Literally Interpreting Song Lyrics: "Nice & Slow" by Usher

The Line:
“I got plans to put my hands in places, I ain’t ever seen, girl ya know what I mean”

Wait. I DON’T know what you mean. Walk me through this.

First off, I’m going to assume since you are Usher Raymond: Michael Jackson’s half retarded clone, you have seen a vagina sometime throughout your life. Michael was iffy, but you seem to have less infatuation with prepubescent boys, so you are already ahead in the game in my book.

I’m also going to go ahead and assume you HAVE seen a entirely naked woman before. Boobs, nipples, butt cheeks and whatnot.

Therefore, I’m wondering what part of the body contains a place “you ain’t ever seen”.

Then it came to me. This poor girl, Usher is singing his heart out to, is about to have him possibly fishing his arms down her throat and/or up her asshole. Besides the vaginal canal, these are the other 2 main points of entry into places “he ain’t ever seen”……her vital organs.

I then got real dizzy.

This poor woman. She probably locked eyes with Usher at the mall while he was purchasing sneakers. She called up her girls and was all “OMG! Just saw Usher yall!” They probably made plans to meet up secretly in a classy hotel later on. Usher wined and dined her…made her feel like a real princess. Told her she was beautiful. Made her think she was the ONE. Headed up to the room, lit some candles, and then proceeded to jam his entire arm up her ass without warning. There are times when it’s appropriate to throw a heads up someone’s way. The sentence before the last one is a GREAT time.

But really, that’s what she gets for being a starfucker.

www.couchfiresports.com

Head on over to www.couchfiresports.com

Me & the boys are starting a revolution over there.

Movie Pitches

I love reading movie descriptions. They can make or break your decision on watching it. Have you ever passed on an awesome movie because some marketing genius royally fucked up the pitch? I would love to have that job......



1. Shark City

After an alcoholic blackout. a man awakens only to find out that the entire city is now inhabited by sharks!


2. White Power Trip

A weekend fishing trip turns to mayhem when one man's desire to bond with his dying father is interrupted by an impromptu Ku Klux Klan meeting.


3. Blowin' in the Wind

An elementary school physical education teacher contemplates the pros and cons of pedophilia after the tragic events of Hurricane Katrina.


4. "Moo"vin Along: The Charlie Lasser Story

An Indiana chicken farmer relives key moments from his life and reassesses the chain of events that would eventually lead to his penis being stuck in the neighbor's cow.


5. More Like Ro"HOT"

All bets are off when five former college fraternity buddies abandon their families and pursue their dream of creating a robot that you can have sex with.


6. Happy Deathday!

After the tragic outcome of a surprise birthday party in his honor, a Vietnam War veteran must fight through his own paranoia and his own tragic memories long enough to hide the bodies of his family and friends from the nosey town sheriff.


7. Thanks For Nothing

A man's world is tragically rocked when his 3 year old autistic daughter is inexplicably eaten by a dinosaur on Thanksgiving Day.


8. No Tomatoes

Shock and awe take over a small Kentucky town when a botched food order prompts a heavily inebriated David Hasselhoff to urinate on a Quiznos food preparation table.


9. Draft or Die

As a man's life hangs in the balance, a doctor must choose between saving his life or attending his fantasy football draft.

Maybe I'm Just Crazy

For as much as I have bashed mainstream culture in the past, I am truly worried about your actions as of late.

This Jersey Shore phenomenon that has swept the masses is truly disturbing. I really had more faith in people, believe it or not. The most common answer I get from people, that aren't a 16 year old girl, on why they watch this show is: "It's my guilty pleasure!" Well do you realize how much danger there is in your fulfillment of a guilty pleasure?

Stop me if you've heard this one, America.

You have, yet again, given fame to another group of talentless, vomit-inducing, dickbags. Where's the danger in that, though? It's not hurting anyone. I can watch what I want! This is America. Yadda, yadda, I get it. But with the fame you've given by watching them, they now have access to book deals, brands and trademarks, spinoff shows, movie roles, clothing lines.....God forbid, if one of them is an aspiring singer.....it goes on and on.

In no version of reality should Snooki write a book about her life and people rush out to buy the goddamn thing.

What are we celebrating here? The guys are typical Guido date rapists and the girls are your typical, run-of-the-mill, street whores. Go to any club in Jersey (or now Morgantown, WV), and you can sit at a fucking corner table with your friends and see them without sensationalizing their actions, all while fulfilling your guilty pleasure.

For every 10 people that read this, 1 will truly see the problem, while the other 9 will automatically call me a jealous hater, and that's ok. I'd rather have that one person see why this is all fucking crazy and stick with them.

I love the way we have been conditioned to call anyone that questions how easily fame is given to people in this country a "hater". It's an easy role to fall into. The minute you question any of this, someone, like clockwork, calls out that you are jealous. There is no jealousy here. I don't want to be famous. I would just like to see that those that do become famous at least have something to offer for their fame. A talent. A skill. Anything...

Asshole Facebook Friends: Part 2

Dinner Posters.

Have we really de-evolved into a society that deems it necessary to post exactly what they have for dinner on a nightly basis? What am I supposed to do with this information? I could go the obvious path and "like" it. But, suppose I don't like the asparagus you had. Do I then "like" it, tagged with a comment about my dislike of asparagus? This just seems like too much work. Or I could counter your post with a comment listing the items that I had that night. You, of course, could pick out the things about my dinner that you dislike and hilarity would ensue. Fuck it, as long as we are rapping about supper, others can chime in about BOTH of our meals by commenting on what they like and dislike about them, they may even share what they had too! If we are lucky, we may even learn about certain individuals' food allergies, or a story about one's bout with food poisoning after eating the same food in the Amish Country last Fall. Hell yeah! We're conversing! Social networking is fucking sweet. All of this information would have been locked away forever, had you not had the awareness to tell me about the can of Spagettios you just warmed over the stove.


Look at the Baby!!

Congratulations. You had a baby. A man came inside of you intentionally or by accident. It happens. Apparently, everyday according to the disturbing studies that have been conducted on over-population of the planet, but I digress. So you think because you put up with some bullshit for 9 months, that you can subject me to every single event that revolves around your seed? Like I'm supposed to be impressed that it lacks the motor skills to successfully transfer food from its plate to its mouth. Fuck off. I've seen that trick before. If the kid is emitting flames from its eyes while scoring 100% on Guitar Hero, all while not even facing the television, i'm in. Show that shit to me. Oh, and just some food for thought, how would you have felt if your whole infancy/childhood/adolescence would have been displayed to the entire world? Archived. Available to anyone with internet connection. You thought your mom bustin out baby photos to a chick you were trying to fuck was bad before………Jeeeeeesus Christ. These little anklebiters have no chance in Hell of getting some stank on their hang low.


People over the age of 12 that use "LOL" and "LMAO".

I don't even have words to go here…………You guys are dicks.


Computer Hackers that use an alias of a half nude hot chick that all of a sudden wants to be my friend.

For all the knowledge you possess about binary codes, viruses, and firewalls and shit, you would think you could come up with a better plan of attack. Your logic is fucked. Those bitches aren't talking to me! Maybe 10 years ago…..have you seen what I'm working with lately? I'm a full blown alcoholic, that works 2 jobs to scrape out $400 in monthly rent! I'm banging some tragic looking women now.

USA! USA! USA!

It's amazing to me how quickly people jump onto fads. This country is notorious for it. It's programmed into our everyday lives and there is a whole system that capitalizes on the fact that YOU will happily eat whatever bullshit that is served, as long as the package is pretty.

Take this whole World Cup phenomenon happening right now.

One month ago, you could give a fuck about soccer. (For that I applaud you). But, slap a little patriotism angle on it, and all of a sudden everybody's an expert. Countless Facebook status updates chronicled our historic run in the tournament, with such in-depth analysis as:

"Dear Ghana, be sure not to call us when you need money for your people all dying of AIDS, you stupid, poor assholes!"

"While you kick soccer balls, we run the world, Fuck you Ghana."

"Every time I hear the word Ghana, I think of gonorrhea!"

Riveting.

I mean, I get it. It's an excuse to get shitfaced and watch some type of sport on television. It's downtime before football season. But let's not treat it like we have any idea what is going on.

These soccer elitists in our country are the product of guilty baby boomers that tried to make up for spending their entire childhood in a drug induced haze. The soccer moms! The ones that had their children kicking around a soccer ball in a gymnasium of a YMCA in a desperate attempt to give their children structure, so they didn't end up giving hand jobs for cheese sandwiches in the streets of San Francisco like Mommy.

We shouldn't win the World Cup.

It's not our shit. Can't we leave some shit alone? Do we always have to get into shit?

Just sit back, play with whatever new toy the corporations have provided us, and wait for American Idol to come back on.

This You?

Check out the new digs! This is the best that Blogger has to offer at this time, this will do until I pony up the cash to make this website my own domain.

Bitter Ramblings of an Aging Nobody

I think it should be OK to punch a male child in the face for knowing every word to a Kesha song.

Seriously the courts should do the decent thing and look the other way. Don't give me that shit that the only thing these kids are exposed to these days is whatever is playing on the radio, either. That argument went out the window with a little technological advancement known as the internet. Maybe you've heard of it?

There is a whole world of music out there for these little bastards to explore and they are content to hang out on Twilight and Justin Beiber message boards. This whole generation is ass backwards. We are "pussifying" and babying these kids to the point if I were to walk in right now and blast some Motorhead, they would curl up into a ball and piss themselves.

STP, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, Rage Against the Machine, Toadies, FUCKING NIRVANA, this what was blasting through the cassette boombox in my room when I was their age……it's a far cry from the shit that is spewed from the radio these days.

I blame MTV for having absolutely nothing to do with music anymore and catering to 13 year old girls. I blame American Idol. I blame autotune. I blame reality television. But most of all, I blame this new generation of parents.

My generation.

What happened to us? Are we really buying into this myth that we are protecting these children from the evils of the world? Spend some time with your kid. Teach them things. Stop dropping them off at the fucking mall while you hit up happy hour with the girls. I say all this because I work directly with kids EVERYDAY. A wide array of them. But the more I'm around them, the more i see something is off.

Not My Best (nervous, self congratulatory laughter)

Err, um, hey. (soft laughter) I'm uh, Michael Cera. (nervous laughter) You probably already knew that, though! (Overly anxious awkward nervous laughter).

Hmm, ok.

Um, so i'm a uhh, movie star. Now I bet you're all like "H-h-hey mister.........h-how'd you become a movie star?" (self congratulatory awkward nervous laughter). W-Well.......I was, uhhh, on a show. Arrested Development.....(waits for you to nod)....hehe, there it is. OK. (soft, nervous, anxious, self congratulatory laughter) W-well on that show, I was able to showcase my talent and uhhh, "acting range" (soft, nervous, embarrassed laughter complete with air quotes) Yeah............

(nervously clears throat) So, ok.......um, well. Yeah, next I was um, in a bunch of independent movies, and whatnot. Then, boom. Superbad (over-anxious laughter, while waiting for your approving nod) Yeah, th-this guy remembers that one! (points to my camera guy followed by an extremely awkward silence) Ok. So. Ok.

(Awkward pause) I played a character, who, uhhh, you know, was a pretty soft spoken, polite, uhh, was put in awkward situations, that I, uhhh, you know, had t..to deal with and whatnot. (nervous laughter, followed by what I believe was a whispered "congratulations" to himself)

So, yeah. Then uhhh, Juno happened. I remember being all like "H...hey Gary, he's my agent, l...let's expand my acting chops." He was like "y..yeeah sweet." so. OK...(clears throat) I played a kid. This time I got to run track and wear a handband. P...prior to that point, I had never worn a headband on camera.......s..s..so I was pretty happy with Gary that day. (Soft nervous self congratulatory giggling followed by an even longer awkward silence and a short bathroom break)

Hey You! (nervous laughter) I'm back. S..so don't be goin nowhere. Hehe, Ok. So. Err.

Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, hmm, ok so, this one I got to be an awkward, polite, overly nervous, high school kid, but this time I, umm, got to, uhh listen to Vampire Weekend. So, t...that was different. It showed off the side of my acting skills that show me listening to indie music. P..plus, i touched Kat Dennings boob....(overly anxious, creepy, laughter followed by more whispers to himself and what appeared to be an erection)

Next I uhh, really wanted to do a period piece. It was time. So, uhh, yeah....Year One. (waits for nod approval, that doesn't come) C'mon guy......it had Jack Black. W...we were cavemen. (nervous laughter followed by awkward silence, still waiting on the nod of approval....Steve, the camera guy caved and nodded.) Hehe, yeah, there it is. that guy right there...so(goes for a high five, left hanging.) Ok, well umm, so yeah. I was a nervous, polite, slightly awkward caveman, and uhh, just kinda hung out and uh........

THAT'S IT! GET THE FUCK OUT! YOU TALENTLESS FUCK!

(Awkward silence followed by nervous, uneasy laughter) But I thought I was here to, uhh promote my new movie coming out on Ju...

LET ME GUESS! YOU PLAY A NERVOUS, WORD FUMBLING, HIGH SCHOOL___________

B..b...but this time, I get to be a piano prodigy, m..my fans have never seen me play a piano yet in a movie......

GUNSHOT. TRANSMISSION CUT. STATIC.

Hank's Final Poker Night

"I bet you anything I can fart in his face and he won't wake up"

This is SO Hank. This was his thing. His trademark. We could almost set our watches to it. We couldn't go one weekend without Hank waiting for the first of us to pass out, so that the world could be his playground.

Much of this homoerotic behavior could be explained through his many fraternal obligations in college, but Hank really enjoyed his work. While the rest of us were cool with continuing the game, the urge to insert objects into Dave's ass was so overwhelming for Hank, that it solidified the fact that this was indeed his final poker night with us.

Beiber Fever Part 1 : Gary's Dilemna

Gary had a real dilemna.

His 11 year old daughter, Anna, was absolutely, head over heels, in love with Justin Beiber.

Posters ripped from magazines and collages lined the once visible mock wood paneling in her room. In fact, everything within eyesight in her room was a constant reminder that Daddy was losing his little girl. He and his wife Melissa knew this day was coming. Gary was already mapping out "the talk" in his head.

Anna wouldn't be home from school for at least another half hour. It was plenty of time for Gary to log onto Wikipedia, for some last minute prep material.........and print. Add it to the portfolio........good. Gary felt confident and ready to attack this head on.

As the bus pulled up, Gary sat in silence as Anna skipped off the bus equipped with her "Beiber Fever" t-shirt and donning a pink and yellow Beiber lunch box. This shit just got serious. The smile on her face was at least a mile long. Gary seethed.

"She's probably thinking about fucking him right now". He mumbled to himself.

Gary couldn't even wait for her to get through the door.

"Sit, young Lady...."

Confusion washed over Anna's face. She could sense the tense tone of Gary's voice. She began to think of anything she had done to make him react this way.

Gary immediately ripped the lunchbox from her hand and chucked it up against the wall. A half eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich spilled onto the floor. He stared at the sandwich and quickly jabbed, "You think peanut butter grows on trees?"

"Um, no?" Anna replied.

"Smart girl. That is correct. Peanut butter does not grow on trees." Gary scolded, realizing he had absolutely no idea where to take this next. He knew the next few minutes would be vital in this conversation. On one hand, he realized that this was a normal part of growing up for a near teenage girl. On the other hand, Gary had to do everything within his power to keep her from giving random handjobs to the entire basketball team when she hit middle school. It was his responsibility as a father.

"I was in your room today.....this Justin Beiber fellow, what's that all about?"

"OMG! He's soooo cute! He's only one of the most talented singers in the world, Dad!" Anna replied as she dug into her backpack.

"Hands where I can see them, young lady!"

"I'm just getting my Ipod! I have all his songs on here! You have to hear him!" Anna pleaded.

Gary begrudgingly allowed her to fish the mp3 player from her backpack. He figured before he jumped to conclusions over this whole matter, it might be well advised to at least give the little brat a listen. If anything, it would give him a platform to speak from. After all, the wikipedia search came back clean. Perhaps there was something in the music he could use against her for a valid argument to dust off the box of Barbie dolls in the basement.

"Give me the headphones." Gary snapped.

As the earbuds snugly entered his ears, the song had already started. At first, nothing struck him as odd. It sounded like any other generic pop music that the Top 40 station was shoving down people's throats on a daily basis. Oh, Ludacris. Nice.

Then it happened.

That one listening experience changed everything. In just 1 minute and 47 seconds, little Justin Beiber had accomplished something that he hadn't experienced in 15 months 21 days and 7 hours.

Gary, shocked, and in total disbelief ripped the earphones from his ears and ducked out of the kitchen in a panic.

He made his way to the bathroom and stared a hole into the mirror.

"Daddy? What's wrong? Are you OK?" Anna questioned through the door.

No, nothing was OK. Not this time. Gary was dripping buckets of sweat. His voice grew hoarse. His eyes began to well up. He had to lie.

"It's ok, honey, just go to your room, I'll be in a minute to finish our talk!"

Gary had some business to tend to. The bulging erection deep within the confines of his pleated Dockers had alot of explaining to do.

Yes, Gary had a real dilemna.

TO BE CONTINUED

Relapse

As I stared into the empty glass, remorse set in.

Not that I would have enough focus to hold onto it though. With the fact that this was, at least, my 11th empty glass, and the obnoxiously loud Lady Gaga pulsating from the, oddly advertised, super surround sound system.

What kind of strip club uses their surround sound system as a major advertising tool? The obvious answer was one that hosted sporting events on their equally awesome HD, 80 inch projection TV. However, the only TV in sight was back behind the bar so Nancy could watch her stories.

Fucking Nancy.

The crow lines that were mapped across her face were currently constructing new avenues as she puffed away on her Marlboro Red cigarette. We met eyes. I signaled for another.

"Name's Stormy! That's my real name too!"

"Just like the weather!" is what I should have said, like the other lost souls in attendance that night that were well versed in the banter between stripper and patron.

"How much for a lap dance?" is actually the sound that eminated from my whiskey soaked lips.

"20, plus tip for one song, 60, plus tip for 3, 150, for a half hour in the VIP room, and 250 for a soak in the hot tub"

I was amazed at how fast she dropped the bullshit self congratulatory name party and started crunching numbers. I was dealing with a pro here. I was also amazed that this club CHARGED YOU $250 to contract STD's that would make Motley Crue gag.

I clumsily rifled through my pockets like a third grader scrounging up the money to purchase baseball cards.

27 dollars.

"That will work, come with me."

I was now being led up the neon lighted stairwell to a chorus of catcalls and "Getcha sum buddies". Stormy had a cheering section. Not exactly sure of their intent, I held my hands in the air and fist pumped to the heavens in victory. Laughter from the patrons soon followed.

She threw me down on a plush chair shaped like a lady's high heel pump. I nearly spilled my drink.

"What happens here, stays here, I do fully nude, you can touch me anywhere, but no insertion."

"Fair enough....." I mumbled.

Before I could collect my thoughts, I was 2 nostrils deep in glitter fueled motorboat. AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" provided the soundtrack for the awkward conversation that soon followed.

"So, how long you been doing this?" I asked as she rested her left breast on my forehead.

"5 months....."

"Cool........you like it?"

"Pays the bills."

She was now upside down with her legs wrapped around my neck.

"I hear that." I said as I sipped from my glass.

Her head rested near my crotch.

"Ooh, what's that?"

"My boner."

As the song ended, she requested one more ass slap and presented me with a final sales pitch presentation on the AIDS soak.

I respectfully declined.

Back downstairs, I continued to stare into my empty glass as remorse set in.

Resolution

How long has it been since your last confession?

First timer here, Father.

How old are you, my son?

28 years and 2 months.

I see. Well, what have you come to confess today?

I've killed a man, Father.

Er. Well. Yes. Perhaps, you should be talking to the authorities over this matter.

It's not what you think. It's sort of a metaphor, man.

Oh, whew, I see....please explain.

The man that I killed was me. I did this quite a while ago, and I have carried the guilt all these years. It feels good to finally admit this to someone.

I would imagine, guilt is a heavy cross to bear.

Yes it is.

I'm sorry, though, could you please explain?

Sure. A little over 10 years ago. I decided to burn every bridge that I had ever crossed. All the values and beliefs I had, I buried them with the body. I started doing things completely uncharacteristic of myself. I started experimenting with drugs and alcohol.....

Drugs and alcohol only pause life's problems, they are still present when you decide to push play once again.

A remote control analogy? Beautiful........OK, as I was saying. The deeper I got into this new hole I had dug for myself, the harder it was to recognize myself. I had lost all connections with the man I used to be.

So, you felt like you were dead....I see now.

But, that's not the worst part.

No?

No way. There were parts of me that resurfaced. These were traits that made me want to burn it all down in the first place.

What traits, my son?

The trait of caring for other people.

Well, most would agree that is an admirable trait for one to possess, why in the world would you want to lose that?

When you overly care for others, you forget to care about yourself. Your walls come down and you leave yourself vulnerable for attack.

Interesting. But, let's get to the root of this. Who has attacked you, my son?

All of you.

I'm not understanding.

For years, I have let everyone dictate the direction of my life in some way. I never really felt like I had control of it.....until now. I was concentrating so much on what they thought if I did this, or if I said this, would it offend this person? Or ashamed of the job I have because that person graduated the same year I did.

Do you have someone to help you through these times of darkness? Someone to shine a light to show you the way?

Like Jesus?

Yes, my son.

Oh, I gave up on that scam a while ago.

I see. Why are you here?

Cheaper than a shrink.

I see. Well, what about a girlfriend?

Haha, perfect question, Father. I have let every girl that has come into contact with me in the past 10 years walk all over me because I have made myself overly available. I play my hand way too early, even before I really know the person, because of this constant need to be with someone. I used to mistaken it for a lot of things. I used to blame the girl, and say things like "Nice guys finish last" and "Girls want a bad boy". In the end, they see through it, they sense desperation in me. Nothing will bring the panties up faster than desperation.

I'll write that down. Well what do you plan to do about this?

I hadn't really thought about it. I guess I could do the usual, sulk over a bottle of Jack Daniels until I pass out.

Alcohol is not the answer.

Agreed. I need something different this time. I need a gamechanger. I have been transforming myself physically, thinking that would do the trick, but there's a few things missing. I need to work on my structure. I need to establish some new rules. I need to work on the mind and soul.

I'm so happy to hear you say that. I'm glad you have finally found acceptance in religion. You have made a wise decision......

He never saw it coming....

2 shots fired into his head was all the response I could think to give over his stupid assumptions.

Sorry, Father, I think I might go down another path. Thanks for the suggestion, though.

As he walked out of the church, a sudden wave of calmness washed over him. Selfishness consumed him for the first time ever, and it never felt so good.

Album Review: Uncle Kracker - Happy Hour

September 19, 1973

Mount Clemens, Michigan.


Man drunkenly stumbles through the front door of his double wide trailer after a long night at The Pussy Pit, a strip club near the regional airport.

Man: Woman! Getcher ass outta the sack,(nearly vomits), and suck on my weiner.

Woman: We need to talk.

Man: How you gonna be talkin with my weiner in yer chops? On the knees bitch!

Woman:.......I'm pregnant.

Man: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

As the woman removed the boots from her husband and threw an old afghan over him, she looked in the mirror at her own reflection. It was as if God, Himself, was staring right back at her.....assuring her that the gift she was now carrying was responsible for the advancement of an entire civilization.

She couldn't have been more right.

Matthew Shafer, A.K.A Uncle Kracker, was given to the world on June 6, 1974.

They say the gifted tend to associate with others blessed as they are, for the sole fact that we, the meek, could not possibly fathom the trials and tribulations they must go through, just to tolerate us without wanting to stab us in the throat with an icepick.

This was clearly the case when Shafer crossed paths with Bob Ritchie. You groundlings may refer to him as Kid Rock.

For years, the duo made symphonies that would make Mozart's work on the same level as a macaroni picture made by your sister's down syndrome stricken 6 year old at YMCA day camp, you know, the day camp that doubles as a babysitter so she and Steve can attend their marriage counseling.

But I digress....

Happy Hour. The newest addition to an impressive catalog authored by Uncle Kracker. While I haven't heard this album yet, I'm sure it's just as awesome as his other work. It's not like I have to SEE or HEAR God to believe in Him, right???? Some things just ARE.

Walk with me, as I preview each track on the new album. Not by listening, oh no. The song titles alone will be riveting and tell a story far beyond any decibal of sound.


Track 1 : Smile

Kracker starts off the album with a simple, yet complex, message.......smile. He wants to create a mood of easiness, as if to say,

"Hey man, smile, grab a beer, i'm about to take you on a journey."


Track 2 : Another Love Song

While you're smiling, Kracker reminds you of his endless ability to write THE love song. Whether you are in a comitted relationship or trying to bang the blonde chick(who may or may not be 18) working at the S'Barros in the mall food court, love is a universial theme we all share as a human race.

Kracker is saying.....
"Hey, i'm not gonna bullshit you here, this is about as deep as i'm getting."


Track 3 : My Girlfriend

So far we are smiling, holding the ones we love, now Kracker's gonna tell us about HIS boo. And trust me, his chick is hotter than yours. He'll probably make a few tongue-in-cheek puns throughout the song about how hot she is. This may stem from guilt over the incident at her office Christmas party last year when Uncle Kracker got real drunk and stuck his dick in the office fishbowl and tried to swordfight with Tito, the office pet goldfish. He has had to do a lot of groundwork to repair the relationship, writing a song strictly for her might just be the first step in forgiveness.

In this song Kracker is saying....
"Sorry I violated your office goldfish."


Track 4 : Livin' The Dream

In this song, Uncle Kracker is going to remind us how sweet his life is. And what a sweet life it is...every few years he tells Randy, the assistant manager of "The Greasy Wheel", a car repair shop in Mount Clemens, Michigan, that he needs about 2 weeks vacation to go record an album and try to remind people that he used to hang out with Kid Rock.

In this song, Kracker is saying....
"Fuck you, Randy I still have sick days and I'm gonna use them."


Track 5 : Corner Bar

Alright! Time to drink! The obligatory drinking song probably highlights the dangers of sticking your penis in fish tank at your wife's office party without first checking for piranhas that office manager, Earl Watkins, picked up in one of his hunting trips along the Amazon Basin.

Uncle Kracker says....
"Them fish bit my dick!"


Track 6 : Me Again

Ahh, we are halfway through the album and just in case you forgot that he used to hang out with Kid Rock, this little chestnut should remind you. A good majority of listeners have probably bailed on him by now to watch the WWE or make a beer run. Perfect place on the album for a reminder of all of the awesome shit on the way.

Uncle Kracker says...
"Hey, don't leave yet! I'm just gettin goin! No....fuck you Steve! I still have 2 hours of studio time, they are gonna have to wait!"


Track 7 : Good To Be Me

David Hayes, VP of Atlantic Records, actually had to fly in to the studio and question Uncle Kracker's decision to have a second self congratulatory song, not only on the same album, but just a mere 3 tracks after the other one. The encounter was recorded.

Uncle Kracker: "Ooooooh yeah, It's gooooood to be meeeee! I know Kid Rooooooock! Cup the balls! Cup the balls! Yeaaaaah!.....

David Hayes: "Cut this shit! Stop! Fucking stop!

UK: Holy shit! David Hayes, Vice President of Atlantic Records! It's a pleasure!

DH: You. You son of a bitch. Really?

UK: I... I don't underst....

DH: We dug you up from that piss stain of a town and gave you money. We GAVE YOU money to come in here and write your bullshit, hacky, crossover country songs so that all these fucking soccer moms in this fading republic have something to hum along to when they aren't blowing their husbands. And you.....hahaha.....YOU! You come waltzing in here with your little song about how fucking awesome you are and how great your life is. You did this twice........

UK: I thought it would be a good dynamic for the album, show all my sides.....

DH: YOU'RE A FUCKING MECHANIC MATT! THE ONLY REASON YOU ARE HERE IS BECAUSE WE OWED A FAVOR WHEN THAT OTHER TALENTLESS FUCK, KID ROCK, TOOK 2 SHITTY SONGS IN THEIR OWN RIGHT AND MASHED THEM TOGETHER TO FORM AN EVEN SHITTIER SONG!!! BUT YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED?!? AMERICA IS FUCKING RETARDED!! THEY ATE IT UP!! BUT BEFORE I LOST FAITH IN HUMANITY, THE PAYCHECKS STARTED ROLLING IN!! SEE THESE??? THESE ARE THE KEYS TO MY JET!!! A FUCKING JET MATT!! AT LEAST HE MAKES ME MONEY!!! YOU TALENTLESS FUCK!! I HATE YOU!

That was the last Uncle Kracker ever saw of David Hayes.

In this song Uncle Kracker says.....

(Excessive weeping)



Track 8 : I Hate California

This was more or less a pity party Uncle Kracker was having for himself after the encounter with David Hayes, who resides from the state of California, it's considered to be one Uncle Kracker's darker songs.

Uncle Kracker says....

"David Hayes is a stupid head....(sob)....i have talent....(sob)..."


Track 9 : Hot Mess

Uncle Kracker once entered a hot dog eating contest at the Michigan State Fair. The next day he allegedly took a shit weighing in at 6 lbs 4 oz......this is his recollection.

Uncle Kracker says....

"State fairs are sweet!"


Track 10 : Hey Hey Hey

Unbeknownst to the majority of the population Uncle Kracker is a huge Fat Albert fan. He wrote countless emails to Bill Cosby, in hopes he would collaborate on the song. The emails were never returned, so the song is basically 3 minutes of Uncle Kracker trying his best to imitate Fat Albert.

Uncle Cracker says...

"Rudy, you like school in summatime....no class!"


Track 11 : I'm Not Leaving

This isn't so much a song. It's basically a recording of the 10 minute standoff that ensued at "The Chunky Style Music Studios" in Athens, Georgia during the recording of the album. Originally, Uncle Kracker had purchased 8 hours of studio time to make the album. The Jonas Brothers were in town that day and one of them had a really awesome idea for a song, so naturally they needed studio time to create their next opus.....problem was.....it was occupied by Uncle Kracker. Steve Sykes got the call from the Jonas Brothers, made an executive decison to end Uncle Kracker's session early. The engineer was told to keep the tape going.

Uncle Kracker says...

"Fuck you Steve! I know Kid Rock!"


Track 12 : Mainstreet

Once again, not so much a song. Uncle Kracker lost the arguement and was forced to leave the studio when the police were called to physically remove him. The last track on the album is mostly 1 minute of Uncle Cracker squeezing out farts into the microphone because he wanted the Jonas Brothers to smell it while they recorded. The album ends with the police finally tackling him to the ground.

I'm calling it now.....Album of 09.

Lou Holtz Has Officially Gone Bat-Shit Crazy.

As much as it is a joy to watch him struggle to keep his teeth in his mouth during one of his Daffy Duckish rants, it's officially time to never let this man talk in public again.

This motherfucker has predicted Notre Dame to be playing in the national championship game against Florida this January.

This has gone way past "homerism". We are tip toeing into the twilight stages of what appears to be Alzheimers.