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Posts Tagged ‘R Kelly’

[In which we realize that God may, in fact, be a circle pit.]

Let’s not kid ourselves here, there are questions about my commitment to this blog.  It seems to many that if R. Kelly stopped releasing songs and artists I respected stopped dying, this blog wouldn’t be updated at all.  Truth.

That said, here are some tidbits:

  • Chaperone will be assaulting your ear drums at Wicker Park Fest [July 24th, 2:45PM].  We’ll be sharing the stage with a myriad of amazing bands, including our friends Ha Ha Tonka and our future lovers Wild Flag.  Quoting Sleater-Kinney and Portlandia is an accepted method of seduction, correct?
  • Chaperone will also be partaking in a Milwaukee Avenue Arts Fest After Party [or, as the kids call it, an MAAFAP (and then they all laugh, cause *fap* is internet slang for masturbating.  Oh, 4Chan, you truly are the Lenny Bruce of the internet generation)].  Catch us at Cole’s on July 29th.
  • Chaperone will then be releasing a 7″ single entitled “Raised by Wolves” on 8/2.  Pitchfork made mention of this.  We’re right below Boston Spaceships’ “Let it Beard”.  If you have any money left after purchasing that gem [or the Arcade Fire DVD, Okkervil River single, Moonface album, etc…], please consider purchasing our record as well.  We promise that it will be, at the very least, useful for killing a (few) zombie(s).
  • 1/5th of Chaperone watched fireworks from the beach rather than Fucked Up at Lincoln Hall.  It was worth it.  Next time, however, he’ll be inviting the members of Fucked Up to perform at the beach while fireworks are going off.  Valentine’s Day is looking mighty fine this year.

That is, I think, all.  If you have any questions/complaints/concerns/quality control issues, please don’t hesitate to have R. Kelly write a song about it, I’m sure I’ll respond quickly.

You have my heart and my hands,

-Miles

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[You’re right.  It’s been far too long.]

I am a man who’s made mistakes.  Some small (“why, yes, I’d love to try a sip of your Mad Dog 20/20”), some brobdingnagian (“$140,000 dollars in student debt?  Sounds good, so long as I can use some of the cash irresponsibly and buy all seven seasons of the Gilmore Girls on DVD”).

However, there are few I things regret more than losing contact with you, darling, especially since we have oh so much to discuss.

Example:

-Chaperone will be playing in Milwaukee this Friday.  As per usual, we’ll be in the loving arms of Frank’s Powerplant.  Joining us will be Dylan Kloska (nepotism: not just for the monarchy anymore), Derek Dunn of the .357 String Band and The Highlonesome .

Clearly, this show is going to be a raucous, jug-blowing affair.  Bonus points, Tierney Irizarry will be there.  Flame on.

Example:

We are now less than a month away from our E.P. release party, in which we, along with Dastardly and Elephant Gun, will create a dance party so viciously uninhibited, Saint Vitus himself will weep.

Mark it: On October 14th, we’re gonna party like it’s 1857 and the last military Shogunate of Japan has just stepped down, reestablishing a civilian government.  Ain’t no party like a “Farewell to Tokugawa” party ’cause a “Farewell to Tokugawa” party places its faith in the glorious emperor.  Just ask James Clavell.

However, we can’t do it without your beautiful bodies and beaming faces.  So, please, head here for tickets.

Example:

Boom.

Irregular updates to follow.

When a woman loves, she loves for real,

-Miles

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It’s been ages since anyone’s posted here, and, for that, I am incredibly sorry.

But, there’s a good reason for the absence.  Some would say, possibly, the greatest reason.

That reason, of course, is R. Kelly’s new single, which is sure to become yet another in an assembly line of new classics.  Now, R (as his friends call him) won my heart years ago, with his pants-crappingly insane “Trapped in the Closet” opus.  For those who don’t remember, or have willfully forgotten, “Trapped in the Closet” is the single greatest 22-part pop song ever written.  Don’t believe me?  Please, take a few hours and refresh your memory.

The most fascinating thing about R’s career trajectory is that it’s allowed us, through increasingly more ridiculous songs and their accompanying videos, to slowly descend into madness right along with him.

And now, the crown prince of crazy has blessed the world with “Pregnant”, which is, hands down, the silliest god-damned song to ever, ever be committed to an album.

Enjoy a small sample of the lyrical brilliance, won’t you?

Girl you make me wanna get you pregnant,
Girl you make me wanna get you pregnant,
Lay your body down and get you pregnant,
Knock you up, pregnant, Knock you up, pregnant

These are the song’s opening lines, and, as you can see, R wastes no time in letting you know that he, in point of fact, wants to get you pregnant (knock you up!).  Pregnant.

See I’m a playa so I ain’t try’n’a take her on no dates,
But much like my Patron man I’m just try’n’a take it straight,
Until I met this girl in the club with an unbelievable booty,

Clearly, R wants his child to succeed in this world.  And, clearly, one way to insure that is to find the most unbelievable booty you can, and get it pregnant.  Because that shit, my friends, is genetic.  And nothing prepares you for the harsh realities of life better than an unbelievable booty.

She’s more than a mistress enough bout to handle my business,
Now put that girl in my kitchen

This may seem archaic and sexist.  That’s because it is.

Tell me what your name is,
I can make you famous,
We can pop champagne’n get right down to sexing,
Now I ain’t got nothing to do tonight I gotta wait for my crew,
I just wanna put some in you,

Few pick-up lines are more effective then “I wanna get you pregnant”.  “I just wanna put some in you” is one of those pick-up lines.  Also, despite the best efforts of the English language, somehow R has rhymed “champagne’n” with “sexing”.

i think both of us should leave this club and get somewhere alone with me where there’s no phone to ring and plant this magic seed

I repeat, for emphasis: MAGIC SEED.  This is, of course, the seed that R Kelly got from trading his family’s last cow.  This poor woman’s unbelievable booty is in no way prepared to give birth to a beanstalk.  Additionally, “I think both of us should leave this club and get somewhere alone with me”?  Pardon?

So don’t get it twisted for thirty something weeks i’m still gonna hit it babysit it babysit it.

Just in case you were worried that R Kelly doesn’t hit it with pregnant chicks, he assuages your fears.  Be careful, though, his magic seed is so potent you may get double pregnant.  Then, unfortunately, R will want nothing to do with you.

Again, I feel the need to point out that this is a REAL SONG.  And, the above is only a small sample of its baffling brilliance.

God bless America,

-Miles (regrets to inform you that he, simply by writing this post, has gotten you pregnant.  Knocked you up.  Pregnant.)

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