Five Songs Saved By Last Minute Appearances

It is a sad thing to admit that most of America has folded to the pressure of rap. In a recent poll, it was shown that over half of Americans listen to rap music. The other half listens to Fallout Boy.

But with today’s music buckling to 26” Rims and chronic-smoking thugs, many artists are trying to make a name for themselves by cranking out half-assed tunes without any sense or meaning. And as a result, they pollute the radio with nonsense lines about looking sexy. The only thing that saves them is a last-verse rap by an already notorious rapper, who is basically the maid of the song. He comes in, cleans up the mess the previous verses left, and then leaves without any other words.

For you today I have listed five of these horrific songs and the heroes that saved them from humiliation.

1) Don’t Cha

Ruined by: The Pussy Cat Dolls
Save by: Busta Rhymes

The Song: “Don’t Cha” is a song about slutty girls being slutty sluts. It’s sung by the Pussycat Dolls, or PCD, but they less “sing” it and more “dance to it” while one of the members sings. It talks about how they’re all so hot that they make girlfriend’s jealous and lure boyfriends into seduction.

The Artists: The Pussy Cat Dolls are a prime example as to how famous you can become solely off of looking like a whore. Out of the six members, I haven’t heard four of them talk. Hell, I’m convinced one of them is mute and they only keep her around for pictures. They’re less of a girl band and more of a church choir where one whorish preacher’s words are echoed by a whorish choir. All their songs are based on how much they love sex, men, and sex with men.

The Worst Line:
“Let’s keep it friendly/ you have to play fair
See, I don’t care/ but I know she ain’t gunna want to share”

This line implies that the Pussycat Dolls—a talented, sophisticated group of young women—would be completely satisfied with sharing a man, but the only problem is his cock-blocking girlfriend. Apparently you spell “home-wrecker”: P-C-D.

The Save: In the beginning of the song you hear Busta introduce himself as a guy who “makes the place sizzle like a summertime cookout,” and you know that he has arrived as the caped super hero to save this horrible song from danger. After a quick fluster of rhymes (flusta rhymes?) he has convinced you that you might, possibly, be able to sit through the atrocity of verses the PCD puts you through. And that’s when he hits you with a massive spew of lyrics that makes you so light headed you need to sit down. By the end of his verse, you feel like you might pass out, but you still can’t stop smiling.

Best Line:
“Lookin’ at me all like she really wanna do it/
Tryn’a put it on me till my balls black and blueish”

I believe Busta just hinted that he has once banged a girl so hard that it actually bruised his potato sack. Not only that, but he would gladly do it again with any member of PCD. Too bad he has a girlfriend.

2) Oh

Ruined by: Ciara
Saved by: Ludacris

The Song: This whole song seems to be about the 15th letter of the alphabet. Verbally it doesn’t make any sense, and the verses are just a bunch of gangster references joined by “Ohhhh” as the chorus.

The Artists: When I was younger, there was rumor that Ciara was born a man and got a sex change into a smoking hot chick. This was later proven when she released the song “Like A Boy” and dressed in gangster clothing. So far, none of her songs have been about anything influential. However, she will be pleased to know that her song “My Goodies” continues to make 6th grade girls dance like strippers while stuffing their bras.

The Worst Line:
“Buddy take a new whip, paint strip, into a bowlin’ ball/
Still smoke hundred spokes, wood-grain armor-all”

What? This is either about driving your new, wood-paneled car into a bowling lane, or smoking wood while wearing a suit or armor.

The Save: It seems that right as you are about to turn this song off and move to Pennsylvania to become Amish in an attempt to never hear this song again, your ears hear a familiar voice. Is it? Yes it is! It’s Ludacris, the most Southern Rapper alive. And in a matter of seconds this crappy song about nothing has become a way for Ludacris to crap all over the radio. By the time he has finished, you’re thinking, “Ciara? Ciara who?”

The Best Line:
“Trunk-rattling what’s happening, huh?/I don’t even think I need to speed
Bass-traveling, face crackling, huh?/Turn it up and make the speakers bleed.”

Did you hear that? His song is so deadly that if you turn the volume up too high the speakers will start bleeding, forcing DJs everywhere to carry a box of band-aids.

3) Make It Rain (Remix)

Ruined by: Fat Joe, R. Kelly, T.I., Birdman, Ace Mack, and Rick Ross
Saved by: Lil Wayne

The Song: For those of you who don’t know, “Making it rain” is gangster talk for throwing down dollar bills to express your extravagant lifestyle, but has grown to symbolize a rapper’s poor financial choices in what he does with his money. Fat Joe, the originator of the song, is one of my least favorite rappers for a few reasons:

1) He has, for some reason unbeknownst to me, been allowed to say “The N Word” despite the fact that he is white.
2) His song “Lean Back” polluted my middle school days with a horrific dance that hurt my back, thighs, and hears all at the same time. Also, the irony of the song was that Fat Joe was unable to “lean back” because, during the time the song was produced, he weighed 7,800 pounds.

The Artists: In order to familiarize those of you who don’t know the artists featured in this Fat Joe remix, my brother and I played a word game where I would say the name of the rappers in the song, and he would say the first word that came to mind. The results seem to truly reflect the reasons these rappers are so notorious:

R. Kelly—“Rape”
T.I.—“Gun Charges”
Birdman—“The super hero?”
Ace Mack—“Who?”
Rick Ross—“The Boss”

I’ve already done my articles making fun of R. Kelly, and I’m not even going to bother making fun of the rest of these guys because one of them will be in jail in a few days, and the others will be in jail soon enough.

The Worst Line: Every word that comes out of R. Kelly’s mouth:

“I’m from that city where them niggaz don’t play man/
I take a chick to my room like caveman”

And by “like caveman” you mean you’ll lure her close with meat; jump out; club it over the head; and drag her unconscious, limp body back to your room where you will skin, roast, and eat her?

The Save: Unfortunately, Lil Wayne’s rhymes come right after R. Kelly’s attempt at R&B has left your brain with the consistency and overall IQ of strawberry yogurt. This makes it difficult for you to understand what Wayne is saying because a) Lil Wayne is incoherent in general, and b) your ear drums are still trying to stab themselves to death to avoid another off-tone word from R. Kelly. Luckily, your brain kicks back into function just in time to hear Wayne execute your sense of cognitive judgment and leave you actually contemplating murder just because it will make you half as badass as him.

The Best Line:
“The weather channel, but I do not broadcast
I throw up more cash, and change the forecast”

Just think about it. Read it again and think about it. Then, wait for your balls to drop.

4) Renegade

Ruined by: Jay-Z
Saved by: Eminem

The Song: According to Dictionary.com, a renegade is “a person who deserts a party or cause for another” and is synonymous with being a betrayer. So it only seems appropriate that two artists concerned very strongly with public relations and fan base would make a song about being a traitor hated by everyone. Of course, we all know that by “renegade” these men mean that they are outlaws and rebels, proven by Jay-Z’s public refusal to produce good music. [swingandamiss]

The Artist: I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that “renegade” is the biggest word in Jay-Z’s vocabulary, and he probably only understood it after his producer broke it for him. I don’t really like Jay-Z because he hasn’t seemed to evolve with the fast-lyrics that has embraced modern day rap. Now, I don’t know much about rap, but I think Jay-Z looks even worse when partnered with Eminem, an artist titled “Best Rapper Alive” by Vibe Magazine. If anything, I’d say I just don’t like Jay-Z’s verses, but if someone can find a Jay-Z song that will change my mind, please feel free to keep it to yourself.

The Worst Line:
“No lie, just know I chose my own fate/
I drove by the fork in the road and went straight”

Is this how Jay-Z demonstrates himself as a renegade? By disobeying traffic laws? What’s he going to do next, not yield when entering a roundabout? BADASS!! He also exhibited a serious lack of creativity by plagiarizing the Yogi Berra quote, “when you come to a fork in the road, take it.” Yogi’s quote is funny, Jay-Z’s quote is the least gangster thing anyone has ever said.

The Save: Enter Eminem, aka Marshall Mathers, aka Slim Shady. Personally, I think Eminem is one of the best rappers ever. His songs have provoked much controversy in the America, yet he has stayed strong and refused to back down. If anything, he showed people that you can be an electrifying entertainer despite your skin color—a lesson later disproved by Fat Joe.

In this song, Eminem completely disregards Jay-Z’s metaphorical attempts at being an outlaw and straight up admits to displeasing every person he talks to. In this song he brings up guns, drugs, parenting issues, religious views, and the fact that every parent in America hates him. The best part? He brags about it the entire time.

The Best Line: There are two, one after the other (kinda)

“But I’m debated disputed hated and viewed in America/
as a mother fuckin’ drug addict—like you didn’t experiment?
. . .
And I got nothin’ to do but make you look stupid as parents
You fuckin’ do-gooders – too bad you couldn’t do good at marriage!”

In these four lines alone, Eminem just took every issue parents have wrong with modern day hip-hop and flipped it back onto their flawed family. He even took it a step further, blatantly “renegading” against proper sentence structure while saying that “do-gooders” don’t “do good” at staying married. Fuck you, grammar!

5) Pocketbook

Ruined by: Jennifer Hudson
Saved by: Ludacris

The Song: Historically the only song to be made about a purse, this song starts off with a gangster-ass beat that actually gets your foot thumping. It is roughly eight seconds in when you hear Jennifer Hudson say “Don’t make me hit you with my pocketbook,” that you roll your eyes to another female-empowering shitfest of strong black women.

The Artist: I can’t trash Jennifer Hudson because I have a heart. Thankfully, Paul Frank doesn’t.

The Worst Line:
“Rockin’ all your hot shit, stuntin’
Thinking that your God’s gift, to woman
More like a buzz in my ear
Shoo fly don’t bother me”

This lyric is something straight out of Aretha Franklin’s journal. Jennifer just demanded R-E-S-P-E-C-T and if you don’t give it to her she will hit your ass with a fly-swatter. Or, in this case, a pocketbook.

The Save: If this song was a patient going into cardiac arrest, Ludacris is the medical paddles shocking it back to life. In the hip-hop world he is the priest of bad songs; exorcizing the demons from the possessed lyrics so that the songs can live happy, normal lives. In this song, Ludacris takes this women’s rights song and forces it to cook him dinner. He is like a womanizing philanderer thrown into a feminists meeting, shitting all over the women’s ideas and crashing down the respect they’ve worked so hard for. Because of that, it is the single greatest appearance on a song ever.

The Best Line:
“It’s Chris Mind Freak in the back of a Rolls
I know magic; poof, and do away with ya clothes”

It’s as if Luda is just flaunting his lyrical poetry as he manages to make Chris Angel—the make-up-wearing con artist who sucks dick between fake tricks—a little bit less of a loser than he is. Ludacris just goes right up to Chris Angel and goes “you know how you make elephants disappear? Well I do that to women’s clothing. And then I fuck her.”

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A National Apology

Attention citizens of America. This is you President, Barack Obama. I have assembled this press conference to address the events that I found out occurred last night. And while many leaders would sweep catastrophes like this under the rug and pretend they never happened, I feel it is my obligation to address the elephant in the room. Hillary Clinton, that is.

I’m sorry. I just want to apologize for the events that unfolded during the Presidential Party Friday night. I understand it was a time for Republicans, Democrats and the media to socialize and interact, but no one expected the punch to be quite so strong. I think we can all agree that things escalated a bit too quickly and no one is to blame. I just personally wanted to apologize for my actions.

I suppose I should apologize first for yelling. I don’t know who I specifically yelled at, but I was told later that there were many slur and inappropriate language used. I would like to personally apologize to Senator John McCain for my actions. I should have never sung “We Are The Champions” in your face, nor should I have continually referred to you as “Numero Dos” the entire night. I am also sorry for telling you to go back to the POW camp and for continually slapping your wife’s ass.

I next reach out to Hillary Clinton. Senator Clinton and I have maintained a good relationship throughout the 2008 electoral race, and I hope she took none of my comments to heart. I have talked to Senator Clinton personally and she said she disregarded the comments concerning her weight, attitude, and general revolting appearance. I would also like to publicly apologize for mentioning Monica Lewinski. I have the utmost respect for Hillary, and I hope out relationship has not been torn due to me calling her a “dirty monkey taint.”

I would next like to address the drinking games that unfolded throughout the night. I realize that the USA chant is a strong sign of patriotism in America, and using a chant like that during a keg stand is very unprofessional. Also, I realize that Vice President Biden and I were running mates and share strong political views, but that give us no right to name our beer pong team “The Salad Tossers”—regardless of how we excelled going 7 for 8 with two shutouts.

It was when gin and Hennessy was substituted for beer that the party truly escalated. I would like to apologize for taking my shirt off and hosting body shots for the entire House of Representatives, and in retrospect I should have never done that.

I would next like to apologize to Michael Steele for my actions. I had no right to flash gang signs and continually ask him where da hood at, nor did I have the authority to demand secret service to search him for narcotics.

Continuing, my heart goes out to the family of news reporter Nicholas Andron, who lost his life in last night’s escapades. It was wrong for me to suggest swimming in the White House pool, and it was equally wrong for me to become so competitive during the chicken fights. You can be guaranteed I will pay homage to all those affected by the loss of Nicholas, and from this point on skinny dipping on White House property will be considered treason.

Lastly, I apologize to you, America. It was an honor to be elected president of this great nation, and I am ashamed by abusing that privilege. When I awake the next morning next to my wife Michelle, Joe Biden, Bill Clinton, and some girl named “Candy,” I was ashamed of my actions. I hope that you can forgive me, and let me remind you how honored I am to be your president.

Thank you,
President Barack Obama

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Hey, Remember When . . .

Hey, remember when getting in trouble was okay because you were “just a kid”?
When boys will be boys and girls just wanted to have fun?
When female equality was accepted and not forced down your throat?
When calling a girl hot wasn’t sexual harassment?

Hey, remember when sports were fun?
When athletes were famous for records, and not syringes?
When young boys could remember players for their accomplishments instead of their gun charges?
When the numbers on the back of the baseball cards didn’t have asterisks next to them?

Hey, remember when flying was safe?
When being a pilot meant children idolized you, instead of you drinking and flying?
When every Arab man wasn’t a terrorist?
When we didn’t have to take our shoes off?

Hey, remember when the dollar was worth something?
When you could go to Europe and things were cheap?
When we could make fun of Canadian money?
When the word “trillion” was only used to describe the number of cells in your body?

Hey, remember when America didn’t suck?
When we were the land of the free and the home of the brave?
When we stopped World Wars and knocked down the Berlin wall?
When every country didn’t hate us?

Those were the days

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The Wikipedia-Hitler Game

In an attempt to find ways to kill time while grounded at my house, I asked around to see what my friends do to waste time. Reluctantly, most of them scrolled through Facebook photos, which I believe is formally known as stalking. Other claimed to search youtube, Google random stuff, or read a comedy website like bash.org. I tried most of these, but they quickly grew repetitive, and I needed a new game. That is when I discovered the most entertaining and offensive game to ever intrigue mankind.

I named the game “The Wikipedia-Hitler Game,” just so that when people hear it they become intrigued about their two favorite things: Wikipedia, where you can search and discover in any subject in the known universe; and Hitler, the man responsible for the death of 6 million people and World War II.

The game was introduced to me by my friend Kyle “Murder” Murphy, who is fascinated in Hitler. Not because of his supreme dominance over Eastern Europe and ability to raise a crumbling nation from the ashes, but because Hitler was a raging prick. Even better, the game is extremely basic, with few rules and an even

Its like a game of Wheres Waldo, only he has a goofy moustache

It's like a game of Where's Waldo, only he has a goofy moustache

Go to Wikipedia’s homepage. On the far left they give you the option of “Random Article.” Click that link and it will bring you—literally—the most random article on Wikipedia. My first two clicks brought me to “Blue Creek, Utah” and “Castel Film Romania.”

The point of The Wikipedia-Hitler Game is to use as few link-clicks as possible from your random article to be brought to Adolf Hitler’s Wikipedia page. Kyle Murphy has the record of 2 clicks, going from Alexander Lukashenko to Dictatorship to Adolf. I have used an average of four clicks, with one time needing six or seven. The game is buckets of fun, and more challenging every time you do it.

A few links to look out for:

• April 20—Hitler’s Birthday
• Any date between 1939-1945
• World War II
• Any European country better prize than any stupid Olympic Gold Metal. The game?

One rule I urge you not to do: Do not use the Ctrl+F function to search for key phrases. That’s like cheating in a game of solitaire; you’re the only one who loses. Look for the phrases by eye, it makes you more intone to the search and also guarantees tunnel vision by the age of 25.

Please feel free to play this game between youtubing “Step Brothers Sweet Child Of Mine” and scrolling through that cute girl’s Facebook pictures. I know you will have fun.

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My Attempt At Poetry

As a child, they could not keep me from the playground
The basketball court sprinkled with 12-year-olds
Like athletic jimmies on a cupcake field

I am dirt crawling up your nose
Taking your nostrils hostage as the pitch comes
I am fouls ‘til midnight
No bunting
Leading no steal
No call back no recalls

I am seven outfielders, five infielders, a catcher and a pitcher

I am Nate Boit, the first kid to kick a homerun over the far fence
The ball crash landing on the pavement
Erupting of cheers from stunned opponents

I am stolen chalk from the blackboard to draw bases
The dust powdering our guilty fingerprints

I am a pitcher
Not a belly itcher
A batter
Not a broken ladder
Bases juiced with two outs
A dirty arm wiping sweat from a firm and determined brow

Panting chests harmonize around the bases
Blood pumping like its forcing a triple

I am a ground rule double off the basketball hoop
A foul ball over the slides

I am eyes darting around the pavement
Searching for gaping opportunity
A bouncing curveball skipping off the pavement like a rubber stone
A planted foot and a snapped knee
Muscles screaming
I am a high fly to center field

I am the clap of sneakers against tar
The frantic tracing of a falling meteor
I am a ball off the wall

I am a third base coach forgetting his lunch
Spinning his arms at his classmates
I am a long throw from center field
I am a force of adrenaline rounding second
A relay from deep center
Momentum circling third
A laser to the catcher

I am a play at the plate

I am out
No safe
No out

I am a long heated argument
Cursing and name calling

I am the bell to end recess
Sweaty children with grins dominating their face
I am friendships
I am memories

I am kickball

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Even Google Is Scared Of Chuck Norris

This is what happens when you are foolish enough to search “Find Chuck Norris” on Google.  May God be with your soul.

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If The Twilight Series Was Written By A Dude

Chapter One: First Sight

Bella exits the baggage claim of Washington to and hesitantly waves to her father standing behind the gate. His smile engulfs his face, each cheek fighting for space against his gap-toothed smile. “Here we go,” Bella rolls her eyes.

Suddenly, a shattering of glass spurs screams across the terminal. A crowd falls to the ground as a vampire leaps across the station, tackling Bell to the ground. Her father’s shock is over swept by chaos, and a stampede to exit the area drags him away from saving his daughter. The vampire’s light brown hair and marble skin glisten in the sunlight. Bella looks up to stare into the golden eyes of her attacker, his impossibly beautiful features staring at her as she is wrestled to the ground.

Within a flash, seven more vampires explode through the doors, bursting by security and surrounding Bella. The first vampire bears his fangs and bites Bella’s neck. The piercing pain triggers a scream from Bella, but she finds herself quickly paralyzed in fear. One by one, the vampires rip her limbs off, chewing on them with ferocious savageness. Bella feels the darkness seep into her mind, her eyes slowly closing and death erasing the pain.

One of the vampires rips through Bella’s stomach, blood squirting all over the cannibals. He rips out the liver, and gorges into it. His family shuffles through the inner organs, tossing aside what appears to be a baby. From the fleeing crowd appears a werewolf, his four claws digging into the tile floor and his snarling mouth dripping saliva. He rushes to the fetus, licking the blood from its unborn head before taking a bite from its body. The unformed innards of the infant ooze onto the waxed floor.

THE END

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