Category Archives: Rick Rubin needs his own tag on this blog

Yeah y’all c’mon

nation of 10k 1180

HERE IT IS, BAM/AND YOU SAY GODDAMN/GOT 10K FOLLOWERS TODAY ON INSTAGRAM.

#SoBlessed #IfYouCanDreamItYouCanAchieveIt #OnlyGodCanJudgeMe

I pray that none of you dummies find out that this site is actually run by a vinyl bro with a slightly underweight girlfriend (cc: @sexistdudesofinstagram, @idiotsworldwide). Until then, please continue being shockingly kind in my comments sections and sending me cover suggestions. (But stop it with that fucking Herb Alpert record, for the love of God.)

 

National holiday (in apt. 15)!

Nam-MyohoRengeKyo and Hold It Now, HIT IT everybody, because it’s the date of birth of Frederick Jay Rubin!!, he of OG shamanic glory (sorry, RZA) and possessor of the single greatest rabbinical beard in hip-hop (aw, sorry Freeway). It’s a pain in the ass that banks and post offices are closed for the occasion, I realize, but show Uncle Rick a little respect.

What more can I say, the dude leaves me speechless–other than if my record collection is my greatest muse, Rick Rubin is Apollo. Now start the reign in blood and rock the fuckin bells, stat.

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It’s a love that lasts forever/It’s a love that has no past.

Salman’s ex-wife again, and E trying to seduce me with his Rubin-esque rabbinical beard, glasses, and lovely voice.

My preliminary research tells me that sometimes boys sing songs to girls they like, and these songs contain messages like I think you are pretty and I want to be close to you and touch and kiss you. I‘m still gathering all the data, though, so I am hesitant to make this my formal hypothesis. Full report pending.

That look you give that guy, I wanna see
Looking right at me.
If I could be that guy, instead of me,
I’d never let you down. I’d never let you down.

And then I went and posted some Marcia Griffiths girlyness,
because I am a girl and that is wonderful,
(We get to wear dresses and David Byrne sings about it; have you heard?)



and because this version is extra wonderful even though it lacks the crucial
Billy Preston keys of the original. Also, Spector really should get his own tag on this blog. I need to act right and do it already.

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Rick & Run have a chat, next to a van, in ’87.


Yeah man, in ’09 you and D and Jay are gonna get a whole fuckin street named after you!

Nahhhhhh.

I’m tellin you! August ’09. 205th & Hollis Ave will become “Run-DMC JMJ Way.” It’s a mouthful, but it’ll happen. You’ll see.

Also, I heard they’re changing Linden to Kool G Rap Boulevard. Or maybe Large Pro Way.


“And so now I’m just standin here shootin the gift
Me and D and my Adidas standing on two-fifth.”

NYC District 27 Council Member Leroy Comrie, I applaud this, your political bankshot. And I love your hometown repping-ness. Well done, sir. (And hey, do you know anyone who knows anyone who knows Monch so that I may become someone who knows Monch? Thanksssss.)

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Russell Simmons and I are totally dating*

* pending

Russ decided to put his most recent mid-life crisis on display for us all and start dating a young, rather plain-looking model-y Caucasoid type (sorry Julie, your waist-to-hip ratio is the business:
but that’s the only thing you’re bringing to the Sexy Table, mama.) I hear she loves his lisp, and they talk about the Dalai Lama and meditate together before they hop in the towncar and go to dinner at Cipriani. Ah, Buddhism.

She has this unfortunate little habit of talking about racial-y kinds of stuff in public forums and not sounding particularly bright. That is not cute. I have a lot of opinions and I think I’m semi-bright, but even I know not to pull that move. OH JULIE.

The fact that he seems to find her alluring is great news for me, since evidently he likes the long-haired, skinny, not-all-that-beautiful, bikini-wearin’ type; it’s a little thing we call the power of the WHR. Listen, the point is, Russ is totally about to fall in LUV with me (as soon as we meet) and you all are going to bear witness.

Russ and I will hang out, we’ll discuss important music history matters, I’ll meet THE BAWSS Rick Rubin, not so I can do naked activities with Rick Rubin like some kinda dirty groupie but so I can ask Rick Rubin a plethora of questions about label politics and industry rule #4080, Lyor Cohen and Adrock and that time Russ bailed out Slick Rick for $800k, and the making of Raising Hell. Then Russ will discover I’m not going to do sexytime stuff with him and he will ask me to see myself out. He and I might try to be friends after that, even though we know it’s impossible. The end.

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