#I can’t stop thinking about bum biddy biddy bum bum.

[craftykit1]

awww fuck. Just forgot what I was gonna look up. I think it was important too

[spectrumed]

9. conversation

(I wrote this after having a few drinks, so I apologise for the occasional digression.)

One time, some years ago, I was at medborgarplatsen in Stockholm. I was about to watch a movie at the cinema there, Filmstaden Söder. I can’t remember the movie, but this was at a time I wanted to prove my worth as a cinephile, so it wasn’t a blockbuster. For those of you who don’t know the way around Stockholm, medborgarplatsen is a square that is pretty close to the heart of the city, some may even argue that it is the heart of the city (though, I wouldn’t.) The name translates to “the citizen’s place,” an example of Swedes’ general commitment to all things egalitarian. Though, nowadays, most citizens can only dream of living in a place as central as medborgarplatsen. Södermalm, the borough in which medborgarplatsen is located, used to be known as quite the working class slum. Though, like with most global cities these days, things have changed. I don’t much like to complain about gentrification, I think it has more to do with governments’ reluctance to build new apartments, preferring instead to stick their heads in the sand and pretend as if population numbers aren’t increasing. Like, sure, I am not asking you to tear down all those old buildings to build new ones that’ll have enough room for more people, all I am asking is for you to expand, build more homes near the city and develop the right kind of infrastructure and public transport that allows for people to not need a car to get around. Cities are supposed to be lived in, they are not history museums! It drives me nuts, all these NIMBYs and their incessant whining and complaining about basic and inevitable societal progress. GAH! JUST BUILD MORE GODDAMMIT!

… I am sorry, I think I happened upon a tangent here divorced from the actual topic I wish to discuss. In any case, I was about to watch a movie at the cinema, and I had an hour or so to spend before it started. I was around people. Naturally, I was uncomfortable. People, you never know what they’re up to. They could be spying on you. They could be recording you. Or worse, they could be entirely indifferent to your presence. It is scary how others treat you, or how they refuse to treat you. It is easier not to be around people. Or well, be around people on the internet. That way you can get some social interaction, without having to be physically present. Being face-to-face with a person, that can go either one of two ways. Either you find a familiar soul, someone you can relate to. Someone you can love. Someone you could imagine spending your life with. Or you find someone that makes you feel icky, someone who makes you want to jump off a cliff. And it is difficult to find a cliff when you’re standing in the middle of a city, at a public square. Not many cliffs are to be found in the middle of cities. You’ve likely experienced the sensation of finding yourself in an uncomfortable situation, one you wish you could escape from, yet knowing that you are stuck. The icy feeling overtaking you. The dread. The profound desire to just do whatever you can to convince whoever is pressuring you to go away and leave you alone. Even if that means paying them money.

A person came up to me looking for charitable donations. Now, I am not a rich man. I certainly don’t spend all day long biddy biddy bum. I am not a wealthy man with a wife looking like a rich man’s wife with a proper double-chin, supervising meals to her heart’s delight. I wish I could give more to charity, but I can’t. I feel very uncertain about my future. I fear for my economic prospects. Don’t ask me for money, I don’t have any to give. There are plenty of filthy rich people in this world, ask them for their charitable donations. Many of them don’t even pay taxes. Surely, they have lots of cash. They stay in their penthouses, worshipping Mammon, and they certainly don't go down any citizens’ squares. What kind of money do you expect to receive from bothering a person like me? I don’t look rich. Or maybe I do. Someone might look at me and think I’m one of those rich kinds of nerds, an internet wiz kid, a programmer who made some website that’s now really famous. In any case, I am not. I am just a lost and confused sheep yearning for a shepherd to guide me.

The person showed me a series of photographs of women being victimised. Some tortured, some beaten up, some exploited. Pakistani women. The person was raising money to help Pakistani women. A noble mission, certainly. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to say that “no, I don’t care about Pakistani women” and just walk away? I didn't want the person to think of me as some callous western chauvinist who isn’t willing to spend some of my money to make a real change. I do care. I care very deeply. But, well, I just don’t really have money. Not in that way. Not in a way that can make a difference. Still, if you’ve got a truly burning sense of justice, a desire to see things wrong get fixed, see the righteous win, then you will want any kind of cash donation you can get. I sympathise. I understand that the person showing me the photographs may not have cared to figure out whether I had money or not. I clearly did not look starving (I am fat.) Surely I could afford to make a donation. Even the littlest bit counts. I needed to give. They needed me to give. Just give a little bit. C’mon. Don’t you care about Pakistani women?

I ummed and ahhed for a bit. I felt cautious, nervous, wondering how I could possibly explain my concern for these women while also recognising my lack of being able to really contribute monetarily to help them. Of course, at the moment, my cognitive functions weren’t properly functioning. No, I was stammering, I was overwhelmed, I was suffering a sensory overload. All these people around me, all this noise. I could have given the person asking me for a donation just some coins, a paltry sum, then pretended as if that was enough. But I didn’t. I gave him half of the money that I had on me. Not too much, but a significant amount of Swedish crowns. More than the cinema ticket cost me. Money I wasn’t prepared to spend at that moment. Still, it served the purpose. It made the world around me calm down. It lessened the storm. I don’t want to live in a world of chaos. I want things to be ordered. An ordered world can be understood, it can be categorised. Chaotic agents threaten the peace. Chaos makes me worry I might be exposed. I don’t want anyone knowing just how weird I am, just the kind of freak that I am. I want them to think I am normal. It’s easier to pretend to be normal when everything is calm, when people don’t freak me out.

One of the biggest social mistakes I’ve made is engaging in conversation with a person claiming to need money to take a bus to the dentist. They claimed that they had a dentist appointment, and in fact, it was paid for. They just didn’t have the money to pay for the bus. They needed me to give them just that little bit of money to buy a bus ticket. Simple, right? They were eager to convince me, so they began sticking their finger in their mouth, pointing at the tooth that needed to be pulled out. I told them that they didn’t need to show me, I believed them. But of course, I only said that because they made me feel uncomfortable. Did I believe them? Of course not. The person was clearly just looking for cash, a real scam artist, but I wasn’t socially adept enough to dismiss them. Sure, I can look back on it and think about this or that thing I should've said. Instead I just awkwardly mentioned needing to catch my own bus and that I didn’t have the time to talk. The scam artist followed me, continuing to engage me in conversation. I tried to appear sympathetic, I tried to appear normal, and the person took advantage of that. They needled me. They urged me to pay attention to them, making me feel like a monster if I didn’t. In the end I told them I would get them the money, but instead I ran and stepped on the bus heading back home to my place. They didn’t follow me. Of course they didn’t follow me. They didn’t have a bus ticket.

I came across them later, days later, at the subway. They saw me, tried to get my attention, but I ran into the crowd, hitting the escalator before they could get close. Later I saw them get accosted by security guards, clearly reprimanded for their behaviour, scamming people. Cornering people, telling them lies, then asking for cash. That’s not virtuous behaviour. Still, the security guards could only do so much. Did they stop the person from trying to scam people? Of course not. The person kept on badgering whoever paid them just the littlest bit of attention. Whoever looked kind. Whoever would be inclined towards making charitable donations. I had escaped that one time, but the person was adamant that they wanted me to give them the money they thought they deserved. Whenever I’d take the subway, they’d be there, trying to get my attention. And I kept running. I kept doing my best to avoid them. I felt like a real fool. Why couldn’t I just assert myself, pump up my chest and tell them that I was on to them? I knew the truth, I knew they were a fraud. Yet, I just wanted to avoid it all. I wanted to pretend as if I didn’t know them. That everything was just calm and peaceful, and there wasn’t a storm brewing somewhere nearby. This was everything about being surrounded by people that I hated. This, right here, was the ultimate reason I knew for wanting to become a hermit. Not having to put up with this kind of bullshit.

One time, the last time, the person came up to me, I couldn’t escape. I was waiting for the train. I was about to get to a lecture. The person saw me, and they stood right in front me. I was wearing headphones. I pretended I could not hear them. I pretended I could not even conceive of them, as if my mind were someplace else entirely. I pretended as if I had erased them from existence. They didn’t immediately catch on. They stood in front of me and they began commenting on my appearance. They decided, quite unusually, to congratulate me for my beard. Stating that I looked good with facial hair. Of course, I do. My beard looks amazing. I am not insecure about my beard. I may be insecure about my weight, I may be insecure about some things, but the two things I am not insecure about are my height (I’m 6’2”) and my beard. Still, I refused to acknowledge the scam artist’s existence. Other people waiting for the train were looking at us. They thought it was strange that I just stood there, looking straight ahead ignoring the person standing in front of me. But I did what I needed to do. The scam artist touched me, I still ignored them. Honestly, that is one of the most uncomfortable things I have ever experienced. Their hand on my chest. Them touching me. Still, I didn’t budge. Eventually, they gave up. They went away. I had won. I should’ve felt good about myself, I had come out on top. But I didn’t. I still felt awful. I had hurt their feelings. Why am I so weird, why am I so awkward? I really don’t know how to behave like a normal person.

I think I do better in long conversations with people than in short little chats. You can’t just get a quick impression of me and think you know me. One reason why I don’t think I could ever make for a good one-night stand. Unless you know me, I’m not a real person. I am just a caricature. I don’t feel as if I am really there, as if my presence alone is enough to make me a person. I am only a person through commitment, through being understood by someone else that has the right kind of patience to put up with me. For the most part, only I myself have that kind of patience. That’s why I enjoy my own company. I feel as if I freak out too easily when meeting new people. I feel as if I overwhelm them with information, like as if I am some walking thunderstorm demanding their attention. Yes, that’s the great irony of it all. I say that I struggle to put up with the chaos of others, the wild sea of people swarming the city, yet I am the worst chaotic agent of them all. I am a mess of a person. I am hullabaloo incarnate. And that is why I feel such an incessant need to repress. Don’t press the button that lets open the floodgates. Keep it all bottled up. Keep on being repressed. Keep on staring straight forwards, ignoring that person trying to scam you for money.

Of course that person isn’t reading this blog post. They’re busy trying to find some other sucker to pay for their drug fix, or whatever it is that they need money for. Maybe they’re just trying to pay for rent. In any case, if I had the person here with me, right at this moment, I would tell them… Well, I would yell at them… I would absolutely admonish them… I would... I would… I would probably just ignore them. It is so easy to try and pretend as if you’re more sociable than you actually are. In your head, things seem so easy. Yes, I know what I’d say, I know exactly how to express myself. But in reality, well, things are complex, the overwhelming actuality of it all swamps you. When haven’t you had that idea for the perfect comeback of a line to sling at a person you’re quarrelling with only after the argument is over? When haven’t you had an idea for just the right and proper way to awe another person with your mind and your words. I am sure they will be impressed with me now, if only I say the right things. If only I can act the right way. If only I don’t fuck it up. If only I don’t act like such a dork.

This blog is easy. I get to think about every word I express here. I get to erase sentences I don’t like. That backspace on the keyboard, it’s well-worn with use. Some folks don’t understand how I can be autistic and still be as good with words as I am. This is my second language that I am writing in. I am not some mute little chicken, some gagged little monkey. I know how to express myself, when I get the time. When I get that moment to write, I will write, and I won’t stop until I am done. All my posts I tend to write in one go, late at night when I should be going to bed. When I am in the right mood. When all those synapses in my brain fire the right way. Those moments, they are common, but they aren’t to be summoned just when I need them. They come when they wish to come. I can only be a passenger, going along with my brain, doing whatever it demands. In those other moments, those moments I am standing there, waiting for the train, I may become entirely mute. I may not have a single thing to say. I may look like a real dummy, some real himbo, utterly lost for words. I am not pretending, at those moments. I truly am lost for words. At some times, language is easy. At other times, I don’t even understand how to string a basic sentence together.

I am tired. I am going to go to bed.

[amplesalty]

Christmas 2019: Day 11 - Eight Crazy Nights (2002)

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...

Eleven bags of (fake) dog poo!

As Mrs Schwartz told us in A Christmas Story Live, at Christmas time when you’re a Jew it’s easy to feel kinda blue. Nothing serves to underline this more than the fact that the Wikipedia article for this movie describes it as having ‘received a cult following, especially among those in the Jewish community, as it is one of the highest profile and most known Hanukkah films.’ For Christmas, there are more classic movies than you could care to name but this movie seems to have earnt this distinction almost by default. Google Hanukkah movies and you will get lists of movies that start including even the most tenious of links just to make up the numbers. Hell, even the article cited as part of the above quote about this being one of the most high profile movies of it’s kind bears the headline ‘Jews deserve a better Hanukkah movie than Adam Sandler’s “Eight Crazy Nights” ’

I’ll get the good points of the movie out of the way quickly, well, point singular; it’s bad but moreso in that car crash can’t stop looking at it way. There’s a musical number at the end which encapsulates this but we’ll get onto that.

Honestly, I feel like I could just describe the first three minutes of this movie and call it a day. We get a burp joke, a massively offensive Asian accent and animated Adam Sandler fucking his car. Nothing I could possibly say could damn this movie anymoreso than it has itself.

And that’s not just ‘animated Adam Sandler’ to mean the character he’s voicing, the character is modeled exactly like him. Like, Dracula in Hotel Transylvania looked pretty like him and Mavis looked pretty like Selena Gomez as well but this is basically taking Adam Sandler and making him animated. It just lacks any imagination and seems like the cynical progression of having celebrities doing voiceover work. It’s not enough to have their voices attached to draw in a crowd, now you’ve got to have the characters look like them too.

Sandler does provide a few voices in this and for the briefest moment I was relieved to learn he wasn’t voicing the Asian waiter. That relief was shattered mere miliseconds later when I read that it was instead Rob Schneider providing the voice, a much, much worse fate.

I am very curious as to why this is even an animated film in the first place. It’s not something Sandler is usually known for and it is in no way meant for kids. Well, that’s not strictly true, the kind of humour it’s going for it perhaps suited more for immature kids but with all the casual swearing good luck getting an age appropriate rating. I mean, name a bodily function and it’s in here. You’ve got kids blowing snot, Sandler going for the worlds longest burp, farts with visible gas clouds, an old man covered in shit, deers shitting…the list goes on and on.

Maybe they were just keen to really subvert that whole ‘animation is for kids’ thinking that things like South Park had managed to buck to great success in the five or so years prior at the time. But the style reminds me a bit of The Iron Giant, there’s one kid near the start that looks like the kid in that so I dunno if maybe they were trying to trick people into thinking this was a kids movie on some level?

If there were one word I would use to describe this movie it would be ‘obnoxious’. That’s arguably the word used to describe most Adam Sandler vehicles to be fair. Like, I remember liking Billy Madison when I first saw it when I was younger but revisiting it sometime within the last few years…no. Happy Gilmore I still liked though and to his credit, Sandler does get the odd rave review when he goes against type.

You’ve got a supporting character called Whitey who is just shit on from a great height, being the subject of mockery for his age, height, appearance and even the seizures he has. To top it off he has an extremely annoying voice.

Sandler’s character is just a massive dickbag throughout but the movie oddly tries to claw back some sympathy by explaining that he lost both his parents in a car accident when he was a kid and effectively shutdown, becoming the bitter husk that he still is today. But it’s hard to have sympathy for a guy who will lock an old man in a port-a-potty, push it down a hill and then spray the guy in water to the point that it freezes him.

What’s really bizarre is the rampant product placement going on, the movie pretty much stops dead in it’s tracks to take a walk through a mall in order to point out all the stores like Foot Locker, The Sharper Image or Dunkin Donuts.

Hell, even Nintendo is getting in on the act when one of the kids says he got a Gameboy for Hanukkah. Just why Nintendo? Why would you lower yourself to this level? I know people always point to Nintendo as the ‘kiddy’ brand of the different consoles but I hardly think this is an appropriate way to show yourself as more adult.

The only part I would advise watching is the award ceremony at the end which is where most of the rubber necking value comes from. You have one scene where the Mayor tells a really terrible joke which for some reason has the crown in utter hysterics to the point where the old guy crawls on his table, the Asian waiter rips his shirt off and the basketball coach starts cossack dancing.

And then Sandler turns up to bitch about them not giving the old guy an award and chooses to do this through the medium of song. A rather good song actually, which is something of a novelty for this movie. It has this absurdity and mean spiritedness to it, from the way that Sandler crams in a neverending sentence that doesn’t fit the structure of the song at all or how one guys describes how he and his friends used the old guy as their own personal TV aerial and ignored his cries of pain when lightning struck him. And let us not forget the ‘BUM BIDDY BIDDY BIDDY BUM BUM’ dancing that comes completely out of nowhere and has doubtless entered internet folklore for these past near 20 years.

At least the movie is relatively short at only 1 hr 16 mins but even that feels twice as long. Just stick with watching the clip above out of context and then pick a much better Hanukkah movie instead like...Futurama: Bender’s Big Score? Yeah, it’s real slim pickings here.

[deafhard-blog]

New Post has been published on ObodoInfo

New Post has been published on http://obodoinfo.com/no-frauds-lyrics-nicki-minaj-drake-lil-wayne/

No Frauds Lyrics - Nicki Minaj, Drake & Lil Wayne

No Frauds Lyrics (Get No Frauds mp3 Here)

M-M-Murda

[Chorus: Nicki Minaj] I don’t need no, frauds I don’t need no, drama when you call I don’t need no, fake Soon as I wake up keep an eye out for the snakes, yeah ‘Cause I don’t need no, fraud I don’t no, drama when you call I don’t need no, lies Pick a side, pick a side I took the price, and lift that bitch up I took the ice, let me lift my wrist up I took the price, and lift that bitch up I took the ice, let me lift my wrist up

[Verse 1: Nicki Minaj] Ayy yo, throw your wrists up All my bitches up These niggas is pussier than what? All them dicks is up All my real niggas down to ride Though your jigs is up I ain’t in the projects, but all my bricks is up, rrrr You can’t be Pablo if your work ain’t sellin’ What the fuck is this bitch inhalin’? I would’ve helped you off that pit you fell in I am the generous Queen! Ask Ms. Ellen Tried to drop “Another One”, you was itchin’ to scrap You exposed your ghostwriter, now you wish you were scrapped Heard your pussy on “Yuck,” I guess you needed a pap What type of bum bitch shoot a friend over a rap? What time of mother leave her one son over a stack? Lil biddy down basic bitch thinkin’ she back Back to back, oh you mean, back to wack? “Back to Back”? Me and Drizzy laughed at that They say numbers don’t matter But when they discussin’ the kings They turn around and say Lebron ain’t got 6 rings I never signed a 360, bitch you wild dumb That’s why Jay ain’t clear his verse for your album Shanaynay, you a fraud committin’ perjury I got before and after pictures of your surgery Ra took you to her dog, but you don’t look like Ra Left the opertating table, still look like “nah”

[Hook: Nicki Minaj] ‘Cause I don’t need no, frauds I don’t need no, drama when you call I don’t need no lies Pick a side, pick a side I took the price, and lift that bitch up I took the ice, let me lift my wrist up I took the price, yeah, and lift that bitch up I took the ice, let me lift my wrist up

[Verse 2: Drake] Yeah, never been no fraud When do niggas that are not involved love to get involved? Why do niggas claim the streets and act just like the law? Riddles that I cannot seem to solve, man Cristal, come at me, Weezy F and Nick Aw, come and spoke about your shit in fifteen Man, I know you niggas saw this one comin’ My net worth sound like “grr” But they don’t pay in cash Niggas see me like “what up killa man, please stop bringin’ up my past” I’d really love to leave that behind Sometimes I ask God “man, why him?” Like the team that I would never leave behind I really gotta ease off the wine Which is funny because I just saw Nick the other day And she keeps getting finer over time I just know

[Hook: Nicki Minaj] I don’t need no, frauds I don’t need no, drama when you call I don’t need no, lies Pick a side, pick a side I took the price, and lift that bitch up I took the ice, let me lift my wrist up I took the price, yeah, and lift that bitch up I took the ice, let me lift my wrist up

[Verse 3: Lil Wayne] Uh, I am not a fraud Why am I the God? They don’t make ’em like me anymore Man, I am a dinosaur Blunts be tight as biker shorts Twisted like some handlebars Lil’ Tune out a cartoon or Avatar I just looked in the mirror like “all right, all right, all right” I would let that little leaguer right there fuck my wife, word I don’t need no fuck bitches in and out my life, word Eatin’ out my pockets, they be in and out of sight, word I don’t need no drama, I just need some nana Just told my lil mama “babe, I think I love you, kinda” Feelin’ like Tony Montana, Weezy, he get honored Drake a headliner, and Nicki, she get finer, word