“Your car is Japanese. Your pizza is Italian. Your potato is German. Your democracy is Greek. Your coffee is Brazilian.Your tea is Tamil. Your watch is Swiss. Your fashion is French. Your shirt is Indian. Your shoes are Thai. Your electronics are Chinese. And you complain that your neighbor is an immigrant? Pull yourself together.”

Product of Society

There's something about waking up to single digit temperatures at 4:30 in the morning to serve stingy old people breakfast for 8 hours a day that reminds me of the word grind. Why is winter such a nasty matron for us poor, honest, hard-working Midwestern folk? So far my biggest regret this winter has been shaving my fuzzy man beard when December rolled around, and not having that extra protection from the elements on my smooth as a baby's ass face. Meaning my face is smooth as a baby's ass, not that I have a baby ass face.
The only thing that seems to warm me up, besides starting my car 3 hours ahead of whenever I need to leave, is my favorite Rhymesayer brother from up north, and best rapper alive, P. to the O.S. (Fuck Jay Z) His music is ripe with grind and down to earth problems simpletons like myself relate to on an every day basis.
I know I've posted his videos many times before, but there's something about these songs that somehow seem to light a fire under my ass when all I really want to do is bury myself in a mountain of blankets, drink butterscotch schnapps and hot chocolate and watch Home Alone all day.
Hopefully these songs masterpieces can motivate us to escape the safety of our foxholes we call our beds and face the battles we call our lives. Strength and honor my comrades.

Not so small arms vol. 2

In that same minute that someone is dying, there are 15 new arms manufactured around the world for sale. There are nearly 640 million small arms in the world today, basically one for every ten people. The total value of the combined sales of arms by the top 100 producing companies in the world is about $236 billion per year, or roughly equal to the combined national output of the 61 lowest income countries in the world. Of the top 100 arms-producing companies, 38 of them are based in the United States. Do the math. THe only people winning armed struggles are the arms manufacturers themselves. Stop the violence.

Not so small arms

Each year an estimated 500,000 people will die world-wide from small arms. About 300,000 of them from wars, coup d'etats, and other armed conflicts. Another 200,000 will die in homicides, suicides, unintentional shootings and shootings by police. If you do the math it means that every single minute that passes, someone will die as a result of a firearm.

Human Let Down Epidemic Reaching Global Proportions

Local area man, Tyler Boeyink, is quickly becoming disillusioned with the rampant epidemic of blow offs in his social network. "In the last month or two I would say I have either been stood up, or completely blown off at least a dozen times or so." He would comment. Let the record show, however, that being stood up or completely blown off are exactly the same thing.
His concerns for the reliability of humanity grow as friends and potential dates seem to "have it out for him." With friends and family members moving on to other parts of the country to pursue careers and secondary education, times are looking tough for Boeyink. "Its getting to the point where I can't even make an arrangement to hang out casually with a friend without doubting that person will even show up. I understand that sometimes things happen, and you have to cancel, but at least have the decency to give a heads up in some form. I'm really debating if I should start collecting a deposit or some type of collateral so if my feelings get hurt at least I have something in the way of money or cool toys to show for it."
With doubts on the rise, it is hard to say what impact this will have on Boeyink's willingness to make arrangements in the future. "His confidence is shattered and his self respect is at an all time low," added one of his friends. "it's hard to see this happen to the same person over and over again."
We here at Change Order wish you luck Mr. Boeyink, in your frugal attempt to maintain old relationships, and establish new ones. Don't let these economic and social hard times get to you. In the wise words of an honest hard working man, "ya gotta just keep on keepin' on."

Hocus Focus

Sometimes things get lost between the shuffle of downloading hundreds of songs, killing zombies, fighting online terrorists, rolling rocks all night at the local Excite-A-Bowl or endlessly sinking lower into a bottomless leather couch during a 4 hour marathon of I can't remember what. Sometimes those are important things. Even more important then downloading hundreds of songs even. Sometimes I really need to get my priorities straight and put my life on tra..... (Team Deathmatch)

Recliner Flow

I move the crowd with no more then a mic and a hand motion,
stand motionless, one raised hand, not open.
Glance around and see this man posin'
both clock hands frozen,
I am that moment.
When I'm through the mic's so hot, you can't put your hands on it.
Catch a tan on it. Hiroshima, I go Japan on it.
Rhyme style so solid you could probably stand on it.
I take you through the basics, then expand on it.
Build my brand on it.
Drop rhymes so heavy like a gland problem.
It's been awhile but its kinda like riding a bike,
drop rhymes like flash backs of when the rhyming was tight.
Walk through the darkness I'm shining so bright
battled a whole lotta rappers but not a tight rhymer in sight.
And when the timing is right, and I'm inspired to write,
I spend time with it like my child or wife.
The flow's got me so hype, that when I recite,
I leave the competition lookin' like it got in a fight.
So allow me a little time to fiddle with little rhymes,
then my riddlin' Ritalin
gives relief for you simpletons'
troubled and broken minds.
What I'm speaking is undefined
undiscovered and undermined,
like finding a treasure hidden in every line.
Im bordering on divine, you rappers should all resign,
Or watch as I take what’s mine, while spittin unkind and malign.
I get on the beat and recline, and kick my feet up,
I give you line after line just call me re-up.
Your trippin on the mic, go hang your cleats up.
Great white hype on the mic, rappers I beat up.
Done.

Lemonade out of Clemonton

The last day working at Salvation Army the whole camp went to the single worst amusement park I have ever witnessed. The kids didn't know the difference though, and we still managed to have the funnest day of the summer. God I miss these kids so much. I need a job.

More Missed Faces

This is a series of pictures I took on the second to last day working at the Salvation Army summer camp this summer. We took the 1st and 2nd graders to the local park for some much needed playtime. Enjoy.

illies

Those of you who had to stomach my complainings during my tenure in Philadelphia know that I never stop talking about how awesome the state of Iowa is, and how much I missed all my friends and family there. What I did little of, was talk about how much I loved Philly, and everyone that I met, and became close with, or in some instances become closer with. Despite the lack of lip service, I will always look back at Philly fondly, and miss the hell out of everyone there. Here's to you all. Including those of you I don't have pictures with. <3

All Apologies

for the lack of posting going on in the last month, and probably for the next few. Now that I'm back home there is too much awesome stuff going on at every hour in the day not to enjoy it. No sense wasting it inside typing half assed musings and uninspired attempts at literature. Maybe with enough will power, and outside influence I might post some pictures of my last few weeks in Philly. Or maybe I'll go play disc golf, NBA2k11, and Halo Reach for the rest of the year. Its a coin toss really. Reporting live from the motherland, adieu for now friends.

Outchea.

Dealin'

I got one foot in the grave one foot in the gutter
One foot on the camera lens one foot on the shutter
I'm trying to stop time so I can breathe, man I'm grindin
Play record low pause fast forward rewindin
The truth is the light, but absolutely blindin
And n***** feel the pain on they brain when you remind them.

-Jay Electronica

 

Every time I listen to Jay Electronica Jay ElecHannukah Jay ElecYarmulke Jay ElecRamadaan Muhammad Asalaamica RasoulAllah Supana Watallah I hear new lyrics that are not only mind blowing but relevant and forward thinking. I'm gonna make an honest effort to post them whenever a new one hits me in the face. If every person, let alone rapper had the mindset that his rhymes represent, this world would be a lot better place.

A fellow chucker eh?

I present to you, the Four Eyed Black Belt. Criminal assassin and master of nunchucking arts. Member of the super crime fighting squad Slay Anything. Counterpart to The Pure Supersonic Barbarian. Make yours here.

Slay Anything, I always rep the committee.
You can find me and Lando floatin' in Cloud City.

Smash

Gone Superfast Jellyfishin'

Shortly after posting that last one about needing to save money, I come across this, and find out the Chicago stop on the Gorillaz Escape to Plastic Beach Tour has tickets left. We only live once right? All I wanna know is, who's coming with me? (In my best Jim Breur voice)

something to hold on to

According to my Wells Fargo online bank statement I have made exactly nine dollars and eighty two cents more then I have spent in the last three months of living, surviving, grinding, eking out an existence. With the last 3 weeks of working 25/7 I'm hoping I'll have a tiny little next egg to send me home to the midwest without any issues and still be able to enjoy the last couple weeks of east coast living. I'll miss the shit out of the people and places I've grown to love, but god damn it I'm looking forward to the green grass and fresh air of my beloved heaven in the corn field.

EDIT:

Also, I hope to god that I can be back before October 2 so I can tail gate the Penn State game. I just wanna tail gate in proper fashion in general. Even if we play the little giants.

EDIT: Scratch that. Have a wedding that day. Guess I'll be game casting that one.

Shutterbugg

If you haven't listened to this album at least a dozen times yet then you are lost in the void for good.

Get Ready Its a New Day

Mr. Roth, thank you for putting into video form how I have been feeling for the last year of my life. Cheers to no grinding. Mattie, this one's for you.

Dissertation Raps

Allow me to drop my thesis.
I spit that shat on my rap,
while I talk that feces to polices.
Screamin fuck the beastes
while I'm reciting all my speeches.
Watch what he unleashes to these leeches.
I spit a little teachin to the preachers
while im preachin to the teachers.
My raps are reaches to the peoples
beggin for increases in the peaces.
I just wanna clean up all the beaches,
cure all the diseases,
and make the world better for my nephews and my nieces.
So excuse me if this displeases,
but the world's so sick,
and I'm just trying to cure the sneezes,
while I eat a little Reece's,
cop some new releases,
and put a little in the air
with the Chongs and the Cheeches.
So until that day that I'm walking with prostheses
also the same day that hell over freezes,
I'ma keep moving mountains like I got telekinesis.

"And it's a beautiful thing/to my people who keep an impressive wingspan/even when the cubicle shrink."



Oldie but goodie.

Best

Stop Ahead

One might never guess how loud severed heads can really get. I mean seriously, if I were to ask a stray passerby at what decibel level they think a severed head could peak, they would surely be wrong.
“Well, they can’t be much louder then any other severed body part,” one might chance, “or any inanimate object for that matter.” Wrong.
“They certainly couldn’t be any louder then a head still attached to a body.” Wrong.
“They absolutely couldn’t be louder then a head still attached to an animated, living body.” Wrong.
While I couldn’t tell you the exact reading a severed head might clock on a Scosche Spl 1000f 135 DB Max spl decibel reader, I would be willing to say that they usually range somewhere between a howling fire truck and a construction crew pounding concrete right outside your bedroom window at 7 in the morning after you spent the previous evening pounding Midwestern brewed tall boy cans. They are quite the noisy little things, for how small they are compared to said fire engines and jackhammers. Especially when compared to said fire engines and jackhammers. In fact, I might be exposing my hand too early here in saying, don’t bank on the fact that these noise makers are going to be able to mask the sound a severed head makes when placed under your bed for more then a day or two. There is just no competition. They are the USA Olympic basketball team of making noise. The ’92 Barcelona Olympic Dream Team obviously, not any of its later ancestor squads.
Although I must say, Christian Laettner should have never even been considered for a spot on that roster. His decibel levels range somewhere between me taking a shit after pounding Midwestern brewed tall boys all night and me throwing up at the thought of Christian Laettner being considered for a spot on the 1992 USA Olympic basketball team. Disgusting really.
I would never be so boastful as to claim expertise in the severed head decibel level field of study, but I would like to think that after babysitting a few here and there, I might be the leading researcher amongst the colleagues in my field. You must understand, for obvious reasons, there have not been many published articles or scholarly journals written on the subject, but of the associates I have compared notes with, we have generally concluded, scientifically speaking of course, that severed heads are loud as fuck.

Best

Cardiac Kids

USA Today poll has Iowa football ranked #10. ESPN.com gave us the #9 spot. Sports Illustrated #6. Regardless, this season is gonna be awesome. No more heart attacks please.

every day

Matter Over Mind

I've only featured one other blog on my page, mostly because I would like to say that I did my thing without the help of others. An Illmatic of blogs so to speak, no guest appearances. But I'm gonna have to break the cycle one more time for my friend Sam's blog Two-12. His writing style reminds me of my own quite a bit, especially when I was his age. So without his knowledge, or permission, I will be posting his latest. Apologies for the lack of paragraphs. Enjoy.

Matter Over Mind by Sam McGuffin

The oven is on. It’s been on and still is on and has been on since yesterday morning when you made your eggs over easy because you like them better that way. The oven is on and it is making your gas bill higher and your expenses rise and it is taking money from your bank. Gradually. Every second you spend sitting in your car letting the air conditioning fume out of the vents and hit the cool beads of sweat gathering right above your upper lip causes the gasoline in your tank to decrease just slightly enough that you ponder if it is better to put the windows down even though it is summertime. But you don’t dwell on it. There is a truck next to your car and it is towering above your car. It has giant tires and wheels that sparkle in the sunshine and you get a good hard look at them because it is rush hour traffic and you might as well open your car door and get out and lick them. You question why they shine so much because it just rained yesterday and in order for them to shine the man next to you must have cleaned his car during the workday. A car honks its horn behind you and you realize the car in front of you moved approximately thirteen feet and seven inches while you were thinking about the truck’s wheels. You tap the gas slightly and roll forward the exact thirteen feet and seven inches to appease the God’s of the compact and packed freeway that isn’t exactly free. It’s free to ride on but yet you still have to pay gas to ride in your car and those gas prices have been rising lately. But it isn’t free because you are prisoned in your Ford and all you have for comfort is the air conditioning that is tickling the prickles of hair on your cheeks. By the time you sweat through your white button up and undo your tie you realize that the oven is still on. And you’re still not home. And it’s been on since yesterday morning when you made your eggs over easy because you like them better that way. And that the gas that is keeping your oven warm and toasty in the summertime is still taking money out of your bank. Gradually. The workday has made you tired and slightly depressed and you don’t want to think about work so you grapple with the knob on the car stereo and twist it with a slight and imaginary flick of the wrist. Bon Jovi yells through your speakers and you really don’t like Bon Jovi. You scream in the glass case of your car to whatever plush arm chair that Bon Jovi is currently sitting on in front of a fire that you are currently not “halfway there” and that you are still quite a long, long ways from home. And that in the past hour you have moved approximately thirteen feet and seven inches and that the temperature outside has moved further than that because it is much hotter than earlier and you know this because you have already rolled down your windows twice to properly examine the wheel’s on the truck that is stationed in limbo next to you. You press the knob in on your radio and decide that is better to sit in silence in your Ford than to listen to Bon Jovi telling you to take his hand. You saw an infomercial on meditation the other day and you remember it through the stench of exhaust as the semi-truck that is three cars ahead of you accelerates slightly to move another twenty-two feet and six inches forward. But then you think of what you just remembered and are slightly upset by the absurdity of the infomercial. Isn’t meditation supposed to be something that is free and for everyone to enjoy and that is supposed to relax you- at least that is what you thought. But some company somewhere is probably making lots of money somewhere for using it is their great new weight-loss campaign. Maybe the executive of that company is sipping on a margarita with Bon Jovi somewhere in the Caribbean right now. For a second you wish you were there too- but then you remember you don’t really like Bon Jovi and that your oven is still on and if you were in the Caribbean it would take you a long time to get home and that may cause problems at the house. You’re not positive the oven is on, but you think it is- you think you’re sure of it because you just have that feeling that you left it on like the ghost hand that turns the radio. Not exactly the same as when a commercial on the radio comes on and the volume is suddenly higher than when a song was on, because that’s just the sound on the commercial. But as if you actually turned the knob when the commercial came on and then suddenly remembered you turned the knob. That kind of feeling. So you are pretty sure the oven is on and you want to be able to get home fast not only to turn it off but more importantly to make sure if you are right and that the oven is actually on. You debate picking up your iPhone and calling your home phone and begging for your cat to pick up as the phone rings and rings and rings. The cat could possibly become so annoyed that it picks up the phone and will understand your command to turn off the oven. But even if that happens, you still wouldn’t know if the cat actually turned off the oven. It could become lazy and decide to take a nap before turning off the oven and when you get home the oven could still be on. Or the oven could be off and the cat may have turned it off and then your cat could be incredibly smart and you would think so at first too but then you would realize there was the option that maybe the oven was never on in the first place and money was not being taken out in incredibly small increments from your bank account in the form of gas.

Take you to the top

I'm beginning the daunting task of creating my 100 favorite songs, and favorite 100 hip hop songs of all time, with the intentions of posting em on here when its done. So far there are about 700 songs give or take in each list. Somehow those have to be whittled down to a c-note apiece. Cya guys next year maybe.

Angel Watches

To commemorate the groundbreaking mid 90s anime series Neon Genises Evangelion, G Shock by Casio have released these two beautiful time pieces. The watches were made in the same colorways as the Eva Unit 01 suit, and the shows female protagonist Rei Ayanami's "plug suit." If there was ever a time to show that you really loved me, you would somehow track down these rare beauties, slide them on either wrist, and ask for my hand in marriage.













I'm probably gonna have to download and watch this damn show too now. Wish I wasn't taking so long on finishing up Gundam Wing. Or maybe G Shock should make some Gundam watches too.