Archive for the 'Musings' Category

05
Oct
10

The Gangsta Rap Lyric Translation/Clarification Game

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To amuse myself, often times I will attempt to translate gangster and misogynist rap music lyrics into academically precise and excessively clinical language. The goal is to clarify the rapper’s intended meaning for the (imaginary) uninitiated, non-urban listener. I also engage in this word substitution game when I overhear people on the street employing urban slang or street talk¹.

Gangsta rap lyrics are immeasurably amusing to translate due to their depth of meaning and emotionally-charged content (often detailing acts of extreme physical violence and barbarous sexual assault crimes committed against women). The purpose of the game is to juxtapose the explicit savagery of the gangsta rap lyric against a sterilized and verbose restatement of the lyric’s content reworded to nullify the inflammatory tone.

As a way of contextualizing this mental activity, I pretend that I am a foreign visitor who is semi-fluent in English (but slang-ignorant). In order to comprehend what I am hearing, I must substitute a large number of the words in order to clarify the content of the gangsta rap lyric. Other times, I imagine myself as a pedantic English professor who is mentally critiquing the rapper. As the professor, I make it my duty to red-line the grammatically offending lyrics since they are an affront to all for which I stand. The professor then silently instructs the rapping dullard on the proper way that he or she should verbally express their tales of criminal exploits and women-hatred.

Below is an example of how I employ the rap music lyric word substitution/clarification technique.
The lyric below is from the Eazy-E song Still Talkin’ and is on the deceased Mr. E’s 1988 debut album, Eazy-Duz-It (the complete lyrics to Still Talkin’ and many other fine Eazy-E songs can be found here).

Psychopathic, but the hoes are attracted

Because, when I’m on hard, my dicks at least a yard

First line translation/clarification:

Despite the fact that I have a personality disorder characterized by an abnormal lack of empathy combined with strongly amoral conduct but masked by an ability to appear outwardly normal, prostitutes with little or no monetary focus find me sexually appealing.

Second line translation/clarification:

The aforementioned women find me sexually appealing for the reason that when the two tubular structures that run the length of my penis, the corpora cavernosa, become engorged with venous blood (due to a complex interaction of psychological, neural, vascular and endocrine factors occurring before and during exposure to sexually-arousing stimuli), the welling, hardening and enlargement of my penis results in an erection that measures a full three feet (thirty-six inches) in length.

ΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦΦ

¹ For instance, when I am in a bodega buying my daily lottery ticket and I overhear an urban outdoorsman request that the cashier “gimme a loosey”, I know that the gentleman is directing the store clerk to reach behind the counter and retrieve a single cigarette from a broken pack to sell him at an inflated price. Although this is an illegal act, the clerk recognizes that market forces of supply and demand in an underground economy will ultimately determine the store’s financial survival (and more importantly – his/her job security). The store clerk’s tacit agreement with the gentleman and his/her willingness to complete this illegal transaction occurs notwithstanding the minimal threat of a criminal conviction (with its attendant fines and/or period of incarceration).

Related posts:

https://dillsnapcogitation.wordpress.com/2008/11/08/in-loving-memory-of-eric-eazy-e-wright/

https://dillsnapcogitation.wordpress.com/2008/07/16/my-mind-is-playing-tricks-on-me-geto-boys/

28
Sep
10

Johnny Peepers, Clay Aiken, and Jesus

Dillsnap Cogitations reader comment from bespeakme:

The funniest things about this site are the comments from people who appear to actually take this writer seriously- or – am I missing something? I mean are you folks for real? And the absolute funniest part, he affects this surreal and spiritual voice talking about Jesus and not having a job, and he blows his cover when the male element calls him a name like fuck face or ass wipe- and he starts getting all teenage testosteroney and swinging his fists around: “From the looks of your avatar, it is clear that you were stuck down the fat-headed gumshoe Cro-magnon flu.” Nonetheless, fairly entertaining. Hilarious use of the language.

Johnny Peepers is having a bit of a personality crisis as of late. This is only a problem in that he is not sure which direction to take Dillsnap Cogitations. My lifestyle has calmed down considerably and I am not doing nearly the amount of drugs that I used to (due to recent emergency room scares, extreme money woes, and lack of insurance).

I reckon that I dunno what to write about these days. Conspiracy-mongering is so 2008, and the feel-good, New-Agey tripe is even too kooky for me to discourse on with any consistency. I thought about doing vegan recipe reviews or maybe step-by-step instructional blog posts on risque´ topics like booty-bumping and auto-fellation, but I don’t want to scare away my kid readers. I even considered dedicating all future posts to my one true love, Clay Aiken, but that would make me look desperate and stalker-ish in his eyes.

I certainly plan to keep my relationship with Jesus a central focus of Dillsnap Cogitations. Were it not for his supreme sacrifice, all of humanity would be mired in a putrid bucket of sin and depravity (much like the conditions experienced by residents of New Jersey and Mississippi).


Jesus and his vengeful, sky god daddy (YWEH) have a divine plan for me. This plan includes me taking to my knees daily and mouthing pleasing words to the MOST HIGH, prostrating myself before the Lord in diligent obeyance, and ridding my mind of lusty and impure thoughts about men and women that I find sexually attractive. I will do my best to provide frequent updates with regards to the latter. Any advice or blog topic recommendations would be greatly appreciated these days.

Yours in Crisco,

Johnny Peepers

04
May
10

President Obama Threatened to Murder Jonas Brothers With Targeted Drone Attack

During his speech at the recent White House Correspondents’ Dinner, President Obama uttered the following words:

The Jonas Brothers are here; they’re out there somewhere. Sasha and Malia are huge fans; but boys, don’t get any ideas. Two words for you: predator drones. You will never see it coming. You think I’m joking?

It is shocking to me that the President of the United States would brazenly joke about liquidating our Nation’s greatest musical treasure. The Jonas Brothers are a gift from GOD (aka Disney) and all should cherish the sanctity of their precious lives. Their songs, especially “When You Look Me In The Eyes” and “Baby Bottle Pop Theme Song”, are revered anthems that comprise the soundtrack of the lives of countless struggling adolescents (and grown-ups like me) trying to make sense of an insane world.

One could infer from President Obama’s words that the Jonas Brothers are a loathsome band of child molesters (the First Children are both under the age of 12 and the youngest Jonas Brother is 17). Given that these men are quite obviously buggerers (their mere presence overpowering numerous gaydar installations), I seriously doubt the Jonas Brothers constitute the slightest sexual threat to females (of any age).

Mr. President, please preserve your remote-controlled instruments of wanton destruction for those more deserving than these musically-gifted choco-starfish afficionados (i.e., Muslim wedding party and funeral attendees, street market shoppers, non-combatants, women, children, and the occasional terrorist).

We Ain't After the Sweet Stank...Only the Hairy, Sweaty, Brown DANK!!!

19
Dec
09

Miller’s Tale: The Lattice of Coincidence and Cosmic Unconsciousness

18
Nov
09

More White Devil Word Games

Below is a random cell phone text message that I received:

–Fwd: Why when black folks wear their pants low white people call it saggin? Make you think huh? Spell saggin backwards [niggas] them crackers got us again misunderstood.

Evidently, the originator of the text had cracked a closely guarded word reversal technology used by Anglo-Caucasoid bigots to covertly mock their dark-skinned droopy-drawered enemy.

I got to give the message sender props though, that shit did make me think. Is the reversed spelling a mere coincidence or an intentionally employed linguistic dehumanization device aimed at African-Americans?  Well, as Wats Faller used to ax,  “One never knows, does one?”

26
Mar
09

Bukowski Was A Shit Heel and So Am I (Thank יהוה )

chuck1

Although I  got mad respect for my cultural heros, I suffer no delusions about their abhorrent personal behaviors. In seems that in order to channel true genius one must engage in a persistent battle with the shadow self. Admittedly, dope fiends, drunkards, child molesters, woman beaters,  and ontological misfits have been my lifelong idols. One can embrace the artist while loathing the cretin who occupies the physical form/body chamber host.

I thank baby Jesus every day that I did not follow the intended control system child development blueprint model.  My parental handlers worked tirelessly to imprint their authoritarian dictatorship model on my head space clay.  The organized religion guilt mafia tried they hardest to lay the mythical/solar godman/redeemed savior trip on me. The state worked in endless shifts to manufacture the unquestioning obedient  Über-child citizen with forced allegiance to the flag, a hand over the heart, and a meaningless recital of jingoistic nationalism gutter poetry. Nice try fuckers and a better luck next go round.

Integrating the shadow requires that one acknowledges and embraces the dark side of the  human experience. Evil, hate, envy, chaos, disintegration, and moral discombobulation are a necessary experience in the roller coaster ride known as life. The ejaculatory advocate of the perpetual pure heart, the effusive light warrioress/warrior, and the grinning mug eternal optimist have got something to hide. Refusing to embark on a periodic dark night of the soul journey is a form of self-sabotage that may result in maniacal blood-soaked violence at the most inopportune time.

Here is Charles Bukowski at his absolute worst.

24
Mar
09

Spare Parts

Dillsnap Cogs is a bullhorn accompanying the author on his journey into the netherworld. The unfolding scene (the crumbling macro consensus reality paradigm) has reached a cerebral baking fever pitch – one that I refuse to believe is solely indicative of one man’s schizoid detachment. Believe it or not, the whole friggen’ World is going mad. The cats I have spoken with, and info gathered, indicates that I am not the only chap on an “inebriated stroll with my eyelids propped open at half-mast.”

The logicians, the rationalists, and the scientific-reductionist-nuts-and-bolts-materialist mafioso are the modern day Ptolemists. Divinatory charlatans, police sirens, and Reebok wearing hustlers color my days. Our experience is populated by the ocular/auditory buffet table that we belly up to each and every waking moment. What if one rejected the pre-selected sensory bombardment in exchange for a truly unique offering – true mind anarchy?

Belief systems are truly a pernicious beast. The dominative control system has two equally loathsome heads –  politics and religion (Imagine?). Mores, value systems, ethics, and nationalistic identities are forced upon human blank slates during the youthful formative years – when one does not have the luxury of accessing critical reasoning faculties necessary to cut through the mindfuck bullshit.

The geopolitical nuke family that one is arbitrarily thrust into defines that individual’s idealogical framework. Cutting the straps on the backpack filled with one’s collection of  remotely imprinted neural garbage could (might/should/hopefully) have a liberating effect.  But then again, one might lose friends, family, and a tenuous hold on pseudo-reality. Maybe that is a good thing.




Johnny Peepers

----> is a socio-pathetic degenerate with a penchant for cheap booze, ruphy-laden broads, and dim sum soup.

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