Monday Mood: Future – “Where Ya At” (Ft. Drake)

They’re gonna look back at the week you’ve had, and how hard you ball out in the weekend! *pause for effect*  They’re gonna see how much you’ve ACCOMPLISHED! *pause for effect* They’re gonna see you struttin like the boss you ARE! *pause for effect* That’s because you paid the COST! *pause for effect* They’re gonna see all this, and say “yoooo! WE MADE IT! Let’s celebrate!” *disgusted look* Some might deserve to join you in celebrating the victory over the week, but you’ll need to ask them ALL one question. It’s the theme and refrain of this collaboration by Atlanta’s Future Hendrix, and Toronto’s 6 Man, Drake-Drizzy-Rogers. It’s the same question car chase shawty was asking the cops earlier:

Watch Plies Contemplate Chipotle, Just Like You Should!

Plies has a point. Is the “all natural” angle good? Yes. Is the barbacoa spiced to perfection. HELL YEAH. Matter fact, let’s be honest that maybe the best thing smoking outta there Chipotle. Everything else literally tastes like something you can get elsewhere. So WHY is Chipotle such a cult classic? Is it the Starbucks of Mexican food? Have loyal fans NOT had Panchero’s (Midwest chain, if you’re from elsewhere – sucks to suck, their tortillas RULE). Whatever the case is, do you agree with Plies Chipotle theorem or nah:

https://instagram.com/p/7DlPLiETCK/

World War Zoo: You Can’t Tell This Weiner Dog How To Live Its Life, Man

Siya and I have debated the definitely-not-happening animal uprising, World War Zoo, in this space many, many times before. But this may be the first time I’ve actually had to concede a point to Siya. He’s right: our pets are breaking free. But not to start a war with humans. No, that would be ridiculous and require organization and planning that our neocortex-less counterparts just aren’t capable of. Instead our furry friends are breaking free for the right reasons. Because they can, man. Because they can.

Look at that dog run! Look how free he looks! Look how HAPPY he is! You can’t tell him NOTHING. He’s gonna run the bases and ya’ll can just wait for him to be done running. Look at those little legs! Look at that tiny tongue! Look at that wild weiner! That’s a one pooch party. What’s up shortstop; you ain’t fielding this grounder! See ya, later security; can’t cuff this canine! Oh hey pet owner; can’t leash the beast! The PARTY beast!

They said it was to be a short race for a bunch of short dogs. But dude, you can’t tell tell that dog how to live its life. That dog’s decided for himself, thank you very much.

Does This Police Chase Stop Her Turn Up? Watch And See!

As the philosopher Dave Chappelle once asked White America: “If you get pulled over, wouldn’t you want to turn the radio down? Nobody wants to get their ass beat to a soundtrack“.  While it took a while, it turns out Dave was wrong. When fellow theorist Lil Jon asked “Turn Down For What” in a follow-up years later, this young go-getter answers NOTHING… even after a high-speed chase with LAPD. Whoo. Because when Future and Drake ask “Where yo ass was at?” To her… she will emphatically reply as she does in this amazing video:

Morning Commute: “Not My Day” – Keith James

Fuck 3-5pm On Friday Afternoon

For real, fuck 3-5pm on Friday afternoon. Why does this chunk of time even exist? It’s an actual time prison, crushing down on your false delusions of freedom and hope. Oh hey, you see the weekend out there, so tantalizingly close? Just reach out and touch it. Oh wait, you can’t! Because it’s still the stupid fucking work week so you’re still chained to your stupid fucking desk for some stupid fucking reason. Fuck.

You know how much work has gotten done between 3-5pm on Friday afternoon (I’m talking CUBE work here, not the real work provided by heroes like doctors and plumbers and Happy Hour bartenders)? One. Now, you might say, “Ben, ‘one’ doesn’t seem like an applicable or complete answer to that proposed question. One of what?” To which I say, it’s fucking Friday afternoon between 3-5pm, so one of whatever, dude. One work unit. That’s all that has been done ever in the history of forever. In some dial-up, prehistoric sundial confirmed 3-5pm block of a Friday afternoon, one unit of work was accomplished once, by what I assume was a wide-eyed, newly hired, desperate-to-please intern before they looked up and realized everyone else in the office wasn’t doing jackshit, and abandoned that stupid idea forever. Yes, even misguided overachievers desperate to make a head first impact on the top rung of the corporate ladder don’t do shit on Friday afternoons from 3-5pm. SO WHY ARE WE HERE?

You know how I know work doesn’t get done between 3-5pm on a Friday afternoon? Because you’re reading a blog post titled Fuck 3-5pm On Friday Afternoon. You’re doing that right now. ON A FUCKING FRIDAY AFTERNOON. I was going to write my normal half-assed, week ending Potato Of The Day, but instead I was like yo, it’s Friday afternoon, why the fuck should I do anything? To which you’re probably thinking to yourself, “Truth.”

Anyway, I’ve got two hours til I can waterboard my liver with tequila. That’s nothing on a Monday. But on a Friday? That’s damn near impossible. It’s fucking torture by Friday cubicle. Yet, we always mange to endure that slow strangle of Friday afternoon time, finding trivial novelties to fulfill our meaningless Friday afternoon existences, don’t we? So let’s go do that. That thing that gets us by. I’ll probably go Snapchat some racially charged emojis or look at pictures of head tattoos or some shit. I don’t know. Hell, maybe I can kill eight whole minutes asking everyone for their weekend plans. Again. Fuck 3-5pm on Friday Afternoon. Fuck it long. And fuck it hard.

Morning Commute: “Smile” – The Royal Concept

Throwback Thursday: The Roots – “The Next Movement”

Before they were suited and booted nightly to help Jimmy Fallon through the History of Rap, and Lip Sync Battles, these boys from Philly were the rulers of the no man’s land between Neo-Soul, and Hip Hop.  With ?uestlove as musical director these Philly boys took the sounds of the genres up, down, left, right, and every other way possible. Watch your neck as they do that in this throwback:

Screw Your Football Team; Let’s Go To The Movies!

Hello again! I hope you enjoyed the summer movie season. Fall is approaching, and with it the return of flying footballs. Since our popular society is built around the sports schedule, it’s inevitably time for football fans around the world to seek out Bleacher Report-sponsored glimmers of hope before that same false hope takes a steaming shit on their face. Like a massive one. Like one of those shits that will start burning through the floor like the acid blood in Alien. All our teams suck.

For the majority of us whose teams are headed for the inevitable disappointing season (and the swelling group that doesn’t give a fuck to begin with), there is hope! Escape to the movies! Fall marks the start of Oscar Season, where studios release potential award suitors alongside their fading summer leftovers, making it the perfect opportunity to hide away from the pains of sport.

Here’s six movies you can use to escape heartbreaking injuries, the annoying dominance of media coverage, and the sound of Siya gurgling Tom Brady’s balls to check for pressure!

Potato Of The Day Episode 97

Thanks for seeing me, doc. I’ve been having a really hard time lately. With what, right? Well, where to start… I’ve been having these dreams, doc. I guess you could call them nightmares. They’re real vivid and animated and whatnot, manifesting nearly every night now. Now doc, it ain’t nothing morbid or sexual, it’s just odd. In them, I’m me, well sort of, we’ll get to that in a second, but I’m mostly me, I guess. I sure feel like me, anyway, minus a small detail. But anyway, in these dreams, I’m always getting chased, I feel like I’m running for my life. I know you’re probably wondering who’s chasing me, but that’s the thing, doc… It’s not a who, it’s a what.

They always start out the same. I’m just minding my own business, relaxing at home, when all of a sudden, the ceiling crumbles open, and I’m ripped from my home! Ripped, doc! Right into the air! Then, boom, I’m thrown on the ground. I get up, look backwards, see it, and I just start running as fast as I can. I run and I run and I run, but every time I look back that thing is gaining on me. Massive paws, flopping ears, bouncing closer and closer with every step. It’s horrifying, doc.

But that’s not the weirdest part. That almost makes sense, getting chased by a crazed buck-toothed ball of fur. That’s just a monster dream, ya know? Deep down, we’re all a little scared of monsters. But doc, it’s when I look at myself, when I see my reflection as I’m running away from whatever that thing is, that I feel the most concerned. Cause doc, in my dreams? I’m orange.

Now I don’t know about you, but I ain’t ever seen an orange parsnip before, doc. That ain’t right. It’s like my subconscious wants me to be something I’m inherently not, transforming me like a cartoon or something. Like I’m not being who I really am, you know? But I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t know where that’s coming from. I’m happy as me. I’m happy as a parsnip. But those dreams, doc. They’re haunting me. Orange. Why orange?

You know, doc, you ain’t said much this entire session. That’s not like you. Normally you cut in, interrupting me and what not. But today? Nothing. In fact, why are you sitting over there in the shadows? Got a headache or something? Long night out? Uh, doc? Why are you standing up? Gosh doc, you don’t look so well. Awful lot of hair on your face, doc. You forget to shave? Been to the dentist? I don’t remember your front teeth looking so big. You know you sat on a cotton ball? It’s stuck on ya pants. Why ain’t you talking, huh? What’s going on here? Say something, doc! Go on! Tell me what’s going on here! Tell me something! Anything! Please. Just… WHAT’S UP, DOC?