I must apologize for the infrequency of my blog entries in the days of late, for I have been battling numerous foes of unthinkable strength and ability at the cost of many lives spanning across time and space as well as my personal Chandler time, set aside to scribe the fascinating and thought provoking literary hor d’oeuvres this muse, I call life, offers me every day on a platinum, diamond encrusted platter.
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This week I was repeatedly struck very hard about the head and neck after a pillow case was pulled over my head from behind all before I was shoved into the back of a limousine again. Serves me right for leaving the house during daylight hours.
Years ago my publicist called to warn me that things of this nature would occur, moments before he was pushed out of a window that must have been very high in elevation as his dissension lasted forever, or at least seemed to, being on the other line. Talk about an awkward conversation.
Anyway my recovery has been incredibly slow due to the fact that every time I tweet or text from my phone, my location is geo-traced and I’m once again pummeled till consciousness is lost and thrown into the back of a limousine. I was thinking of disabling the location services on my phone but then I wouldn’t get to tag myself at various hospitals and safe houses. Seriously, my friends are a like “Whaaat?!” It’s hilarious.
I’m sure you’re wondering why this happens to me so often. Truth is, I manage to piss off just about everyone I work with, for, near, or on. I was thinking about doing something about it, maybe taking a workshop, or read some kind of book but there’s nothing in the self help section in regards to forcing people I’ve hurt emotionally and or physically, to not seek some kind of retribution, especially when I don’t plan to relent in any fashion. As if that’s my fault.
-C
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Since I’ve been in the habit of clearing out the old vaults and by that I mean the Time Machine application is cocaine for the nostalgic narcissist, here are a few more songs that had been cued to become musical numbers in an early incarnation of the CFB series.
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Sure, I may mention the fact that I’m an ice cold thug from the streets who busts mad rhymes from the project corners of Oakland California with my sour faced crew of bullies who rock fullies and always keep a zipper in the cut just in case you want to drop a thump on a couple big ones, on a fairly regular basis, but rarely do I bring any actual evidence of this to the table.
Now that I reside very very comfortably in Beverley Hills and my surroundings have changed so very drastically, it’s often hard to imagine my former life, and the drama that came with it.
Dime life Crooks took place in the late 90’s early 2000’s and ended in an utter blood bath I dare not speak of for a plethora of reasons. Can you guess which rapper is me?
Regardless, here are the remaining tracks from our EP, released on an indie label that no longer exists and LP that never came to be. Unfortunately the only copies I have are the rough mixes, as the final mix downs allegedly reside on a shelve in some cylindrical building in Hollywood.
The two lead rappers were myself and Ferrel Appliance. Several tracks and most of our live performances however included Emaximus, Doja, DZL, G-Haad, Facade, and several back up folks Tennessee, Ricky Lee, Queenie, and a revolving cast of vocalists and stage pacing weirdos.
Anyway, not much evidence survives to this day, with the exception of a half built Myspace page and a few reviews, the world remembers not the sexy and well themed crew that was the DLC.
If anyone has any other video or photo proof, please let me know!
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Sincerity will get you nowhere and flattery will get you somewhere just slightly less forlorn than nowhere because you’re a suck up and one can never have too many suck ups around. Just make sure they’re never given any power or real responsibility as suck ups are always secretly gunning after the common man (you) and the guy at the top (Me).
That being said, I had my most expendable yes men decapitated as a show of good faith to lower tier subordinates. I really hate it when I get a low moral vibe from the clone sector, not that I should care; they’re clones, but low moral is low moral.
Sad clones wasn’t the biggest elephant in the room. I had a huge project come to an end this week with glittering success and the unfortunate side effect of obliterating a small planet inhabited by a race of intelligent, talking, incredibly cute, puppy people.
The problem- I only had enough room for six of the twenty four yes men I used on my previous project. The upcoming project, which involves a long space flight to several planets you’ve probably never heard of, will only have so many comfy seats with built in surround sound and huge cup holders.
After some thought I decided to solve these issues with the summary execution of said brown nosers, thus taking care of two problems (A literal and and existential) with one masterful and ingenious stroke.
I have no idea how this helps the puppy planet but at least the clones are really kissing my ass these days. They’re probably up to something.
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As you may have guessed, everyone here at the CFB compound has been on edge since that team of Swedish explorers decided to put their money where their mouth(s) is (are) and dive to the bottom of the Baltic Sea to investigate the large saucer shaped debris that left a several hundred meters of skid mark across the ocean floor.
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I’ve been in and out of video conferences this week like you wouldn’t believe. It’s amazing how a few days of nothing to do are often followed by a hailstorm of various projects and metaphoric fires that only I can take on blindfolded, gagged, and possibly completely sedated, I’m just that good.
As usual, there’s the series of cool ass things I’m working on at any given moment that I’m contractually obligated to omit from my awesome blog which by the way, is factual in every detail, down to the sky blue neckerchief I happen to be wearing right now but as far as the other stuff, which is also true and totally amazing, well all you have to do is read on!
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This week I found myself at the Intergalactic Symposium held at a secret underground facility in Dulce, New Mexico. It’s an annual convention held every few years, so it’s not very annual at all, unless you happen to live on some distant planet in the Lyra System, where this annual symposium first started a billion or so Lyrian years ago and your year’s way longer than Earths. You do the math.
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This weekend I was called out to Syria to settle some diplomatic disputes between locals and a race of tunnel dwelling giants, some idiot archeologists from M.I.T. stumbled upon. It’s not like it’s a huge secret, M.I.T. has a huge Archeological Department. Also, there are tons of underground civilizations throughout the middle east and rest of the planet Usually a few miles below the surface, sometimes their cave like pathways will connect with sewer lines, a basement, temple, or in this case, some professors dig site that dug itself to close… to the truth!
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I was looking over the analytics of this sight today and was surprised to find that the majority of my fans are hailing from countries other than the United States. It doesn’t really come as a surprise, I’m one cultured cat. I can relate to almost anybody anywhere, why do you think so many international talent scouts are trying to get me to marry their sexy single super models who are eager to become U.S. citizens? I get emails like every day in my spam box practically throwing sexy Albanian or Croatian women at me as if I ever have time to reply.
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