Jump Around!

Everybody Up!

Excuse me for double-posting, but this just couldn't wait. I saw this...and I nearly puked. It was posted on a forum:

absolutely love paris hilton, i HATE all the ppl out there that mock her and put shit on her, what has she done to deserve that???

I LOVE HER and her life is awsome i wish i was living it. I also love the way she dresses so i pretty much stole her style. I always defend her when ppl i know or see put shit on her.

It doesnt matter what she does for the rest of her life i will always love her and trust me i will b the first lining up to pick up my copy of her CD “Paris” does anybody know when shes gonna autograph copies of her album???

Mwah Mwah

Amanda
That was an honest to God post...Sickening, no?

Well Amanda...I hate to break it to you, but...

Banksy has done it again my friends. For those of you who haven't heard: In August/September 2006, Banksy replaced up to 500 copies of Paris Hilton's debut album, Paris, in 48 different UK record stores with his own cover art and remixes by Danger Mouse. Music tracks were given titles such as "Why am I Famous?", "What Have I Done?" and "What Am I For?". The cover art depicted Paris Hilton digitally altered to appear topless. Other pictures feature her with a dog's head replacing her own, and one of her stepping out of a luxury car, edited to include a group of homeless people, which included the caption 90% of success is just showing up.



HOW AMAZING IS THAT?! Banksy is Godlike! Paris and her little prissy following (i.e. Amanda) just got OWNED! The latest incident in which Banksy's mischief is causing concern is as follows: In September 2006, Banksy dressed an inflatable doll in the manner of a Guantanamo Bay detainment camp prisoner (orange jumpsuit, black hood, and handcuffs) and then placed the figure within the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad ride at Disneyland theme park in Anaheim.

I've said it once and I'll say it again. America, don't fear a future with chemically enhanced baseball players...It's the Graffiti writers you need to worry about.

(C) 2006 SEASE Productions. (Thanks Banksy!) All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified. Banksy is due to hold an exhibition called Barely Legal, which is billed as a "three day vandalised warehouse extravaganza" in Los Angeles on the weekend of 16 September 2006. Thought I'd let ya'll know.

Flatliners (You See That Flick?)

I WANT YOU, JACK LAYTON, TO SMARTEN UP!

Everybody Up!

Guess what day it is? That's right! The time has come again...It's the 5th year anniversary of 9/11. "The day the world stopped turning", the entire cause of our constant fear of car-bombs, airplanes and suicide-bombing maniacs...or so it seems.

Ergo, it only seems fitting that I should have a rant prepared for you, my ever-dwindling readers. However, this time around...my foreign audience is going to have a harder time relating, my apologies. It's also fitting, because the distant cause of the whole incident that this rant is based around, is Sept. 11th, 2001. This one goes out to Jack Layton.

Now Mr. Layton is the leader of a Canadian Political party who call themselves the N.D.P...or New Democratic Party. It's kind of funny though, because Jack seems to have taken the term "Party" a bit too literally. Last time we had a Federal Election, the NDP was having celebrations and, well...Parties. I recall seeing Mr. Layton and his running Deputy Prime-Minister on a stage, under yellow and green lights, doing Karaoke...during a party-gathering. Now maybe I'm being too serious, but I don't particularly want MY country to be run by anyone who sings as terribly as Jack Layton. Reason #3,084,296.073- Every province that they NDP has won and put a Premier into, has gone BANKRUPT! Look at "Beautiful British Columbia"! The NDP ran it dry! It's taken years for BC to get back on track, lucky for them...they have all sorts of things to fall back onto for economic issues.

Sorry...I got a bit side-tracked there. This isn't to diss the NDP...Well, not directly anyways. No, I'm here to rant my extreme anger with Jack friggin' Layton, over a comment he made the other day. I'll spare you having to decipher the Political Mumbo-Jumbo...Essentially, Jack and his crew have decided that Canada should not be in Afghanistan. The casualties are beginning to rise, and the pseudo-Humanist Layton decides that we should pull out now. Well I'm sorry. I may be a 16 year old, self-proclaimed Know-it-all...and having been born and raised in a Military family (Hell, my father was doing his second peace-keeping tour in Cyprus when I was BORN!), I know that that is simply not an option. For all you peacemongers out there, I don't want to hear it. YES, soldiers losing their lives is tragic...My Father is a soldier. I grieve every soldier who is wounded, even moreso killed. But soldiers know the risks when they sign up, they train for it every day. That's what being a soldier means.

Also, the media doesn't help at all. The media likes to focus on the negative. Always has, always will. They report every Canadian death, all the while saying that things will only get worse. That the insurgency is becoming more and more aggressive everyday. What they don't report...is that 85% of Afghanistan is back under control. The Canadian base is in the 15% that is still controlled by bandits...no wonder we're facing heavy resistance. The insurgents can't go back to the other areas, so they're trapped in this pocket in the desert...it's essentially their last stand. We're winning. But the media doesn't want to show that...'cause it won't sell papers as much as the grief-soaked tabloids that have pictures of crying wives and mothers smeared overtop of caskets covered in Canadian flags...
And so, Jack Layton decides that we should pull out of Afghanistan. Whether he honestly thinks that, or if it's to try and appeal to all the uninformed people who think that they're knowledge of deaths in the Middle-East is good enough to ruin Military tactics and decisions that have helped rebuild a country.
We can't just pull out now. If we did, the insurgents would take over again...Think about it, if the Allies had've stopped fighting in WWII because the casualties (great band, by the way...) were getting too great, where would the world be? Hitler would've taken over and we'd all be royally screwed by a dude with a funny moustache.
(THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS!)

Now, before I end up ranting on and on without end, I'll finish this up.
Jack, we can't just pick up and leave...So shut up. I say we send you and your Democratic Minions over to Afghanistan for a few months like they did for my Father, and when you shoot yourself in the foot just so you can go home and join the casualty list, we'll all point and laugh at you and replay footage of your terrible singing for the country all over again.

(C) 2006 SEASE Productions. (Shut Up, you NDPussies) All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified.

Up In Arms: The "Domino" Effect

Everybody Up!

What confuses you? Do I? I hope so. The fuzzier the lines get, the harder you have to concentrate. The harder you concentrate, the more atuned your mind is and therefore you can think better.

This is where the lines get blurred so much you'll need glasses, not that I have any at the moment. It's funny though, I realise I don't need them I can see everything I need to. Nobody needs visual-aids to recognise beauty and the beasts. Doesn't matter how hard you try, you'll always be the last won. (Pun Intended) I could see how far I can lift this but, what's going to make this rant any different from the last one? What separates me from the next "Blogger"? I'd tell you, but it ain't one to tell. Uptown Business continues as always. Order is often overrated. Graffiti writers are bent on making a message for the ages, or at least a mess for the ages. Either way, I'll made a mark.

But what good does that do anybody? Does it do me good because I'll feel accomplished? It won't get me where I want. Oh...Wait, what do I want again? I'm stuck between a rock, an emotion, and a memory. That okay though, I'd take a trap over a non-existant path anyday and I'll bite the hand that feeds if it fucking tastes better. Fate is faded, but that's okay because the lines will never become crystal clear at the rate we're going. Think about it. They always say: "You're only a teenager once"...but what exactly is a teenager? Is it a rebellious, angst-ridden kid who never listens to his parents? Is it a person who's learning to handle responsibilities? Is it a guy who's just enjoying his life "90210" style? What the hell are we "Adolenscents" supposed to strive to be? Television seems to glorify all of the above, but which one do we have to choose? That's the mentality that kills us all. Fuck choosing. I got more important things to do than dwell on a decision, but I always come back to the same spot...The choice. I've lived multiple lives...but it appears I'm only allowed to live one of them. I don't feel like doing anything, even when I know that in my heart of hearts I want to pound that motherfucker's face into the pavement. All I want to do is go to school, enjoy my time with friends, but no...This guy has to get in my face. That's what I hate the most. Not that he wants to fight me, but that I want to fight him. I want to revert to the violence. A lifestyle like that is not only dangerous, but it's addictive. Easy to fall into, but hard to forget. But I am no longer a part of that world, I'm simply a teenager...am I not? Who you are today may not be who you will be tomorrow. While some maintain a longing for the past, nostalgia for the sake of itself is betrayal of the future. No? We can't live two lives at once, so we try to indulge ourselves in activities that remind us of such things, but don't suck us in...even as they take over your life. Trying to stay in orbit around supercharged engines, old blackbooks and cold bottles of lager is like trying to hum a tune with a mouthful of marbles. I'll keep investigating the ulterior motives, but I've given up hope...I simple can't be bothered. It'll never dissipate, hard as I try to air it out. The stench of blood will never leave the premises. Scrub as hard as you like, the spots won't disappear. The faint whisper of a battle-cry will always ring in one ear....Right for spite. Urban violence isn't the best of passtimes, but you can make a killing off of the stories. There's just too much cool still left to go around, lots of bodies that need to be buried and too much emotion that still needs to be bottled up.

If you're wondering what's true and what isn't you can fuck off because it's none of your god-damn business. I can't tell you what it all meant. All that matters is that I feel accomplished, and my insides no longer churn from my brain wracking itself senseless. I said it, and if you ever realise what I mean...You'll know that there is only one conclusion to every story: We all fall down. Thank you Miss Harvey.

(C) 2006 SEASE Productions. All Rights Reserved, All Wrongs Justified. Thank you to those that have helped me create this post, gave me the thoughts contained herein, or wrote the words to express them. If I borrowed your words, they're still yours and thank you again. You know who you are.