Thursday, June 9

Dipset Detox with Michael McDonald at Epcot Center (pt 13)

Ughhhhh... When I finally come to, everything is dark. I'm strapped into whatever chair I'm sitting in.
"Hey there, buddy. Bout time you woke up."
"Ughhhh... How long have I been out, Mike?"
"3 Days."
"What the fuck!?! Where are we? Why am I strapped down? Why is it dark?"
"The answer applies to all of the above: we're in fuckin SPACEMOUNTAIN MOTHERFUCKER! OWWWW!"
And, seemingly on cue, our car sprung into action. It was true. We were riding the roller coaster in Spacemountain, the world's only all dark roller coaster. This shit is totally sweet. I would love to send you an animated gifford of this experience but how could I? The internet is not equipped to adequately convey the sensory experience I am experiencing: it's all vestibular, plus the touch of the wind on my skin, and the whooshing past my ears. I guess I could've recorded the sound and made it an mp3, but who really wants to hear a bunch of whooshing around? You would have to be wierd to want to hear that!

After we left Space Mountain, we high-tailed it back to Epcot Center, because when you're in Orlando, and at a Disney theme park, the acronym you should live by is: Epcot Center Totally Rules, Everything at Disney World Excepting Spacemountain Totally Sucks (E.C.T.R.E.A.D.W.E.S.T.S (not easy to pronounce, and thus not so easy to remember, but nonetheless: CRUCIAL!)

Also, we have an extra reason to hurry back to Epcot. Mike says there is a private concert for the Epcot Imagineers: it is going to be a showcase of the world's greatest record label (other than dipsetmixtapes): Psychedelic Speed Freaks Records, a record label devoted to "free jazz and maverick rock" from Japan. This concert promises to be highly psychedelic! And Mike says he can do some secret Google moves to finagle us in!

Look at how psychedelic this shit is! It probably is freaking you out right now, and you're just looking at internet! I'm actually here! FAR OUT MAN!
The first band we hear is Puka-Puka Brains, and they certainly do not disappoint. To me, this band sounds like Japanese Psychedelic Death Grunge. I'm not sure if that is a real genre yet, but if not I sincerely hope that it will be, soon. The singer sounds like Kurt Cobain if Kurt had cut his tongue out (like the blond dude in Ichi the Killer) and the guitar, sounds like... I don't know how to describe it.. Suffice it to say that it is better guitar than any Grunge guitars that I have ever encountered. After Puka-Puka Brains finish totally blowing my mind, I go to empty my bladder.

As I'm peeing, I'm thinking: "wow, I probably haven't gone this long without thinking about Dipset in like a year!" But then I look at the ads above the urinal, and Juelz starts taking the spots of the dudes in the ads! He's still comin to take everyone's spot!

Juelz - Everyone's Spot

He's even taking R. Kelly's spot!!!!
Juelz - Ignition freestyle

(I have to temporarily interrupt this fictional narrative to tell y'all an anecdote from the real world about that gif above. That's right: this story is not real, it is just pretend. I admit it! Sorry to bust your bubble if you were thinking this was real (it's funny, when I said I was so hungover that it felt like E-40 and Big Moe had used my kidneys as fulcrum for a seesaw, my Mom emailed me like: "You better not be having those hangovers!" HA HA HA! Sorry to embarass you Mom! But that is too funny! Of course the hangover was pretend! So were the laser attacks!) Also sorry to be interupting the narrative (but you definitely don't care, you're just here for the mpfrees. that's understandable: this narrative is not exactly gripping. It's no page-turner. Wait this is internet, so no pages to turn!! What is a compelling internet narrative called? A scroll-bar-scroller?!? What a sucky name!)
Anyways, the anecdote: I was sitting at a bar in the Charlotte airport, making this picture:

when the waitress walks up and says "SANTANA? You mean Carlos Santana?" And I'm like "No, Juelz Santana. Uh, he's a rapper." And she's like "A rapper? Say, who's that rapper... Like, Vanilla something?"
"Vanilla Ice?"
"White guy?"
"No. He was here a couple hours ago on his way to Myrtle Beach. I did shots of Tequila with him. He comes through this airport a lot. He wears a big, um, clock..."
"Yeah, that's it."
"Ohmigod, he's a legend!"
"I didn't know..."
Yeah, so how funny is that? FLAVOR FLAV?!?! And yes I was making internet at the Charlotte Airport! What else am I gonna do? Check out my compyooter at the airport:

Ok, back to the story. Sorry for the interruption.).
Whoa! This Juelz flashback is intense. I might still be flashing back now, if not for the gut-rattling bass guitar I hear as the next band starts. I rush back out of the bathroom.
Ohkami no Jikan - (I don't know the track title)

Ohkami no Jikan (which means "time of wolves") is a side project of bassist Asahito Nanjo, better known as the leader of High Rise, the great Psychedelic Japanese Death-Garage Band.
"Mike, what is that awesome wierd rustling reverb on the bass sound?"
"That is the snare drums resonating, rookie!"
D'oh! I shoulda known that!

The light show during this part was pretty sweet:


But no light stimuli could prepare me for the ultimate awesomeness of the sounds of the band at the end:

Keiji Haino & High Rise - T.F.B. (03:59)
I will try to contain my excitement so I can type about this performance, but just trust me it is hard not to spazz out too hard to type. Keiji Haino sounds like he always sounds: like he just stuck the knife in his belly and he's so mad and sad he can't remember the reason why he disembowelled himself. Or rather, he can remember so many reasons but he just can't remember which.
And GODDAMN! Munehiro Narita, Mr. "Motorcycle Guitar" himself is also present and wailing just as one might hope.

Man, maybe these Epcot Imagineers are not so bad! Sure, they sent an animatronic replica of Michael McDonald to blast me with laser attacks, but if they can get down to music like this, can they be all bad?

But as I'm sitting here trying to be all magnanimous, Mike is getting his mack on. He comes back with a couple of highly fashionable women. They are dressed up like prison inmates, but with no pants.

"Hey man, this lady here is also a secret Google internet Google cheat coder, and she wants to party! You wanna come hang out? She knows about a special secret party place!" he says, his eyebrows going up and down furiously.
Clearly there are two women here. I think Mike has drunk so much Secret Internet Google Cheat Google Wine Cooler that it is messing up his vision so badly that instead of seeing double, he's seeing half. I'm not really interested in partying with girls these days. At least not in the way that Mike is innuendo-ing I mean. I am very in love with my girlfriend, and thus quite spoken for. But maybe I can make platonic friends with these pantless prisoner women. Also, maybe they can teach me some secret Google! Plus, I don't want Mike to think I'm a loser. So I accompany them...



Blogger Pearsall Helms said...

What is a compelling internet narrative called? A scroll-bar-scroller?!? What a sucky name!

That made me giggle. :)

10:55 AM  
Blogger Mr. Babylon said...

I'm really having a hard time accepting that you just broke character here. Your fantasy was my rock!

8:34 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

yeah, don't destroy my fantasy!!!

also, FTR, Blizzard Beach, the Disney World water park, is pretty sick - Summit Plummet totally rules!!


11:27 AM  
Blogger Minikomi said...


phil colins is a cold hard killer. But he certainly is swayed by killer jams. Jams for killers, that is.

8:50 AM  

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