Saddam prepares to go into the studio and cut his vocals.Those of you who follow the minor news related to the recent war in Iraq might have noticed a story about the CIA broadcasting an insulting rap song about Saddam Hussein on their radio airplane. While this may seem like a fairly good idea if you're say drunk or waging a war against a rival gangsta rapper when you're fighting a real war it seems a little silly. Oh how wrong I was! Set to the tune of "Gangsta's Paradise" this rap is roughly two minutes of distilled pathos, no doubt swaying the thoughts of many Iraqis against their brutal dictator and earning the United States a reputation for intelligence. Think about it, one day you're strapped to a mattress spring with a car battery hooked up to your testicles being shocked for mispronouncing "Tikrit". The next day you're listening to the radio and on comes this "awesome" rap song about Saddam with lines like "My days are finished and I will die - all I need is chili fries" and "Everybody in the house say we hate you".
That's about when you say goodbye to your family, strap some dynamite to your chest, and sprint to the nearest Marine Corps checkpoint. What a fucking travesty. There is so much wrong with this whole concept, let alone the cringe inducing execution, that it's hard to know where to start a rant about it. The whole thing reeks of the clumsy hipster appeal of something like "Poochy" from the "The Simpsons" only ten times worse because instead of a stodgy corporate think-tank it was done by the government. Asking them to create anything that's in touch with the youth market is sort of like going to a retirement home and asking a bunch of septuagenarians with Alzheimer's disease to pen a film script about teens coming of age in the ghetto.
Since the US government has been nosing around pasting the stamp of freedom onto the oppressed and/or evil people of Syria I have decided that it's my civic duty as a nerdy white guy to offer up any assistance I can. Seeing as how I once considered entering a rap battle when I was really drunk I think this qualifies me to prepare humorous political rap songs for the coming conflict with Syria. I would now recommend that the CIA begin taking notes at this point but they're already downloading every file on this site and feeding them through some sinister fuzzy-logic software to search for sedition. To ensure that the software flags this piece for their attention I will now type out the following words; bomb, kill, president, sleeper cell, anthrax, Ak-47, pumpernickel, Allah, and platelets.
The first rap I have put together is a little piece about Syria's current president Bashar Al-Asad entitled "Bashar? More like crook-shar, am I right?" It's to the music and beat of Shaggy's hit single "Wasn't Me".
You DO NOT fuck wiht Al-Asad.Chorus
Coalition came in and they caught me red-handed
Giving lowlight to the girl next door
Picture this we were both butt naked
Testing lowlight goggles on the bathroom floor
How could I forget that I was
Under constant satellite surveillance
Rob my people to help a dictator
Now I'm headed for an ambulance
Verse 1 (Shaggy)
How you fi give the Saddam access to your borda
Trespass and a satellite see all the crooka
You better watch your borda and stop da trade with a killer
Let's review the situation that you're caught up inna
Now to be a true player you got to know how to play
Starlight scope fi to amplify ambient light and it lookin like day
Never never admit to a word weh George Bush say
And if Coalition claim say a you tell Saddam "baby no way"
Coalition caught me on the border… I'm a crook.
Israel and America are friends of peace… I'm a crook.
I even wear lowlight goggles in the shower… I'm a crook.
And may have provided guidance systems for Chinese "Frog" ballistic missiles in the late nineties when sanctions were in place… I'm a crook.
Coalition saw the movement cross my border… I'm a crook.
Not believe the words that I told her… I'm a crook.
Heard the screams of victims of my cruel regime… I'm a crook.
Probably got some of them double you em dee… I'm a crook.
Verse 2 (Shaggy)
A never you she see a mek de goggle go flex
A smaddi else whe favor you inna bunker complex
Seeing is believing but it's time to change the specs
You know whe a go bring 1740 pages of concrete evidence collected and collated by multiple international intelligence agencies from in de past
All the little evidence you better know fi mask
And if she back with new coalition of da willing you better know fi run fast
That's a nice relaxing and easy going song that I feel gets the message across much better than a clumsy tune like the CIA's rap. However, many male Syrians consider Shaggy to be music for girls, preferring "harder shit" like DMX and old Ice Cube. Similarly Iran has an almost religious hatred for Shaggy but they absolutely love Westside Connection. To this end I have put together a song to the music of "The Gangsta, the Killa, and the Dope Deala" by Westside Connection. This piece is entitled "The Dictata, the Crooka, and the Ayatollah."
The Dictata, the Crooka, and the Ayatollah.Intro (Ice Cube/Saddam)
Living on the axis of evil--ya'll trying to study me
Being jerks' a never die--it's too much love
The coalition and mankind's love of freedom be killin' niggas like us, you know what I mean
God damn--how many more motherfuckin' enemy combatant holding facilities ya'll gonna build
How many graves you gonna try to put us in
You know what I'm saying
Axis of evil is a rogue state, murda(x4)
Any one of ya'll niggas fuck with all of these niggas
These triggas we's killas[hahaha]
Tuckin' our tails in between legs
Wit a bitch like France braiding my head
Leave 'em til they matted forearm tatted
What's the Axis bitch you looking at it
It's gotta stop
I applied electric torture to more dicks than it
Takes to get to the center [once, two, three]of a can of soda pop
And it's gonna take a miracle
To drive a car safely 'cross the borda to Syria
Yeah, I lost a lot of wars but I ain't tryin' to see Norman Schwarzkopf
[Punk ass nigga] So let's wait till the air strikes ease off
So many foes walk in my capital
It's like the international, house of pancakes
All my statues gone, every bitch passed
A first not last, when we all hit the ass
My tanks is burnin' scrap piles weighin' a ton[what]
One Pussy, and UN resolution 1441
Dictata's don't dance we boogie[ahhh]
Niggas run out and get ya chili dog
Axis of evil is a rogue state, murda (x4)
Who's that runnin' cross the borda hoo smuggling [Mid Eaaaaast]
Very low casualties are inflicted when I got my steel up
Throwing my shit up pulling the trigga
What the fuck you lookin' at nigga [whistle]
Yellow as a canary when I bust
Leavin' crates of goggles loaded up in my truck
Secretly eating pork and reading pornographic material in my G ride
I swear I'm arrestin' the family of every nigga standing outside
letting 'em have it
With my double barrel sawed off
I'm smoking everybody who disagreein' with my regime
Stretch 'em out in broad daylight muthafuck the witnesses
eyes big as golf balls from the funny cigarette [haha]
as the sun frowns on my forehead
I sweat murder which makes me a walking dead man
man bringing more bad news than shlepp rock
when I instruct my subordinates to bust shots
Al-Asad keep the hammer cocked
The Dictata, the Crooka, and the Ayatollah(x4)
(Mack 10/ Ayatollah Khomeini)
Well, it's the nigga that's housin' the scene
I got pounds of weapon's grade plutonium and all my bling be made outta zirconium
I put down dissent and freedom with brutality and violence
When I speak at a rally all you be hearin' is silence
Now what can I say every line of the Koran I lay be pure and
bombay like Peruvian yae
So I brag and I boast and all the honeys dig me
I create more fatwas than Salman motherfuckin' Rushdie
My homie Al-Jazeera plug me with the civilian casualty
But Coalition comin' like Kid Thunder and performin' a fatality
Now what's next I'm stuck like a Kotex
blindin' niggas with the buggas in my Rolex
With my bases gettin' bombed on a regular basis
I'll be fleein' to Libya with three cash-filled cases
cause ain't nothin' reala' than niggas gettin' they scrilla
like a dictata, a crooka
But Khomeini I'll be the Ayatollah
Axis of evil is a rogue state, murda (x4)
The Dictata, the Crooka, and the Ayatollah[murda](x8)
Damn it's a trip, all these Tomahawks comin' down
I cant go here, I can't go there
I feel trapped in a series of subterranean bunkers
And I'm probably buried beneath rubble
I admit mine aren't much better than the CIA's rap song, which is perfect for their purposes! Best of luck to them and their magical flying radio station in our future conflicts with the barbarian hordes of the Mid East.
New Rom Pit review: Hydlide
Hello, Something Awful readers. This is karate-chopping Japanese sex symbol, Kenshiro, with some copied/pasted awesomeness from Jed's Hydlide review. All I can really tell you about this game is that it definitely doesn't feature me slowly stripping to Nelly's latest single, but since it's in the Rom Pit, you just know it's going to be some pathetic hunk of 8-bit cat crap that no one has played in 15 years.
Hydlide is the metaphorical pebble dropped into a vast pool of water that gives us a brief glimpse of how large and crappy the universe really is. The first thing you'll notice upon starting is that you're some kind of bloated midget getting attacked by ninjas and gay eskimos with fucked-up names like "ROPER" and "LADYAM". Don't let that fool you, though, because the rest of the game really sucks.
The Upper Kitchen Cabinet Where Your Roommate Keeps His Food: You’ll 'need the footstool' to reach your roommate’s 'fine selection' of 'stale cereal,' but he'll never notice if 'only a little is missing from each box.' Feel less guilty by reminding yourself that Jeff 'acts weird around your girlfriend,' and always 'asks about her.' What a 'creep.'
This is the crown jewel of my erotic lamp collection, and a must-have for any serious pleasure lamp collector.
This ain't your daddy's globe...! .... or is it?!
The Something Awful front page news tackles anything both off and on the Internet. Mostly "on" though, as we're all incredible nerds.