If You Don’t Know About Me
A) Still shellshocked from the fallout of Etherfest ’06(a).
B) Part hispter and/or anglophile.
c) Steadfastly unimpressed with you Yanks.
At any rate, I’m finding Plan B(b) more exciting than whomever you’ve got playing Anakin in your poorman’s Joseph Campbell rip-off this week(c); have yet to hear a more entertaining album than A Breath of Fresh Attire in 2006; can’t even find joy in telling Zomba to partake in asexual reproduction.
I would expound, but Barney says something in the good book about throwing pearls before swine and you children—in an effort to stave off Global Warming or some such—obviously turn your brains off when you wake up(d).
Feel free to confirm your ignorance in the comments section. Or not. My caring less is quite the mathematical impossiblity at this point.
P.S.— Is it too late to superimpose Port of Miami‘s beats onto Obie Trice’s album?
(a) As if.
(b) The MP3’s not uploading correctly and, honestly, I can’t be bothered to troubleshoot.
(c) Papoose? Lupe? Saigon?
(d) Don’t let your ego trick your ass. It’s better to let me think you a fool than to press “enter” and prove me right.