Did I Say I'm The Slickest They Is?

In my daily, or what has now become more of an hourly perusing on the Internet for stories (read: pictures) of Hannah Montana, I discovered something interesting recently. It was announced that she has signed a deal to write her memoirs.

Hannah Montana, or as she often referred to Miley Cyrus, is 15-years-old.

For one, I completely understand. I like to think I can speak for all men, and most women, around the world, in which case, about 16 and a half is usually when it’s time to stop caring about females. They’re just not that interesting after that point. Plus, they get significantly uglier.

So job well done to Ms. Cyrus and whichever book company that I’m too lazy to look up signed on for her book. Does Disney make books? If so, I’m going to guess them. If not, I don’t really know book companies. Penguin. There’s one.

I think.

Anyway, there is one major downside to this announcement. Well, two if you count the fact that this will most likely not be my generation’s version of Madonna’s “Sex” book, because for some reason it’s still too taboo to see the smooth, partially hairy and presumably unchartered body of a 15-year-old. Too detailed? Maybe.

But this isn’t another attempt by old Adaham to rid the country of statutory rape laws; that’ll come in my Megansburg Address due sometime in the future. Maybe if they just changed the “rape” part of the name I’d be cool with it.

Anyway, I’m kind of pissed about this. A few years ago, right after I had turned 16, I shopped my own memoirs around to book companies and was turned down by all of them, and every single one said my life wasn’t interesting enough. Okay, so maybe my show was only on Bravo, and all of my wigs were just shades of red and my dad wasn’t Billy Ray Cyrus, and we were both completely nude in our Vogue photo spread, but that still doesn’t mean my life wasn’t interesting.

I thought that this week, for you fine people out there, I’d share a little bit of my memoirs. But not all of it, because I think if this Miley Cyrus things works out, it’ll open up the market for teenage memoirs, and then I’m in. anyway, I opened it with a little rap that I thought would make a cool song, and kind of explained my life up until the point in which the memoir started. Enjoy.

“Now, this is a story all about how
My life got flipped-turned upside down
And I liked to take a minute
Just sit right there
I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Sell Hair

In west Rockland County born and raised
In the bathroom was where I spent most of my days
Chillin' out maxin' droppin’ my stool
And all shootin some people outside of the school
When a couple of guys
Who were all rushin’ out
Didn’t bother to turn on the water spout
I killed one unclean person and my mom got scared
She said ‘You're movin’ with your auntie and uncle in Sell Hair’”

I don’t know about this place. Everyone seems prissy. Definitely not the type of place they should send this cool cat. Oh well, I’m going to act all crazy and let ‘em know how I did things in Rockland.

So here I am in Sell Hair. It’s miles from home, and the only people I know are my family. There’s Uncle Bill, who’s comically overweight, Aunt Liv, who has Michael Jackson disease and will lighten a few skin shades soon, and my cousins Jasmine, Walter and Ally.

I’m sitting at the kitchen table before school, trying to eat some cereal before school starts, quietly. That dream ends as soon as the rest of the family enters.

“Ugh, daddy, I need $5,000,” Jasmine says.

“For what?” Uncle Bill replies.

“Not so I can go buy blood from someone on the street and then go donate it at a hospital so I can see this really cute doctor I met as Bruce and Demi’s house last night. Ugh, what’s with the questions.”

She storms off, which is what I should’ve done. Walter enters shortly after.

“Adaham, I can’t wait to introduce you to all of my chaps on the debate team, and then at the Young Republicans and Future Business Leaders of America clubs, although, plenty of us overlap in those last two groups.”

He laughs. Nobody in the studio audience does. What? I don’t know.

“You see Adaham, your cousin Walter is involved with all types of extracurricular activities,” Uncle Bill says.

“And if only one of those were a club to help people grow,” I hilariously reply as I tap Walter on the head, while I’m sitting down.

“Very funny ‘ham,” Walter says, “but these clubs are going to help me get into Yale, and fill the gap left there by the big guy.”

“Might take a few of you to fill that gap,” I remark, once again hilariously.

“Very funny Adaham,” Bill says. “Maybe you might want to check out some after-school activities to get involved with.”

“Oh, check it Uncle Bill, I got that covered. I’ma join the poetry club, home ec, yoga club. Anywhere I can find where all the fly honeys be at out here, knowwhatImean.”

Uncle Bill smiles. I’ve got him now. He motions for me to come closer to him, and keeps motioning until out faces are a mere inches apart. “I know what you mean Adaham. I was your age once. And if you aren’t involved in one club by the end of this week, I’ll make sure you never reach my current age. Got it?”

I jerk my head back. “Here, take a Tic Tac,” I say, reaching into my pocket.

“Just do it,” he says.

“Yes sir, Mr. Nike.”

“Oh Bill, he just got out here,” Aunt Liv says. “He’s going to a new school with all new people. Give him time to get settled.”

“Livian, if we let him get away with this now, he’ll walk all over us. You treat him like he’s some kind of famous rapper.” Huge applause from the studio audience.

“I present you, Mr. Techno,” says T, the butler.

“Awww, I didn’t know you were out here,” I say, walking over to Techno. We meet in the kitchen, slap hands, shoot them backwards with our thumbs pointing out and make a pssh sound.

“Yeah, I moved out here a few months ago. Rumor on the street was you moved on up to live with the fat cats out here.”

“Excuse me, Techno is it?” Uncle Bill says. “This is my house, may I ask who you are and what you’re doing here.”

“Well, some of us fatter cats than others.”

“Nah, check it Uncle Phil, this is my good friend Techno from back in Rockland, but he moved out here a few years ago.”

“Yep,” Techno says, “Pleasure to meet you sir. Now I'm gonna need about 40 bucks for the cab outside? He’s waiting for me.”

Uncle Bill takes Techno and tosses him out of the front door, with no money for the taxi.

Techno yells "Aaaahhhhh."


More to come, maybe.

Adaham Wept

Listen, we need to talk, badly. It’s just not working out. really, I want to fight you. That’s how much I hate you right now. And fight fight, with fists and everything. It’s come to this.

I just think you’re kind of a cunt.

Wait no, that’s not right.

I think you’re a total cunt.

That’s right, I’m calling God, or should I say god, a cunt.

Maybe that was too harsh, but seriously, fuck that guy.

First off, I’ve been reading your “book.” Crap. Just a really not enjoyable read, at all.

I didn’t care for any of the characters. I openly wished death upon all of them, but not a justified death for a purpose, or for people’s sins and such. I wanted every single person to be trampled by horses, decapitated, burned and then somehow still be alive so they could be tied to a tree while their families were murdered in front of them, and then they were buried alive in a casket full of Drano and my tears of boredom from reading your book.

But it was for a class, so I had to read it. And you know what else, god? That class sucked. I had a teacher who sounded like, looked like and even had similar mannerisms to David Letterman, and the class was still unbearable.

Our TA even kind of looked like Paul Shaffer, but that might’ve been because he always wore sunglasses.

Okay, that last paragraph was a lie. The TA was a plump guy with a skinny goatee who only stayed for the first 5 minutes of class, collected the quizzes we had to take at the beginning of every test. He might play keyboards, though. I don’t know.

But just being forced to read your shit book wasn’t enough, god, was it? No, I had to read it and take a final exam on it.

I don’t cheat. Maybe it’s cause I’m a pussy. Or maybe it’s just cause I feel like I’m constantly surrounded by complete morons.

But what did you do the test my faith ability to not cheat? You made sure the girl sitting in front of me wore a tank top exposing a good deal of her back, including the area right under her neck, where there was none other than a tattoo of a cross.

Really? Are you fucking kidding me? How am I supposed to not be tempted to cheat on a test about the fucking Bible when the girl sitting in front of me has a cross tattooed on her? And yet, that wasn’t the biggest distraction I had during a final that day. No, on my logic final a few hours before that, I was graced with the sudden urge to unload some weight in form of excrement. Funny thing about that was, I didn’t eat anything the morning of my test.

All I know is, about an hour and a half into the two hour test, I felt like my ass was going to vomit something putrid, brown and shaped like the handle of a microphone. I didn’t end up shitting my pants, thank you very much, but it was a rough half hour.

Anyway, I didn’t end up cheating on the Bible test, but if I get a bad grade on this test, I will formally apologize and chalk it up to missing a sign from the big guy upstairs. But if I do well, I’m getting a summer job as a cleaning lady at a hotel, stealing the Bible from every room and replacing it was the Quran. I’ll also put a Torah in every closet.

A few nights before my Bible final, I thought it would be nice to go sit in the park and listen to some music. It was a nice night out, I’m a loser and had nowhere else to go and my room isn’t air conditioned and sucks to stay in.

So I go to the park, plug my headphones into my CD player, and get through about a song and a half, then my batteries die. Could this be blamed on my own stupidity? Yes. Will it? No.

Seriously, god, fuck you. I’m a somewhat decent person. I’ve never raped anyone, nor have I killed anyone. On the other hand, I’ve also never seen a midget I haven’t laughed at (on the inside of course), or seen a person with one leg I didn’t want to team up with in the most literal execution of a 3-legged race ever.

But still, I just enjoy laughter, especially at other people’s expense. You could’ve given me a sign that my batteries were going to die, or better yet, just sent me a few AA’s.

So there I sat, with no headphones on and a useless CD player next to me. I decided I still wanted to sit outside, though. So I did. And within 3 minutes of my decision to stay in the park, it started to drizzle.

I considered leaving, but it was only a drizzle, and I didn’t want to give in to you, asshole. I needed to stick up for myself. So I stayed longer.

Within five more minutes, it was a downpour. Still, I stayed. I looked at the sky, ready to curse you, then rain hit my eye and it hurt, so I looked down. I still cursed you though.

I decided to fully kick you ass, I needed to stay for a half-hour. I did. I felt accomplished, and really wet. But that’s besides the point.

On my victory lap back to my dorm, a young, decently attractive Asian girl waved at me on the sidewalk. I didn’t react, as I figured she was waving to someone else on the sidewalk. We kept walking towards each other, and it became increasingly clear she was indeed motioning for me. That’s when I knew you were giving credit where it was due. I had won.

We meet, say “hi,” and she holds out a pamphlet, and on the cover I see the word Bible. Touché, douche.

She’s smiling a lot, so I stay and listen to what she has to say. She was talking about the Bible, and about some kind of Mormon translation, interpretation or something or other version of the Bible. Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

“Mormon?” I ask.

She smiles even more now, as I have expressed interest. “Yes Mormon, it…”

“Mormon like me, you, and other ladies?”

“Well there are plenty of other people in the church, many of whom are female.”

“But like, Mormon. Me, you, her and her? ‘Big Love’ Mormon?”

She’s confused. She turns her head to the left side, yet still manages to hold onto her huge smile. “I, I don’t understand.”

“Me either. I’m sorry, I’m not interested.”

“Aw, have a blessed day!"

You win, alright, you have defeated me.

In the words of Kelis, “I hate, you, so much right now! Aaaahhhhhhh!”

The Wesley Willis Fiasco Whips the Llama's Ass

I don't know if any of you know who Wesley Willis is, but the man changed my life, and he was one of the most influential musicians and outsider artists in history.  Troubled throughout much of his adult life by schizophrenia, music and art was one of Willis' few escapes from the voices he heard, which he described as those of "demons."  His music and art brought joy to many in the world, and though he died in 2003, his legacy lives on today, in his friends and in his fans.  In honor of this great man, I've written a song in the style of some of his greatest works.  This may be a bit intense for a lot of you, but I encourage you to open your mind to this visionary form of creative work.

Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack

Eat a bulls asshole
Lick a shrew's nuts
Lick a horse's ass with chrushed up Doritos sprinkled around the inside
Shove your tongue down a Pikachu's bootyhole

Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack

Suck an Alaskan sled-dog's red dick
Suck a gonorrheic monkey's balls
Roofie Snarf from Thundercats and lick his sweaty asshole

Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack

[Instrumental break; car noises, a duck quacking, and lasers]

Lick my kitty's wiener!
Eat a bag of green deer shit!
Stick your tongue in a panda's prolapsed urethra!
Bite a buffalo's balls!
Fucking cunt!

Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack!
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack!
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack!
Taste a Hippopotamus's Ballsack!

Rock over London,
Rock on Chicago!
Bluth Company–
A Columbian cartel that won't kidnap and kill you!

R.I.P. Wesley Willis
May 31, 1963 – August 21, 2003

Fan

Tis good to be back, faithful reader(s). A lot of you have asked me what I’ve been up to since SD ended. They want to know where they can read my writings and such. Well, since SD stopped, I went through a bit of trauma. I stopped writing for a long time, and I’m about to tell you why. Below are 4 e-mails, three from a devoted fan and one from me- they haven't been edited in the slightest. They detail a horrific tale, and the reason I wasn’t able to touch flesh to keyboards for a long time. I failed a lot of classes in between. I had a ton of unread e-mails and missed out on many free vacations, credit cards and even Lasik eye surgery. Anyway, I’m back, and with a new name. But before I get to attempting to make the world laugh again, I need to tell this tale.

Dear Fonze, I wrote but you still ain't respond
I left my school, my g-mail, and my yahoo! at the bottom
I sent two e-mails back in autumn, maybe you missed em
They must’ve went to your spam folder accidentally
Sometimes my e-mail is mistaken for a porn site
but anyways; fuck it, what's been up? Man how's the writing?
I’m studying writing too, I'm bout to be an author
If I write a novel, guess what I'ma call it?
I'ma name it Adam
I read about your ex-girlfriend too, dam a madam?
I had a friend get depressed over some bitch who was a hooker
I know you probably hear this everyday, but your work brings me glee
I even got the unread shit you did with BMB
I got a room full of your posters and your pictures man
I like the shit you did with SD too, that shit was great
Anyways, I hope you get this man, hit me back,
just to chat, truly yours, your biggest fan
This is Fan

Dear Fonze, you still ain't called or wrote, I hope you have a chance
I ain't mad - it's just fucked you don't answer your one fan
If you didn't wanna talk to me outside your dorm room
that was cool with me, but you coulda signed an autograph for Whitney
That's my little cousin man, he's only six years old
We waited in the tiny hallway for you,
twelve hours and you just said, "No."
That's pretty douchey man - you're his American idol
He wants to write like you man, he likes you more than I do
I ain't that mad though, I just don't like being lied to
Remember when we met in Rockland - you said if I'd write you
you would write back - see I'm just like you in a way
I never knew my sister neither;
you never had one and I ain’t have one either
I can relate to what you're saying with your words
so when I have a shitty day, I drift away and read 'em up
cause I don't got shit else to do and that shit helps when I'm depressed
I even got a tattoo of your name across my chest
Sometimes I even shave my cheek to see how much it bleeds
It's like adrenaline, the pain is such a sudden rush for me
See everything you write is real, except for this and a few others
My teachers’ jealous cause I talk about you 24/7
But they won't love you like I’ll love you Fonze, no one will
They don't know what I taught myself to do with my tongue growing up
You gotta call me man, I'll be the biggest fan you'll ever lose
Sincerely yours, Fan -- P.S.
We should sleep together too

Dear Mister-I'm-Too-Good-To-Call-Or-Write-My-Fans,
this'll be the last e-mail I ever send your ass
It's been three years and still no word - I don't deserve it?
I know you got all of my e-mails;
I used a friendlier e-mail address
So this is my letter I'm sending you, you better read it
I'm in the car now, I'm doing 190 on the freeway
Hey Fonze, I saw Brokeback Mountain too, you think I like dudes?
You know the song that’s the template for this, Eminem’s “Stan”
about that guy who coulda saved that other guy from drowning
but didn't, then Em saw it all on the news but was too late?
That's kinda how this is, you coulda rescued me from drowning
Now it's too late - I'm on a 1000 Mike & Ikes, I'm all full
and all I wanted was a lousy e-mail or a call
I hope you know I ripped all of your writings off the wall
I love you Fonze, we coulda slept together, think about it
I hope you can't sleep and in turn you can’t dream about it
And when you don’t dream cause you can't sleep, you can’t scream about it
this part of the song doesn’t really make sense in hindsight, right?
See Fonze; {*screaming*}
Shut up bitch! I'm trying to talk!
Hey Fonze, that's my cousin screamin in the trunk
I know you can’t hear him cause this is an e-mail but just make believe
see the brackets up there? Those mean that action is happening
Well, gotta go, I'm almost at the bridge now
Uh-oh, no wi-fi, how am I supposed to send this shit out?

Dear Fan, I meant to write you sooner but I just been busy
You said you’ve read all of my work, what’s your favorite piece?
Look, I'm really flattered you would call your novel that
and here's an autograph for your cousin,
I wrote it on his yarmulke
I'm sorry I didn't see you in my dorm, I musta missed you
Don't think I did that shit intentionally just to diss you
But what's this shit you said about you like to shave your cheeks too?
I say that shit just clowning dog,
c'mon – I got a full beard
Your clean shaven now Fan, I think you need some facial hair
to keep your cheeks warm when I leave you waiting in cold hallways
And what's this shit about us meant to sleep together?
That type of shit makes me really want us to meet each other
I really think that thing with your tongue sounds pretty sweet
or maybe you can just give me a massage
I hope you get to read this letter, I just hope it reaches you in time
before you massage someone else, like Dave or Peter
just wait a little longer, I'm glad I inspire you but Fan
why are you so mad? Try to understand, that I do want you as a friend
I just don't want you to do some crazy shit
I seen this one shit on the news a couple weeks ago that made me sick
Some dude was drunk and impregnated some lady
And he didn’t mean to, but was bored waiting for a cuter chick
So just wait a bit more then we can see one another and mate
Come to think about it... you better be a Jew
Damn : (

Greek Mythology in Thirty Seconds!

Everything there is to know about Greek myths...

I'm taking a course in Greek myths right now, and, having been to upwards of a few classes, I consider myself an authority on Greek mythology. If you ever want to impress someone with your knowledge of the different gods and goddesses of Greek lore, all you need to remember is this: everybody is retarded.

Most things can be traced back, in Greek myths, to somebody forcibly implanting his semen into someone else. It all starts from rape. How did man first learn to yoke a horse to a plow? Well, he learned this from Erichthonius, the first king of Athens, who was born when Hephaestus, the god of the forge, tried to rape Athena, who wanted to stay a virgin. He failed to gain entry to her magical fairy vahhj, and, like a horse, ejaculated anyway, from no stimulation whatsoever. His effulgence landed on Athena's thigh; she wiped it off in disgust, and scraped it on the ground. A snake-man was then born from this semen, this snake-man being Erichthonius. So, we learned to tame horses because Hephaestus doesn't know what "no" means.

Where does beauty come from?  According to Greek mythology, it comes from Aphrodite, the goddess of all things beautiful.  Alright, I guess that makes sense.  (Well, it doesn't, but at the very least, I'm willing to listen further.)  Where did Aphrodite come from?  Well, Uranus, the one-time king of the gods, had been regularly copulating with Gaia, the earth. Gaia was also his mom, but I guess nobody cares about that, right? He decided, who knows why, that it would be fun to hide some of his children under the earth, so that they might never see sunlight. This was probably because they were in possession of some massive genetic defects that caused them to have hundreds of extra hands sprouting out of everywhich part of their bodies, but that doesn't really seem to concern anyone. Gaia got pissed about this mistreatement of her children (though the mistreatment of failing to get them to a doctor goes unnoticed), and so she gave another of her offspring, Cronus, a giant sickle. He proceeded to slice Uranus' dick off, and throw it into the ocean. And that's how Aphrodite was born. I guess.

So anyway, that Cronus guy had some kids with his sister, Rhea.  As I'm sure any father is often tempted similarly, Cronus really, really wanted to eat his children.  So he did.  But Rhea really liked the youngest one, Zeus, so she hid him in a cave, and handed Cronus a rock wrapped in blankets, and he ate it.  Because Zeus looks like a rock.  So, later on, when Zeus wasn't too busy sucking on goat titties (you know, for milk), he kicked Cronus' ass and made him regurgitate all his children, who suffered no damage from being consumed by their father; he was apparently very gentle in feasting on his own offspring, as can be seen in the following picture.

So then Zeus went around raping basically everyone. Keep in mind, at this point, everyone was a relative of Zeus'.  And that's pretty much it.  Everyone and everything is a product of either Zeus raping someone, or one of his brothers raping someone.  Sometimes, it's rape committed by his children or nephews.  But make no mistake: all of you are the product of rape.