Archive for September, 2008

September 26, 2008

bg/ish: Yam, Bam, Thank You Ma’am!

File this under “Inexplicable”. So I work at this little all-natural pet food store a couple nights a week. We make our own raw meat food for dogs and cats, and yams are one of our main ingredients. So, this just left me baffled…

So… why exactly is this yam wearing a groovy hat and sunglasses? And why is he smoking?!? How is that appealing for a yam!?! Why is “jumbo” in quotes!?! What are the implications here?!? Why does this bother me so much!? Why is the damn yam smoking!?!?! Yargh!…

* faint *

dw.bg

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September 23, 2008

bg/ish: Out In The Streets, They Call It Murder

Some nights, time seems to stand still here in The City. This can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on the circumstances. For instance, if you’re trying to get some sleep while the crackheads who live on the sidewalk outside your bedroom window are up freaking out all night, well, you’re in for a long night. I’m not talking about that kind of night at the moment though. I’m talking about the kind of night where you’ve got a few beers down the hatch, the blunts have left your eyes slanted like ag’s, one of your crew passes out muttering something about not being able to “taste my teeth”, and you look at your celly and realize it’s not quite 10 p.m. You might crack a grin cuz you know you’ve got a long night ahead…

This last Friday proved to be one of the latter. You won’t catch me complaining one bit. Heading down Mission with a makeshift crew five deep in the previously described state, we searched in vain for a cab before finally deciding to lower our standards and jump on the #14 bus heading downtown. To our surprise, it did not smell like piss and it turns out we were the craziest fools on board. One of our cohorts slipped into a mild state of delirium, muttering about “exact change” and finding it incomprehensible that it was only 10 at night. He was from out of town. It’s to be expected.

Arriving at Mission and 6th, we debated whether or not to spark up another blunt. Cops weren’t much of a concern, but we didn’t want a slew of crackheads trying to jump in the cipher. We made our way to Anu, where we were heading to check out some SF Dubstep courtesy of the Grime City DJ crew and Emcee Child. We found an alley adjacent to the venue where there was only a lone crack dealer and lit the blunt. A weed dealer approached us and offered his wares. “No thanks man, we’ve already got trees.”

The cipher complete, we made our way inside. The bouncer had walked away from the door, leaving a couple of cigarette smoking girls to man his post. The blunts had slowed our awareness, and most of the crew promptly showed the girls ID. I found this quite amusing, as the joke was clearly on us. After clearing the door, we had just enough time to get some drinks, and settle in for a long night of sick tunes and phat rhymes.

The video above is just a little taste of the type of ish that Grime City drops. I’d really suggest heading here and downloading this sick mix tape. It’s free n’s.

After a long night of dancing til sweaty, our crew reunited and found we were plus 2… a strange woman who was a friend of a friend of somebody, and an 8 foot tall stuffed flamingo. Nah I’m not making that up. It was a birthday gift from a crackhead. Not to me, our out-of-towner was celebrating 28 years. Walking down Mission Street at 1:30 a.m. 6 deep looking for a cab with an enormous stuffed flamingo is an arduous task. You might just call it impossible. 3 of us hid behind a bus stop while the other 3 humans and the flamingo jumped in a cab. The remaining lot of us decided to jump on the #14 bus heading back to our hood.

There was a freestyle session already going on in the back of the bus which George, the Puerto Rican in our crew quickly joined. We bounced off the bus at our stop and slid into the corner store. “Firewood and a six pack please!” Time for a late night backyard fire and blunt session. Ah, this was proving to be a good night. Technically, it was early morning, but there was no end in sight. After a few residents of the house joined us around the fire, we debated anything and everything loudly under the dark skies.

At some point I’d decided I’d had enough and jumped on my bike and made it home before the sun came up… but only barely. There is something about these September nights in San Francisco. The temperature is just right, and maybe it has something to do with the fact that we know we won’t have too many nights like this, but when you’re lucky enough to get caught up in one that feels like it’s never going to end, well, you “just go with it” as George would say.

Big Ups! to the Grime City crew… One Love!

dw.bg

September 23, 2008

bg/ish: The B-Sides…

* Editors Note: This story, originally supposed to run in several parts during and after bg’s first ever trip to Chicago, never did see the light of day. We are not sure why but it likely has something to do with the excessive debauchery that occurred, and thus went unreported. This post encompasses the completed first installment, and never completed second installment. *

BG’s Taste of Chicago

I received the call shortly after 2:30 a.m. In my groggy state, I was initially uncertain of the caller’s validity.

bg, pack some ish, you’re going to Chicago.”

“God?”, I replied.

“No stupid, it’s ag. I’m calling you to remind you that you are flying to Chicago early this morning. Now, my duty is done, so I’m going back to sleep you bastard. Have fun, and come back with a compelling story for the site or you’ll never see your PS2 again.”

Those may not have been his exact words, but like I mentioned earlier, it was early, and I am not always my sharpest in the a.m. hours.

So here I sit on an early morning flight to Chicago, unsure of my purpose, knowing only that I am soon to experience and see things of which I have not seen the likes before. My only concern at this point is what exactly ag considers “compelling”.

I can say for certain that flying in the post-September 11 era is an utterly joyless and tedious experience, and I suppose I wouldn’t have it any other way. Fear it seems has been bred so deeply within us that every fellow traveler suddenly becomes a potential threat. I was fortunate enough to avoid a cavity search this time through the airport, but I fear for some of those I saw being prodded and corralled into small dark rooms. Perhaps those rooms were only in my mind, but what difference does it make, really?

I look up from my computer long enough to see that “I Spy” is this mornings in-flight movie, which could lead me on any number of tangents about the sins of Eddie Murphy, the slumming of Owen Wilson, or the general hate that is being projected from a small television screen above me. I spend the next few minutes trying to think of new and exciting ways to describe the pure dick punch that is “I Spy”, but something in the movie’s first five minutes has caused my brain to reboot and I end up sitting idle.

Certainly life can get no worse than the moment you realize that you are hurtling beyond your control at hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet in the air, strapped in a metal chassis that weighs some unknown number of tons, with cinematic vomit being spewed upon you.

I cannot set foot in Chicago soon enough.

I begin to wonder what kind of arrangements ag has made for me. Who will meet me at the airport? Will there be a code word or some sort of hand signal? Shouldn’t I have known this before boarding the flight? If my guide believes me to be an impostor are their instructions to kill me? How far does ag’s power reach? Come to think of it, has anyone ever really seen ag? Could I actually be ag? Is this all just a case of déjà vu? Did somebody spike my coffee?

My better judgment tells me that it’s probably time to bring an end to this first installment. I really have nowhere else to go with it until I actually set foot in this place the natives call Chicago and get my first taste of it. I’ll report again tomorrow, that is if I survive the secret handshake shit that’s sure to come. Well played ag, well played indeed.

* * * * *

The plane landed roughly under a clear sky and I wondered exactly what the pilot had been drinking for the last 4 hours. A young child a few rows in front of me gave yelp of terror, which only served to get a laugh out of me. Some of the passengers in my general area felt the need to turn around and give me disapproving looks, but I knew that somewhere inside themselves they had the urge to laugh as well, they just couldn’t locate it in time.

Unsure of what would await me upon my exit, I cowered in the back of the plane until I was asked to leave by a male flight attendant who may or may not have been gay. I suppose it matters not, as neither one of us was looking for a good time.

I stepped out of the tunnel and spotted my contact. The way the afternoon sun filtered through the windows made her look beautiful, or perhaps I only imagined her that way. She was working undercover behind the airline ticket counter. She looked up only for a moment, and flashed a quick smile.

“This way”, she said.

We quickly hurried through the corridors of the massive airport. Chicago O’Hare Airport is the kind of place that makes you want to stay home, pour your favorite drink and watch your pet play with it’s favorite toy. It is a distant place with no distinct personality to endear it to you or anybody else. It served its purpose, though, and just as quickly as my feet had hit solid ground we were on a train speeding through the suburbs of Chicago…

* * * * *

As usual, bg loves you and hates you just the same.

dw.bg

September 19, 2008

bg/ish: Don’t Call It a Comeback…

Well I haven’t posted anything on here in a while, so like some Hollywood hack I’m resigned to recycling some old material from the past. Actually, I was probing the depths of my old laptop and found quite a bit of stuff I had been working on way back in 2003, which ag would confirm was clearly the peak of the bg/ag publishing empire.

Of course, back then I was so concerned with posting rants and raves and random movie reviews that I never really posted anything that some might consider “literary”. Others would call it “ameteurish at best”. Whatever tickles your titty.

So, In an effort to appease our demanding readers (ag) and open myself up to ridicule and shame, (from ag,) I’m going to go out on a limb here and expose myself to the masses. (Relax, I’m not wearing a trench you deviants.)

At any rate, I’ll be releasing some of this material from time to time over the next few weeks as ag calls them, The B-Sides. In the posts that follow today, you’ll find a bg/ish so controversial it was rejected by our editors and resulted in numerous lashes for bg. You’ll also find some of bg’s attempts at *gasp*… poetry.

Hell if ag can transform himself into a gangsta rapper then you should know that anything is possible.

As usual, bg loves and hates you just the same.

September 19, 2008

bg/ish: The B-Sides…

RED WINDOWS WITH BLUE TRIM

Glass changes colors
As thoughts fill the room
With a cloud of uncertainty
And sometimes dread
They always say
Don’t let it go to your head

It’s okay to be afraid
Someday you might get paid
Just to be
Whatever it is you find within
Your walls
Hard to get over
They’re so tall

Ah…
Take a sigh of relief
It’s the easiest way to get some
Naturally, you might feel a little down
I bet you’d smile
If I let you wear a crown
And act like you were the king
Of this world

Open your eyes it’s just us in this room and we’re coming down while the sun is coming up and the world is coming apart…

we are without a reality…

Just these red windows with blue trim
Everything seems different
As we look through them
It just might be our only escape
Like superheroes without a cape
We will

F
A
L
L

Our only hope is to land in the water

dw.bg

September 19, 2008

bg/ish: The B-Sides

SOLAR ECLIPSE

I dug up old memories
Of our past
The moments in time
That seem unreal to me now
And only serve as stories
Told during late night conversations
Transmitted over telephones
Masked in laughs
Buried under pain

These times are with me
Always
And yet I never lean on them
For support
Or even the slightest
Tug of emotion
In some vain attempt
To feel something real

You are locked away
Somewhere deep
And unexplored
A frightening place
Too dark and scary
For kids to play in
Where anger is the only emotion
That you or I
Have ever felt

Some day I think
And it will be too late
You will be gone forever
And I will never miss you
Until I think of you
Instinctively
When I hear a song
You once claimed
To know

Blame needs
Many shoulders to truly rest
Square
And I have carried
Far too much
On my own
Please take your share
So that I can
Pick myself up

Charmingly
You haunt me
With love that is never
Admitted
But cannot be broken
Even as teeth gnash
In an effort
To sever it

I am miserable
For you
And cannot stand myself
For it
This persuasion
In my blood
That wont allow me
To ignore
That I…

No more needs to be said
This isn’t that moment
And time slips
Away
And we’re disillusioned
For it
It will be one more day
Wasted
In the morning

dw.bg

September 19, 2008

bg/ish: The B-Sides…

* Editors Note: This article was written on January 20th, 2004, immediately following the State of the Union Address given by President George W. Bush. The speech of course dealt with the hot topics of the time, including the war in Iraq and the President’s desire to ban gay marriage. This article was never published, in part due to it’s extremely graphic nature, and in part because the interns voted to trash it on the basis that bg is an ignorant fool. As you know, there is anger, there is righteous indignation, and there is the wrath of bg. *

bg/ish: State Of The Union

For the first time in my life, I just might understand the mindset of those who throw their political weight to the conservative right. It’s almost as if their hands were dealt long ago, and they are left with no choice but to play them, and after all, everybody is after the same pot, it seems to come down to a matter of Jacks over tens. In a political sense, of course.

Wow, the Bush administration. Does anybody pay attention to the things that they really do? Put your hands down all you rainbow flag waving liberal left-handed commies! Don’t be offended, I’m one of you, it’s just that I’ve already read the other guys hand and I’m betting with a different angle on the game.

Game. Fun. Recreation? I don’t think so. See, with all the Reds, Whites and Blues that every cat seems to carry, the only color that matters is Green. Shit! People are dying in Iraq. People like any people. Soldiers. Kids. Violence. Scars. Shock. Awe. Sure, you’ve seen the green stains in the sand.

Change of subject. “…the whim of one brutal man…”, Bush said that in his State of the Union Address. Only he wasn’t talking about himself. So I guess the subject hasn’t really changed. He spoke about the “word of America”, and yet the only word I ever hear is WAR. Whoa! There are truths to be told.

Why haven’t you heard them yet? They’re quite popular these days. Haves and have-nots. Eh. It’s beginning to bore me really. Why should I be concerned with it when nobody else is? It’s not really all that important anyways. Of course, the grass is always greener.

Hey! Who was this Sadaam Hussein guy? Did he even really exist? Have you ever been to Iraq? Whoa! I’ve never seen him. Crazy. Is Iraq a real place? Well, that’s obviously a stupid question. I’m obviously an idiot. Obviously! Only an idiot would question the reality of a place where plenty of families…

…wait a minute. Damn! I’m so fucking stupid. Even I know somebody who went there. Hmmm. I can’t imagine. Forget what I said earlier. I don’t understand a fucking thing the conservative right stands for!

Sure, they’ll speak out against an issue like gay marriage. Big deal. Anybody over 75 years old will speak out against gay marriage! They’re the only ones old enough to remember a time when it was actually common to feel strongly opposed to homosexuality. Oh, by the way, Bush didn’t even mention the fact that a single American soldier or Iraqi citizen has been killed during his silly war. Wait, GAYS!! I almost forgot. So Bush rides to battle against gays, and the left really has no other choice but to embrace them. Eh.

That’s the game. Give and take. Push and shove. Fall down and get back up.

I’m tired. The “Terrorist” game is getting old. I’m getting bored. Do they really exist? I don’t know who was flying those planes. Riiiight. No American would have rode them in all the way, though. If the terrorists had given just one person the opportunity to get off the plane safely, the Americans on board would’ve beat each other to death just to be the one. But, fuck it, so some people actually have convictions. Hell, for all we really know, they’re right and we’re wrong, and wouldn’t that be some shit?

Hey, I don’t know. I’m thankful that I didn’t die on a hijacked airplane on September 11th, but I’m also pretty thankful that I didn’t die in a U.S. air raid while I was eating dinner with my family in some low cost housing on the east side of Bahgdad on a cool March night.

Smart bombs, but the man on the trigger might be stupid, or stoned, or in shock. And so we’re all glad we haven’t died, at least if we’ve lived long enough to read this. Oh, and since we’re still here, I think the sex gay people have is nasty. But they have the damn right to be as nasty as they want to be.

So, fuck it, or have I already said that? Did I say “nasty”? I’m sorry, I meant to say “confused”. My bad.

I’m confused. I’m bored too, but then I actually remember saying that already. “Just make the damn commitment!” Oh wait, you don’t know who I’m shouting at because you can’t hear the voices in my head. I’m talking to the gay people, by the way, not myself, although the irony is think enough to burn your lungs. Seriously, just make up your own shit. You’re married, so what. You’re not, oh well. Eh.

Did I mention that I was confused? That I’ve forgotten who the terrorists are? Who’s that guy in the suit? I can’t believe what he’s reading, I mean, saying. And so the race is on, and he prize is in sight, and it won’t make a difference if you cheat on your taxes because the world is coming to an end. Sigh. What do you think about peace and justice?

I look at my chips and push them all in.

dw.bg

September 10, 2008

agIsh: Hoo Hoo Ha Ha

bg was just mentioning our board meetings and I kept thinking what a bunch of monkeys our staff is (especially how our receptionist loves “bananas”, IFyouknowhatimean…). That got me thinking about a couple of videos that I used crack me up; in fact, they still do:

The Monkey Bar

Office Monkeys

I have nothing interesting to say at the moment so I left you with copyrighted material – in good ol’ Pub Style!

nv@ag

September 5, 2008

Breaking News! Shouting match erupts at bg/ag publishing Board Meeting!

Typically here at bg/ag publishing we like to keep the behind the scenes goings-ons to ourselves and the interns, especially regarding matters that concern some of ag’s nastier habits. However, events at a recent board meeting bear mentioning, since ag’s reputation is on the line.

As the following transcript of the meeting clearly shows, ag claims to have traveled into the future to obtain a report for the site. Disgusting.

* BEGIN TRANSCRIPT *

bg: Say why is your blog about Comic-Con 2009? Did you travel to the future?
ag: I really put 2009? Well, you have executive power! Yeah, i don’t recall putting 2008 at all. I mean 2009. Done and done.
bg: even the logo says 2009.
ag: What the f**k? Really?
bg: Crasy. I don’t think you went at all!
ag: What year is this?
bg: It’s all smoke and mirrors! You photoshopped that logo and I caught you! Hahaha!
ag: That’s…wow… I didn’t even realize. That’s crazy
bg: Hahaha!
ag: I think YOU did that!
bg: Never! * unh *
ag: That’s why there are so many changes to the blog but no posts! You’re trying to dupe me!
bg: Hahaha! You’re posting false information about Cons that haven’t occurred yet!
ag: You’re only making it look that way!
bg: I never uploaded that filthy image!
ag: You’re lucky there’s no edit time stamp or I’d have you all figured out.
bg: Tell me more about Comic-Con 2009!… Really, I’d like to know all about it!
ag: Why don’t you make it up like you made up that banner!
bg: Those are probably copyrighted images you stole from the official Comic-Con website! I have that very pair of shoes in my possession!
ag: And it says “bg/ag publishing” on them? I doubt that sir.
bg: Do you!?! I doubt you attended Comic-Con 2009!!… Sir!
ag: Dont’ “sir” me!
bg: I can’t tell your lies from your truths anymore… You filthy fool!
ag: Don’t sir me!
bg: ha HA! You have nothing to say! I’m removing said post until it can be factually verified…
bg: We’ll see if you really traveled to the future and attended Comic-Con 2009… Or if you brewed up a filthy batch of your lies!
ag: Well, I’m removing all evidence of your filthy plot to foil me…THEN we’ll see who has the last laugh! ha HA!
bg: Too late! I have screen caps!
ag: No you don’t…
bg: Oh don’t i?
ag: You don’t. I can tell by your use of punctuation.
bg: Oh we’ll see about that.
ag: You better not be opening up Photoshop right now!
bg: Too late!
ag: d a m n y o u . . .

* END TRANSCRIPT *

* SCREEN CAPTURE OF BLOG IN QUESTION *

* * * * *

We’ll have more on this developing story as soon as we officially declare Shenanigans on ag

*ahem*

Editor

September 4, 2008

agIsh: “Lashing Out!” – closing remarks & new Ish!
(Hey, beats my original title of “Lashing Out!” – a rebuttal of a rebuttal of a rebuttal)

That video, when watched with sound muted, is about 50 seconds too long; with sound, it’s about 51 seconds too long.

Moving on…

This week has been great. I’ll start backwards.

Back to School
Yep, school started up again this week and I’m glad it did. The old summer break routine was wearing thin and seeing young supple skin of undergrads is always welcome. It should be a stress-free semester as I only have one class.

Labor Day
Ironically, Labor Day is known for people not working, but whatever. I had an opportunity to have lunch with my family. We hung out in Redondo Beach and I was surprised to see the huge number of minorities there. I’m not racist or anything; I’m just stating facts. The artificial beach was occupied by shirt-wearing yes, while they were in the water) Hispanics and the restaurant was saturated with either Asians for Phillipinos. It was weird.

And in the mix was Jimmy Kimmel! Yes! The Jimmy Kimmel. I was waiting for the restroom and some girl pointed him out. The conversation went like so:

Girl: Do you know Jimmy Kimmel?
Me: Um…yeah…but not personally.
Girl: I think that’s him standing right there. I was listening to his voice.
Me: *looks* Hm…I think you’re right. I think that is Jimmy Kimmel.
[The conversation quickly ended as we made passionate love right there on the floor! I never got her name or contact info.]

It’s a stupid answer when I think about it, but
I like the “not personally” line a lot. I have no idea why. Jimmy Kimmel looks like an everyday guy and would never stand out in a crowd if no one knew him. At one point I debated whether or not to talk to him but I figured I wouldn’t talk to any other strange man…why make an exception for him? So I just walked on by.

A New Love in My Life
I bought a new bow. What? You were expecting me to mention a woman? Yeah, right! I find that inanimate objects respond better to my whimperings and spontaneous bouts of weeping. Anyway, beautiful bow, feels great, and shoots well. By all rights I’m still a novice but do hope to be proficient enough to go hunting.

Yes, I advocate hunting. No, I will not debate moral issues with you.

nv@ag