HALLOWEEN MADNESS: The X-Files Best Moments, Episodes 4 and 5!

Let's face it, nothing exciting happened in these two episodes. Let's just get it over with.

This stupid kid wanted to go see some aliens.

That second picture is what the aliens did to a bartender's ear. Actually, that was pretty damn awesome. I mean, look at that thing!

In the next episode, Mulder pretty much fell in love with some Neanderthal woman living in the New Jersey woods. This was a waste of an episode except for two hilarious things. One, the police sketch of the Neanderthal:

She's got some sweet, sweet titties.

But even better than that was getting to see what Scully apparently wears on dates:
That ridiculous lacy wedding dress with shoulder pads is an AWESOME choice for a first date.

In other Halloween news, I have decided what I am going to be this year. Green Man from "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia"! I ordered the suit today (don't even ask how much I spent on this ridiculous purchase).

Don't know who I'm talking about? Enjoy this clip from last week's episode, in which Green Man made a glorious reappearance (also take note of Kaitlin Olson's brilliant performance). Unfortunately the FX website doesn't allow me to embed the video here for your enjoyment. Laaaame.

The costume is part of a group, believe it or not. No one is going to understand our theme without it being explained, but whatever. My roommate Bodnar will be going as Dexter, and my roommate Jon will be going as Don Draper. Our theme is obviously "Our Favorite Characters From Minor Cable Networks".

I Am Sick of "Eagle Eye"

Here's my article from my interviews with DJ Caruso and Michael Chiklis.

I also had to go see the movie yesterday, and now I'm writing the review. WHEN WILL I BE DONE WITH THIS MOVIE?! But seriously, it wasn't terrible. Kind of a stupid plot, but still very entertaining.

Oh, and I'm interviewing Sarah Silverman on Thursday. These are my current thoughts: OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG.

MOVIE REVIEW: "This Movie Sucks"

Once again, the subject line was my original title for my movie review this week.

I was forced to go see "My Best Friend's Girl," which was incredibly terrible. Way too bad to even laugh at, let alone with.

So my review can be found at The Daily Cardinal's website. The headline in the online version makes no sense - they made a typo and it should read "Dane Cook Can't Score With blah blah blah" instead of whatever nonsense sentence it currently reads. Just so you don't think I'm retarded.

This was actually my second article in today's paper. The first was from my interview with Chiklis. Unfortunately for you, it's not online yet for some reason. When you click on it, all there is is an error message.

HALLOWEEN MADNESS: The X-Files Best Moments, Episode 3!

Finally we get a fairly creepy episode!

This third episode started with some dude walking down the street with a scary pair of eyes glaring at him from a sewer grate.


Seriously, it was much creepier to see than it sounds.

After that, it was all sort of downhill, which is surprising, considering the villain this week could squeeze into tight spaces, was over 100 years old, hibernated for 30 years at a time in a nest made out of human bile, and murdered people by ripping their livers out.

But, I don't know, once you got to see the guy and he was revealed to be just some dude wearing yellow contacts, it wasn't that scary. Look how pathetic he looks:


But the eyes in the beginning? Totally eerie.

Tomorrow I'll post my two articles from the Daily Cardinal. That's right: two! One is the story I did from the interviews with DJ Caruso and Michael Chiklis about Eagle Eye, and the other is a review I did of My Best Friend's Girl, which was a despicable movie and therefore a really fun review to write.

HALLOWEEN MADNESS: The Return of the Halloween Superstore

Earlier today, Bodnar and I took a trip to our local Petsmart (I'm still confused - is it Pet's Mart or Pet Smart?) to get our respective puppies some more food and also to engrave a kickass dog tag for little Bark Antony (his name is written BARCVS ANTONIVS, so if he's lost there's no way anyone is going to call me and try to tell me they found my dog). But before we even got to the Petsmart, what did we see had sprung up next door the way it does every year like that house the Order of the Phoenix hides out in?

A HALLOWEEN SUPERSTORE.

I'm sure you all are familiar with these magnificent oases, which vary in size from a truck in some dude's driveway to this one, which had filled a whole fucking warehouse.

Just LOOK AT THIS:


So beautiful. So filled with overpriced plastic severed hands.

I obviously couldn't let this momentous occasion go by without a purchase. At first, I almost bought these:


But that was more based on their name. I mean, based solely off of their appearance, you would never guess what they were, seeing as they appear to be neither ultimate nor boobs.

Eventually I decided on two things. One is something that I have wanted for well over a decade, ever since I first saw A Nightmare on Elm Street. And the other just seemed too hilarious to not buy, and I'm sure I'll get some good use out of it in the future.

BEHOLD!

Madison Hippies Accuse Me Of Being A Sex Offender

The subject basically says it all. Two hippies just showed up at my door and asked me if I am or if I live with a sex offender who was previously listed at this address. They are prowling the streets with a list of sex offenders in the area. I don't know what they would have done if I was the guy they were looking for. Are they just trying to intimidate these guys into leaving their neighborhood? It's not like I'm going off in support of sex offenders, but come on ladies, let's tone down the crazy a little bit.

Mildridiots, Volume 3

Only 45 minutes into my shift, and we've already got two more Mildridiots! One was a regular that I forgot about on the first volume in this series, and the other is a brand new jackass.

New York Bastard
I've never seen this guy before, but there was something about him that just screamed "New York City". Maybe it was his classic "NEW YORK CITY" shirt, or maybe not. But he marched up to the counter and announced, "I NEED A BLYSTONE," which is one of our more popular sandwiches. So I made that and called him up to the counter to come get it, at which point he looked at our beer selection (a rather impressive array of Wisconsin microbrews, if I may say so), and sneered, much like a cartoon villain. "Is this all the beer you have?" Obviously it is, but I just said, "Yep," and then quickly added a quiet, "Sorry," after receiving a lengthy glare from him. I'm not sure what I did that needed an apology, but the way he was looking at me made me feel like the lowest scum on Earth. "Oh, come on. I know you have a Maibock back in that fridge," he said, completely serious and more than a little pissed off. "Uh... no. I can promise you we have no hidden beers." Eventually, he settled on a Berghoff, but he was NOT HAPPY about it.

Later, when he was on his way out the door, I cheerily shouted after him, "Thanks! Have a great night!" at which point he stopped in his tracks, turned around and STARED at me for a good minute in the doorway. Reeeeeally awkward. He makes me feel like I'm doing everything completely wrong and hopefully he goes back to NEW YORK CITY.

Potato Salad Freak
Oh, god, this woman is obnoxious. Every Monday - when our potato salad for the week is typically made - she marches in and demands to know just what temperature the potato salad is at. And every week I assure her that it's been in the fridge for at least a few hours and is therefore quite suitable to her tastes (although it just dawned on me that she may, in fact, be the Ice Queen, which is why nothing is ever cold enough for her). Today she went through the same routine, but I was able to proudly announce that it was a slow weekend, so the potato salad from last week is still left over and since it's been in the fridge for a few days, it is most definitely cold enough. "It wasn't a slow weekend. I came in," she sulked, for some reason insulted by me thinking a weekend in which she makes an appearance in my life should ever be deemed "slow".

She also left pissed off for no good reason. And now someone else is here. Let's see if I can go three for three!

HALLOWEEN MADNESS: X-Files Best Moments, Episode 2!

I had some free time on my hands at work, so I was able to pump out the second episode of the X-Files, which, let's face it, wasn't nearly as exciting or scary as the first.

This was the second grossest thing in the episode:


And the grossest?

Seth Green cameo!

Anyway, last night we made $304 at our hat party. I wore my crab hat from Japan, and it was a roaring success. Some random guy pulled me to the side and gave me a 10-minute lecture on how if I couldn't get laid wearing that hat, then none of the guys had a chance. I also heard the joke, "Do you have crabs??!!" about a thousand times. It was nice, because it reminded me why I'm so anxious to get out of college.

Also, today I bought the US History Major Cheater's T-Shirt:
And yes, my muscles are that big.

HALLOWEEN MADNESS: X-Files Pilot Best Moments!

As I mentioned earlier, to celebrate that most wonderful of (mostly) American holidays, Halloween, I will be watching the X-Files (for the first time ever!) and posting the best moments from each episode. I plan on there being tons of fucked up shit to post about, so let's just get right into the pilot.

To catch you up to speed, a whole bunch of kids in Oregon were dying after going into the woods, and they were all found with two small bumps on their lower backs. Obviously aliens, right? This is just a no-brainer.

So Mulder and Scully dig up the body of one of the victims, and when the coffin is opened, what do they find?


MUMMY ALIEN MUTANT CHILD.

Seriously, what the fuck is that thing? This was such a great way to start out the series, and there's no WAY the show was not going to be picked up for more episodes after something as insane as this.

Oh, and then there was this, too:

In Which I Do My Brotherly Duty and Help My Little Sister Through Her First Night of College

A Facebook message exchange between myself and my little sister, who is spending her first night in college and not having such a great time:

Sara: The only friend I've made so far is hideously deformed.

Me: How so? Genetically or just as the result of a fire? And was the fire her fault or was it someone else's? These are important questions in establishing a sense of her character.

Sara: cleft lip.
I'm a very, very horrible person.

Me: Oh, god. She sounds awful. How's the roommate?

Sara: Not here yet. She comes on Saturday. The only people I have so much as seen on my floor so far are me and Kathryn. It's this dark, scary hallway that looks like a prison and I hear the ominous jingling of keys and footsteps but I never see anyone.
WHERE AM I?


Me: With the cleft lip girl it sounds like some sort of freak prison. Like an old man shoves you in his briefcase and inside is your dorm, where these people have been trapped for centuries.

Sara: you made me "l.o.l." which I can't do because I'm pretending to sleep so that my new, deformed friend doesn't come ask to play!

Me: "Do you want to meet my pets?" and then you go into her room and there are just hundreds of slugs.


Sara: oh god! I was laughing and there were footsteps outside and they slowed so I faked snored and they kept moving. AM I GOING TO HAVE TO DO THIS FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR?!?

Me: Why is she prowling?!

Sara: I don't know! She keeps walking to the bathroom, going in, running the water a little, and walking out. Maybe she doesn't have a shower caddy and so she carries in her toothbrush, wets it, goes back to her room, puts on the toothpaste, walks back, etc., etc.
Or maybe she smells that I'm awake.

Me: I got really grossed out picturing her brushing her teeth.

Sara: She probably has to use prongs to lift the left side.

Me: I'm going to barf.

But seriously, you're probably going to hate it and feel awkward and alone for a while because that's what college does to you. It makes you feel retarded and useless. Just go with it and eventually you'll meet your future best friends. And don't forget that my phone is always with me if you want to call or text or facebook message me. But since it's like 2:30 here, I need to go to bed. Call me if cleft lip is clawing down your door.

Good night and just make the best of it until it actually becomes fun instead of just funny.

Sara: Right now I definitely feel awkward and alone, mainly because I am completely and totally alone on my floor, except for a sideshow act. I have a feeling once people actually move in, it will be a lot better. Also, once I get a fridge.

Thank you Danny. You're a much better brother than that one of Kallie's that's in a cult in Iowa.


I think I actually helped. I'm not a useless older brother after all!

On a totally unrelated note, I'm getting very excited about Halloween. I missed out on all the main holiday season (mid-October to mid-January, obviously) last year, since Cairo is where holidays and joy go to DIE, so I'm planning on being totally over-the-top this year. As in buying and wearing a whole bunch of cheesy Christmas sweaters for the month of December.

For Halloween, I'm mostly starting my celebrations by eating a ton of candy and watching a lot of scary shit. I've never seen an episode of the X-Files before (not counting one episode back when I was a kid that freaked the SHIT out of me to the point where I've forced it entirely out of my memory), so I got the first season from Netflix. To get my blog in the holiday spirit, I think I'll be posting my favorite moments from each episode that I watch. The first episode should be up tomorrow or Saturday, hopefully (we're having a party Friday night and I have to go see My Best Friend's Girl tomorrow for The Daily Cardinal - UGH - so I might be too busy to do anything until Saturday), but rest assured, my favorite moment from the episode WILL be up soon.

I don't have enough time to do a full recap of each episode, much as I would love to, but hopefully this should satisfy you enough. If my small amount of Halloween fever isn't enough for you holiday maniacs out there, check out X-Entertainment, the best website of all time for nostalgia - especially around this glorious, three-month-long holiday season.

I don't know exactly what else I'll be doing as all these wonderful holiday seasons combine into a crazy monster holiday hybrid of commercialism and memories, but one thing I know for sure is that I will be documenting the Jones Soda Holiday Pack - a family tradition. That should happen around Thanksgiving, though, so that's way in the future. Any suggestions for more holiday fun would be welcome.

(I only wrote this post this late at night to try to distract my mind from scary aliens and other things that the X-Files is making me think about. But now that I ended the post with this little tidbit, they're still all I'm thinking about and all of this was worthless. I'm such a little baby. I'm going to be up for a while.)

Mildridiots, Volume 2

A guy just came in and tried to sell me pepper spray.

That is all.

IT'S INTERVIEWIN' TIME!

Well, the interview with Billy Bob is over and it went off without a hitch. Know why? Because I didn't get to speak to him!

That's right, Paramount fucked us over. Late last night, they contacted my editor and informed him that since our circulation size isn't large enough, we were being demoted to interviewing Michael Chiklis. Which, let's face it, is much cooler than interviewing Billy Bob. So I was pretty thrilled about speaking to him, but also a bit panicked, since I had prepared all my questions for Billy Bob, I only got notice 12 hours before the interview, and I was notified at a party while I was drunk.

So I woke up and went into Mildred's and did a bunch of Mildred's bullshit (it was crazy busy for some reason, even though it's been pouring for the last 24 hours). At 1:35, I went out to my roommate's car in the parking lot behind Mildred's, and dialed the conference call number and entered my code. DJ Caruso, the director of Eagle Eye, was doing the first round of interviews (all the community college reporters were stuck with him), but the e-mail that gave me the code for the conference call said that it was MANDATORY (bold, capitals, and italics theirs) to stay on the line for all three interviews, because if you leave early or enter late, you'll disrupt everyone. So I sat while they all interviewed DJ Caruso, who was whatever. Then I was cut off and had to dial back in for Chiklis. So clearly it wasn't mandatory.

But I did it and sat through roll call (which consisted of the Paramount girl saying, "Who's here?" and then all of the rabid journalism students jumping all over each other to announce their name and school - my recording of the interview has me saying, "Dann-" every once in a while, only to be cut off by some crazy girl from Bryn Mawr), and then we waited in awkward silence for 15 minutes, because Chiklis was late. He makes his own schedule or else it's CLOBBERIN' TIME! (I couldn't resist.)

Finally he showed up, and right as the Paramount girl announced, "Michael Chiklis is here!" some old woman knocked on the car door. Fucking great. I opened the door to see what was going on, and she said, "I'm visiting apartment 5 and I think you're in my parking spot." Just so you know, I was parked next to two totally open parking spaces. But she needed MINE.

"Uh... I'm on a conference call right now, sorry," I tried. But she wasn't having any of my crap. "Just move your car so I can park here." What? What the hell is going on?

Totally confused - and mortified at the thought of this conversation carrying through the phone into Chiklis's ears - I tried one more plea: "I'm on the phone with Michael Chiklis. From 'The Shield'," I whispered, covering the mouthpiece with my hand.

Clearly not a fan of FX corrupt cop dramas, she just repeated, "Please move your car." At this point, I just wanted her to leave, because Chiklis was already starting to greet us, so I gave in to her demands and started the car.

"LIVIN' ON A PRAAAAYYYEEERR!" the radio BLASTED. My roommate had apparently been rocking out on the drive to Mildred's to our local classic rock station at full volume. Chiklis definitely heard that. Not only was I pumping insanely loud music to all of the journalists and people at Paramount and fucking Michael Chiklis, but I was pumping insanely loud Bon Jovi. Could this situation get any more embarrassing?

Answer: yes. But not for me.

The first question was from a student at Stanford ("Oh, I've got the dummy crowd, huh?" joked Chiklis), who clearly is Shia LaBeouf's NUMBER ONE FAN. His question? "What was it like working with Shia LaBeouf?" It's important to note that he pronounced "LaBeouf" as "LaBOOF".

Chiklis rattled off some stuff about how dedicated and nice Shia is, and then the "reporter" cut him off and said, "Yeah, he has some sweet roles, you have to admit."

"...What?" said Chiklis.

"Sweet movie roles!"

"Sweet roles? Yeah, I guess..." answered Chiklis, clearly confused.

"I mean, Indiana Jones?!" gushed the fanboy.

At this point, I was trying my hardest to stifle giggles.

After we got the future Mr. LaBOOF off the line, things went pretty smoothly. It was already established in roll call that I would get the final question, and my heart started to race as one by one the other people asked all of the hastily-prepared questions I had just written. I was left with nothing.

"And the last question is from the University of Wisconsin-Madison."

This is all I could come up with on the fly: "Uh... Hi, Michael. You were talking earlier about how hard it is to play a character like the Secretary of Defense, who has so much pressure on his shoulders. What did you do to prepare for a role like that? How did you get into the mind of such a powerful man? Did you, like, follow Donald Rumsfeld around for a day?"

Thankfully, Chiklis laughed. Luckily I was recording the interview, because I have absolutely no idea what his answer was. I was far too busy wiping gallons of sweat off my face. Next thing I knew, he was done talking and there was just awkward silence. "Uh... Thanks, that was great," I said, and he replied with, "Thanks!" END CONVERSATION. Seriously, just like that Paramount cut us all off. So I guess I had the last word with him? No one else even said thank you! It was really strange and I feel like I made a total fool of myself.

I toyed with tuning in for Billy Bob's interview, but I decided to go back into Mildred's and help out, since it was crazy busy and I was still on the clock.

Now my dilemma is I have no idea what to write about. I don't really care about this movie, and Michael Chiklis is in about 5 minutes of it. So somehow I have to find an interesting angle for this story. I have about two weeks to do this, but Jesus Christ.

Oh, and then I closed out the night by coming home and blowing the power for our entire first floor. We will be without electricity down here all weekend.

"Burn After Reading"? More Like "Laugh After Seeing"!

The subject of this post was the original headline for my first article for The Daily Cardinal, one of Madison's two campus newspaper (and apparently the sixth oldest campus newspaper in the nation, which is a huge, HUGE honor). Other than changing that and adding a letter grade to the end of the article, the editors mostly kept it the same (with a few word choice changes that I wouldn't have made, but at least they kept the word "clusterfuck").

So here it is.

Tomorrow I interview Billy Bob Thornton. I have the press release for Eagle Eye, which is apparently a movie that he is in. I had no idea that anyone other than Shia is in it, based off of the previews, but now that I know Billy Bob has a role, I can almost sort of catch his lightning-fast appearance in the trailer. Out of the 55-page press release, Billy Bob garners about 1/2 a page. I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to ask him.

Mildridiots, Volume 1

Mildridiots is going to be an ongoing series in which I relate stories about the lunatics that frequent the place where I work, a small sandwich shop named Mildred's.

First, some background: Mildred's has been around for some 40 years, and it has never changed. The menu has been the exact same (except for a brief crazy period a few months ago during which we introduced a new sandwich and then quickly removed it), and some locals have been coming here for 30-plus years.

There are only four employees, not counting the owner, an aging, hilarious hippie by the name of Nels Nelson (seriously). All of us employees work our shifts solo (not counting lunch during weekdays, when Nels sticks around for a few hours to make the soup of the day), and since not many people come in - it's a long, long way from the campus, where Madison's pulse is - most of my shifts consist of me reading, watching movies or TV shows on my laptop, or writing this blog post right now.

For those of you not familiar with Madison, it is for the most part populated entirely by two groups of people: college students, and aging lunatics who grew up during the Vietnam War and have totally warped their minds through the use of various recreational drugs throughout their lifetimes. And since Mildred's is so far away from campus, guess which half of Madison's population we get as customers?

So that's Mildred's. No one fascinating has come in yet today, so I'll just recap some of my all-time favorite (or least favorite, in one particular instance) customers.

Alan From Madison
This guy is definitely my all-time favorite. He hobbled in one day on his crutches ("My friends used to call me Hop-A-Long," he quipped) and ordered a beer. He then sat down and just started telling me all about his life, completely unprovoked. If he is to believed (and, really, there's no way any of this stuff was made up), this is his story:

Alan From Madison (quick history of that name: he told me he's from Michigan, and then ten minutes later when I asked his name, he said, "They call me Alan From Madison." So that was confusing) has been hunting the Dog Man for over 100 years. Who is the Dog Man? Oh, just a werewolf-type dude that's been running around killing people for about a century or so. When I humored Alan From Madison and asked, "Wow. Where does he come from?" I got a simple one-word answer that almost made me laugh out loud: "Hell." He then clarified: "Well, that's what I think. Others think he's the spirit of a dug-up Indian burial ground." So, either way, not good news.

Anyway, we talked for about half an hour, and eventually he left, but not before issuing me a stern warning: "He's been seen around Madison, so don't go out at night, and stay in well-lit areas. And if you see a seven-foot dog man, run." As if I'd walk towards someone like that.

La Croix Guy
Ugh. This guy is the WORST. He is the son of Sophia, an older woman who runs a breakfast-only shop right next door to us. Oh, and he's certifiably insane. He comes in every day and orders a berry La Croix, and then sits down and drinks it for at least three hours. Sometimes he keeps to himself, which wouldn't be that bad except for the fact that I just want him to leave so I can open up my laptop and resume whatever movie I was watching before he came in. Other times, he does crazy shit. Once, he requested that I turn the radio up. REALLY LOUD. I did it but then gradually turned it down a notch until it was back to a reasonable level. Another time, he told my friend he hated the color of his shirt, ran home, and came back in five minutes with a shirt to give him. His best moment, though, was when he crumpled up his can, grabbed a book from our bookshelf, and positioned them oh-so-carefully in the outstretched hands of the random mannequin we have by our ATM. He came back four hours later and retrieved the items.

He also has two children, for some unknown reason. One is a son who looks like he's around thirteen years old, and has to have some form of ADHD or something. He's insane. He pesters me with questions about everything whenever he's here, and La Croix Guy never lets him get any soda because, "If this is what you're like without sugar, imagine what you'll be like if I give you some." Which is by far the sanest and most reasonable thing that guy has ever said. His daughter is a toddler, who likes to grab everything at her level and throw it around the store. The son actually tries to pick up after her, but La Croix Guy sternly says, "NO. Leave it." So that's respectful of him.

He drives me crazy.

Sexy Cerebral Palsy Aide
This girl comes in every Sunday with a man named Jessie who has cerebral palsy. I thought she was his sister, but I have recently learned that she just volunteers to take him out to eat every week. Which makes her even more attractive. They do this thing that I've never seen before, where she has a keyboard printed out on a piece of paper, and he points at the letters on it to spell out words and sentences to communicate with her. It's pretty amazing.

I have sort of a crush on her, but it's kind of an awkward situation and I've never gotten up the nerve to say anything more than, "Anything else with that?" or "$5, please." I would like to use the keyboard thing as my in - say something like, "Wow, I've never seen anything like that before, that's amazing," - but every time I'm about to, I feel like I'm using Jessie or something.

So nothing will ever happen between us, and I'll just admire her from afar.

Oh, and Jessie has another girl who comes with him very, very rarely, and she's a super bitch. Doesn't use the keyboard or anything. Luckily, I know Jessie's order better than she does, so he's able to get what he wants instead of, "Just give him some turkey on wheat bread," like she said to me last time. Seeing her instead of Sexy Cerebral Palsy Aide is a terrible way to end the weekend.


That's all I can think of now. I suppose I should start closing down the store anyway, since no one has come in for the past two hours.

One Step Closer to a Pulitzer

Tomorrow morning, I will be skipping class (and my court date - more on that later) to go to a screening of Burn After Reading. I'll be reviewing it for the Daily Cardinal, one of Madison's two campus newspapers. This is the first thing I've written for them, so I'm pretty excited. Plus I've been dying to see this movie, so getting to see it three days early and for free isn't a bad deal at all.

I'll put up a link to my article when it's published on Friday. I'm supposed to find all the copies of the Cardinal I can and send them to my mom. Because this is THAT important.

I'm also going to rent The Big Lebowski and The Hudsucker Proxy and watch them at work tonight. Partly to get in the mood for another surefire Coen comedy, but mostly just so I can watch movies at work and say that I'm still doing work.

Gotta Get That D-O-E

My roommate Bodnar works with a guy named Jeremiah, who recently revealed to him that he actually raps under the name GOTTO. I'm not positive, but I think it has to be capitalized every time you type it.

Anyway, GOTTO/Jeremiah gave Bodnar his demo and said that if we ever want to have him do a show at one of our house parties, he'd be up for it. We like the concept, because it would certainly draw more people and we could have a cover charge, but it also makes us a bit nervous. I mean, seven nerdy white guys hosting a hardcore rap show? Is that really our scene?

Well, whether or not we host his show (which is particularly tempting based on how hilarious a blog entry it would make for), let me say that I love GOTTO. His website is here, where he has about five songs on the right side of the page for you to enjoy.

One of the best songs is available on the website - Onion Butt. I don't know if you've ever heard the term, but don't let it fool you. I know it sounds like a horribly disgusting and in no way sexy ass disease, but apparantly it refers to a butt that is so beautiful it makes you cry. I don't know, the term still grosses me out. But for those of you who love a good onion butt, GOTTO has written the ode to end all onion butt odes.

The other song I love isn't on his website, but it's called D-O-E and it is mostly him saying, "Gotta get the D-O-E/So my family can E-A-T". First of all, I love that he falls into the lazy rapper category where they just depend heavily on all of those letters that rhyme with each other. But more importantly, he misspells "dough"! Which begs the question: does he just not know how to spell "dough", or is the song really about trying to score a nice piece of venison for his family? I don't know why, but the idea of a rap song dedicated to hunting for venison really makes me laugh.

What do you think? Is GOTTO the best rapper of all time? Should we have him perform at a party?