2004-03-23 - 11:23 a.m.
What�s up with that weird umbrella guy who gets paid beaucoup dollars to kiss P. Diddy�s ass on the right spot? It kind of freaks me out that a guy named Farnsworth Bentley would want his trademark accessory to be an umbrella. That�s not his given name; couldn�t they come up with anything better than yet another nod to bling bling, this time the bling being a car? How obvious. They could�ve named him �Diddy�s human diamond ring.�
I wonder if he knows the words to Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious? The way he wields his umbrella is straight up Mary Poppins, but the way he dances in the Outkast video is all kinds of Burt the Chimney Sweep. Since he seems to be the kind of person who�ll do anything for money (there�s no amount of money you could pay me to hold an umbrella over some asshole�s head), I wonder how much he�d take to put on a Mary Poppins style dress and perform the chimney sweep dance on the top of a roof somewhere. Or he could sing both parts of that �It�s a jolly holiday with you, Burt,� song, you know, the one with the penguins? Half of him could be wearing a dress and Mary Poppins makeup, while the other side could be wearing Burt�s white suit and half of a top hat.
Outkast and Alicia Keys inducted Prince into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Someone needs to tell that girl that the laugh/snort/�hah� thing that she inserts after an important sentence is really annoying. �There are a lot of kings, hah, but there�s only one Prince.� Um, James Brown already exists. We don�t need a neofemale version.
And why�d they wait until after Prince became a fucking Jehovah�s Witness to induct him? No longer the Sexy MF who lets Darling Nikki be his lover, now he�s thanking Larry Graham and giving praise to the most high Jehovah. Kind of freaked me out, to tell you the truth. I think I�ll move to Minneapolis or wherever the hell he lives and wait for him to knock on my door when he�s out proselytizing. I�ll take all the Watchtowers you want baby, just hum a few bars from �Little Red Corvette� and let me lay my head on your shoulder. Oh, and let me give your balls a tug. Just a tiny one. More of a squeeze than a tug. C�mon.
I wished I had a Tivo when Dave Matthews inducted Traffic and told this long story about being high, en route to a really bad trip, seeing the Devil�s eyes, and how hearing �Dear Mr. Fantasy� brought him out of it and into a nice happy high. The message: Drugs are bad, unless you�re listening to Traffic. Note to self: spark a fat one and listen to �Feelin� Alright.�
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