...for a white guy. Let me preface this by saying that I have heard, only through cousins of friends who live in other states and once worked for the circus and are now deceased, that some people steal, or "pirate," software programs from the internet. I, of course, would never dream of such a thing. I'm not even sure what an internet is, or where this information superhighway I keep hearing about starts or stops.

However, someone, unbeknownst to me, put a copy of Fruity Loops on my computer. Mind you, I had no idea it wasn't a legal copy. I assumed the software fairy had bestowed it upon me since my external hard drive had crashed, eliminating almost ten years of hard work spent aquiring animated pornography of Scooby Doo and He Man. Pretty soon, I had gained some skill with this program.

I was illin', making mad beats, yo. I was holding it down on the ones and twos, representin' fo' tha 803 in ways you sucka DJs can only dream about, son! Battle me, see where that gets you! My beats was poppin', yo.

It wasn't until I actually started trying to picture myself behind the turntables at some nightclub or arena event that I realized...



...this is not the face of a DJ. It's the face of an almost-thirty-year-old jackass.

Damn, I love my life.

JT out.