A Fine Mist of Diamonds Falling Upon Our Bourgeois Shoulders

Hi, it's me, Ty! I thought since we're well into our third week of this "dope ass worldwide Web log," that I'd take a moment to say hello. Herro Sayrors! It's not like we're purposefully being all aloof and distant from the people whose attention we CRAVE SO MUCH. On the contrary, we're just four very busy fellas who all happen to be a little bit shy to boot (no, seriously). And there's your explanation for all the pseudonyms and such. We all have other obligations to manage and privacy to conceal when we're not furiously and secretly typing our Web logs in cubicles or bathrooms ("Sorry, baby! I'm just... constipated! Give me another minute, I'll be right out 'kay?").

In case you still wonder or missed it, here's a thumbnail background your very own The Black Beatles team of enterprise solutionists (featuring poems by Pete Best and music by Stuart Sutcliffe):
Who are The Black Beatles? [clicky]
Anyhow, given the difficulties I'm having with my brain (it was referenced in the link above, keep up with me here), I discovered that I now have problems thinking sometimes. Given the hit or miss nature with absorbing new information and holding onto short term memories, Web log topics are kind of a bitch for me.

So I asked three members of my old school posse to help this nigga out. All dudes though. I guess I'm better at asking guys for help since I'm too awkward and embarrassing around the ladies. This could have been a tragic mistake with the only feedback being about pussy and fighting, but we got lucky. Besides, now you can meet some of my FFRs; friends for real.

I asked Big Dave Wave (Miami), Rickey Powell (Berkeley), and Philly Boy Gabe for a jump-nudge to get me moving for today's The Black Beatles post. Here's what the boys suggested in their own words:
Philly Boy Gabe: The Oscars®. Timely, bullshit, obnoxious, wasteful, riveting, disgusting, and so VERY American. I wasn't thinking that you'd actually watch it though. Just kind of riff on the Academy Awards® from your perspective.

Big Dave Wave: Talk about your new "3:12" appellation. My guesses:
Colossians 3:12 - "Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience"
Revelations 3:12 - "Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, and he shall go no more out: and I will write upon him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, which is new Jerusalem, which cometh down out of heaven from my God: and I will write upon him my new name"
Rickey Powell: Write something on that screenplay you and the Prof [San Diego] wrote about those kids shooting up Disneyland, that Klub Kaos thing.

Since I subscribe to a No Backlog Left Behind (NBLB) ethic, and since I could die at any moment, I'm gonna do what comes most naturally to me: I'm going to write about all three of the motherfuckers!
[Note: If you're too ADD or just a bit illiterate, just skip now to the comments and--cut and paste--"Tej sux." I don't fucking care]

Here goes:

The Academy Awards® Recap
Here're ten things about the 2009 Academy Awards®. I actually watched a few minutes as I nervously and agitatedly clicked-through the channels while my meth high dissipated. This is everything I remember or learned about the awards; this is a Transient Global Amnesia pop quiz:
1. Tina Fey is so goddamn hot I'd let her slash my face if that was what she needed to do. I didn't think she was all that at first (years back) but Rickey Powell clued me in (it was like he punched me in the face for breaking his camp shovel or something). I guess I was too old to really catch her during her SNL heyday. But, shit, he was right the fuck on. I told my wife that "I'd drown Fey's husband if it would increase the probability that I could eat whipped cream off of her various body parts." She said, "What about me, nigga?!" I replied, "Huh?" And I love how she says, "suck it!" (Tiina Fey, not the old lady - Golden Globes '08).

2. Ben Stiller, James Franco, Jack Black, and Seth Rogan smoke so much weed. I'd totally hang with those guys. It might be the ultimate men-ism bullshit session too. I'd have to setup audio and video recording equipment first because I am certain there would be epic madness that most of us would totally forget like morning after retards. This could win best documentary sometime in the future.

3. The host, uh, what's his name? Oh, fuck, I just had it.... Hugh Jackman? Is that it? He's good looking. I don't know his situation I'm guessing he probably got all kinds of laid afterward.

4. Why was a fucking marching band in tuxedos on stage on the Academy Awards® broadcast? Was the meth trippin' me up? I clicked past that shit observing that it was a "production number" and I clicked back all like, "what the fuck?" This was so...random. I mean I know Radiohead had a band on stage at the Grammys®, so I guess that's the new thing. Fucking visuals of snare drums and sousaphones. I played in marching situations and even I think that's totally gay.

5. I was feeling a little bad at first for that Japanese dude who won for short animation because I'm empathetic like that. He was all bloken Engrish and shit then he whipped out, with epic smoothness: "Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto." Hells yeah! I'd totally hang with that dude. I'm gonna invite him to the James Franco, Seth Rogan, Jack Black, and Ben Stiller thing in a Vegas suite with mad bud and very expensive whores. He'd be our performing monkey Ninja samurai. We'd totally give AIDS to Las Vegas.

6. I personally know an Oscar® winner, ya' know? I swear I do. Not trying to namedrop (so I wont), but I went to college and did a little bit of fucking around (nohomo) with the guy who won for editing Traffic in 2000. Somehow I feel compelled to mention this Academy Awards® factoid this time every year since, and I probably will for every year after. I totally wanted to make out with his then girlfriend because I was totally smitten with her, at least that's my version of the story. She was charmed though.

7. Of all of the nominees, I saw these films: Dark Knight, Bolt, The Visitor (DVD), Tropic Thunder (DVD), and Kung Fu Panda. I have a six year-old and Netflix. I'm lucky the child likes to go to movies else it would have been just two. Now you know how my life is.

8. I know very little about this Slumdog Millionaire deal, but I guess it kicked some ass at the big award show. I heard that on the radio. All I know is that it's about some smelly foreigners who get beat and tortured about something. Meh!

9. Heath Ledger was really fucking awesome in Dark Knight. But the Dark Knight went on for nearly 45 minutes too long. It could have been the an awesome film had it been edited to exclude that whole TwoFace shtick. They should have used that dude who won the Oscar® for editing in 2000; my BFF from college who had a girlfriend I wanted to kiss on.

10. Us Jews fucking OWN Hollywood. You're welcome.


I'll tell you what, Big Motherfucking Dave Goddamn Wave did his homework with the bible versus n' shit. That shit in absolutely unimpeachable, if you ask me. What the fuck can I say after that? Nothin', that's what!

Scroll back up and check that shit out: Colossians and Revelations. Damn straight. But, also, check this one I found:
Philippians 3:12 - "Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me"
While that's totally fly and shit, the problem is, I'm totally stalling.... I know 3:12 had something to do with Besty Lou, but I can't remember what it was. At least that's what I'm going with...not that I have already attained all this or been made perfect or anything.

Klub Kaos - 1
(novelized for your protection)
Nick and Daniel realized that this was it, in the movies the proverbial jig would be up. The new chilling reality was that their lives, lives normal-like-before, was over. It was either jail or death, probably both. There were no words exchanged but Nick and Daniel were definitely on the same page with regard to how this ended; Cho, Harris, Klebold, and Kehoe had already written the endgame playbook.

Billy was too blissfully satisfied that he had killed Procter to think of anything else. It was probably the only joy he'd felt since he was a very young child. At least that's how he remembered it. Procter couldn't call him a retard now, couldn't scream at him now, could he? Who's fucking stupid now?, he wondered. Four years of poking and prodding had forced his hand and now it was over. Relief! Billy still wore all but the head of the sweat soaked Goofy costume. Goofy's head was rolling around in the back with Nick who was still wearing most of a tattered Mickey Mouse costume, but that head had been long discarded when Nick threw it at an Orlando police department cruiser. That was a lifetime ago, nearly one hour had passed since they bolted the happiest place on earth.

Billy's vengeance was complete and perfect as he mindlessly sped along the Bee Line expressway at 99 miles per hour in Mickey Mouse's outlandishly modified red convertible. No fewer than a twenty police cruisers, two police helicopters, and four news helicopters followed. This was the stuff that made Rodney King famous and O.J. infamous.

Daniel realized that since moving to Florida nine months earlier this was the first time he felt anything. Anything at all. The whole move, the school year, the planning, the trip, the shooting was all just a numb blur. What he felt now was love. The love of his only friends, the friends who now constituted his only family. The family who did things and listened to each other. The family who kill together - stick together. Amen. Fuck it, he thought, and settled comfortably into his seat. He pumped his shotgun and pondered whether to fire off a celebratory round a la Saddam Hussein in his prime or not. Daniel knew that he had just reached his prime. He let one fly, BLAM! The recoil was still surprising to him as his badly bruised shootin' shoulder could affirm.

Nick fumbled with his phone for several moments before he realize that he could just take off the oversized four-fingered Minny Mouse gloves. He wanted to, needed to, say goodbye to his little sister. She would not understand this. Maybe ever but he needed to say bye since she would never see him again and would only hear what an animal he was. How he so callously killed so many Disney World...children, students, and "the innocents." That's what bothered him the most, from the beginning. Ella would hate him. Hate him for what he did. What he did to her. "Fuuuuuccccccckkkkkk!!!!" he screamed an threw the phone out the back. Tears stung his eyes.

Fame and infamy was no longer optional. They were now the Disney Three.

See? I guess what I'm saying is: Yes, I get by with a little help from my friends.

The end.