The random musings of an underexposed artistic genius

brandensbaked was born in the year of revolution, during an undisclosed "free love" decade. His views were formed at the alter of "hair metal" and by parents that were too lazy to force religious beliefs on his impressionable mind...It's sad really. He had to form his own views. Brandensbaked is the creative force behind "SuperCell" a BIG DEAL in the Clover Valley music scene, played guitar in "Bonedawgs" , "Banner Jump", and "Musclefuzz". He is proficient in all the manly arts, like construction, mechanics, and combat gardening.

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Sup Ballers?

Me? Oh, I got two tickets on the train to Sobersville. Hmmmm. Where should I begin? How about the loud banging on the front door at a-quarter-to-oh-shit-the-pigs-are-here-with-a-warrant, on July 15th. It seems, according to the affidavit for search warrant, somebody ratted on yours truly. I KNOW, RIGHT? Anywho, I found myself in quite a pickle. Looking at no more pussy until 2018. Oh sure, I could have turned into a punk bitch and ratted out my hook, but then I would be a punk bitch rat. Unacceptable. Soooooooooo, I took drug court. 18 months of intense, supervised, reprogramming of my drug addict mind. Piss tests, NA, groups, one on ones, check ins, home searches, and court appearances once a week. If I succeed, charges dismissed. If I fail, 60 months in the joint. So far I have 76 days clean. No dope, no booze, no uppers, no downers, no shrooms, no doses, no lines, no tokes, no loads, no benzos, no dones, no subs, no kind nugs, no BTH, no pure, no shit, no white, no black, no crys, nothing. Just coffee, Rockstars, and Red Bulls. Super clean. Not too bad. Not as bad as I thought it would be. Even though I haven't used any mind altering substances, I still managed to fuck up a couple times. They found a crack pipe during a routine search of my room(Government plant, obviously!), for that I got 3 days in the hole. I missed a UA Saturday, I'm sure I'll get 3 more days when I go to court Friday. All in all, I consider myself lucky. I dodged a 5 year prison sentence, and I get to try a radical way of life that never would have happened if it weren't for some sorry little piss-poor piece of shit skating on a drug charge they couldn't/wouldn't do themselves. Well, instead of being bitter, I'm gonna turn a - into a + and hope the rat bitch uses their second chance to overdose or choke to death on their own vomit and do us all a solid....

In other news....Fucking Hawks!!!! 4-0. Fucking M's...71-91. Fucking Dawgs!!!! 4-0. Fucking Rain...Salmon are running up Blackjack Creek. Frankie, in an excellent example of how to be completely devoid of any wealth whatsoever, sold his drums, and bought smokes...Brilliant. Oh yeah, all of my guitars got ripped off while I was in jail, except for my Charvelle, which was in the pawnshop. Frank and Val managed, between them, to NOT extend my pawn ticket for 28 dollars, so I lost it too. Frank managed to call the wrong pawnshop and secure a guarantee of 30 extra days to pay off any loans, of which I had none.
I'm sure other things happened too, but that's all I can think of tonight....This has been all the news that's fit to spit...BDawg out.

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

My we live in interesting times...Happy New Year

Confucius say, "Man who makes no resolutions have very little shit to talk about around the water cooler when Christmas vacation over". Another favorite Chinese quote I found in the I Ching  AKA the China mans Book of Mormon, is a little tidbit concerning a man's duties on the last day of any year in which the animal representing that particular year, is a mammal with the ability to mate multiple times during any fertility cycle. It roughly translates to: "On the last day, of the year of the dog, a man should fuck many bitches, shit on the neighbors lawn, and lick his own balls in rabid celebration, but should show restraint in the practice of sniffing others assholes". Wow! Sound advice, passed down through the ages, and still relevant some 5000 years after it was written. Happy twenty-lucky-thirteen bitches/mutherfuckers! We enter into the Year of the Seahawk. Year of the Tube sock. Year of Garsement(garage/basement band) style of BaseRawk. Man I am feenin for a big old fat hit from the pipe of some baserawk. What? You've never tried baserawk? Oh man. If there aren't any dealers slingin it on your block, you can make your own. You buy common street level rock, like Foo Fighters or Metallica. Weak and expensive, it usually comes in powdered form. Cut many times from the studio to the street, unscrupulous middle men try anything to increase the profits. It's mixed with lactose, or gypsum, soap, sugar, other cheaper music, or even words, and sold to the next sucker. By using baking soda or ammonia to change the pH level from an acid to a base, we are also removing any contaminants, cut, impurities and rendering it into a highly concentrated, smokeable pure Rawk. BaseRawk is fast acting, portable, and easily concealed when inserted into a bra, pocket, or into a vagina. Now, you can avoid detection from the Man, the Fuzz, the Pigs or anyone who seeks to control or demoralize, or deny you your right to Fucking Rawk. Due to BaseRawk being insoluble in water, it can even be hidden in the mouth or quickly shoved up ones asshole to hide it from overbearing siblings, parents, teachers, even drug sniffing dogs. Now, I do not trust any drug sniffing dog, and I believe them to be unreliable(at best) witnesses in the courtroom, and(at worst) liars who are willing to perjure themselves if needed. Basically, as puppets for their employers, they will testify to whatever lies their masters need, as long as they get the drugs they like to pump up their insatiable snouts. I know that they're just pawns for the prosecution, a threat to the legal system, and a tumor on the brain of Lady Liberty...But this is a discussion for another time. I'm feeling like Rawking up some super chunky, evil jams, the jams that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Sounds so heavy, they could only be created in the gravitational field of a super gas giant planet, like Jupiter or Neptune, before flowing down through the galaxy's hidden dimensions, to the astral plane below, where, sucked into the wet, warm mouth of a black hole's event horizon, then into the swollen labia of a worm hole, so tight it seems to hold there forever, until finally, passionately ejaculated deep into this reality, all over the faces of eager young freaks who, from their knees, beg to be covered in the hot, sticky, sounds of (insert band name here). The very same (Insert band name here), who gained a huge following during the, "Rawk don't Roll, Pigs and snitches no show show" in 1998. The "Leave your 'tude at home or at least at the door tour", in 1999. The "Fuck and suck, do the drugs, bang your head on the floor, only then will we stop pounding Rawk down your whore tour" which was every year from 2000, through 2010. They were in hiatus for 2011, and 2012, resting and recharging, and writing new material. Almost finished recording their latest offering, the new album will be released in May, and the band hopes to build on these earlier successes by again touring all summer, supporting the new record, and reconnecting with old fans, while introducing themselves to the next generation by headlining the "Cum to your senses, Titty and Testicle Festival" which will be in all the major American cities this summer, other bands,tix and dates TBA.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Climate Change Fails To Deliver As Predicte

Well, the tree hugger's got caught with their pants down and pecker in hand, after pseudo scientists predicted a massive global catastrophe would be unleashed on 12-12-2012. These so called experts claimed that the gravitational pull from all of the 12's aligning along the  orbital axis of the date plane would cause a major tectonic shift throwing the world into a violent, apocalyptic ho-down, fulfilling the prophecy and setting off all of the violent events predicted by the Mayans, Christans, Jews, Muslims, Rasputin, Edgar Cayce, Nostradamus, and the psychic hot line. For some skeptics, the lack of destruction was a welcomed blow to the balls of the so-called "experts", who continually fill the news cycle with predictions of end-of-the-world scenarios, race wars, genocide, and governmental malfeasents which never materialize or even partially come true. This does not, however, slow the constant stream of predictions pushed by the snake-oil salesmen hawking their bullshit wherever suckers congregate. So yesterday at 12:13 pm, I removed my tinfoil helmet, gas mask, chem suite, Kevlar vest, and ammo-belt, unlocked the triple deadbolts, scanned my iris, uttered the pass phrase into the mic, opened the blast-doors to my nuke-proof man cave, and climbed the 112 steps to the elevator and began the 20 minute ride to the surface. After running a full environmental scan determined the earth was still habitable, I read the geopolitical situational summery that basically told me...Nothing happened. We wasted 12-12-12 hiding in the ground when we should have been doing body shots in Cabo or sipping Absolute in an Ice palace in Reykjavik! Fucking psychics! I'm beginning to think that they don't see the future at all. Maybe they are all just fucking scammers, and the people that pay $1.99 per minute to hear wondrous tales of the future are just lemmings or sheep being led around by their stupidity. In fact, I'm gonna go get my spiritual advisor shtkla-tvkta on the phone right now and have her do a reading of my chakras to determine if I am open to diving any "truths" today. We owe it to our descendants to find out if anyone will be on the planet in 500 years when the containers holding the spent fuel rods from our nuclear experiments finally fail and spill radioactive sewage all over the planets somewhat delicate water table. We may have been a bit hasty, when we were assured by the congress that global catastrophes or the rapture or the four horseman of the apocalypse would guarantee a planet devoid of all life as we know it... Oooops.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

It’s That Time Of Year Again…

Yeeeeesssssss folks, crunch time in the NFL. The second half of a brutal schedule that has all the teams playing 16 out of 17 weeks, and then, if earned, PLAYOFFS! My team, the Seattle Seahawks, are occupying the last NFC birth, with a favorable schedule the rest of the way. While not a lock, it appears the Hawks will make the playoffs and have a punchers chance to go deep. I sure would like to see what Matt Flynn can do before we write him off. After a bye this past weekend, we head south to Miami to face a beatable Dolphins team that has nothing to play for….Go Hawks!

Let’s see, what’s new? Well, Jake hit the road, Frank hit Jake, Val hit the benzos and I keep writing hit after hit. Oh yeah, while I was in the bathroom droppin’ the duce, Washington legalized Marijuana!!!! Not bad, not bad. I can’t say that I am all for a dangerous drug like weed being sold everywhere, but I trust you to handle it WA.

One month to go until total Armageddon, and I still don’t know what I’m gonna wear. I got a new Nike hoodie for my b-day, black, some new converse kicks, also black. Two new hats, both Nike, one red and black the other black. If I combine this stuff with some black levis, and some black skivvies, I should be ready for the total destruction of life as we know it, plus I already have a date. By the way, I’m throwing a little pre-funk on 12-12-12 at 12:12pm, It also happens to be my girls b-day! We are getting along famously.

I am trying to sell this house before it gets repo’d. I’m trying to get a badass motorhome out of the deal, so I will be comfy at my property next summer. Julie, Matt’s keeper, is one loud ass beeatch. If she shut-the-fuck-up right now, it wouldn’t be quick enough. Been colder than a witches titty, Maiden is looking great, vibrant and healthy. I finished the bathroom, almost done with the living room. Band is creeping towards something. And my room is still the most popular place on the planet.

Saturday, September 29, 2012