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Since I’m such a fan of graphs and the like, here’s a little “Hey Jude Flowchart” for your Friday morning:
[via Flowing Data]
This “article” from McSweeny’s provides a glimpse into the extensive catalog that are the “Rap Lyrics of the (17)90’s,” and the results that the author uncovered are fascinating. And by “fascinating” I mean “absolutely hilarious,” and I don’t think I could recommend an article more. Below I’ve stolen borrowed a couple of the author’s brilliant examples so that you can get a feel of the article and/or possibly confuse yourself that the author’s work is my own:
“To an extreme degree, I have amplified my voice and thus my sentiments—much as a vandal might.”
Funny right? No? Ok, well here is a slightly longer one, but, if you didn’t like the one above, then at the very least I think this one should be a bit more familiar:
“Birthed and reared in West Philadelphia, the days of my childhood and early youth were spent in the wildernesses just beyond our village, where my companions and I passed many an hour roaming free and frolicking, oftentimes playing ball sports in the proximity of the schoolhouse. I recall a certain occasion on which two wastrels came upon us, interrupted our pursuits, caused a general ruckus, and incited a fray. Upon my honour, had I not been bested by these mongrels, no doubt my loving mother would not have laid her heavy hand and decided my future in such an immovable manner as she then did. Her words, as I recollect, were ‘Get thee to Bel Air forthwith, where you will live with your aunt and uncle in peace, and whence you will return only when you have become a man, noble as any other.’ Alas! What choice had I, but to summon a cab and depart from that dear childhood home? How strange it was to see that the approaching buggy appeared to be painted with nonsensical lettering and festooned with the symbols of gambling and sin. Yet I disregarded it and considered it a rarity. ‘To Bel Air, if you please’ said I to the cabbie as together we heaved up my trunk. At perhaps seven or eight of the clock, after some hours of evening travel, the buggy came to a halt at the entrance of a grand house. After bidding the driver farewell, I regarded my new lodgings. Here would I be educated. Here would I learn my place in the family. Here would I reign, in a sense, as the new prince of Bel Air.”
Ha, great shit.
Just the sickest shit in the world, over an old Big L beat:
And now from today’s episode of trust-Bdon-because-he-wouldn’t-put-a-music-video-on-his-blog-unless-it-was-absolutely-bomb comes the new video from Theophilus London:
In what is easily the most random assortment of lists of all time, here’s Kurt Vonnegut’s eight rules for writing short stories, Pitchfork’s ranking of the “Top 200 Albums of the 2000’s” (A.D.D. LINKS: #’s 20-11 here and #’s 10-1 here) and a compendium entitled “My Toughest Shot,” which features a collection of “16 photographers…and their hardest-won images” (and which probably deserved its own post outright it is so good) [via Kottke & Pitchfork]