H8 UPD8 BY BR8W8
The Rolling Stones: Have you heard of these bloody cunts yet? (Oh MY, pardon my English, I’m just trying to sound oh-so sophisticated like everybody over in the Land of the Mother Tongue, where men of wealth and taste use double negatives like “Can’t get no” when referring to satisfaction). What’s that? They were just MOCKING American Bluesmen when they sang that? Figures. The Rolling Stones never wrote any of their own material anyway. They just looted the graves of dead African Americans in an act of racist thievery not seen since the Nazis stole the entire country of France.
Nobody REALLY likes the Rolling Stones AT ALL. Sure, you may hear their irritating wailing at the supermarket and ignore it. It may enter your car radio, and you’ll probably change the dial to something INTERESTING so you don’t fall asleep at the wheel and accidentally wipe out a vanful of GOOD musicians. A crappy wedding DJ may put ONE of their milky numbers into his mix to please GRANDPA. You like the way your ol’ lady looks in the “mouth” logo T-shirt she bought from WAL-MART, and you might even take her to one of their horrible concerts if you ever win the lottery. There’s probably a Rolling Stones record in your collection, but you never listen to it, it’s only there to impress people because you’ve been told it’s mandatory. Follower. Clone. Zombie. Racist. That’s YOU. Your MAMA probably bought you a box set for Christmas, because she knows the Rolling Stones are a SAFE BET. But there it sits in its dusty cellophane, because you NEVER OPENED IT. There’s NOT ONE Rolling Stone song in your Ipod, I PROMISE.
Seriously, who would actually go OUT OF THEIR WAY to listen to these losers? If you were new to Earth and had never heard of them, and you walked into a bar where they were playing, you’d phone home and say “The chicks are nasty, but the music SUCKS.”
You just got off work, you have a headache, the LAST thing you want in your ear is Prick Wanker repeating OVER AND OVER AND OVER “Start me up I’ll never stop never stop never never never stop” (thanks for the warning), or “I’ll never be your beast of burden, I’m never never never never never never gonna be, all I want is for you to make love to me” (all together now, eeewwww!). What the hell is that supposed to mean, anyway, “beast of burden”? Is he trying to sound smart? Well, it’s STUPID. Maybe he’s referring to the great Eric Burdon, a REAL British rocker, the star who originally wrote “Paint It Black”. Mr. Burdon’s was WAY better, of course, he was all like “I see the people walkin’ by me, THEY’RE ALL GOING IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS!” Exactly! Then the Rolling Stones had to FUCK IT ALL UP, like usual.
You’re probably saying “Whoa, maaaan, melllow OUT, broman dudebrother, ‘It’s only rock and roll but I like it, like it, yes I do’.” Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. How do you think the Rolling Stones’ backup singers like it when, during “Sympathy for the Devil”, they have to bleat “Ooo oo. Ooo oo. Ooo oo. Ooo oo” how many times? Well, last time I heard it (when I was being “softened up” for interrogation), I counted. They say “Ooo oo” 967 times in a row, making it official torture to listen to, according to the Geneva Convention.
“Sympathy for the Devil” is off their Sgt. Pepper RIP OFF album “Upon Her Majesty’s Secret Satanic Services”, because the Rolling Stones are sooo dark, artsy, mysterious and dangerous. PLEASE. Satan stopped being REMOTELY scary or threatening back in the Eighties. You’re not Satanic. I’ll show you Satanic. “MY NAME IS MATTHEW LEASK BRAITHWAITE, AND I HEREBY PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE DARK EVIL MASTER SATAN. MY SOUL IS ALL YOURS. UPSIDE DOWN CROSS. I LOVE SATAN, BECAUSE HE’S MY SAVIOR!” There. Wow, that felt GOOD. You should try it. Do it NOW. You can even say your name is Matthew Leask Braithwaite.
Look, next time you want to name your band after a shitty magazine, just call yourselves Modus Operandi.
JAY ZEE: Or as I call him, Jay Zzzzz. Down at B.N. Blisters Steakhouse, the boss Big Nasty just LOVES modern pop music, which is why I was surprised to hear him playing the classic 80′s ballad “Forever Young”, written by Rod Stewart. “Man, this is my cut,” I informed him, “I used to stalk this woman by hiding in her bushes singing her name to this tune, ‘For Heather Young’.” I laughed, then stopped, because the song was interrupted with a RAP LYRIC. Rod Stewart has NEVER rapped. B.N. told me “Oh, this is Jay Zee’s new jam. He wrote this entire song.” NO, HE DIDN’T. What’s he gonna STEAL next, “Wind Beneath My Bling”?
Well, what do you expect from THE WORST RAPPER IN HISTORY. NOBODY is able to recite ONE of his lyrics. Maybe the choruses, because they’re designed to be ringtones. Jay Zee is a BIG fan of showtunes, like when he celebrated Little Orphan Annie’s Hard Knock Life. He pretends to be attracted to women, but when he released his song “99 Problems, But A Bitch Ain’t One” on Rock A Fella Records (I’m serious), I started to wonder. NOT THAT I CARE, but I’ll bet the LGBTQLSDCIAFBI community would respect him more if he would just be honest. They’ll probably still watch his fabulous new show on the Oprah Network, regardless. His line of shoes are adorable, too.
He’s never had sex with his wife Beyotche, either. When this classy gentleman proclaimed “Now I’m Bangin’ B”, he was lying. Was I the ONLY ONE who saw his FRUSTRATED wife scream her brutal version of “You Oughta Know” at him during that awards show last year? Then, when the transgendered Rhianna won an award, JZ accompanied her to the stage, and they BOTH HELD THE HANDS OF HER ADOPTED SON! Beyonce cried, went home, and wrote the excellent ”Why Don’t You Love Me?”
What a JERK! For some UNKNOWN reason, JZ was on the cover of Rolling (ugh) Stone for an article called “The King Of Music”. I read the interview, because I swear to MY GOD SATAN this whole Jay Zee thing has got to be some sort of GRAND PRANK. Do you know ANYBODY who has EVER said “I’m gonna go to the store and buy the new Jay Zee record!” I didn’t think so, because NOBODY WOULD DO THAT. Anyway, during the interview, he fucking TAKES HIS PANTS OFF so his secretary can “measure his inseam”. YOU’RE MARRIED, YOU… ohhh I don’t even have the words for fucking assholes that do that shit and brag about it in music magazines. He’s a liar, too. Remember when that PROBATION PUNK Chris Brown beat the HOLY FUCKING HELL out of his girlfriend when he found out she used to be a man? You know, before she got famous for singing “I Love The Way It Hurts”? Well, when Jay Zee found out about the ATTACK, he issued the following death threat: “Chris Brown is a walking dead man”. But DID HE KILL HIM? NO, he invited them BOTH to his mansion for a jet ski vacation! LOOK IT UP! I could do a whole H8 UPD8 on Chris Brown alone, but I prefer destroying people that everyone is ordered to like.
Even Barack O’Bama says that he likes Jay Zee. I’d like him too if he wrote a song about me called “My President Is Black”. He is? Wow, I didn’t know that until you made a boring fucking rap about it. I guess it IS catchier than “My President Used To Extinguish Cigarettes On The Expensive Carpeting Of Hotel Lobbies As A Teenager Back In Hawaii”.
Let’s examine his biggest hit, shall we? “H to the Hizzo, O to the Schmizzo, V to the Somethinzzo”, or whatever. WHAT THE HECK IS THAT SHIT?! Oh, it stands for HOVA, as in Jehova, because he thinks he’s Jesus, like most well-adjusted, intelligent, humble, strong, sane men do. Hip Hop Weekly always gushes “Is Jay Zee a member of the Illuminati?” Oh, you mean the geniuses that secretly run the world, but can’t figure out how to PLUG UP A FUCKING OIL DISASTER? Ooooh, I’m really scared of the Illuminati. Are they anything like the Masons, you know, the senior citizens that have spaghetti feeds at the Bingo Parlor to raise money for their float in the Hazel Dell Parade? UH OH!
Jay, I know you’re reading this, so let’s settle this once and for all. I’m challenging you to a fistfight. Meet me in the Fred Meyer parking lot on Tuesday. I’ll be the one listening to REAL RAP MUSIC by THE GETO BOYS. Bring your crew, coward, my name is Steven Purkey, and I’m ready to beat you up.
Steven Purkey: I have to call him Mr. Purkey. He wears a velvet cowboy hat emblazoned with the words “Money, Power, and Women (FUCK Respect)” spelled out in diamonds. His castle is surrounded by a moat filled with champagne, floating with live strippers. I follow him into the club and watch him toss burning c-notes around until people get injured in the trample.
He makes his money by EXPLOITING his stable of writers, without paying them a BROWN CENT. He’s basically a pimp, and I’m a hooker who loves my job. I’m making this entire article up as I go along. Mr. Purkey just said “Make sure it’s full of HATE and LIES, and have it done by 5am.” I started at 1:30. It’s now 4:40, and I’m out of cigarettes. I don’t have a punchline. Oh, but I DO have a NEW SPACEWIFE! HI, HONEYFIRE SUGARSPICE! YOU’RE OFFICIALLY MODUS-FAMOUS NOW! (Please don’t leave me after reading this article).
OH, I GOT IT! Do you suppose the Rolling Stones refer to him as JAY ZED?!
Yeah, what he said.