HO HO HO

I fucking love a good HO. Merry XMas sucka!

Be Ye Warned...

When the Scorpion rises all is lost for those who choose the path well worn.

Good Times, Great Friends

So, as the last of the fog juice dissapates into the atmosphere, I sit, bathed in black-light, spent but satisfied, reflecting on these last few CRAZY weeks. When life sends you lemons, you make lemonade. When life throws you sex, drugs, and fuckin' rock, you make brandensbaked. Okay I'd better start from the beginning...

Hurricane Brandensbaked

Sorry it seems like I've been ignoring you mutherfuckers. In order to have the great material for this blog-o-mine, I first have to go out and live it. Then I have to let my brain cells regenerate, organize the information, and tell the story in an informative, yet entertaining manner. We have just passed the regeneration stage...Stay tuned. Peace and titties.

Today's Record

Just about ready to hit the road to Bridgewood. Beat X today 13-0. First time he's ever been shut out. See ya at Scarlet's after the show.
B

K I'm Home Early

So I'm at da club right? I see silver, who is the finest girl anywhere, anyhow. O.K. maybe viciouspuddin is finer, but honestly I have never met her in person. So Silver, me and her go back a couple of years. She wants me to come to her house and do what I do like only I can. So I am on cloud BONER!!!! But as far as tonight, I go home with the guys. X, who is usually very polite, starts off 12-0 in a game of Madden 2006. Well he is so full of himself, he forgets that I am the all time champ master winner stud. So I go ahead 13-12 in the third quarter, then I began a very unsportsmanlike session of giving him da business good, K? I hog the ball the whole fourth quarter, then kick a "fuck you dude" field goal as time expires. brandensbaked 16, X 12. So now you can go to bed. We got big plans tomarrow, SKIDMORE at the Brightwood Tavern in Bridgewood. All the people in the know, they know, ya know? Mary St. Claire is MIA:(

I Am In Portland!

Headed down to the Safari! Yeeeeaaaaaaaah!!!!

Fact Filled Fucking Post

This morning on my way to work I spotted this dude hacking away at his hedge. On the surface, not very metal. However, this particular dude happened to be in long black pants and a black leather jacket. Yardwork in leather is very metal. *When I say metal, I'm simultaneously making devil horns with my right hand*
Remember Butter? Yeah, stop it. Now and forever they shall be known as SKIDMORE They will be LIVE! Saturday at a bar called Brightwood Tavern in the town of Bridgewood. All the people who said "say that ten times fast", should go in their bathroom and shoot themselves in the head. Repeat if necessary. Anyway, Brightwood Tavern is located at 63010 E Brightwood, Bridgewood, OR 97011 Their phone # is (503) 622-4719. Tickets can be purchased at the door, but ladies bring your knee-pads and lip-gloss just in case. SKIDMORE is a pleasant blend of styles, think Santana, Rush, and 2LO. I haven't heard their singer yet, but if he is anything like me, he kicks ass.
Friday night I will be at the Safari with my favorite strippers, Namely, one Mary St. Clare. Cold Coronas, shots of 1800, and titties. That is all I need to say about that. Word.
BooRippinRadly is off to Vegas for the weekend. Hmmm, I wonder which of us will have the better time. The smart money is on brandensbaked, cause that mutherfucker is dialed in. Word.
Well I'm off to clean up my Explorer. Explorer, Safari, hilarious. My life is a fucking riot.


The Banner Jump LIVE!
September 27 @ Rebar in Seattle.
October 8 @ Hansen's in Bremerton.
October 21 @ J.A. Michaels in Port Orchard.

New Show Added!

The Banner Jump will be appearing LIVE!! at Hansens in Bremerton on Saturday October 8th.
Yes, our hot bassplayer will be there. Will you?
Will the guy in the white baseball hat be there?
I guess you'll just have to show up and find the answers yourself. Former Supercell bassman 2Lo will be taking his new band Butter off of some sweet jumps this Saturday, September 24 in the Mt. Hood, Oregon area. X was too weak to type the details in an unsent email, so we'll nail down the particulars in tomarrow's fact-filled post. Stay tuned. Peace and Titties Mutherfuckers.
brandensbaked has left the building.

KGB Picked Up By Local Authorities

This KGB cell was picked up Saturday night by local authorities and taken to an undisclosed location for interrogation. "Yeah, we will burn these fuckers with a lighter to get what we want. It's a post 9/11 world", stated a high official who wished to remain anonymous. This may not be the only cell in our area. Citizens should not try to apprehend KGB themselves, but should call an expert for capture and disposal, uh, interrogation.

Madden 2005 Final Notes

What a great Saturday! I finally whipped X at Madden 2005. That game will now be retired, and I'll purchase 2006. Stopped him short as time expired. Classic.
The Dawgs sodomized the Vandals. Now I like the state of Idaho, but business is business. Please let this be the start of a rampaging fire island football trend .
The Wolves destroyed the Roughriders of Port Angeles. Now, I was born in P.A. but as I stated before, it's business. It's also football. It's the business of playing football. Way to go fuckers.
If the Shehawks can pull a win out of their ass, we will be back on track. I will not hold my breath.
If I can find a bag of KGB, all will be right in the world.
Thinking about a trip to P-Town next weekend. Dude I know, it's been too fucking long. Life is too short, I've got to keep my priorities straight. Mmmmmmm, I miss you Mary St. Claire.
CLICK HERE FOR THE BANNER JUMP MP3S!!!!!
P.S. This post has an extraordinary number of references that may be construed as "gay". We here at brandensbaked have always thought of pussy as God(titties are angels), and will continue to worship at the "Y". A high number of man on man sex analogies is only a poopy coincidence.

Listen and Repeat

The Banner Jump Free Downloads!!!
You like music? Well, do you punk?
The new joint from The Jump.
Fucking free kick ass music.
Get it while it's hot. Drop it on your friends.
Tell 'em brandensbaked sent ya.
Now get outa here before I change my mind.

Friday's blatherings

Well, it finally rained. Yeah. The good Lord blessed us with rain for our parched earth. I don't have any guerilla gardens this year, so no big deal either way. It's been dry as hell in Pot Orchard. Maybe all the dealers donated their weed to the victims of hurricane Bush. I'll bet they did.
Been smokin' da kief, good for the head but hard on the lungs. The Daily Show special report, "Evolution Smevolution" was a bit of a dud in my opinion. I would have preferred more current events. The Shehawks play the Falcons Sunday, I predict a win for one of them. Dawgs and Idaho, no you da ho, come on Dawgs suck it up! South Kitsap is 0-2. My football world has been turned upside down. Damn you Bush, I don't know how you're doing it, but I know you're involved somehow. Where the hell is the new Tool album?

Hump Day- Oh Yeah!

It's Wednesday again. Sometimes it seems like there is one every week. I don't know maybe there is.
My peeps and I are playing the USA Today Pigskin Picks game and I am firmly entrenched in last place. One hundred bucks per, winner takes all. Perhaps I'm playin' possum. Or, maybe just a tough week to pick winners. I'll report and decide.
Jon Stewart is examining the debate over evolution/intelligent design all week on The Daily Show. You want my opinion? Tough shit, you're getting it anyway. It seems the conservatives are all fucking retarded, so putting the word "intelligent" in any conservative theory is an oxymoron. Maybe they would consider renaming said theory to "Retarded Slobberings of Holy Rollers Looking for Hugs". At least I could laugh at that.
Lunch is over, back to the project...
B.

Finally, Some Good News

U.S. District Judge James Robart(what a stand-up guy) yesterday declared Seattle's 17-year moratorium on processing new strip-club applications illegal and blasted the city for "selectively" upholding the First Amendment.
"Try to be more like P-town, you miserable fucks!" brandensbaked yelled from behind Judge Robart. "They make us drink overpriced non-alcoholic girly man drinks too", brandensbaked sneered. "Tell 'em to sell beer like P-town, or you'll make every titty bar a monorail stop", brandensbaked suggested.

Somebody call 9-1-1

Well, the more things change, the more they stay the same. He's the egg man. He's the walrus. Koo koo ka choo. Mike Holmgren wallows in mediocrity. If you take one more positive out of a loss, I'm gonna take a fucking hostage.
Bush, Cheney, and all them fat cat fuckers are using Katrina just like they used 9/11 and Iraq, to line the pockets of the fucking fascist elite. George, your fucking bitch mother has got, I say, has got to be a tranny. The calves on that bitch, I mean fuuuuuuuck. Was it her tender mothering that made you so fucking incompetent? Did she slip you the finger or what? Fuck all you Bush fucking fucks. Fuck you Holmgren. Go fuck yourself Cheney. I feel better now.

The Banner Jump: Live!

September 27, 2005- Rebar in Seattle.
October 21, 2005- J.A. Michaels in Port Orchard.
All the cool kids will be there, will you?
Hear The Banner Jump Now!

Advice for the male youngsters who wish to rock...

Happy B-day to my bros boy G! Good advice...If you take all your drugs(drop acid at school), tap all the bitches you can(lie if you have too), know the clitoris for it is your friend, shun all organized religon, make and follow your own law, don't accept Canadian coins, never shit at home, never sweat at work, profit in the black market economy, only then will you fucking rock and be a rocking fuck, like your evil uncle brandensbaked!

Labor Day could be better if...

President Grover Cleveland declared Labor Day a national holiday in 1894. The occasion was first observed on Sept. 5, 1882, in New York City. A parade was organized by the city's Central Labor Union. I'm glad I don't have to watch a parade on Labor Day. Parades suck.
According to Ted Watt's The First Labor Day Parade, the September date was chosen because it coincided with a Knights of Labor conference in New York. In 1887, Oregon became the first state to make Labor Day an official holiday. Oregon kicks much ass. I guess I would like a parade if it was made up of strippers. Hell, I might even be in a parade if it was all strippers and I could just get table dances for the whole route. Damn, I may be on to something. Stay tuned for the first annual brandensbaked Stripper Day parade! Wow, Stripper Day. Word.

Perhaps I was a tad callus

I apologize if any internet reading, hurricane displaced, global warming victims or their families, or pussies in general, were offended by my indifference towards their obvious suffering. But honestly, I watched a Discovery Channel documentary on New Orleans about four years ago, which clearly warned you idiots(sorry again) that your city is below sea level. Let me just say that one more time. Your city is below sea level. Now, that is the same thing that happens to your throat when you tip back a beer. The liquid always seeks the lowest level. Move to higher ground. Word.
Other news: Band practice tonight! Hurray! BooRippinRadly is on holiday with DJ K. Went to see Pearl Jam at the Gorge. I fucking love that place this time of year. I saw Stevie Ray Vaughn with BooRippinRadly on his last Washington gig before his untimely death, and the sunset was so beautiful he paused the show to make note of it. Peace and titties.
B.

Free Downloads from...

Soundclick. Just go to www.soundclick.com/thebannerjump/ and get 'em while they're hot. While you're there check out some classic Supercell. Go on get scootin'. It feels good to do what you're told.

Ahhh, fall is in the air.

My favorite time of year. Misty mornings and sunny afternoons. You dumbfucks that live in hurricane country just don't get it, now do you? We have zero hurricanes. We have very few, very very few, poisonous vermin. Yeah it rains, but that would explain our lush green landscape. Oh sure, I may be chased by a tornado here and there, but we can chalk most of those up to the availability of really good green bud. NO I DON'T MEAN B.C. BUD. In Washington, we call that shit, Bogus Chronic Bud. We just let them fucking canucs pass through to keep the heat off of our boutique grow ops. We keep our holy rolling republicans out of site. We have the strongest state constitution in the country. We don't have dui roadblocks. Not one single Bush family member is from here. The evergreen state kicks ass. Unless you are a hot bitch or a hot cheap ho, stay out. Word.

Wow! Wh,wh,wh,what,what a gr, gr, gr, what a gr,

What a great crowd. Especially the singer from Jesus Fish. The dude is a dead ringer for Wade and Wayne R. It's all captured on video. Special thanks to Hawkeye Longboard for his cinematic aptitude. That was a fucking blast. Stay tuned to brandensbaked for bonus snippits of audio and video.

The Banner Jump

The Banner Jump - J.A. Michaels 10 pm
Friday August 26, 2005

One Hundredth!

Happy hundredth post! Practice went bonerific. H. turns me on. The Banner Jump kicks fucking ass and takes fucking names. Hope to see ya all at the big big big show. Hope to see oodles-O-bitches too. Hope to see some butter too. JimiSings, you too. Hope you fuckers are planning some hard core, reckless moshing! We are playing second, probably around 10-10:30.
Other shit: I finally got my phone. D. is coming Sept 16. Dominated DougJones at Madden last night 70-36. Ruby married JDBoom... Ruby Boom. That is a fucking porn star name if I've ever heard one. Late.
B.

Hump Day

Or for those readers who choose not to work...Dry Hump Day.
Two days until we take the set off some sweet jumps.
My beloved V710 should be here Thursday.
Pat, I accept your apology, and I'm sorry I gave you a swirly. That was uncalled for. At least I should have cleared the bowl first.
Madden update: Hawkeye holds brandensbaked to 37 points. brandensbaked holds Hawkeye to 36.
Iron Maiden calls Ozzfest crowd vile. You guys just don't get it anymore. Time to not play. It was 22 years ago I had my mind blown on the Piece of Mind tour. Now 6,872,346 bonghits later, Iron Maiden are officially old. Yet the Stones push on. Go figure. Bring your Great- granddaughter to the Slaughter. Good thing I sold my soul to the Devil. Peace and titties bitches.

Robertson....

Pat Robertson continues his gangsta style tough love when he announces Hugo Chavez, the commie loving, democratically elected president of Venezuela, should be whacked by U.S. covert ops. Pat, shut your pie hole you little fuck stain. I know fifteen year old girls that would toss your fucking salad, you little bitch. It's like you got skull fucked by Satan and what little brains you had are now running out of your nostrils.
Other news: The cell phone saga continues with the baked one being put on a waiting list like a God damned commoner. Fuck! I'll be sending out smoke signals until my number comes up. Peace. Except for you Pat, you dumb fuck. You need to listen to Monster Magnet. Word.

Clutch

Have you heard Clutch? These mutherfuckers fuck it up. Word.
DANZIG plays the Premier club on 10/04.

I took a personality test...I am

The Hornivore Random Brutal Sex Master (RBSMm) Don't ever marry, you're The Hornivore. Roaming, sexual, subhuman. The Hornivores (you) are some of the most screwed up and naughty beings in the Universe. And their numbers are growing, mostly due to skipped or misused contraception. You care not. There's one thing you want, one sole need. Half manly, half bestial, you act on instinct, and animal charisma smoothes the way. It's unlikely Your exact opposite: The Slow Dancer Deliberate Gentle Love Dreamer you're driven by much other than your own selfish, orgasmic requirements. Your appearance and personality have evolved for the hunt. Ass beckons, you oblige. For the record, you can happily bang all personality types, however your match percentages might be low with the kinder, more sensible people of the world, purely because they all wish to avoid you. Good luck to them. "One day, the villagers came with torches to the house. In the smoldering ashes, stray dogs looked for cooked flesh." AVOID: The Priss, The Sonnet CONSIDER: Half-Cocked, Genghis Khunt

Puff Daddy?P Diddy?Diddy?Piddle?

His fucking name sounds like what I'm doing to myself when my hand is in my front pocket, and I have a far off look in my eyes.
What the fuck is with Puffingus Wolfgang Daddyshome? That mutherfucker changes his name more than the Braindarts. More than Musclefuzz. More than ThanxMcDragster.
The fucker is not even a little bit funny. Tom Cruise is funnier. Margarett Cho is funnier. Even the dumbfuck Howard "Oh I'd give you anal" Stern is funnier(barely).
He can't fucking dance without looking retarded, and that mutherfucker couldn't rap a gift. Why is he rich and famous? Well, he's famous cause he is rich and a shameless self promoter. Why is he rich? Fucker.
Diddy just swing his arms back and forth like Barney doing the elephant dance?
Diddy just stink up that nelly single with his faggot ass wankster wap?
I wonder who he blew at MTV? Maybe his road to the top was paved with the sounds of piddle gagging on shlong. He sure ain't no stinking talent scout. Making the band? Nigga pleeeeeeaaaaase.
That fucker should be eating egg shells topped with coffee grounds out of my garbage can. Damn you God!!! Why must you torment me so? Have you no sense of justice?
Suck Daddy, you need to quit recording yourself. Quit finding your way on to TV. Quit changing your suck-ass stupid name. You want to know what's up? I'll tell you what's up.
Listen to MonsterMagnet you talentless fuck!

Listen up! I have an announcement.

The Braindarts were larvae.
"Y" was pupae.
Behold! The fully-formed creature finally emerges as The Banner Jump.
"Y" shall henceforth be known as The Banner Jump.
Please accept my personal invitation and join The Banner Jump. On August 26,
at J.A. Michaels in Port Orchard. Word.

Hawkeye goes off!

Hawkeye explodes for 58 points against brandensbaked! Unfortunately, brandensbaked puts up 90. That's just the way we roll on the West side-O-da lake. Word.
New show date: August 26,2005 @ J.A. Micheals. Groupies needed.
Today marks the beginning of the cycle. The beginning, not the start.
No phone... Resolution tomorrow, I hope.
(y-1)b=The Banner Jump

B.

Oh, it's heating up.

Everytime I see Michelle Malkin talk, I try to block out all of the words and just focus on her pouty lips. She opens her mouth, then kinda wraps her lips over her teeth, ya know, like she is imitating someone with no teeth, then she undulates 'em like the muscles in her digestive tract. If the sound is down, that fucking ho can be purdy hot. But alas, the fantasy is broken when your brain registers what the dumb bitch is spittin. What the fuck is wrong with these fucking lemmings? I find it hard to believe that all republicans think exactly alike. Maybe the assholes killed all the smart G.O.P. members. *turns out lights, then places flashlight under chin shining upward* Or worse..... Perhaps they are aliens, like in The Faculty, a movie in which aliens take over the bodies of all the teachers at a high school. Luckily, an independent thinking young meth dealer is kind enough to use his stash to save the world. See meth is a diuretic, which dries out and kills the evil republicans, oh, I mean aliens. Mmmmmm. Lemme make a couple of phone calls, I'll see if I can round up enough shit to kill all the "aliens".

What to watch!

If you did not catch it last night, The Daily Show was fucking hilarious! Try and watch the replay tonight at 8PM. Texas Scold 'em. Brilliant. Word.

What do silence, river rafting, and Amish girls...

What do silence, river rafting and Amish girls have in common? Me. Yes, me. On Sunday, me and my peeps were doing the dew on the mighty Yakima river, when several things happened. The first was my beloved Motorola V710 fell victim to my stoned-ass attention span. See, I like to keep it in my little pocket on the leg of my denim shorts, it is easy to access, and it doesn't get in the way of my pocket pool. When I waded in balls deep, the phone could only accept it's fate with mute bravery. Now, with no way to contact the world outside of headquarters, I suffer in silence.
While the Amish girls were not in any of my pockets, they did offer an interesting twist to the trip, right around what BooRadly fondly refers to as "Pecker Point". This is a 30 foot tall, towering mass of rock, that begs the drunks to jump. Oh, and the drunks oblige. My posse pulled off at the beach which accesses the rock, to hopefully witness some pain(from guys) or some t&a(from the girls). Thank Allah, we gots both. I sidled up to a fine ass brunette in a bikini to watch the show. Shortly after, a boat load of Amish teens pulled their horse drawn raft over, and a couple of girls in ankle length dresses and bonnets(no shit) began to climb up the rock. I turned to the betty next to me and said, "if that bitch jumps, I'll jump". Well, that bitch fucking jumped. Fuck. Me and my big mouth. So I climbed up and jumped. Nothing bad came of it, except a couple of bruised butt cheeks. Hawkeye soon followed with his trademarked grace(read-went in cockeyed). Now the good part. The hot brunette climbed up the rock, jumped and came out of the water with one mighty fine titty hanging right where brandensbaked likes, out in the fresh air. Mmmmmm. Thanks. If only the camera phone could have lived to share the moment with us. Peace and titties mutherfuckers.

O.K. Stupid

What a fan-fucking-tastic Saturday! Some people say summer is back. Summer never left bitches! It just stayed in bed for a couple of days after partying with brandensbaked and his crew. Check out this site, it is called O.K. Cupid. It is chock fucking full-O-betties! A word of caution though, dykes and queers lurk in the shadowy regions between sexes. Going river rafting Sunday with Hawkeye and DMac? Me too! Wow, what a fucking coincidence. Hawks put the smackdown on the mighty Saints(that's sarcasm for the uninitiated). Speaking of smackdowns, I turned Hawkeye over my knee and paddled his ass till it glowed red in the dark, metaphorically speaking of Madden of course. 'Twas 14-0 at halftime. 21-0 at the end of the third quarter. I was gunning for a shutout, but alas the wiley Hawkeye managed to score on a long pass in the fourth. I denied him the two-point conversion, and scored 14 myself. Final score: brandensbaked 35, Hawkeye Limpdick 6. Now by my calculations, the week ends with brandensbaked scoring 135, Lazyeye Longboard managing just 50 points over three games. Too bad I never get to play the Portland mutherfuckers. Watch your fucking back Butter. Yeah, I'm looking at you, and where the fuck are my Butter trax? Sticky fingered bitches.
Remember Metallica's Garage Days Re-revisited? I busted that shit out, fuck-n-a, that is probably their fourth best album. No, not probably. That is their fourth best album.
1.Kill 'em all
2.Master of Puppets
3.Ride the Lightning
4.Garage Days Re-revisited
See, I told you. When I talk about music you better fucking listen. You'll just end up listening to Staind and Nickelback if you're left to your own devices. NOW LISTEN THE FUCK UP!!!
Listen to MonsterMagnet. Listen to MonsterMagnet. Listen. You cannot listen when you're waiting to speak. Start with Dopes To Infinity.

Thursday Blotter

Well, it looks like summer hit the road. Was it something I said? No, fuck you summer. You are so Goddamn moody and unpredictable. Oh, so it's my fault? I can't wait for fall, at least I can depend on that season. I wonder if summer's on drugs. Oh well, it's out of my hands now.
Wednesday night Madden was a lot like Tuesday's. brandensbaked jumped out to a 14-0 lead by the end of the first quarter. Two plays on offense, two touchdowns. Halftime saw brandensbaked enjoying a 20-6 advantage. By the end of the third, Hawkeye was praying for a miracle, as he was down 28-6. With 2 seconds left in the game, Hawkeye had the ball, but was down 43-18. I was hoping to score fifty, and had said as much, when Longboard gifted me with an interception that I ran back, back, back, and scored with a zero on the clock. After an extra point, I reveled in my own adoration. Final score, brandensbaked 50, Hawkeye Longboard, a limp and shriveled 18.
Other news: Ozzfest today. No, I'm not there. Apparently, I'm here. That sucks. Band practice tonight. That kicks ass. See how I did that? Lemons-lemonade. It's easy. If I could find a way to make pussy out of lemons, I'd be rich, no, I'd be completely buried in citrus scented pussy. Word.

B.

P.S. Meteor shower tonight after midnight!

Fringe

Was I wrong? Felt so right.
In my mind, confusion gathers here.
Simply put, my motives are unclear.
Threads of time, they're weaving into years.

When I'm a wading through the lies,
Some signs of life are hard to come by.
So much to gain by candlelight,
No need to thank me, we're all wasted.
Buried effects of bloody knees.
I'll go to hell, it's cold there right now.
Time's just my chemical mystery.
Hey it's my turn to drive this spaceship!

Lurking is a secret. Everybody wants it, but it keeps on changing, so nobody gets it.
Gimme back my circle. Listen to the lesson. All you dirty people, you're in violation.
You're feeling jaded. Tune in the station. We're all wearing white tongues, in this blotter nation.
You don't have to walk there, just because the shoe fits. Nobody's laughing, 'cause nobody gets it.
Fringe.

Touch me now, if you dare.
Just give in, to desires and to fear.
Let me drink, from the beauty that you bare.
I'm proficient in, in all your evil wares.

Planets align so I can see.
I multiply my will that's melting.
Trippin' to sounds that may not be.
Succumb to death? Now that's not healthy.
Working the room it's sad to see,
Nobody knows they're in the system.
Lonely's a word for privacy.
Clock on the wall, it can't control me.



All rights reserved mutherfuckers.

Madden Update

You may be wondering why we haven't posted the results from last weekend's Madden games. Unfortunately, someone broke into brandensbaked world headquarters and deleted all the game summaries and results. We here at brandensbaked take the law very seriously, and will prosecute any vandals to the fullest extent of the law. I can report however, games resumed Tuesday night. Hawkeye jumped out to a 14-0 first quarter lead over brandensbaked. At the end of the quarter, brandensbaked answered with a 45 yard field goal to make it 14-3. The second quarter saw brandensbaked get his juju back and throw 3 long touchdown passes, followed by 3 two point conversions. Halftime score, brandensbaked 27, Hawkeye 14. The third quarter picked up where brandensbaked left off, passing and running, running and passing, plus a jaw dropping 50 yard field goal. At the end of the third quarter, brandensbaked 37, Hawkeye 20. The fourth quarter contained more bad news for the fans of the Eastsiders. brandensbaked consumed clock like dougjones consumes cocaine, and scored like Eminem at an unsupervised teen night dance. Final score, brandensbaked 50, Hawkeye Longboard 26. Don't hate the player, hate the game. Word.

Other news: Eval got her walking papers! Sloppy work Eval. Sloppy work.
If you are wondering why the Flicker link at the bottom of the page no longer shows my photos, I got the boot. Apparently, I failed to read the user agreement(duh), and I may have violated it's edicts(not to mention many of the laws in the Bible-belt) with my "art". I would like to appologize to anyone who stumbled accross bare breasts, unknowingly, who wished to remain ignorant as to the explanation of the two protruding mounds located chest high on most women(and fat men). We here at brandensbaked try to maintain the high standards set by our journalistic heros, like Bill shoves his own cock up his ass O'Riley, Sean cum guzzlin' till it dribbles down the chin Hannity, and Ann that bitch needs to get fucked properly Coulter. So when I say, "No, fuck you!", I mean it from the bottom of my cold, black heart. Peace,

B.

Many thanks!

To Hawkey and X for the photos. Don't quit your day jobs guys.
Other news...
I'm fucking baked.
I'm bucking faked.
It wipes the smile from my face.
When I step out of line it tends to quicken the pace.
When I hit from the bong it's like the stupid invades.

Photos by Hawkeye Longboard

Photos by X

Played it till my fingers bled. Was the summer of 2005.

Too much machine

trippy isn't it?

So...What's next?

This week we are entering my personal favorite meteor shower, the perseid. Best viewing will be Thursday, Friday and Saturday after midnight. So you fine ladies grab a towel and join me.
Going river rafting Sunday with my boy DMac(f.k.a. "Groper"). Going down the Yakima River.
Used to date a girl from Yakima, got a table dance from her twin sister at Players Club in Tacoma.
I just want to get around share the love share the love. Word.
Again I'd like to shout out to my peeps, thanks for your support.
Wanted to see "The Devil's Rejects", but only one showing at 10:40PM. What the fuck? Guess I'll wait for the DVD.
I'll leave you with a quote:
Super's the way I spend my time
Cells are the building blocks of life
Put 'em together and you get
Strippers and high at 3 AM

The triumphant return of the forgotten vowel...Y

They set us up...We laid em down. Col Kurtz, perfect. American Dream, kick ass. Already There, very strong. Blend, stood out. Peace Pipe Dream, flawless. The Only Way In, the only way to do it. JTrain, welcome to the jungle mutherfuckers. Tsunami, left em homeless, gasping for air. All and all another reason to believe the myth, I am the chosen one. Shout out to my peeps that represented.Heather, though your not privy to my innermost thoughts, you rock. X... What can I say, you are a stand up man(fucker). Hawkeye, you've always been there for me(fucker). Groper, we go so far back, you can pick another nickname if you want. Ricksbaked, you the man. TT boy, your like Lazerus. Joel, you got game. Your woman is a peeeaaach! Nice work. 2Lo, you get a pass cause you got fuckin brass balls(and a birthday party to attend at Chucky Cheese, who incidentally, has fur covered brass balls). Now for you fucking no-shows, you can all get busy on the snotty end of my fuck stick. You will recieve a zero for the day. You're lower than, well, how low is whale shit? Mick, you need to quit bitchin. God damn, you can't have it both ways. Seriously, I thought we were cool. Just me?
I'm the kind of guy that says, "viciouspuddin is delicious".
BooRad, Rantall, Heather and Junger- Thanks! I had a fucking blast...Prost!
B.

Guest Columnist

2Lo here bringing you the Daily Baked!

HEAD LINES NEWS......

2 men, one Caucasian and Hispanic driving 2 separate vehicle, same color last seen heading North bound around 11:AM. These men are considered armed and dangerous and may attack at a moments notice. Rumor has it they are heading to the Long Lake area.

In Sport's

X brought his game 2LO was 5-0 until I crossed the Washington boarder to go home 5-2 rrrrrrrrrr
I have yet played the bake master himself but the time is near I feel. "FUCK" well looks like X has claimed another victory.

Entertainment

2HI,2LO and X play longest jam session ever recorded. The members of Super Cell were reunited with the added effects of Butter.

Weather

HOT and sunny.

2LO
OUT

The Side.....

The sideburns were hung by my earlobes with care. Right hand cocked. Left hand loaded.
Lets do dis....

Whaling Days

Wasn't much to look at. BooRad and I cold missed the boat. Worth a try I reckon. Bitches, where the hell are you? Call me.
B.

When I step out of line...

It's cause my balls set the pace. I had my chance but could not pull the trigger without the beer goggles. Perhaps another time. How about this weather? Have you seen our mountains? Went to Port Townsend yesterday. Fine assed day. Betties, however, were M.I.A. Maybe I can get BooRad to go to Whaling Days. That is a can't miss, titty-fest, or breastival, especially in this heat.
Maybe I'll see you there.
B.

What a fine, fine Friday.

Frige (Anglo-Saxon, Friia (Germany) or Frea (Langobard)) was the love goddess of Germanic mythology, and the wife of Wotan (Odin). She has given her name to the weekday Friday in analogy with Venus. In the last surviving and by far best known version of Germanic mythology, Norse mythology, she had split into two clearly related goddesses, the promiscuous Freya who was married to Odr and the sometimes unfaithful Frigg who was the wife of Odin. Now that you know, you can tell 'em that.
Practice went well last night, shit is coming together nicely. We took the songs off of some sweet jumps. Eight days left. I'll see ya at Scarlets after the show.
Seven days until our field trip.
Nine days till The Devils Rejects.
I am growing sideburns. First time ever. Don't try to stop me, I've made up my mind. Bringing back the soul patch too, a.k.a. the taint tickler.
JimiSings- Is that vinyl siding? Sweet. Out of eight million sperm, I can't believe you won. I'm watchin you mutherfucker. I'm watchin you.
No word from the T man, hope all is well. Visualize freedom.
I don't have a girlfriend, but apparently I fucked her sister at Morrison Gravel pit in 1987. That's two out of three. If I could get the last one, boy that would be something. A trip trip triple shot of poooootang.
Shout out to my peeps in P town, I miss our little safari trips (wipes away solitary tear).
Crushed Hawkeye in Madden, I put 84 points on him. Ouch.
That's all for now mutherfuckers, remember, cash money plays. Peace and titties.

Last Night an Angel...

An Angel came to me last night. At first I was scared. The angel said, "suck it up pussy, I'm not here to harm you."
"Why then?" I whispered.
"To remind you of God's plan for your life" the being replied.
"Don't tell me God's plan, for I am a prophet. And why aren't you wearing pants?" I asked.
"They make me look fat, now listen" the angel implored.
"You are to take the flock and shepherd them to the truth" floating above me, the angel continued. "You are to disseminate knowledge of carnal pleasures to the people and give out nuggets of useful and useless information, and most importantly, you must smoke as much of the chronic as you can, lest the non-believers use it to dazzle the souls that stray".
"Duh!" I spat. "I already do that. Read the fucking blog you stupid angel."
With that, it disappeared.
Other stuff: With the bright sunlight this time of year, it is important to remember to pluck the long hairs wherever they grow wild, or your silhouette is sure to reveal your primal monkey ears.
Nose hair is another summertime no no. Keep it short, for it is like neck hair, but in the front.
Ten days to CI, eleven to the show.
Peace and titties, cash money plays.

Seattle Hempfest

August 20(sat) and 21(sun) at Myrtle Edwards Park, Pier 70
Lot of stinky hippies, but lots of....Yes, you know.... Cummon say it with me.... TITTIES

Weekly recap

Sunday night BooRadly and his DJ invited me over for steaks and legs. Mmmmm. Both were delicious. Mitsy was it? Yes. That miniskirt and tummy gave brandensbaked wood. Hope I get ta use it on her. Word.
P.S. Check out the comments on the last post...

Stick this in your pipe and smoke it.

LASER Light Amplification by Stimulated Emission of Radiation. Yes kids, laser is an acronym, and now you can tell 'em that. Find other acronyms here.
Last evening Mike and I stabbed some poppies and made dubes, made poppy tea, and ate poptarts, while a guy in parachute pants did some popping. The skychurch(think about it) was perfect for the event. It inspires me to work in my yard. Word.
I am thinking about starting a cult, any ideas are appreciated.
I have two openings in my posse, one midget(male) and one albino(male or female).
Twelve days until our field trip.
Thirteen days until the show at Hansen's.

Viciouspuddin!

MMMMMMMMMM. I love this girl. She is everything I've ever wanted right now. If she is viciouspuddin then I'm viciousbillcosby.

Fifteen shopping days.

Happy Friday mutherfuckers. Here is a good name for a band: Twisted Fister. I'm not gonna use it, so finders-keepers.
Rove got busted for talkin shit. If that fat-faced piece-of-shit talked shit about my wife, I'd beat his disrespectful ass. I'd shove his balls up his ass, so when he shits, he shits on his balls. Watch your fuckin mouth Karl.
Two weeks till our field trip. Get yer permission slips signed and turned in. Wrap a Coke in aluminum foil and freeze that mutherfucker. I know what yer thinkin, but I've seen people do it. Any one have the wall disk 2? IIIIIII caaaaaaaan't heeeeeeeeere yoooooouuuuuuu. Can a mutherfucker get a hallelujah?

Hey 2Lo!

Drop us a smoke signal or whatever. What ever happened to a good old fashioned hand written letter? What happened to us?
Friends forever,
Brandensbaked

What a gas.

What a gang bang of a weekend. M's, titties, cowgirls, titties, Marshal Mathers, titties, and sunshine to boot! Went to White River to see the Anger Management Tour, no one was even mildly peeved. No gangsters. No haters. Just scantily clad sluts(the good kind) shakin da booties. 20 cent sucked then swallowed(bring it fucker). Eminem was entertaining the ladies, who were entertaining me. I'm a little stiff from all the rubbernecking. I'm a little hard from all the bitches. Took the crazy daisy, and got to shine on the bitch formerly known as eVal. I love my bakedlife. Oh yeah, went to Hawkeye's to ogle another betty sun. morn. Ha! Finally, manhandled some rat- faced, toothless, tweekers to complete this well rounded weekend. Peace and titties....

Congrats to...

O.k. That went very well. Very, swellingly bonerific. Bitches galore. Eye high in hos. The game...Spectacular. Oh and it was ladies night at Safeco field. Cowgirls inc.....Yes, specfuckingtacular. Rafael gets it done, joining Hank, Willie, and Eddie in the 500 home run/3000 hit club. Join me on Aug 5 in the Cowgirls inc club. Fine assed bitch smacks your face a few times, shakes her titties, yes titties, in your face and throws a shot down your pie hole. Brilliant. Six bucks. I thought of it first, but forgot my plans when I was hypnotized by the smoke traced sounds of water bubbling and the pendulum dance of my perpetual motion machine. Good times, good times. Aug six six sixth at Hansen's. Aug fifth at Cowgirls Inc. The very first brandensbaked weekend of excess, success, and debautchery. Good friends, good times and titties. Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah.

Friday...My favorite day-O-the week.

Well well well. Shouldn't you be doing something constructive? Yeah I am, not that it's any of your biness. Me, I'm gettin prepped for the M's game tonight. Palmero is one hit away from three thousand. I am one hit away from one million, but thats how we roll in Clover Valley. Hit after hit after drink after hit. Look for us at the game, I'll be the guy behind the horizontal Corona. Maybe BooRad and I will drop in to the Vu for some soft drinks. Fox's might be a better bet. I'll report, you decide. Twenty one shopping days until the show. Remember... Never, uh no, always carry a trash bag in your car. If it gets full you can just toss it out the window. Cash money plays. 2Hi out...

W W W Wow, What a gr gr gr great cr cr crowd.

Yes, another weekend approaches. Driving home from band practice, the pleasant evening surrounds me, and I am reminded of fun-filled summers past. A simpler time, when BooRad and I would hit the ballpark, the beerpark and the tittypark, and sometimes the crackpark. The M's would be comfortably in the lead, dominating the A.L. West, and heading for a showdown with the hated Yankees. We would sip, no, drink, no, consume dark, dark beer with colorful names. Scanning the standing-room-only crowd for betties, I would slur my favorite pick up lines to the girls that pleased my good eye. "Fucking niiiiiice fucking tits!" "Didn't you go to Roosevelt?" "Hey were you in my poly-sci class last semester?" "You look like you have really soft skin." Ahhh, but I digress.
I am now firmly entrenched as 2nd chair guitar in the band formerly known as Y. Oooooh and I am goooooood. Why not treat yourself and come out to Hansen's in Bremerton(1220 Sylvan Way, Bremerton, WA 98310) on Aug. 6, and watch us fuck it up, say about 8ish? Great. After the show, come up and introduce yourself. If you have nice tits, maybe I'll let you carry some equipment out to the Bronco. If you're female, maybe you can help me unload at Chez Brandensbaked.
X, you better practice up son, God help you, I'm gonna abuse you on the Madden. Maybe you should bring your PS2, just so there are no Xcuses. You dig? Bring your acoustic guitar.
Hawkeye, make sure any taxes that need to be filed are squared away. You dig? Bring the Groper.
2Lo, you bring your golden straw, the one with the wheel at the bottom. You dig? Good. Party party party. Bring your acoustic bass.
Ricksbaked, ditto. I know you dig. Oh, your bro is playing too, so tell five or ten of your siblings to come and show their support. You are covered.
JimiSings, cancel your trip to Seattle. Dig? Good. Tell all the usual suspects. Hansen's, 8ish.
Follow the link at the bottom of this post for a map and driving directions. CDs available next week, or you can get one at the show.
Other business:
Have you mutherfuckers been catching The Daily Show ? Watch the show. Watch it! It will make you laugh, and informed. Another entertaining source for current events is Countdown on MSNBC.
I'll see you at Scarlet's after the show. Peace and titties...

Thanx X you are Xcellent xcept when you double x

So I went and fixed all the links. You would think I would check them when I do 'em up, but as I stated earlier, I do the thinking around here. Follow the links. It feels good to do what you're told.

Maddening isn't it?

This weekend I put up over 100 points on DougJones. I spanked Hawkeye repeatedly. I am unstoppable. Bow down. I'm runnin, I'm passin, I'm passin, I'm runnin.

Hey Boone...

Don't let the door hit ya on the way out. Maybe you should get back on the juice.
I would.

Beware the evil eye.

Between the velvet lies, there's a truth as hard as steel.
Watch your back Mac...
Fuck n a. Nice finish M's. Only nine games under .500.

For Those about to Rock...

What the fuck? I can't believe it's not butter! Chicken shit. Opportunities like that are less and less frequent the older ya get X. There is still time to man up. So... Man the fuck up! Man up or change the name to Sputter.

I find great irony in the fact that Independence Day is celebrated by so many couples.

Happy B-Day Hawkeye!!!

Hawkeye is thirteen thousand, one hundred and forty-nine days old today.

Are You Lost Ma'am?

I usually reserve the porno revue for my paying members. Since jr bush has the world humming along like a Swiss watch, I'm using money for toilet paper. So here is a freebee.
18 and Lost In San Francisco- 18 year old girls from all over the country are losing their hearts and much, much more in San Francisco. Our story follows a group of them who are determined to dominate the boys with their young, restless bodies. Featuring Kristina Black, Jubilee and Taylor Rain. I rate this porno a single thumb up. The highest we have. Perfect tits. Splendid ass. GTG.*



*Good to go.

Yeah right.

As I listened to jr bush drone on about the wonderful state of Iraq's well trained, 165000 strong, U.S. supplied military force, I wondered if it were comprised of the same proud men that turned tail in nearly every military encounter since they invaded Kuwait. Wow, I'll bet the insurgents are hanging their collective heads', knowing peace is imminent.
As the news continues to point to China's growing economy as the major source of new oil demand, which results in higher prices, I wonder how much gas we are using while chasing insurgents in Iraq? Peace...Please?

Metaphors Movies and Mescaline

• Queen
• Queensryche
• Queens of the Stone Age

All good bands. All male bands. Only one confirmed gay guy, Freddy(RIP), as far as I know. Is there an alternate meaning of the word "queen" that some how escaped the grasp of my Oxford English Dictionary? The only time queen's not explicitly female, is when it's defined in the context of chess, then it means "the second most powerful piece". Though, in my opinion, the queen is the most powerful piece in chess, the second most important. Hmmm. Maybe we are on to something here. No, not the reason all these dudes have queen in their band's name, but a formula "chess x dictionary =epiphany" for understanding queens. Last night, after the dust had settled from the Madden2005, me and BooRadly were discussing metaphors, as they relate to artsy movies and books. I must admit, many of them are lost on me, if they really exist at all. In "The Great Gatsby", a book I read in ninth grade American Literature, experts believe they've uncovered many hidden metaphors that Fitzgerald used to critique American society. Um yeah, okay(rolling my eyes)that makes sense. When I read it, the story was about these dudes, who are all chasing pussy, and the shenanigans that resulted. That is definitely art imitating life, not really a metaphor. To be fair, my I.Q. is only 144, so I may have been distracted by shiny objects. I do know this, problems always start when there are more dudes than pussy, or dudes hoggin pussy, or pussy changing dudes. This is a fact. Word. No metaphor needed, but a sword comes to mind. True dat. We were also discussing the movie "Apocalypse Now", which I found to be very confusing. Isn't there a shorter/safer route into Cambodia? Maybe it's a metaphor for the confused policy followed by the U.S. during the Vietnam war. Whatever. Dude got some pussy from that French bitch. Plus, she loaded tokes. Perhaps recognizing hidden symbolism is tied to each individuals ratio of analytical to emotional brain function. Mine definitely tilts towards the analytical, and the emotional is often lost on me. On the other hand, it could all be a steaming pile of bullshit, to make tough people feel stupid. Further study using psychoactive drugs can reveal perspectives previously unnoticed, thus expanding the range of the investigation.* Drugs, used as tools, segues nicely into another movie we talked about,"Brazil". We watched this gem, high as hell on LSD, back in the early 90's. Or was it mescaline? It could have been Blue-Ringers. Either way, "Brazil" is a trippy-assed fucking movie. Chock full of symbolism, metaphors, and other psycho-prismatic hullabaloo, meant to enhance drug-induced larger mindedness. In conclusion, symbolism can make your art valued by scholars and trippers alike, but for more widespread appeal, gratuitous sex and nudity are enjoyed by everyone, even drug free weirdos. Word. In other news...Butter is spread all over the west coast. Hawkeye Longboard turns 36 on Wed. The Groper is returning from Iraq alive and in one piece(praise Allah!). Here is a novel written without ever using the letter "e". Poppies are blooming. Sun is shining. Birds are singing. Cash money plays, bitches. Peace.

*Can also lead to confusion, misunderstandings, and paranoid delusions.

ahhhhhhnalogy

This country is like a 1977 centerfold....Way too much bush

They Should Have Asked Me...

Ricky Williams should have asked me before he quit pro football to smoke pot.
Jack Kavorkian should have asked me, "Go for the fame and glory, or lay low killing them softly?"
Bill Clinton should have asked me, "Is a pearl necklace an appropriate gift for my intern?"
Dwayne Hully should have asked me, "Is home-invasion armed robbery economicly viable long term?"
Def Leppard should have asked me, "What's lamer than a one-legged man in an ass kicking contest?"
My "friends" should have asked me, "Would you marry her mother, dumbass?"
Marc Pacheco should have asked me, "Should I try to be the man?"
Leather should have asked me, "Are you just saying that so I'll sleep with you?"

This is Faith.

Mmmm Nice posture. Conveys acquiescence.

I Wish.....

I Wish- is a new feature that I thought might help you, the brandensbaked groupie, to marvel at my wonderful dream filled world. I wish Bill Clinton would give Ann Coulter a facial, live, on the Hannity and Colmbs show. Sean would be absentmindedly touching himself, while Allen marveled slack-jawed as the Democratic icon demonstrated the industry standard. Ann, here is a moist towlette from my bucket-o-chicken, we're done with you. No, you can't talk about your book, unless someone else needs a target, get your clothes and hit the road. No,we'll call you. Yes, you are a cum guzzling gutter slut. You have something on your....No, lower. No, over in the corner, yeah, on your lip. You got it. Here's ten for a cab. Thanks for your, uh, skills. I wish Bill Clinton got away with his indiscretions. I wish lil Bush would just fuck himself, and leave us out of it. I wish I were president, no wait, the King of North America. I wish Bill O'Riley would die slowly of painful testicular cancer. I wish they would finish the x files right, and Scully would finally take her shirt off. I wish Janet Jackson's boob popped out at half time of every Superbowl. I wish the Bush twins lived next door to me. Hot twins are my kind of coincidence. Word. Shannon & Charron. Heather & Belinda. Carol & Camie. I wish all hot chicks had twins, or trip- trip- triplets, and I wish all the ugly girls would turn Muslim and cover their unattractive heads the fuck up. I wish I had enough hot twins to completely cover me in titty skin. Remember Easy Rider had the earmuff picture, but the muffs were tits? Classic. Globes of flesh. I wish there were other news. Hey it worked. In other news....
Sam Long is pregnant. Mike quit Y. There is no "Y" in team. There is no "Y" in brandensbaked, but is there brandens baked in "Y"? Ozzfest is Aug. 11. Me and Mike went to the first Ozzfest at the Tacoma Dome in 1996. One word- DANZIG! I have finished the Charvel/Jackson I've been working on for four years. It is my legacy. Dropped an EMG-81 in the bridge position. I also tune down one half step, but I'll tune to "E" for "Y"! "K"? I just thought of an other recurring- feature I can do: They Should Have Asked Me. Stay tuned...

What the fuck?

In the beginning, good always overpowered the evils of all mans sins, but in time the nations grew weak, and our cities fall to slums while evil so strong. In the depths of hell of the blackest of hate, for he who you fear awaits you. Now many many lifetimes later, lay destroyed, deep and down. Only the corpses of rebels, ashes of dreams and blood stained streets. It has been written that those who are the youth have the future, so come now children of the beast, be strong, and shout at the Devil.

Duuuuuuuude! Thiiiiiiinnnnnk about it. Vince is gonna walk right up, real close, in Satan's face, and like go "MOTLEY!!!!!!!!" as fuckin loud as he can. Fuck yeah. In your mutherfuckin face mutherfucker! Fuuuuuuuuck Youuuuuuuu!
Rock fuckin on Vince. You fuckin ROCK(I am making devil horns with right hand, tongue fully extended, like the bastard son of Gene Simmons and Ronnie James Dio, while eating barbecue sauce-slathered chicken strips with the left).
Don't even get me started on all the, ya know, deeper and like, hidden meanings. Fuck. Deeeeeep. If you play the record backwards, ya know, like, high on weed, you can hear this little chipmunk voice say....."Vince is fat Vince is fat Vince is fat" I know back then he must have had, like, satanic powers and stuff, because he made make-up and leather pants look tough. Tell em what's up with the name dudes. We are a gang of ne'er-do-wells and scallywags. We scoff at your conventional gender roles, look down our make-up covered noses at your leatherless wardrobes, and we ROCK! Do you remember? Well I remeeeeemberer. It sucks to be irrelevant. Peace....

Crazy? Pt. 2: Voices in my house/head

They try to go unnoticed, which makes them conspicuous. Muttering under breath while walking away. Chicken shit. Always commenting, complaining, lamenting, never satisfied. You go in the living room, they're in the bedroom. You go in the bedroom, they move to the kitchen. You want peace....they implore you to avenge the treason uncovered during your sleep deprived investigation. I don't even own a pool. In other news, a tornado passed near the house around 9:50 pm. Sounded like a freight train- looked dark, like smoke from a tire fire. I couldn't see the funnel, but the supercell scared the hell out of me. I'll never forget the terrifying sound of destruction(dramatic, isn't it). I wonder... Was it meant for me? Naaaaaaw. I don't live in a trailer, why would a tornado think it could get to me? Maybe it was nothing... What? Show yourself coward!

Crazy? Pt.1:Path Etiquette

When taking the path less traveled, one may be inclined to act as if this route renders you anonymous. NOT always true. There are routes that run parellel, and in sight of the masses. Drunks, you know what I mean. Passing out on the shitter with your ass unwiped and your pants around your ankles is a nice example(SadJohn!). Puking on anything insight of witnesses(all of us). The kicker here - the witness. Be it human or technology. Each has it's ups and downs. Mainly downs. Let this be a reminder to me: do your own thing, whatever that may be, but remember- dude- u r fucked up, so shut up and stay away from the phone till the storm passes. Hmmm. Or don't leave any witnesses. Sorry. Peace....
P.S. In other news- this long cycle ended today.

Welcome back mutherfucker

Well well well, Henzos rollin in the benzo. Long time girl, minor legal setbacks, . I guess 400+ volts sets all your bodily functions loose. Watch that fucking elbow. Me and Killa will be settin em up and knockin em down in P town soon, strippers be with you....In other news, me ankle is finally showing signs of recovery. The Cock-fu keeps you in fighting shape. Also of note- I've behaved abhorently. Thanks for perspective VP! Evil walks beside you.

X and 2Lo= Butter

Good luck fellas. Maybe, if your hearts are true, you can do beats for MC Popcorn. Mmmmm, buttered popcorn! In other news.... Don't trust anyone.

Bullshit- no way man

The mutherfuckers who keep saying that "mutt made def what they are today" should finish with "comma fucking faggots." High and Fucking Dry. Enough said. Word. If I see mutt near def, I'll spray the fucker with the hose. High and Dry. Word.

May day, May day.

Help! I've fallen, and I can't get up. I can't remember yesterday... I just remember doing what they told me told me told me

Fools beware...

I caught this one sneaking around the place after dark. She won't trouble us no more. Where did I put my torture gloves?

St. Patrick.....What's this guys deal?

Saint Patrick was a dude that lived in the fourth century. He was born in China, but his father was a summoner of demons, so they moved around a lot. It's just the nature of the business. Pat, as his peeps called him, was known to hit the opium pipe hard and often. While not unusual in his birthplace, this behavior did raise a few eyebrows in Ireland, where his father had been hired to conjure demons for the Queen. Her insatiable hunger for man meat required super natural slap and tickle. While his pop conjured, invoked, and did his thing, Pat was supposed to hold the flashlight under dads chin for aesthetic effect. But cluckin for a fix, Pat made a habit of disappearing several times a day to his secret smoke spot, behind the garage. When confronted about his absence, he would claim a superior had sent him on an errand. Because people in ancient times were mostly illiterate, it was corrupted into Saint, where it remains to this day. Now in my town, opium is hard to come by. This may have contributed to the tradition of drinking yourself stupid, but who knows for sure? So this St. Patricks day, toss back yer favorite poison, I'll be out back smokin some "O" in memory of Sent Patrick aka Pat Jones. GO HUSKIES GO HUSKIES GO!
If I'm gone for awhile....Chill out, follow some links-> I'll be back!

Is it a sign Lord?

Open your mind to signs from above.

Rejuvenated and Inspired

Well, was it everything I'd imagined? Mmmmmmm, yes, no, and maybe. Friday, I spent 90 minutes in south T-town traffic. Next time you must drive like an asshole, remember, there are people on the highway more important than you. If you have to wreck your car, try not to wreck my plans. In spite of the irritating delay, I still managed to get to the club on time, smelling good and feeling frisky. Thanks mind control! I had my usual peeps in tow, minus Hawkeye, plus a new guy you've yet to meet, plus one parasitic prick. The prick is Mark, no nicknames afforded when you're a fucking idiot asshole. The cool new guy is I.R.A., he plays drums like I play The Game, with passion and accuracy. We all had a great time, despite some of my favorite girls being absent. One of the great things about clubs like Safari, they have fine ass girls to spare. Word. Friday night ended perfectly, at 4am on Saturday morning, like it should. I didn't spend too much money, may have drunk too much tequila, but definitely had more fun than you did. I was gonna come home Saturday afternoon, but the bronco needed some of my skills and money(not unlike the girls in P-town), so another day was needed to accomplish all tasks. Me, 2Lo, X, and I.R.A. spent Saturday jammin music and leering at the betty next door(X or 2Lo should tap that shit). Fixing my ride and finding some food took time and effort, plus we had to ditch Mark, who mistakenly thought we wanted him around. After the truck was fixed, the asshole ditched, and the food consumed, we pondered the possibilities of an extra night in the city. The guys(X and 2Lo) were having serious problems getting their balls out of their purses, so we settled for a couple of movies, instead of groovin with beautiful, naked, young strippers(I was out-voted 2 to 1). The first flick, Flight of the Phoenix, was conceived by someone who takes bong-hits every single breath, instead of mixing in air once in a while,which is what I recommend to retain cognitive skills. This impairment may suit writing a comedy or porno, but an action flick needs connections to reality, in order to remain believable. The movie was so implausible, that it actually morphed into a mildly entertaining comedy. If the writers meant to do that, nice work. Friday Night Lights, the second gem, was a bummer from beginning to end. If this turd accurately represents going to high school in Texas, we should hawk that shithole state back to the Mexicans, shortening the drive to score drugs from our southern neighbors. After movie time, X and I ate chicken till midnight, then X somehow cheated at Madden2005(damn you X, damn you). The night was over, so X and his pooch Malmsteen retired to their room. I hit the couch. 2Lo didn't even make it to the second flick, but that's okay, I don't take attendance on movie night, it's an elective. Once I was asleep, my subconscious treated me to a fantastic dream, in which I nailed Ashley Simpson(repeatedly of course), lived in an apartment, and went to a Damien Rice concert. Now say what you will about Ashley's singing(or lack there of), brandensbaked will vouch for some of her other wonderful talents you may not have been aware of. For example; doing me in my dream, having soft skin, and smelling terrific, to name a few. She made a vanilla night of icky sleep, swellingly bonerific. Morning barged in like it always does, so after a hot shower and a cup of 2Lo's famous "blacker than a labradors sphinxter" coffee, I bid my hosts farewell. The drive back to the land of five dollar alcohol free drinks and jacked up VIP rooms, was straight through and uneventful. Two hours and thirty-nine minutes of doing long division in my head, deciphering personalized license plates, and polishing up on my mind control skills, at seventy-five miles per hour. With another successful pilgrimage to the land of milk and honeys on the books, I once again look forward to guiding my flock on our spiritual journey of enlightenment. In other news, look for my upcoming essay entitled: "Stripclub deejays, why won't they shut the fuck up and stay out of the show?" It should be ready for print within the next week. Remember the brandensbaked motto: "Keep your head on strait, your eyes on the prize, live your life like a rockstar, or just read up on mine." Until next time... Peace and titties.

Goodbye Cruel World

Happy fucking friday mutherfuckers!!! Headed to Oregon where I can have beer and titties in the same building. I'm getting outta Washington state and leaving it's draconian stripper laws behind, at least for tonight. On that note, I hope Bush invades Lebanon and starts a war with Syria. That will keep him occupied elsewhere, so he won't be looking for things to fuck up here. Imagine if him and the rest of his ragtag bunch of holy-rollers set their wandering eye towards the adult entertainment industry. Can you say revolution? Did you hear about that fucker that wants to bring the cable networks under the control of the FCC? No more skinamax you fornicaters. I swear to God some fucking people aren't satisfied ruining the lives of their own family, they have to try to fuck with everyone else's. So I guess you could say that tonight, I'm not fratranizing with strippers for me, I'm doing it for America! George Bush, the terrorist hate our freedom, so get a table dance and show em why this is the greatest country in the world(that I've been to)! Lets get it on!

WASSup Cluckers?

I see ya out there, it's cool, I won't say nothin. Ahhhh. Probably wondering where I've been. None of yo biznez. Honestly, I think I have been trapped in another dimension. Happens sometimes when you do what I do the way I do it, but you knew that. So me and b-diddy were a bit sore after all the rubberneckin at the Supersonics presents The Dismantling of the World Champions. After the show we hopped on over to Foxes to get our groove on, brandensbaked style. No such luck, every parking spot in a six block radius... taken. When life gives you lemons, you know. The prudent move here is obvious, the Vu, nough said. Tickettaker: "Would you like to get into the VIP room?" brandensbaked: " Huhnahh." So me and diddy are drinking our lemonade as a couple of- better than a sharp stick in the eye- types do their thing. But my attention is on the- fuck n a, when the hell is she gonna cut a rug- types, who were strollen in and out of the VIP room like they were - so not gonna dance on the UIP stage, where two dirty dawgs were beggin fer a treat. Lemme just cut to the fucking chase, cause this is important and it needs to be said. We all know I'm the man, so listen up. Thing is, when a stripper takes twenty from you, it's a beautiful thing. Your gettin something you want, but can only get from a chick this hot, that you've never even bought a 7-11 for, in the sanctity of this holiest of spaces. Well worth the dough. See, thats what I call the most honest relationship a man can ever have. Not necessarily the best, just the most honest. Hah! Just yankin yer chain, the best! Duh! We have already been through this though. What I want to talk about is the greedy muther fucker that is creating a strip club within a strip club. It ain't fucking right. You are so asking for testicular cancer from the Kharma Kops. It's just very wrong on so many levels. So whatever jackass, who's life was too great being a strip club owner, so he goes and pulls this shit, because of his gluttonous coke habit, may than mutherfucker burn to fucking death. Slowly. Like over two hours. One hundred and twenty agonizing minutes, then nothing. Dead. Anyway, thanks for listening and good luck with the chemo. Me? I've questioned my faith this week. So like any prophet in need of a reconnection, I'm headed to Mecca. Yes, the holiest place in Titslam, P-town. Can I getta "HEYOOOHHH!" Got to remember why we got into this in the first place. Watch fer me, X, and 2LO. We will be in the front. Word. In other news, you would not believe me if I told ya. Some other time maybe...

Just so you know, 7:06 is

six six six o clock mutherfuckers

Don't hate me cause I'm beautiful...

Hate me cause I just scored a free ticket to the Sonics game tonight. Yes, the world champs are in town, and my Supes are gonna beat em like a red headed step child(No disrespect to Sadjohn intended). Make em wish they were in P-town, playing the Blazers. Actually, that sounds pretty good to me too. Goin to P-town next Friday! Look for me, 2Lo, and X, at your favorite house of ill repute. We will be the dudes way up in that shit! Spreadin blessings like a two dolla ho spreads the drip. Word. Shout out to BooRippenRadly and his very generous, thankfully sick, better half. She is a white rapper going by the street name queenjd. I have a word for white rappers: "wapper". BRR and his queen are this weeks "brandensbaked spotlight sponser". If you would like to be a spotlight sponser, give me stuff. The more you give, the more I receive. It's like tithing the creator of the brandensbaked universe, the universe of brandensbaked, for brandensbaked, and by brandensbaked. True dat. In other news... today marks the start of a new cycle. FREE TOBY PATTERSON!!!

Tracking device being removed.

CIA plot revealed in Bible Code!!!!

We have all heard of the Bible code(we= me). But who amongst us, has found it to reveal possibilities pertaining to their own fate? As far as I know, I am the first. I was crunching holy numbers(numbers=peanutbutter Cap'n Crunch), when I realized, these new figures, when applied to the book of Judges, in the Old Testament, revealed; "brandensbaked", "CIA", "dental work", and "tracking device". As this new code's revelations sank in, a chilling thought entered my mind, MY GRILL HAS BEEN HACKED!!! I immediately called the Brandensbaked Institute of Dentistry, which is conveniently located in the same building as my office. After a short phone consultation, they agreed to look at the tooth, and guaranteed my anonymity. What they found, changed my tooth forever! What I had thought was a simple "alien abduction", was actually, an elaborate ruse to find my secret hideout, courtesy of big brother. Apparently, I hadn't been abducted by aliens, as I had repeated many times before, I had actually been abducted by John Law, or one of his soulless minions... unless? My next thought horrified me, and brought a cold, stinky sweat to my armpits. As the hair on my palms raised, I wondered, what if the aliens are conspiring with the government? Both find the stoners threatening. An allegiance this powerful would be nearly unstoppable. I must escape and gather my wits. Soon after the intrusive device was removed from my molar, I made arrangements to disappear. At least until the alien pig fuzz alliance, or A.P.F.A., backs the hell off. I am currently smokin tough at an "undisclosed location", giving the press a chance to confirm my allegations. Once this shit hits the network fans, the CIA won't dare try to take me out. As for the fat fingered aliens, hopefully, my black, aluminum reinforced, Seattle Mariners hat, will foil the their evil plan. We must assume the worst. They will try culling our most guarded THsecrets from my superbrain. I need all of you to be strong, pray, and stay tuned...POWER TO THE PEOPLE!!! FREE TOBY PATTERSON!!! Opressers beware...

I'm gonna be fine....

I've had hangovers worse than this puny birdflu. I don't mean to neglect my peeps, but I've got a live one.... demands alot of time. Oh, she is a sweety though. More later....

Ohhhhh, me achin head...

Tough weekend- the virus thats been incubating in me bod must have reached full strength. Can't get up... must try to blog(crawls weakly to computer). Feels like birdflu. This may be goodbye. Must confess... I am your father...Sorry for everything... (coughs fitfully). The light is so bright. It's calling me home. I hear harp music...(loses consciousness).

Ricksbaked fryin balls 1987 

S-A-TUR-DAY-HEY

The second best day-o-the week! Ricksbaked is on his way, gonna lay down some funky bass lines. Went to Sequim today, it was beautiful. Saw Brettsnotbaked and his fam. Habby 4th A! Spent all night last night, rappin with the sweetest girl. Lord, she's lovey-dovey. Hmmm, almost too sweet. Wouldn't that be ironic if she was playin me? Nahhhhh, nobody plays the master! Unless, she is baiting me. I thought I told you, I'm the master-baiter. What? I can hear someone snickering in the back. Say it to my blog, punk... Uhhuh...that's what I thought. Any who, Ricksbaked is here, time to fuck it up- yella.

Trapped in a glass box:

BooRippinRadley and Cruiser frying balls. I ran across this while looking for pics of Sid. I believe it's Halloween of 1990. Kind of an Evil Mime vibe, don't you think? Don't know what ever became of Cruiser. He was mentally challenged before he started partying with us. Ahhhh, remember when we could score acid. Those were the days.

It's been three years since Sid passed on. Hard to believe. Miss ya dawg! Hope you have a sunbeam to lay in, wherever you are. 

Wonderful dream!

JimiSings stopped by tonight. We played air guitar/drums to Rush's 2112. All 20+ minutes of it. Don't annoy us further, oh we have our work to do. Think about the average what use have they for you. Another toy, that helped destroy, the elder race of man. Forget about your silly whim, it doesn't fit the plan... After he left, I fell asleep in front of the boobtube, with CNN on, bathing my subconscious with the half-hour news cycle. I dreamt I was very important. I was protected by the Secret Service, and traveled in a hidden compartment, so my whereabouts remained top secret. I was granted many private meetings with the President. He would rip a crystally nug from my stem, and pack it in the executive, two foot tall, blown glass water bong. I was glad to donate to such a righteous Christian soldier. I felt no pain, as he applied the flame from a solid gold zippo. He coughed up some brown stuff into the cup that held his mountainberry kool-ade. After applying visine to his eyes, a quick rinse with the mouthwash, and a spritz of polo to the clothes, he would lovingly replace me to my secret hiding place. Not for long though, for we met frequently. I provided some sanity in this crazy world. When I awoke, it was just me and Maiden. It had all been a wonderful dream. I was the most important bag of weed in the free world. Maiden eyed me lazily, as if to say "your not a sack of weed, you idiot, your just a man". She's right of course, I am just a man. But maybe some day...I'll be a sack of weed. Probably not. Whatever.

Bush's smokescreen foiled by Wead

Oh, that liberal biased press. They are freaking out, about Bush toking out. It turns out, Bush confidant Dick Wead, was recording their phone conversations in 1998. The super secret strategy sessions, mostly pertained to the upcoming presidential election. Issues like prior pot use, or hick/evangelical secret code words. Brandensbaked has acquired a partial copy of the alleged transcripts, which were delivered anonymously to Brandensbaked World News Headquarters, sometime Wednesday morning, before we got up. Here is a sample of their alleged conversation: "I don't like a lot of seeds in my dope" Bush complained. "Them pussy liberal, tree-hugging assholes in the NorthWest are hogging all the chronic" Wead replied. Bush, after blowing out a pipe hit, exclaimed "When I'm elected president, I'm gonna get a fat sack of stinky green bud, and smoke out in the shitter, on AirForce One. Then I'm gonna eat me a Texas sized bowl of Fruity Pebbles, and watch the Beavis and Butthead DVD, Jeb got me fer Christmas". Wead: "You fucker, hook me up"! Bush: "Okay but keep it on the downlow, if Laura thinks I'm stoned, she won't let me touch her". Wead: "Gimme your pager number". Bush: "Don't page me twenty times a day, fucker. I'll call you when I hook it up". Wead: "Dude, don't sweat it".
Now, I'm not sure if this conversation actually took place. No one is. Until the actual tapes are released, we can only speculate on the transcripts accuracy. I can, however, confirm, that we in the NW are indeed liberal, at least those of us with an I.Q. above 80(mine is 144, ha!). I also must admit, that a tree feels pretty good to hug, although that's between me and the tree and the midget and the stripper. Finally, since the word is out, I will admit, that we are indeed, hoarding the lions share, of the country's green bud supply. As to the rest of the conversation, I'm just reporting it the way I heard it. Should the transcripts be proven accurate, it only confirms what most of us suspected, it's tough to speak in public when your fucking baked. Have you ever ruled the world... on weed? It's a trip.

The Real Story

The truth, is really nothing more, than the most popular version of a situation or event.
This is how it went down. I have been a huge Monster Magnet fan since BooRippenRadly and T-man, were living in Idaho, no you da ho, ho. Anyway, that was like, the summer Kiss did their reunion tour, '96 I think. The first time I heard "Black Balloon" off of Superjudge, they've been as close to an idol as I've had, since I realized how fucking gay it is to wear spandex and hairspray. In fact, spandex is gay all by it self(while hairspray is only effeminate). I went to see them a couple of years ago, when Powertrip came out, but due to forces beyond my control(my insatiable thirst), I only got to see their last two songs. I don't know if they toured for God says No, but I didn't hear anything. So when I found out they were coming this summer, I got tix for Seattle and P-town. Needless to say, my celebration began three days prior to their arrival in P-town, the first show. The day of that first show was a remarkable display of chemical, biological, and astrological forces, combining to create a situation where I, brandensbaked, was more like Monster Magnet, than Monster Magnet. As you can imagine, I immediately began grooving with this chick. I believe I opened with, "Are you wearing lingerie for a shirt? Cause I love me some strippers!" As the music grooved, I grooved. Totally blew her mind. I told X and 2Lo(who were with me), I found true love. Why didn't those mutherfuckers tackle my drunk, beer goggle wearin ass, and shuttle me to safety. I ended up dry-humpin this bitch till there was smoke rollin off my 501's. Even after daylight, my blood was still mostly chemicals suspended in alcohol. In this condition my judgement can't be trusted. Duh. Somehow I made it back to my truck in time to drive home, catch a couple hours of sleep, and hit the Seattle show. BooRadly drove, and we met up with Jimisings. Great finish to a five day liver triathalon. What a fucking week that was. Somehow, in all the excitement, I had agreed to attend Farm Aid with this very special lady, about three weeks later in my neck of the woods. As the day approached, I struggled to form a clear picture of her in my mind. Drawing from my battered memory, I recalled hopefully, that she was pretty hot. As I went out to my driveway to reunite with my mystery girl, my senses were assaulted with an image that left me limp and tentative. What we have here, is a classic two-facer. Fuck. She, on the other hand, was all over me (I'm good lookin for real). The weather was crap, but the concert was interesting. You thought I was gonna run, didn't you. Nope, I manned up and did what I said I'd do. She had reserved us a room at a local motel, which means we're goin all the way. I should add here, she paid for everything, even drinks, though I offered many times. After a day spent watching the show, and chuggin five dollar beers, we retired to our accommodations. I will spare you the gruesome details, but we had intimate relations, lets just leave it at that. Lets not. Why did I do it? So I could cum. Duh. I couldn't jerk-off with her in the room. That would be even creepier. After a lackluster performance that left one of us unsatisfied, and the other one queasy, I knew in my guilty, panic-ridden mind, I would never see her again. Luckily, she had to return to Beaverton (I know, it's hell funny, beaverton!) early Sunday for a wedding. I broke off all contact. For a month I didn't answer her many, many, calls or emails. Finally, she quit calling. I know, I'm a jerk. I relaxed and went back to my sublime existence of self-gratification. Then one evening, a Wednesday I believe, I'm mindin my own business, when out on the porch there arose such a clatter, Maiden sprang to the door to see what was the matter. That fucking bitch! She drove three hours to pop in on my baked ass. Oh, I was thoroughly irritated. I told her I had reunited with my ex, and she needed to hit the road without delay, lest my sweety discover us. "Can I at least use the bathroom?" She inquired. "Yeah, I suppose. Make it quick" I stated coldly. She pissed, then she left pissed. Seven minutes from hello to goodbye. Haven't heard from her since. That's my story and I'm stickin to it.

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm 

Do what I say, not what I do

Well, it seems Bush admitted on tape, he was sparkin up da reefer mon. While this is the first thing he's done that I approve of, his hypocrisy keeps my hope in check. He claims he didn't want kids tokin out cause, "that's what the president did". Of course, if kids want to illegally invade a country, and kill hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians(collateral damage), or dismantle the endangered species laws, well, Bush is okay with inspiring that. I'll bet Paris Hilton could whip Bush's hick ass at a game of Scrabble. I'm sorry, I don't mean any disrespect to Miss Hilton, whom I love. Man, I am bloggin like a mutherfucker today. It's like crack, only I ain't gotta drive to K Street to get my fix, plus it's free. Word.

Go forth and multiply

The poppy seeds you find at the supermarket, if planted, produce opium poppy plants. This would be the time to do it, were one so inclined. Be sure you don't sprinkle them all over the place, cause they'll grow almost anywhere. On the other hand, home grown opium helps fight terrorism. The Afghans don't want you to know this. They need your drug money to buy beat to shit old ass Toyota trucks, and AK-47s. This(plant the seeds all over town)would also work for my sorry ass brick-weed smoking, seed toting, can't get the sensimilla, readers. While I in no way condone this guerilla farming, I know I cannot stop you. Damn you crafty Americans, damn you to hell.