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est. 02.27.02

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August 2002

Dude, I am so gonna rock your fuckin' ass.
A rockin' bankroll extravaganza II | Saturday, 08.31.02
... and take that ridiculous thing off your head! You too, Buckethead.

or an alternate caption

INSERT COCK HERE.



Now I've always hated Guns N' Roses. As a child frolicking about in the school yard, I had to choose my aliance with either Guns N' Roses or New Kids on the Block, and I chose Billy Joel. Sure, they scoffed and spit and stuff, but if they only knew that Billy Joel did more heroin off more naked breasts than Axl, Slash and Dawny combined. Anyway, while Jimmy Fallon was busy ejaculating all over himself, Rachel and I just stared at the screen as Axl became winded before hitting his first chorus. Thanks Axl, music isn't doomed enough. Could you please pick a more motley crew of performers?

Axl: All right MTV, here's what I need for my stellar performance...
MTV suit: Whatever you need Mr. Rose. Anything at all, you name it. You want P. Diddy killed, we'll make it happen.
Axl: No, I could never ask for anything that ridiculous, but here's what I really need: a guy in a rain slicker with a bucket on his head, a bald-headed former nine inch nails guitarist, a 76-year-old trombone prodigy, and Kurt Cobain. I really think it's time we patched things up.
MTV suit: Um, Mr. Rose, Courtney Love had Kurt Cobain murdered 8 years ago.
Axl: Kurt who? Oh, and I need rubbing alcohol for my throat. Keeps the devil out, it does!
MTV suit: Yes sir, Mr. Rose.
Axl: I'm in the biggest band in the world! Come on Slash, let's rock this motherfucker!
Buckethead: ...

And, for the record, I hate Moby, but even I felt sorry for him when that big bully Eminem was getting all "rowdy rowdy." They should join forces with Axl and rid the world of all those "The ___________" bands. The Hives, the Vines, the Strokes. Give me a retarded, fat, Predator-haired Axl any day.

 
A rockin' bank roll extravaganza!
Featuring all your favorite vigilante rockstars! | Thursday, 08.29.02
Do you think Linkin Park are like, OMG, so talented and adorable? Or that Pink is like, OMG, so crazy and over-the-top? Are you a slave to conformity? Well then you're in luck, because the 57th Annual MTV Video Music Awards will be playing for the next few months on MTV! They're going to tell you which of the seven videos they play are the very best, but before they get the chance, I'm going to piss all over their seven hour parade, and I got a 12 pack of Deer Park just waiting in the fridge.

First off, we're going to take a look at the most coveted of the MTV awards, Best Cinematography. Lots of folks ask me this, they say John, they says, who do you think's going to take home the award for best cinematography in a music related video? And to them I say, let's take a look at the nominees!

B E S T . C I N E M A T O G R A P H Y

Sometimes, even I can't get over how amazing I am.
Alicia Keys: A Woman's Worth.
This is what we in the business like to call, a "pity vote." No one's ever heard of this chick, no one cares what a woman is worth and I'm pretty sure that's not even her real name. And the video looks gay. A loser is you, Alicia Keys.
Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliott f/ Ludacris, Trina, Nas, P. Diddy, John Lacki, Dave Brockie, Cannibal Corpse, and the 1973 Houston Astros: One Minute Man.
Another video in which Missy Elliott has some sort of weird CGI stuff happen to her head. In that other video, her neck got really long, in this video, her head disappears. I'm not sure what the symbolism is, but it's sassy! But, it's a song about men ejaculating too quickly, so no votes for you "Misdemeanor."
Shakira: Whenever, Wherever.
I liked this video, when it was called "that other video by Britney Spears." Oh wait, no, I didn't like it then either. Shakira likes to pretend that she's from Guatamala, but in reality, she's from Harrison, New Jersey, just like Daisy Fuentes. I like the part at the end of the video where they kill that kid and his dog. But, Shakira's from Harrison, and my car was broken into in Harrison, so both Shakira and her director of photography, Pascal Legegue, can eat a bowl of my ass.
Moby: We Are All Made of Stars.
Oooh, Moby's a space-man. And Ron Jeremy fixes photocopiers. That's swell. Hey, here's a good idea for a Moby video: KMFDM shows up at Moby's house and kills Moby.

And the winner is... me! For my KMFDM vs. Moby video in which they kill him and urinate on his fruit garden. Coming up next...

B E S T . N E W . A R T I S T


LIKE OMG OMG OMG OMG
John Mayer: No Such Thing.
Chicks go crazy for the great taste of John Mayer. He's, uh... really great. I love that part in the video that everyone's been talking about, you know, that part. Yeah, he's great. And, who are you again? NO VOTE FOR YOU.
Avril Lavigne: Complicated.
OMG, she's like, the new Alanis, for like, the new millennium. She will not be receiving a vote from me because she's that chick from your high school that always walked around singing. And everyone was like, "OMG, you're like, so talented, Avril Lavigne, because you're like a young, a pissed of Hot Topic mannequin." Die.
B2K: Uh Huh.
So, N' Sync is black now? All right! Rock and roll! Hubba hubba! H to the izzo! Let's hear it for B2K with their breakthrough hit Uh Huh! Yeah! Whoooo! Did you know you eat about 5 spiders in your sleep throughout your whole life? Think about it, won't you? Thank you.
Puddle of Mudd: Blurry.
Puddle of Mudd is the heaviest band out there nowadays. Most of their fans wear all black and worship the devil. See, the extra "d" is for "devil." Puddle of Devil. One time, I heard that at their concert, their lead singer, Joey Mudd, shot heroin into his eyeball and ate the drummer's flesh. And the cuss words, my god the cuss words. Go beat your girlfriend some more.
Ashanti: Foolish.
Um, sure, you win.

And the winner is... Ashanti for whatever they do over there. Next...

B E S T . R O C K . V I D E O


Seriously, you can't even notice your new forehead implants Mr. Davis.
Linkin Park: In the End.
We all know that Linkin Park is the worst creation since unsliced bread, or corn before we had cornholders. But there is one thing worse than Linkin Park, and that's flying whales. Unfortunately, the groundbreaking Linkin Park video features not only Linkin Park, but flying whales. Thank goodness for their OMG so deep lyrics!
Creed: My Sacrifice.
The whole world has flooded! Who will save us? Creed will save us with their furious ROCK POWER! Harnessing the POWERS OF ROCK, Creed will mount their gay white horses and unite the world with their peaceful message of love, harmony, and water conservation. I like that part in the video where everyone in the band makes out with each other. It really compliments their CHRISTIAN ROCK POWER!
P.O.D.: Youth of the Nation.
Now here's a song I don't mind hearing 8 days a week, every hour on the hour. And I really think more rock bands need to utilize back up children's choirs. Why, just the other day I was saying aloud, "Geez, this rock-styled music that I'm listening to is really lacking something," and my local church reverend was like, "Here, you may borrow my choir to add to your rock-styled music. It's filled with old ladies and young children." And, color me crazy, it really did lick balls! Thanks reverend!
Jimmy Eat World: The Middle.
What happens when you mix the Deftones' "Change" video with Fiona Apple's "that one video Fiona Apple made"? You get Jimmy Eat World's "The Middle." It's pretty gay. The End.
Korn: Here to Stay.
Oh Korn. What's happened to you? Remember when you were the pioneers of this whole mess? Now look at you. This is the typical "look how fucked up our world is, man" type video, but luckily, Korn is here to set things straight. Why, in our world, animals have sex, stuff blows up and cops chase people! Korn, help us! Jonathan, you could use your giant forehead as a flotation device! Hooray, we're saved!
System of a Down: Chop Suey!.
No sarcastic comments, System wins hands down.

And the winner is... System of a Down because they're the only band on the list who's worth listening to.

This concludes my VMA wrapup, because frankly, I'm sick of thinking about really, really horrible bands and their accompanying videos. You can catch the VMA's on Thursday, August 29th - October 31st, round the clock on MTV, MTV2, MTVX, MTV Portugal and the Golf Channel (a subsidiary of MTV Networks Inc.).

 
Summer time and the living's easy
lacki's on the microphone with nobody | Thursday, 08.22.02
How I Spent my Summer Vacation
or
Tales of a 16th Grade Nothing
by
John David Lacki III


Summer vacation for a college student is unlike anything else in the entire world. First off, you usually get to move back in with your parents, for some good old fasioned "home cooked" meals. Then it's time to find a job near your old "stomping grounds" so you can have enough money to take your good old fashioned lady-friend out to the drive-in (but don't forget to ask "pops" if you can borrow his "wheels" for the evening!). Some nights, when you're not boning at the drive-in, you catch up with your old friends from high school, driving up and down the main avenue, just looking to stir up some trouble (tackling someone of a different ethnic background works great!). Then, sadly, it's time to say goodbye to everyone, pack up your stuff and move back in with your alcoholic bisexual college room mate.

Or you could be like me.

I commute to school from home. I can't bone my girlfriend at the drive-in, since the majority of drive-ins were torn down, like, 50 years ago. I have no friends, and I am generally accepting of all ethnicities.

So what did I do with all of my spare time this summer? Why, tons of things! Keep reading, fag!

Chapter I: The life-changing car accident.
I started off my summer vacation with a... heh heh... bang? Ooh, that's rich. Yes, I started off my summer vacation with a bang, a crash and some singed arm hair. Some stupid bitch decided that the middle of the street was a great place to stop her vehicle for no apparent reason, but she didn't bother to tell myself or the fine gentleman behind me. Luckily, I slammed on my brakes just in time to avoid a dangerous and life-threatening automobile accident. The driver behind me, on the other hand, was hell bent on forcing me into a dangerous and life-threatening automobile accident by going 40 mph into my backseat, which propelled me into that bitch's trunk.

I'm a child of the 80's. I spent my Saturday afternoons watching the A-Team and Knight Rider just like the rest of you. Cars blew up from looking at them the wrong way on those shows. If you were parallel parking the A-Team's van, and you tapped the car behind you, it would blow up. Then you'd pull forward a little bit and tap the car in front of you, and that one would blow up. Then Mr. T and Murdock would get all pissed and duct tape machine guns to the hood, drive into a parking deck and start blowing up cars at random. So when I saw smoke billowing out from my stearing wheel, I jumped into oncoming traffic, did a tuck-and-roll into an intersection and picked up a small child to use as a human shield. How was I supposed to know that air bags shoot out a smoke-like substance that burns arm hair? The accident was kind of like the Back to the Future ride at Universal Studios, only I didn't have to wait in line, I didn't go back in time, there were no dinosaurs, my car didn't fly, there was no gift shop at the end, and my neck didn't hurt nearly as much afterwards.





My car was in ruins. The front end was demolished and the passenger side airbag hatch thing smashed the windshield. Luckily Rachel wasn't in the passenger side, because at first glance, it looks like someone's face went through the windshield. Anyway, the insurance covered everything, but the car was considered "totaled" and was towed away a few weeks later. Yay!

coming soon... (like, three months from now when I will have absolutely no interest in what I did six months before that) more summertime hijinks!

 
For all of my visually challenged readers...
... most of them are ugly, but they can't read this anyway. | Thursday, 08.15.02
Without our eyes, we wouldn't be able to see anything, right? Well I beg to differ, because I have not one, but two eyes, and I can't see shit. It all happened in fifth grade, I remember it like it was 11 years ago. My teacher, Mrs. Spera, would rotate the seating chart by couples, so you were stuck with the person next to you for a year, but you got to visit every corner of the room. When I reached the back corner, a life-changing even came over me: my eyes somehow figured out a way to stop working. As an added bonus, they also sought tickle my fancy through a virtual kaleidoscope of floaters, trailers and visions of a post-apocalyptic future. Consider yourself lucky if you have no idea what a floater or trailer is, but if you really want to know, they're these semi-transparent shapes that "float" in front of your vision and cause you to crash cars into old ladies. They're kind of fun in a "this is fun because it makes it difficult to live" kind of way.

So off to the eye doctor I went, where I was strapped to a chair and forced to reveal the secret of the floaters and trailers.

eye dr: So John, do you have any floaters or trailers?
fifth grade me: Ummm... well-
floaters and trailers: NO! NO! NO!
fifth grade me: No! Although I have no idea what a floater or a trailer is, I am fully aware that I have none.
eye dr: Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive that there are no floaters or trailers that make if difficult for you to live?
floaters and trailers: Kid, if you keep us a secret, we'll give you night-vision for a day. We swear.

Needless to say, my eye doctor knows nothing of the beautifully damaging imagery that floats across my field of vision every minute of my life. It would lead to my inevitable drinking disorder and nicotine addiction, but luckily I wouldn't be able to pour the liquor or light the cigarettes without seeing my quasi-imaginary floating friends.

On top of all that, I have horrible near-sightedness, and cannot function without my contacts. Well, I guess I can function slightly, if you consider flailing around the room and tripping over everything in a venemous rage functioning. Just the other day I put two contacts into the same eye, and while I thought it would give me the power to see through walls, instead it made me dizzy and fall down a lot. The squeamishness often associated with touching your own eyeball disappears once your contact dislodges itself and gets attached to your brain by accident. Or when you wake up at four in the morning and discover that you forgot to take them out, and they now have the consistency and comfort of balsa wood and tiny lobsters.

So what exactly is the purpose of this loosely arranged, yet thoroughly hilarious collection of eye-related hijinks? "Eye" don't know! WHOA! Didn't "see" that one coming, did you? Yeah, neither did I because I'm fucking blind you insensitive prick.

 
No Job? No Life? Come rub against a car for 80 hours!
Coming soon to ESPN2... | Monday, 08.12.02
Have you heard about the newest in action-packed, edge-of-your-seat, labor-inducing, super-happy contests? Neither did I until I checked out the always entertaining memepool.com, where I discovered the exciting world of, well... this:

"Out of thousands of entries, 24 contestants are chosen to do exactly what the contest's title suggests: Keep their hands on the hard body. Given breaks of only five minutes each hour, the contestants must keep one hand on the truck at all times. They can't squat, lean or be a fraction of a second late from their respite. No matter how many hours or days it takes, the last man/woman standing wins the truck."

At first, I, in my standard operating mode, put down the entire "Hand on a Hard Body" extravaganza as some queer Texas tomfoolery. "Who in their right mind would hold onto a car for days on end, you sexy son-of-a-bitch?" I thought to myself. Then, for some reason, I remembered standing on line with my mom at Shop-Rite when I was around 3 or 4. Now, either I was a smart-ass or extremely literal, but when she said, "Don't move while I go pick up something," I stood completely still. I was such a little bastard, right? BUT! My unfortunate character trait may lead to fabulous prizes and national notoriety!

If I was a car, my gas tank would hold 20 gallons of Unleaded Boredom. Just fill'er up with three hour Discovery Channel specials about carpeting, your dad's stamp collection and 17 Fat Free Pringles and I can run for weeks on end. I laugh in the face of boredom, revel in plain-ness, and cower in the corner from excitement. For instance, one time Rachel gave me some colored paperclips, and it was so exciting that I slipped into a coma for a month. I'm not sure how I regained consciousness, but I can guarantee that some plain white bread was involved (y'know, on account of its blandness).

This is nothing. This hard body contest thing can last up to 80 hours. More than three days of standing still while your brain turns to pudding and your hand becomes symbiotic with the hood of a car. You mean, I can win a car that way? Shit, I accidentally stood still for 80 hours last week, and I didn't win a gotdamn thing, unless you consider scoliosis a prize (and who doesn't, really?). Finally, my lack of motivation to move across a room will pay off! Sign me up! Wait... first I have to sign up for the contest. And that would probably involve picking up the phone, which is... all the way over there. Then I'd have to talk to somebody on the phone. You know what? Fuck this. I quit. Take me off your mailing list.

 
I'm working at my job, I'm so happy...
... more boring by the day but they pay me. | Tuesday, 08.06.02
Whoops, I forgot that I had to update the main page every once in a while. The junk drawer is so much more convenient and offers instant gratification, as opposed to these long, drawn-out, half-baked meaningless chapters. But that's ok, I'm plenty pissed about stuff, so allow me to bore you with said stuff.

I work at my college's computer help desk, where I answer tech problems and reset passwords, shit like that. It's not a horrible job (how bad can it be, I'm writing this update from my desk) and the pay is decent, but I only work nine and a half hours a week. Imagine my surprise when I received some paychecks well beyond my expectations. "Holy shit," I'd mutter to myself as I wrestled the check from its envelope. Figuring there had to be some sort of mistake, I rushed my ass to the bank with the quickness to cash that bitch before anyone would notice. Then I receive this email today stating that I had accidently been receiving double pay for the past few weeks, and they want their money back. But instead of sending hired goons to my house to beat the money out of me, they're just going to take a small amount out of my paycheck for the rest of my life. Fine with me, but I guess I won't be able to build that battered woman's shelter I always dreamed of building, and I probably can't afford to feed that stray three-legged kitten anymore, I guess she'll have to die in the street. Thanks Rutgers. I'll think of you when I'm burying my dead three-legged kitten carcass in the yard with all those battered women you helped kill.

Here's another work-related thing that pisses me off: since when did the "backslash" (/) become a "foward slash"? Normally I have to give URL's to people over the phone, and if I can tell they're thoroughly retarded, I say the whole "http://" part. Back in my day, that was pronounced "h-t-t-p-colon-backslash-backslash." Now people's brains shut down...

me: All right sir, thank you for holding. I need you to go to a website for me, ok?
mongoloid: Do I have to use the computer for that?
me: Um, yes sir.
mongoloid: Fine, let me just turn this danged contraption on...
***25 minutes later***
me: Are you ready, sir?
mongoloid: I think so, I see a bunch of little pictures all over the screen and I can look at them and say 'hi.'
me: All right, I'm going to need you to double click on your web browser...
mongoloid: Wait wait wait wait... is that the "e" or the "N"?
me: Uh, the "e" is fine, sir.
mongoloid: Now what?
me: I need you to type in this address: "h-t-t-p-colon-backslash-backsla --"
mongoloid: Hold on, is that a "backslash" or a "foward slash?"
me: "Backslash."
mongoloid: The one underneath the "backspace?"
me: No, the one next to the "shift" key.
mongoloid: Next to the "shift" key? That's the "Z" key!
me: JESUS TAP-DANCING CHRIST, THERE'S TWO "SHIFT" KEYS! ONE NEXT TO THE "Z" KEY AND ONE NEXT TO THE "BACKSLASH" KEY!
mongoloid: Hold on, does the keyboard have to be plugged in for this?

Although some say I have the patience of a saint, I find it's my inability to leap through the phone and start choking motherfuckers that keeps me so calm. Once I invent the technology which allows me to bitch-slap a grown man in another building from the comfort of my desk... excuse me... someone is whistling the Mickey Mouse theme in the hallway... yeah, that's right, keep whistling. He's probably going to come in here and ask me something stupid...

He did.

 

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