The Lost 28th Chapter of Leviticus Explains the Rules for Riding Shotgun
by Steve Etheridge
1 And this is the law ye shall follow when traveling with brothers, whether by chariot, camel, donkey, cart pulled by slave, shoulders of slave, small boat, leviathan, silverback gorilla, or another personal conveyance. 2 The owner of the vehicle shall always be the pilot, unless leprosy hath taken his legs. The pilot must always wear a safety girdle. 3 He who wishes to have the second-best seat may only declare so after leaving the door of the temple, the tax collector’s house, a den of iniquity, or any other place. He, too, shall wear a safety girdle. 4 If two men declare the seat at the same time and neither agrees to abide in the back, they shall each kill one bullock and offer its head at the altar. 5 He whose flames turn blue first shall hold the right to the seat. 6 If they turn blue at the same time, call on the elders of Israel to judgeth a rematch. 7 If thy bullock’s eyeballs should burst at any time, thou art the winner. 8 If he who slew the bullock forgets to sprinkle blood before the altar, he not only forfeits the seat but dies. 9 If a man loses the contest yet refuses to relinquish his seat, he will surely suffer. 10 He who fails to follow the commands shall offer his youngest daughter as a slave and honey-gatherer to his companion, and if he hath no daughter, he then must scoopeth out his wife’s womb with a melon baller and present it on a platter. 11 May it also be known that if it is a man’s birthday, he holds the right to the seat. This is the law. 12 Neither women nor slaves may ever have the second-best seat. 13 Neither shall those with blemishes or those who have partaken in the following foods: any cloven-hoofed creatures, the weasel, the tortoise, the talking lizard, cobra jerky, imitation manna, cats born on odd days, and uncircumcised swallows. 14 Those sitting in the worst seats must not sing songs that annoyeth the pilot, nor shall they dangle false idols from the mirrors. 15 If three men are riding on a camel, they shall follow the same rules but shall take long, hard looks at themselves, because people will suspect they come from Sodom. 16 These are the commandments that have been passed on to the children of Israel, or to anyone else’s kids, for that matter.
aside from the gratuitous male nudity, this video is pretty hilarious. story and video after the jump.
Sorry there havent been many posts lately. TD is still studying for the California Bar Exam, and I’ve been super busy with work and haven’t really found much of interest to post.
In other news, I filled up a tank of gas yesterday and it was $72. THAT IS FUCKING RETARDED. I have seen a few places around town where (premium) gas is selling for over $5. So, immediately after filling up that tank, I went out to REI and bought myself a bike so I can ride to and from work. Check it out. I got to try it out for the first time last night hammered at like 3 in the morning after a birthday party at the studio. I then came home and ate cold chili out of the can. true story.
Take that decency.
I got this piece of genius from McSweeneys
IN WHITE CULTURE.
BY KEVIN ERICKSON
– – – –
In white culture, it is common to inscribe the name of your future bride on the hindquarters of 12 hamsters. After carefully bagging each hamster in burlap, the future groom installs a zip line from the easternmost garden in his future in-laws’ backyard to their master bedroom. The hamsters are then slid along the zip line into the bedroom, where a small fire burns at the base of the zip line to burn the burlap from the hamsters. As each hamster ignites, the inscription of the future bride’s name is revealed to the in-laws, signaling the occurrence of an important event. At that moment, the future groom, dressed in a hamster suit, removes his top hat to reveal a large fortune cookie. The fortune cookie is opened by the father of the future bride. The color of the jelly inside reveals the future groom’s intentions: red for marriage, green for murder. For this reason, mint jelly is taboo in white culture.
In white culture, the man steals the woman’s kerchief and drops it from a balloon. Wherever the kerchief lands, a chapel is erected by a collective of albino children (from the caves). The chapel is then burned, after which the ashes are smeared in the eyes of the bride and she wanders, temporarily blinded, through a field west of town. Where she drops, exhausted, the wedding ceremony takes place.
In white culture, haircuts are bartered in the town square and barbers are arranged in the square according to hairstyle. The hairstyle of the barber dictates the hairstyle you will receive. Bald barbers are virtually unemployable. After you select a barber with a suitable hairstyle, it is customary to present the barber with a promissory note specifying a particular chore you will perform in the future in exchange for the haircut. Yard work is a permissible chore (not including gardening). Basement build-outs and sex are impermissible (but acceptable when combined).
In white culture, rent is allocated among housemates through a system of weights, measures, and woolen sweaters. First, each housemate is weighed and the results are recorded on the underside of separate toads, which are then set free within the house. Next, the forearm of each housemate is measured from elbow to wrist, and each measurement is recorded on a separate spool of thread. Then, each housemate puts on a woolen sweater embroidered with a macramé flower. The spools of thread are placed inside a pillowcase and each housemate draws one. The number recorded on the spool is the length in leagues of wool yarn that is unwound from the bottom of that housemate’s woolen sweater. The housemate then uses that yarn to create a partition in the home, within which the housemate is entitled to roam. At noon the next day, each housemate collects the toads that are in his or her partition and adds the weights on their bellies together. The percentage that this amount represents of the combined weight of all the housemates is calculated, and that is the percentage of the rent that housemate is responsible for. The toads are then eaten in a psychedelic ritual to the tunes of the first Jefferson Airplane album.
In white culture, a single piece of international-standard A4 paper is folded horizontally into thirds and then in half the other way. The letters of the alphabet are then printed in the six rectangles created by the fold lines, starting with A in the upper left, B in the upper center, C in the upper right, D in the lower right, and so on, going around clockwise. The paper is cut along the fold lines and the individual rectangles are inserted into bottles, which are plugged with corks and dropped into the bay. The first bottle carried under Forrester’s Bridge is pulverized and the bits are used to make a pie for the people south of the funicular tracks. The second bottle is opened and the letters in the enclosed rectangle are used to construct the name of your firstborn child.
In white culture, it is popular to braise cabbage using the following traditional method.
Combine the below ingredients in an inverted traffic cone:
1 head red cabbage, sliced into alphabet shapes
2 tart apples, peeled, chopped, and pieces arranged in descending size order
1 onion whole
3 tbsp. cider vinegar strained through a bag of pipe cleaners
1 bottle dry red wine (set aside)
a thimble of salt
1/2 cup water from a local pond, skimmed
2 bay leaves
6 slices of clove gum
Empty cone’s contents into large Dutch oven. Drink bottle of wine. Simmer covered for one hour. Simmer uncovered until liquid is mostly gone, about 45 more minutes. Simmer covered again until conglomeration is solid and bricklike. Remove and eat whole onion. Return traffic cone to construction zone. Shake brick until flaky. Eat frozen.
…and more graphic this time.
Sorry to keep you waiting this many days to update about Saturday and Sunday’s events, but I have had neither the time nor energy to deal with it til now.
So, Saturday was truly the marathon Coachella day for the crew I was with; we managed to get up at a decent hour, grab some breakfast and head over to the Polo Fields at about 2pm. We had already missed the Institubes DJs, Surkin and Para one, but we got there just in time for Kavinsky. The crowd was still sparse, but it built up over the course of the next hour as he threw down his brand of dark, 80’s tinged techno. Imagine Giorgio Moroder playing with an Atari 2600 in the midst of a bad shroom trip. We then went and grabbed ourselves some beer and lunch and attempted to go see a bit of MGMT at the Gobi tent, but it was packed and overflowing. Having no desire to stand in the sun outside of the tent 75 yards away from the stage, we said fuck it and went back to the dance tent to await the coming of the German Electro monster known as Boys Noize. I had never seen him play before and I was amazed. He absolutely shredded, and considering it was still the middle of the day, the tent was packed. He played this one song none of us had ever heard before, this big room-destroying tune that seriously had the crowd marching and screaming. It was intense. Needing an ear-break, we sat down and enjoyed Erol Alkan’s set from the back corner of the tent, aided by some fruit smoothies (and vodka). After Erol was Hot Chip, who played the dance tent with their full band playing nonstop through the hour like a DJ set. The place was packed and the vibe was amazing; everybody smiling, dancing, singing (“I am Ready, I am Ready for the Floor…”). Superb. Went and grabbed some organic goodies from the food stands, and some malted goodies from the beer tent before sitting in the corner of the main beer gardens to mellow out and watch Kraftwerk. They weren’t too exciting, but nice and spacey and perfect for the sunset. We checked out Mark Ronson’s set briefly, which was cool because his full band continued bringing up new outside singers for almost every song. Ricky Wilson from the Kaiser Chiefs, Jamie Reynolds from the Klaxons, and even Kenna (who is a R&B/pop singer I have worked with at my studio) all came up to sing while Ronson played guitar, smoked cigarettes, and basically looked like a cool motherfucker. The last two bands of the night were the most hyped, and both at the main stage. Portishead, who is just releasing their their 3rd album (after like 10 years) was reaally great. They played a bunch of the fan favorites of of their first album Dummy, and Beth Gibbons’ voice was just gorgeous. Next up was Prince, who played for almost 2 hours and was absolutely incredible. He has so much energy, he is amazing on guitar, and has so much swagger; he is truly a great entertainer. He brought out Sheila E and Morris Day to play with him, and though at times the set did slow when they played some gospel-style shit, they rocked through a 7 minute version of “Little Red Corvette” that had people in the 15,000 strong crowd singing at the top of their lungs. fantastic (though it would have been better if I hadnt had to pee the entire set. thank god for gatorade bottles.)
After 11 hours of festival-ing in the brutal desert sun, we did what any sensible people would do, which was of course continuing drinking and partying until the wee hours of the morning. (Sleep is for the weak.) We arose around 2pm, ate some chicken wings, had some pineapple and gin smoothies, had our EMT friends give us some saline IV drips to kill our hangovers (seriously) and headed back to the show at about 430p.
Like the past two days, our main desire Sunday was to stay in the dance tent. When we got there Booka Shade were playing live on an electronic drum set and a rack of synthesizers and sequencers; very cool, groovy and fun. Wasn’t really feeling Danny Tenaglia’s set next, so we managed to meet up with an old friend of ours (who gave us VIP wristbands) and went to grab some food and cocktails.
The remainder of the lineup in the tent that night was absolutely ridiculous if you are into the type of Electro that my friends and I listen to. Modeselektor, Simian Mobile Disco, and Chromeo all (in a row) absolutely destroyed the crowd (which was growing larger by the minute). Luckily the VIP bar was directly outside the tent, so we were able to run in between sets and gobble down drinks (or in Micah’s case, jump/fall over the fence, be welcomed by a round of applause, and then gobble down cocktails). Justice was the headliner of the night, and the only act playing anywhere on the grounds at that time. We had an excellent spot staked out to dance, and dance we did. The curtain pulls back and there are these stacks of Marshall cabinets 5 tall on either side of this platform bearing their trademark glowing cross. Their ominous opener “Genesis” starts and people just start going apeshit. It was incredible, definitely one of the best sets I have ever seen, just tearing through all their songs, remixes, and a couple choice classic electro/disco cuts…outstanding.
After the show we made it back to the house, drank and hung out in the hot tub for a few hours and passed out. The next morning was extremely brutal and the drive back to civilization was extremely difficult, but all in all it was an amazing weekend.
Though my ears are still ringing.
Stoked to have both my laptop and wireless at our rented Desert Oasis out here in sunny Indio, though sadly i forgot my camera’s USB cord so I cannot upload any of the pics I took today.
We didnt get into the show today until about 4 or so, after having gotten into town, dropping our stuff off at the house and watching a friend of mine power his way through two salads at Subway. The first act we caught was Cut Copy, my current favorite band. They were rad. Excellent vibe throughout, despite the heat. They even fucked up like once or twice with their timing, but were always able to bring it back and get locked back into the groove. Aside from a few excursions around the polo fields for beer and food, we really stayed over on the side of the festival with the small stages/tents.
Ran into Busy P, Murs, and SebastiAn walking around, that was cool. Checked out a bit of Diplo’s set in the Sahara tent; it was really cool but his style is so all over the place it was actually kinda hard to get into it.
Santogold on the other hand fucking ripped. She had a really short set (she doesn’t even have an album out yet), but she sounded great, had a ton of energy, some awesome backup dancers, and overall looked like she was really enjoying herself. Rad.
The highlight for me was Aphex Twin. I have been into this crazy fucker’s music for many years, and he NEVER plays out ANYWHERE, let alone in the States. I really didnt know what to expect (other than to have my mind blown). When we walked into the tent, he had already been on for about 15 minutes, and he was playing cheesy disco house, sitting behind a laptop. ?????? I knew something was up, that he had to be fucking with everyone…and that he was…
Disco house went into minimal techno, which started fluctuating in speed and intensity and started getting really (for the lack of a better word) Gnarly. Next thing you know, he is throwing down 160bpm hard acid techno and all the E’d out ravers are started to look really uncomfortable. i was drooling. From this he somehow segued into this insane drill n bass and just chaotic mess of sounds. Hard grinding synths and massive rumbling bass, sped up and process breakbeats…insanity. For the rest of the hour he played he just kept dropping these insane tracks that literally had me jumping up and down, waving my hat and screaming at people. To top it off, during this storm of the most evil-sounding chaotic techno I have ever heard, a group of dancers all wearing animal costumes (dog, bunny, cow, etc.) come out on stage and start dancing around around the turntables. I was laughing hysterically and I swear i saw some kids on Acid in the corner crying their eyes out. It was glorious.
The only real bummer of the day was Spank Rock. I was super-stoked to see Naeem and his crew play, and it was evident after the first 15 mins that something weird was up. His DJs, Devlin & Darko spun some classic disco and house jams by themselves for a while, and then Amanda Blank came out for a few songs. After about 10 more minutes she let everyone know that Spank got sick today and wasnt going to be able to perform. fuuuuccccccckkkkkkk
We watched her for five more minutes and then hit the road.
Tomorrow is going to be a loooooong day…so many acts to see, parties to visit, beers to drink, hippies to mock. Peace Out!
-Dirty Desert Bastard
Bumper stickers, for the most part, are really stupid. I have never understood why people put them on their cars. Okay, I get “Obama ’08” or other political stickers to show an affiliation, but when you just have a dumb slogan or some lame joke that you think is utterly hilarious, I as the driver behind you who has to read that dribble, find it offensive to my intelligence. The worst offenders are anyone who puts something on their car that follows the whole “Got Milk?” phenomenon. (which I still never quite understood why they have to advertise milk, don’t people buy that pretty regularly anyway…or cheese, or beef or any staple product, but that is a whole other story). Like these little gems…
What the fuck do these even mean? Clearly the “mpg” one is advertising to other drivers that they drive a hybrid or some other fuel efficient car and all other drivers who have yet to become enlightened by purchasing a hybrid should be reminded of just how much better this asshole is. And I could have listed 50 more of theses awful stickers. Further, this whole “got _____” craze makes people look unintelligent. You are trying to advertise that you support something in two words only…if you really cared that much about it at least put your support in a fucking sentence. “Do you have root?” (which still sounds retarded) “Do you have any milk?” And people wonder why America as a whole is so stupid. I blame our fascination on trying to dissect the world’s problems on a foot long sticker placed next to our exhaust pipe.
ALSO, the people who put like 50 bumper stickers on their cars, yeah, you guys need to die too. Please take your horrendous eyesore off the road. I’m surprised more car accidents aren’t caused by other people who are trying to read the catalog of useless information on the back of your ’84 Accord, while they are talking on the phone, changing the radio station and putting in a DVD for the kids. Speaking of kids…parents who put the “my child is an honor student at Roosevelt Elementary” sticker on their car, you suck too. Really, an honor student in third grade, how did your junior Einstein become so brilliant? He must have really nailed penmanship and subtraction. If you are that proud of your kid’s achievements before they hit puberty, you may be in for many long and disappointing years of your little angel’s scholastic attempts.
You may wonder where this rant came from…in all reality I had one thing I wanted to mention and got off on a tangent. But my original point was, I was driving today behind a truck with an excruciatingly clever sticker that said “Trees are the answer.” Really? What the fuck was the question? If you had another sticker that said “where paper comes from,” or “They have leaves and branches,” then yes, trees are actually the answer. Thank you for imparting that knowledge to me truck guy. But unfortunately there are about 7 trillion other questions where trees definitely are not the answer like, “what makes a good sweater?” or “Who discovered gravity?” Congratulations Mr. “trees are the answer,” you are an idiot and I hate you. I could bitch about this for a long time, God bumper stickers are stupid.
Following the Denver Nuggets 111-94 victory over the Houston Rockets on Sunday, Carmelo Anthony did what any big time NBA baller would do after a 3-14 shooting and 11 point performance…He got shit-faced and drove home. Around 4 a.m. he was pulled over for being unable to stay in drive in one lane and for keeping his brights on.
Professional athletes are stupid and I will tell you why. In fact, most rich people can be lumped into this statement I am about to make. If you are getting paid $13 million dollars this year, like Mr. Anthony is, and you decide to go out and have a good time, it is INEXCUSABLE to ever be caught driving drunk. I’m really anti drinking and driving period and it gets me especially mad when the person doing it has absolutely no excuse whatsover for not being able to find a safe way home. You are trying to tell me that Melo couldn’t afford a cab? Shit, screw a cab, get one of those big stretch hummer joints so you can spread out a little bit. At the very least if you want people to see in your hot ride, have one of your stupid friends drive you, isn’t that the point of being a rich athlete with an entourage?
I’ve been to Denver and therefore I know a few things about it. 1. It is not that big and I’m pretty sure Melo could have easily swung the 15 dollar tab that would have got him home. 2. There are like 7 black people in the whole city, so a 6 foot 9 dude with corn rows driving a $120,000 Mercedes in the middle of a two lane road with his brights on will definitely arouse the suspicion of Denver’s finest. Seriously though, I’m broke and I get cabs everywhere because I feel like getting a DUI would suck. I just don’t understand why countless celebrities constantly get caught doing this. Maybe they think that they are too important or something to really have to follow the laws of us little people. If I was the judge in this case, or anyone like it, I would give these rich assholes the absolute maximum penalty that the offense can carry. It will be great when one dumb athlete kills someone while driving wasted because they wanted to make sure that everyone saw them leaving the club in their fly Maybach on 22s because they could not justify the expense of paying for a driver. Even if your lame friend drove you we still know you bought the car you egotistical jerk. Fuck these guys. I’m in a bad mood today, I hate Monday.
I don’t need to drive in one lane on the road, cause I can drive to the basket. Taxi? Hell no, do you know how much it costs to keep my braids looking this fly?
Let me first start by saying I am not a professor or the english language. Thanks to my public school education, I have the spelling of an 8 year-old, the grammar of gang member, and the vocabulary of truck stop junkie. But as the current state of the English language shames me, I feel it is my duty to protect it. Remember, I am not angry, merely the vessel from which anger may stream.
So this is the new hollywood promotion, great right? But what the fuck does this sign say? Seriously? I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of punctuation missing, like a “” or , or – or something (I use the symbols because I don’t know the names). I’m guessing its supposed to say one of two things: YOU SUCK, SARAH MARSHALL or “YOU SUCK” – SARAH MARSHALL.
Now, either or these choices would be acceptable practices in the english language, telling us the reader that the words YOU SUCK are being addressed to OR by Sarah Marshall. However, the sign doesn’t say that; it reads, YOU SUCK SARAH MARSHALL meaning Sarah Marshall is not the object which you are addressing but rather the object on which you are sucking. This is not a quote or comment but instead a statement to the person choices of things you enjoy to suckle. Either way, this sign is retarded, and thank you hollywood for making us dumberer.
So last night a friend of mine who works in film and television invited me to an advanced screening of her boss’s movie. I was pretty excited because the movie was supposed to be pretty good and I had never been to a screening before. Well the movie was awesome, very enjoyable and I was glad I went. Now at these things after you watch the film they pass out these cards that ask what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you felt could be better etc. etc. etc. There are many opportunities on the card to express your understanding of the film, or your interpretation of how things would be better. This is a great process for the makers of the movie I’m sure, and I bet they get lots of valuable feedback.
HOWEVER, the next part of the screening I’m pretty sure offers zero valuable feedback for the filmmakers. The section I am talking about is the questions and comments portion of the evening. At this stage the director and the main person who was in the movie (a comedian in this case, it is a documentary) stand at the front near the screen and entertain questions and comments i.e. they listen to a room full of failed directors opine about what they thought the movie meant, or worse, what it should mean. This was arguably the most painful 30 minutes of my life. I had a mental list of the worst person in the room like 10 people long. And the person who was speaking generally was moving towards the top. EVERY comment is essentially one person, who thinks they are devastatingly intelligent, rambling on and on while sporadically throwing in SAT vocab words. I heard the word “pedantic” used 5 times in 25 minutes, and I’m pretty sure not a single person used it correctly.
The best (or worst depending on your perspective) thing about every single douchey, LA, film school dropout trying to wax philosophically about the movie they had no part in creating, is that it seems they all genuinely think that if they use enough big words and talk long enough they will utter something so undeniably brilliant that the filmmakers will completely reverse course and shoot more scenes and edit more film just to accommodate their un-tapped Scorsesian genius. I grew so weary of listening to their drabble that I just paid attention to the comedian who made the film’s expression. Half the time he looked confused at what they were talking about, and the other half he appeared to mentally dismiss the words as they entered his ears because of the pure and unadulterated uselessness of them all. I think one person made a comment that went over well and it was something like “I really liked the ending, don’t change that.”
“I thought that the way in which you earnestly juxtaposed the societal conflict of middle-eastern camel herders with the pretentiousness that permeates the Malagwan snake charmers was fascinating, but I felt that the topic could be presented to the viewer in a more assimilatory fashion if you had footage of the Mayan cave hunters during their tribal dating rituals…that would have really left an extremely powerful and pedantic impression on the audience.”