Are you serious? Is he serious?

What does Trev think this is, Summer NBC?

Where if I haven't seen it, then it's new to me?
Homes, I’ve seen this crap and I must confess
Your busted verse is more like CBS
Because whenever I read it I see BS
You fed me so much shit I need to pee BS.
PBS? I digress. That’s public access.
And there’s no way they’d show the raps you throw;
It’s family TV and no parent wants to see
Their little Billy tuning in to some freak with VD
Who thinks lyrical perfection is the Randy Savage CD.
And here’s an aside for your girlfriend Kelly:

(Trev’s so full of sex germs it stings him to pee.
Please never ever touch his tiny wee-wee.
You shouldn’t come near it with a ten-foot pole
…But speaking of poles, I’ll slow my rolls
And give T.Mac and his sack a little more slack
Because I’m not really afraid Trev will ever get laid.
From the jokes that he’s made and the ugly he’s displayed
His only chance at a maid is if she got paid,
And this jerk is so poor he’ll be jerking it more
Than Smithy on Viagra watching internet whores.)

Trev I’m sorry for the woe, it’s just time that you know
Your flow is slow as Edgar Allen Poe
On a trip caused by snorting way too much blow.
And speaking of blow, I know this one’s low,
But I think I should mention your mother’s a hoe.
(I guess that’s cliché but I couldn’t say no.
Ask her if you don’t believe – she’ll say it’s so.)

I gotta work in the AM so I’m peacing out
But not before I shout what this rap’s all about.
Is Trev posting his grooves to impress all the females?
Hoping they’ll clutter his inbox with emails?
Does this clown think he stands a chance
At getting in all but the fattest chicks’ pants?
(Kel, you’re excluded, completely precluded,
The only hottie to dig the stench Trevor’s exuded.)
The words of this nerd are ruthlessly absurd.
And now he’s posting street trash we’ve already heard.
Sir, no more reruns. Be more inventive,
Give me rhymes that are pensive and keenly intensive,
These anemic puns give me no incentive
To dominate you with a repertoire extensive.
But now that I’ve wandered with an aire cognoscenti
I’ll explain that mostly I just meant he
Sucks.
Like a duck.
The cat sat on the mat.
Sit, Boo-Boo, sit. Good dog.

The Rapperdasher

In honor of Schollard's birthday--and in lieu of my presence at his kick ass Connecticut bash--here is a copy of the full transcript of our brilliant and frequently below-the-belt rap battlings:

From: bcourtne@bowdoin.edu
Sent: Thursday, December 1, 2005 1:57 pm
Subject: The Haberdasher, Vol. 2 (Mature Audiences ONLY!)

The Novelty Phats -- The Haberdasher, Vol. 2

BREAKING NEWS: Ellie might bowl tonight! Or she'll wank out on us as usual. Stay tuned!

Dear Novelty Phats,

The message of this e-mail is simple. We need you to bowl with us tonight. And if I were an uncreative, tone deaf, old, middle-class white man with moderate physical disfigurement like Mike Shannon, I could probably just say that, and ask you to bowl, and it would be the end of the e-mail. How boring. But I'm NOT like that. I'm more of a "Trevor Macomber" kind of writer -- except without the genital warts. Anyway, I have decided to present this week's "please bowl with us" plea to you in the form of freestyle rap. WARNING: This excerpt deals with adult topics including relationship infidelity and penises.

yo bruce raps the verse from the house of psych
i keep it real cause i know that's what you like
to remind you that tonight the phats will strike
the lanes
g we gonna rock it like my body
at the pillow fight tomorrow cause you know i'll get naughty
maybe drop some lewd comments on meaghan or maddy
get out of my dreams and into my caddy
but i'll set it straight up and down like six o'clock
this e-mail ain't about how i rock the cock
we need more playas to get their bowl on
c'mon phats
it's time to get yo' soul on
get on the bus, don't act a fool
i'm the driver and i'm taking you to SCHOOL
you better give props, my rhymes are fly
i'm peacing out like n'sync so bye bye bye

I could offer a conclusion, but I think my words speak for themselves. We out.

Sincerely,

MC Tone Def

* * *

From: tmacombe@bowdoin.edu
Sent: Thursday, December 8, 2005 5:10 pm
Subject: Re: The Haberdasher -- Vol. 3

Maybe Bruce can't bring the freestyle verse, but it can't be much worse if I'm the first to take a shot at his wordsmith purse.
So I'll purse my lips and flex my finger tips and fling some quick quips into the keyboard just for shits
And giggles, just to see you spit and wriggle, flip and wiggle around like a electric chair inmate with a jello's jiggle
'Cause we may not have Cosby around for the slick jokes, but apparently we can share in Mary's room a quick smoke
And spend our night rollin' joints instead of balls till we get sick, choke, and end up coughing up lung butter
(Which everyone knows is no better than metaphorically choking and poking our balls into the wrong gutter.)
Though I suppose the phrase "wrong gutter" is utter clutter since one gutter is really just as wrong as another.
Oh brother. Why bother loving each other when we can just make fun of Mike and his mother?
God what a fat ass...in theory I mean. You gotta admit that this queen is quite lean.
Oh Fat Mike, 'course we love ya. It's in jest that I speak. Rest assured we'll be there when you turn 60 next week.
And Bruce, don't you think that you've been forgotten. I just have to be careful since you're softer than cotton
And more sensitive than those hemorrhoids on the back of Mike's rotten
And sagging posterior. I'm worried about hurting you when you're on your period.
Though I guess a little harmless fun at your expense is no problem since you're really too dense
To understand when you're being made fun of. Which brings me to how much Huckins likes butt love.
Specifically he likes a nice ski boot up his poop shoot while the girls hoot and the guys boot
("Boot" means "hurl" in Canadian. I really hope Britain doesn't invade again.)
Anyway, it's all old news that Huckins hates gays and blacks and jews. Sorry Smithy, you snooze you lose.
So that's all I got, at least as far as time goes. I've wasted way too much of it on this rhyme hoes.
So the bottom line: come bowl tonight bitches. I can't promise you treasure or pleasure or riches
But a couple of strikes and a couple of spares and you'll all be dancing in your underwears!

~Rhymemaster Trev

* * *

From: bcourtne@bowdoin.edu
Date: Wednesday, February 1, 2006 3:40 pm
Subject: Back... to the Haberdasher

Yo Phats,

As you may yourself presently be aware of, my grammar sucks. Also, in a response to a recent edition of The Haberdasher, Trevor "Rhymemaster Trev" Macomber took the liberty of slandering my good name with an artfully-composed rap verse. His words were not only at my expense; Mike Shannon and Jeremy Huckins were mocked for their old age and affinity for butt love, respectively.

Well, friends, I for one will not stand for it. Without further adieu, I will now fight the good fight and take Trevor down a peg with the flyest syllogism and rhyme scheme since... well, you see where I'm going with this.

phats, pick up the phone 'cause i'm making a call
y'all knows i got the gall
and the werewithal
to bring t.mac to a fall
i'll make that cat bawl
and crawl back down the hall into our bathroom stall
where mike drops geritol
in secret but i've seen it all
'cause trev raps like huckins taps
his hoes
he sucks; everybody knows
rhymes get flacid before they show
the "oh, oh, oh, oh"
face
it's a disgrace
that i should lace this verse with thoughts so perverse
but if my rhymes are bullets this e-mail's trevor's hearse
driving straight to his spot in beverly mass
where he'll open this note and it'll kick his lily ass
'cause my lyrics got sass
and t's are just crass
i own the house of class and you ain't gonna trespass
as the king of rap i won't take yo crap
i'll drive by your shanty and i'll bust a cap
then i'll find your baby's momma and tap
tap tap
i'd finish this thought
but work's over and i ought
to go
but just know
if a rap war's what you wanted, consider it fought
you just bought an onslaught of rhymes so taut
that you're caught
you say bring it on?
brotha... it's brought.
OUT!

Well, I feel that my words pretty much speak for themselves. But since I have your attention, who's in for bowling tomorrow?

Ellie?

...just kidding.

Let me know. Sincerely very truly yours with warm regards and best wishes,

Bruce

* * *

From: tmacombe@bowdoin.edu
Date: Thursday, February 2, 2006 5:00 pm
Subject: Re: Back... to the Haberdasher

Touché Schollard...and en guarde

Bruce, if rhyming were bowling I'd say you just rapped a gutter ball
'Cause I'm rackin' up turkeys here, but you're just a Butterball
How is "Still Fly" your jam when the turkey can't fly at all?
(And "oh, oh, oh, oh"? What the hell's with that stutter y'all?)
But back to the bird man, 'cause three strikes and you're out
And since this is my second one I'm havin' my doubts
That you're up to the challenge, unless you're hidin' more clout
On that stick-figure frame I know nothin' about
Yeah I know that was a low blow, comparin' you to a pogo
Stick, but I've seen you treat dick like a yo-yo
Goin' up and down, up and down, till you make it blow, yo
Is that why you always wake Mike fo' you Go Go?
I know my beat is just so-so, but at least it's all true
And it'll keep coming till your back's black and blue
Just like a Smurf havin' poop sex and singin' the blues
While the brown dribbles down to his socks and his shoes
B., you don't even realize you've tripped your own trap:
We like novelty hats, but you wanna bust a CAP!
So how you comin' at T.Mac, the last master of rap
When I'm B.ig M.an O.n C.ampus and you're just a B.ig M.ass O.f C.rap?
'Cause I'm droppin' bombs like Hiroshima, and let's be honest now Bruce:
You can barely drop your pants before droppin' a deuce
(Although in fairness I should point out that's still better than Mike
Who doesn't even put the seat down when he's ridin' his bike)
HA! See what I did there? A gay joke. Hilarious!
No wonder my lyrics are so oft dubbed "nefarious"
'Cause I'm swimming along now while Bruce drowns in various
Bodily fluids. It's the age of Aquarius!
And your place at the top is oh so precarious
Hence my performance on the ol' Stradivarius
It's the world's smallest, so let the notes carry us
To the end of my song while the Phats live vicarious
Through our endless and ongoing personal grudge match
(I just thank God you didn't challenge me to a fudge match!)
'Cause we all know that ass play is reserved for the Huckers
Who likes to bang daddies 'cause they're real mother fuckers
And who hangs out in diners, picking up horny truckers
Who in turn turn his Blow Pop into a real all day sucker
And that's all I got suckers, but I'm goin' on tour
So come out to bowl tonight and be my score whore
'Cause the pins--like my penis--always get up for more
And I just knock 'em down again till they stay on the floor
Like Bruce after this satirical, lyrical knockout
He kept caging his rooster while I rocked with my cock out
And now I'm the champ and he's tryin' to block out
The boos from the crowd. So Bruce, next time you talk out
Your ass and try calling my rapping inferior
Just remember your battered and tattered posterior
Knowing I beat you with no motives ulterior
And now I'm out, so word to your Mother Superior!

Oh, and Phats? Don't ask me how long I spent on this. Y'all know a real lady doesn't diss and tell.

~T to the Rizzo

* * *

YOUR MOVE COURTNEY...

SSSSSS!!! Fire baby!

Yeah I know. Not really a music post, but I felt that I, along with everyone else in the world of blogging, had to weigh in with my two cents and you know what, this movie is, and I quote, "all that and a bag of chips." Drama, suspense, comedy, it's all here and there's a fine balance of laughing with the cast and crew and laughing at them. Another great surprise is the large influx of 'that guy' characters, as in 'that guy is in this movie?' For example this movie has that guy from Will and Grace and Happy Endings, that guy from UPN's One on One, that chick from Clueless the television show, and that guy from Anchorman. [And Kennan from Kennan and Kel is in it doing his usual funny Kennan schtick.] And the glue holding it all together? That would be Samuel L. Jackson who gives a performance that is neither tongue in cheek or over the top, he just brings it and when that infamous line comes near the end you can't help but clap your hands and cheer. [At least that's what I did along with my fellow SOAP audience members. Props must be given to Julianna Marguiles of ER fame for also turning in a fine performance.]Drunk*, stoned*, or sober you will enjoy this movie. Destined to be a classic. And make sure you round up the troops for this one. Definitely one of the best social outings to come along in quite some time.


*If you find yourself drinking before the flick just make sure you actually make it to the theatre. I have friends who bought tickets in advance, who were waiting for quite some time to see the flick. Then Friday rolled around and copious amounts of alcohol were consumed resulting in a fun drunken night that did not include Snakes on a Plane. But don't fret, they did manage to get their money back.

Not as good as the time a ball bounced off his head and over the fence for a home run...

...But still pretty funny. Jose Canseco now plays for the very-minor-league Long Beach Armada, and is currently batting .169 as a DH. Basically, he is a bad player on a terrible team. More amusing is the fact that his pitching debut was last night; Canseco hit four batters and walked five more in 4 1/3 innings. His team lost, 8-2.

Canseco's comment: "Overall, it felt pretty good."

Oh. My. God.

Just found this picture by accident of a python that swallowed an alligator and then exploded. I won't lie; I'm kind of scared to go to bed now.

No Update

I have no important news about my life to share with you. Nor do I have any amusing anecdotes to relate to you. Nor do I have an interesting observations about popular culture to recant to you. Indeed, I am quite stagnant at this moment, on the verge of applying for various jobs, but not quite at the precipice. But worry not my comrades in blog; you'll all be the fourth to know the moment anything new and exciting happens. In the meantime, if you're ever supremely bored you can check out the website for my magic shop--www.diamondsmagic.com--to see my (almost) daily update about all things magic. And we all know how much you like magic. Watching things appear and disappear...

Sexy just ain't what it used to be.

On the ride home today, I heard Justin Timberlake's single "Sexy Back". I mean, it wasn't the first time I had heard it, but I always dig listening to that song. He's one of the few pop stars I really like. He can really sing, he's got great beats, and he's a sick dancer. The beat box is cool too.

When the song ended, I switched stations in time to hear all of Prince's "Kiss". No contest. The song is 20 years old, but its beat, instrumentation, and vocals are fresh and straight-up delicious.

JT, you're cool, but when it comes to sexing a song up, Prince is still king.