separate things that should never ever collide.

The only time this rule can be broken is when politicians are unwittingly made to make music. (This exception to the rule does not apply in the case of sex and parents.)



Quite how long this auto-tune gimmick will last before it becomes totally played out and just not funny any more is debatable. But a conservative answer is probably two to three weeks. As such I better get this gem in:



Ok so he's not a politician. Just a prostitute beating pervert. Still funny though.

I'm about to kill this little bitch.

One of the main reasons for starting this blog was a general love of rage and how brilliantly funny it is. The more impotent the rage the better really. And shouting threats at someone over the phone is surely one of the best manifestations of said impotency. (Ash - you might know more about this than your average man on the street)

So here's some of the best cases of SEX RAGE OVER THE PHONE

I'll kick off with an old one but a good one. The brilliant rage of a man who hates cold calling. I particularly love the way he answers the phone with "what the hell do you want?" This man is a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. GET THE FUCK OFF MY PHONE LINE.

The next example is a persistent old lady, who is trying to claim some car insurance. There's a long build up kind of ruined by some douche bag-y radio hosts but the payoff is worth it. Link here

However, none of these videos come anywhere close to this:


"he's not coming home from school, he's just now getting in, he's supposed to be doing volunteer work at the Boys and Girls Club."

I disagree strongly with people who say this lady is a bad mother. This is a textbook 'instilling some discipline' move which should be taught to all mothers. Didn't say thanks for dinner? Haven't tidied your room? Well BAM you get confronted with your mother threatening to kill you with a hammer while simultaneously pleading with the emergency services about the need to send round someone to stop her. You're not going to make that mistake again.

This rant also contains the finest turn of phrase ever used by a mother about her own son, which I have duly used as the title of the post. "I'M ABOUT TO KILL THIS LITTLE BITCH" You get back to the Boys and Girls Club little man.

Micro-rant of the day from Morrissey

Coldplay

Coldplay have just released a free to download live album "as a thank you" to their fans. Yay! songs that you already own but in a shitty live recording. FOR FREE! The album cover is on the left where I have included a hidden subliminal message. I'll provide the link here on the proviso that none of you actually click it:

http://lrlrl.coldplay.com/leftright.html

Anyway, this little nugget of news got me thinking about just how much I really dislike Coldplay. And reminded me of the glee I felt when all those music stealing allegations emerged. Here and Here. (I love Cat Stevens getting in on the act).

LET'S DO THE MUSIC THEORY! (If you don't like nerds, don't click this link). The allegations seem a bit far fetched but I'm tempted to side with the youtube comment of a man who goes by the name of sjulianp:

Acabalos Satch!!! Putos Ingleses copiones.

I'm going to assume that a translation is not needed. It also reminded me of a quite brilliant rant from way back when in 2002 entitled: Let’s hunt and kill that guy out of Coldplay. I strongly reccomend you give it a read.

Micro-rant of the day from a film nobody has ever seen.

Not even Harvey Keitel.

Swine Flu

So Swine Flu has erupted pretty much at the bottom of my road and like every other two-bit blogger I'm going to write about it. I'm probably a good couple weeks behind the curve on this one, I mean we've had The London Paper ("IT'S IN THE CITY") casting it's usual level headed and balanced eye over the matter. But even they seem to have given up trying to convince us of our imminent death and have reverted back to the more serious matter of documenting Amy Winehouse, Lindsay Lohan and Lady Gaga's unofficial race towards contracting AIDS.

Coverage on the internet, populated as it is by immature nerds (I should know), has, for the most part, been in it for the LULZ. I say 'for the most part' because it would be crazy to ignore this man who is taking it very, very seriously indeed:



Seriously. "Securedeboadersandvacationindiscuntry".

Ignoring the utter impracticality of his suggestions (because the economic effects of not allowing anyone to enter or leave America just in case there is flu pandemic would really be offset by making everyone vacation within the US) shouting at a video camera and then uploading the results on youtube with all the other luminaries of our time, seems an unlikely way to get this turned into official government policy.

Of course various other crackpots, religious and otherwise, couldn't help chipping in with their views on the subject, key highlight include:

"Swine Flu a Pestilence of the End Times Christian Living"
"Swine Flu Genocide: Part 1 (Satans Homeland Minions Exposed)"
and "You fucked up huh, you know your ass is doomed" (Ok so not really, but it could be about anything)

I'd take these a little more seriously if they actually made any sense. What the fuck is 'End Times Christian Living' anyway? Meanwhile if you're really going to expose 'Satan's homeland minions' you probably shouldn't put that shit in brackets. It sounds like it might be important. Oh and before you ask I haven't watch part 2, mainly because Part 1, not content with being full of excretable lies, is also very, very boring.

The next video, I consider second favorite only to Mr Securedeboadersandvacationindiscuntry.

"Swine flu... is Christianity to blame?"

Now maybe Youtube has a policy that prevents a simple ten minute display of the word 'No'. That would explain the insanity that follows in this video which can be neatly summarised as stuff and zany rituals that make no sense and are a waste of time.

Unbelievably Mr Whatsnext?Illtellyouwhatsnext actually has the last laugh and maybe we should end with his pearl of wisdom: "HELLOO. YOU DON'T GET SWINE FLU FROM FREAKIN PORK. PUTTING A BAN ON PORK IS LIKE LINDSAY LOHAN REFUSING TO GO IN THE OCEAN BECAUSE THE DOCTOR TOLD HER SHE HAD FREAKING CRABS." Nice metaphor...

What does Joey Barton have to do to get kicked out of the game for good?

Following Monsieur Barton's latest charming contribution to the 'beautiful' game - a wild, dangerous lunge at Liverpool's exquisite, composed midfielder Xabi Alonso - I began to wonder what exactly this man will have to do to find himself excluded once and for all from the sport. A 93rd minute decapitation? Dugout rape? Centre-circle bestiality?

Barton's rap sheet to date, even excluding his own irreverent spin on the art of the tackle, is startling. Of his numerous misdemeanours, a few are worthy of special attention. In December 2004, at the Manchester City F.C. Christmas party, Barton made a clean break from the traditional dispensatory powers of an ashtray, preferring instead to extinguish a cigar in the eye of a youth team player. Continuing his own special brand of 'youth work', the following summer Barton could be found assaualting a 15-year-old Everton fan, presumably because he looked at him the wrong way - a luxury sadly no longer afforded to his previous victim. Happiness is a cigar called...

Later, in 2007, Barton clashed with his City team-mate Ousmane Dabo in training, leaving him looking like he'd gone twelve rounds (OK, a round and a bit) with Manny Pacquiao. Admitting the charges (what a guy!), Barton soon went on to add to his reputation with a Happy Meal-tastic battering of a man outside a Liverpool McDonalds. His 77-day prison term presumably provided him ample time to carefully plan his next ankle-smashing blockuster.

It is fair, therefore, to say that we are not dealing with our common-or-garden petulant pantomime dame; a Robbie Savage, or a Danny Mills, if you will. Rather, Barton is a dangerous, spiteful, unrepentant villain with a disgusting track record. Barton's frequent "I'm a changed man"-style interviews only serve to make his consistent unpleasantness stick in the throat more.

In a perfect world, English football's governing bodies, or even his employers at club level, would tell him to sling his hook. But, alas, that would almost certainly prove a step too far for the morally skewed, money-powered version of football that constitutes the sport at its top level today. He is a 5.8 million pound investment, and it would thus be unthinkable to dispense with him on a business level. However, when Barton ends someone's career (or life - hey! this is a rant, OK?) one day with one of his trademark assaults, his apologists will not be able to say that they have not been warned. Football needs to amend its moral code, and act quickly to ensure that Barton can inflict no more damage...