My fellow Wu-Tang musicians, not least Ghostface who to be honest is kind of a overachievementface, have always encouraged me to broaden my horizons and educate myself further.  After a long debate about whether my rap has become boring and work-a-day, Rza, wise as he is, suggested that I begin German classes.  He said that taking a class most certainly has never been done in the history of Hip-Hop.  It was then that I knew what I had to do.  I had to become an Envoy of German culture and language to Wu-Tang and the entire world of Hip-Hop, and this had to happen as soon as possible.

A week later I was finally not too stoned to call my local community college and begin the process of enrolling in classes.  Although the application process was somewhat difficult (they demanded that I produce proof that I had graduated high school.  This is really unfair, especailly for someone who hadn’t graduated high school) I was able to enroll in all fifteen German classes that were offered.

Day Eins of German One
Teacher: Hallo alle, Ich bin Sabine.  Herr Method Mann, you’re raising your hand.
Me, Method Man: Eins, zwei, drei, vier, funf, SECHS mothaFUCKA
Teachy: Sehr gut, Herr Method Mann.  You are so intelligent of German and we have not even introduced ourselfs!
Class: hahahahahahahahahahahaha
Teacher: Also gut, was ist dein Name?
Me: Ich heisse Method Man.  Ich bin ein Mitglied des Wu-Tangs, REUNITED BITCHES
Class: haha

Day Zwei, After Class
Teacher: Ich wollte dich gern fikken, Method Mann.  (I’d fuck you gladly, Method Man)
Me: Sheisse Bitch, you WHITE and I can’t even speak German yet.
Teacher: I fucking know, it sucks.  LET’S GO TO THE WU-TANG MANSION

Later, at the Wu-Tang Mansion
Me: *Basically ignoring her, scribbling lyrics tentatively on a blunt wrap*
Teacher: You know, I could really help you with your art.
Me: I’m from fucking Staten Island, I don’t think I need anyone’s help.  Although I would like to bring the German language to Hip-Hop.  I think this whole sequence has something to do with that.
Teacher: *guiding Method Mann’s hand* Here, let me… help you.  Lass mich dir helfen.

Hours later, the two wake from a daze in the mud room.  All sweaty.
Me: Damn girl, German is quite a powerful language.

Day Drei, In class
Me: Hallo alle, Ich habe meinen Lied ,,M.E.T.H.O.D. Mann” wieder geschieben.  Kann ich es fuer euch singen? (rewrote M.E.T.H.O.D. Man”, ayite)
Teacher: Bitte!
Me: I’ ll fuckin binden Sie zu einem fuckin Bedpost
mit Ihren asscheeks heraus spread und Scheiße.
Nicht Wahr?

Setze einen hänger auf einen fuckin stove und lassen Sie
das Scheiße dort während wie einer halben Stunde sitzen
Beseitigen Sie sie und stick it in Ihrem ass all slow like
Tssssssss

Ich werde sew your asshole shut and keep feedin dich und feedin dich
Class: (uproar now impossible to repress.  This is now known as the moment the German language was brought to hip hop, for all eternity)

Offensive for some people, probably. But the movie itself is just one thing. Then there’s all the speculation that sick fucks like me might engage in as to what exactly Britney Spears might bring to such a movie.

Day 1 of filming.
Director: Welcome to the filming of my movie, Britney. You’ve arrived in a red vinyl omnitard, why have you done this
BritBrit: Thanks!
Director:
BritBrit: I think this is my best costume ever, don’t you think? It’s from mah videoh.
Director: (whispering) god she looks disgusting BRITNEY, have you memorized your lines for this scene? Actually all you do in this scene is sob uncontrollably for seven minutes.
BritBrit: SAWB? I tried to read some of it and it seemed really boring, and I couldn’t really use my previous acting experience much at all. So I thought that a little (now flailing her hair and limbs around) *unts* and *ung* would add something to it.
Director: Dear god why did I cast you this is not going to stop is it

Day 2 of filming
Director: Okay, not bad, this is much better, Britney. You’re actually pretty good at sobbing wildly, especially after we refused to bring you 5000 vicodin
BritBrit: *sniffle*
Director: in this next scene we really want you to bring the angst, sadness, general strife
BritBrit: We should make this movie more like bring it on 2. I practiced crumping for a while last night and I’m really getting good *untsunts* (director is getting slapped limply)
Director: Fucking fine, you can crump for 15 minutes, but afterwards you really have to bring the auschwitz.
BritBrit: *vomits, falls unconscious*

Day 8 of filming
Director: That was quite a coma, Brit. Even the key grip was impressed, and he’s a very cultured man.
BritBrit: (still a bit woozy, but it’s okay it works with the movie) AW, okay.. WHERE ARE MAH BABIEZ
Director: You’ve sent them to Malaysia to tend goats and herd wild boars. You said you wanted them to have the childhood you never had. In Malaysia.
BritBrit: (Staring into middle distance with pained look of confusion)
Director: Just keep your head in the game. The game of making a ridiculous fucking movie that will do nothing but offend and make people uncomfortable
BritBrit: MAH LONELINESS… IS KILLIN’ MEE
KeyGrip: (falsetto) aaand iiii

Day 9 of filming
Director: Okay, I guess we’ve all agreed that we should stop trying to film this and just go home and and have some toast.
BritBrit: I’m a movie starrrrrrrr. I do lahke toast
Director: I think we’ve all learned some important lessons here in these very, very long nine days. I choose not to list any.

STAR WIPE

I can’t even tell if I want this movie to actually get made. Cousin Hoyt, what do you desire?

Synopsis: “Bearing Two Swords”
Hiroaka, a lord/samurai megazord, receives an official-looking letter from the Shogun, with whom he’s had a disagreement about some unmentioned war.  We don’t know the letter’s contents except for the word “regret,” and that whatever it’s meant to imply (which frankly I have no idea how any reader is supposed to know) drives Hiroaka to announce to his wife Lady Taeko and friend Serizawa Sachiro that he must commit seppuku to protest the Shogun’s decision (on something).

It’s then revealed that Hiroaka and Sachiro fuck sometimes (for example after the battle of Toshimitsu), right before Hiroaka says he wants to spend his last night with the people he loves.  He tells Sachiro to return at sunset, and Taeko to return at midnight.  They bow and exit.

Sunset arrives, and Sachiro comes to meet Hiroaka.  They finally agree to disrobe each other (like pouring sake, it is rude to do it for yourself when someone else is around) and lie there kind of hugging.  After they get a bit aroused, they start wrestling (I guess maybe because they’re samurais).  Sachiro is victorious and goes ahead and starts fucking Hiroaka in the ass, pretty much right up until the guard announces midnight.  Taeko is already waiting outside (reader gets impression of order and efficiency that one might characterize as samurai).

Taeko comes in wearing a silk kimono and they hang out on the tatami mat.  This encounter is notably more amorous and doesn’t involve any wrestling.  They fuck in the moonlight and both come, and presently Sachiro walks in (again with the samurai efficiency).  Taeko, the modest, kimono-wearing wife of a samurai she is, yelps and grabs Hiroaka to cover herself.  Sachiro tells them, solemnly, that they are the two people that he loves most in the world (I’m guessing a reader at this point will tend to guess that he means they should fuck, and stuff).

Queue bisexual threesome action (”Let us all be as happy as we can”).  Sachiro fucks Taeko a bit, and then Hiroaka considers fucking Sachiro (”Even though he had lost the wrestling match, it was now over…”) but instead edges away from them on the futon and watches.  They all fall asleep.  Morning arrives and Hiroaka slices his own guts out.  That’s pretty much the extent of the detail that’s given re:that.

Haven’t read “Suck-You-Bus”, or “Cirque du Trois”, or “Married Ladies have Sex in the Bathroom”, or “The Naughty Nuns of Saint-Sulpice” yet.

It was 1996, and I was a fleece-wearing weekly-showered lad who just didn’t fit in with the other boys. So I went to the mall with girls, listened to Kiss 108FM and went as far as arguing, albeit with whimsy, about who won “The Boy Is Mine.” Now I know tons of people had heated-ass arguments online about this.

nastia: do u like the boy is mine
katarzyna: omg yes. <3 do u?
nastia: yea brandy is a good singar
katarzyna: tru but i like monica's sultry alto
nastia: I gess but brandy's performance is dominant.
katarzyna: monica so wins
nastia: dont you mean MOESHA
katarzyna: NO YOU FUCKING WHORE
katarzyna: NEVER SAY THAT SHIT AGAIN
katarzyna: THINK YOURE CLEVER DONT YOU BITCH

As far as I can tell, Brandy smokes crack in an alley while Monica tries to get an education. I know that Brandy says "You're the past and I'm the future" but I consistently misheard this for "You're the best in the future." What she really means is "Yeah I'm a whore and I want to fuck all the time. But that doesn't mean that I'm going to be successful later in life like I know you will be. So let's just say the boy is mine -- it's only fair because you're gonna go to college and be a doctor or some shit. See? You're the best in the future. Can I copy your earth science homework?"

Brandy can't read books because of her eyes being too far apart, so school is hard for her. All she can really do is fuck and sing (and neither is entirely unproblematic frankly) and had to give up her dream of being an oceanographer years ago. Monica now seems like the candidate to whom the boy should belong, but her pronunciation of "escape" screams of someone trying to be someone she's not. Embrace your hood roots, Monica, watch Xscape videos, and, well, just kick it.

Why? Well, not only is he a beautiful wig-wearing man, but he’s a famous mathematician. His image will remind me every day that we all have potential for greatness, even if we don’t have crazy eyes or are still alive. The problem is that his face here tells so many stories that I, or guests lucky enough to meet eye with him, might get confused as to what exactly the lesson of Johann Bernoulli is. Unfortunately, while Johann is the more good-looking of his huge family of mathematicians, he’s not at all the most famous. That would have to be Daniel Bernoulli, the only quoted Bernoulli. With slightly less wonky eyes you might think he’s the more charming of the two. no.

Anyway, I want to pretend, every day, that Johann Bernoulli is whispering inspiration in my ear. With no quotes of his own to be found, I decided that I would put the word “Eureka!” beneath his photo. While I was trying to figure out what font was best,

I realized that Eureka is a fuck-all ugly word and I hate it. Someone suggested maybe I had bad memories of Eureka or that I resented the California town called Eureka (Eureka, CA also named itself “The Queen City of the Ultimate West” for fuck’s sake). It’s true that when I was ten or so, I did a school project where I had to somehow interpret the word “Eureka” and manifest it in Project-form. I covered used food containers with construction paper and invented “Eureka Supermarket” whose slogan was indeed something like “Eureka! So many bargains to discover!” … sigh. What an awful child I was. And I didn’t even hate Eureka yet.

Chris’s age 8 Eureka moment with a cartoon remake of The Wizard of Oz:

I don’t think we’ve heard the whole story here. Everything seems so perfect, right? I mean, Barilla Plus, hot sister, such a good mum, random hawt italian guy, dad who stays out of everything which is for the best frankly, quiet contended kids, a room full of steam, Barilla Plus, and fucking Italy! A VILLA OR SOMESHIT!

Well, here’s some dialogue I found on a dictaphone on an empty seat next to me on a bus. Of course I’ve translated the Italian, since Enzo, as I’m calling him only abruptly answers you in Italian.

TUSCANY, SOME SLUT’S VILLA
Such a good mum: Oh Enzo. Hi -oop… Ciao!
Enzo: Ciao Bella. Where are your kids, I am here to be adored by them.
Such a good mum: Oh Enzo, they’ll be out of the bath any moment now, do you want some Fresh Italian Wine?
Enzo: I’ve brought a blindfold. Bring your children to me now.
Such a good mum: The kids adore you.
Enzo: Si. Perfecto.

Enzo’s general weirdness wasn’t the only thing going awry that day.

Things we’ve learned from this:

1. Blindfold came springing off in some takes, which producers found all-too-sexual and weird
2. Stupid whores need to be taught how to eat.
Director : So you eat it, and, well, you eat it like this.
Such a good mum: *nods sagely*
N.b. she still fails miserably at eating the Barilla Plus later.
3. All were in agreement: The steam is actually fucking gross, EW GET IT AWAY
4. Director’s cut: “So after you say ‘Si, Perfecto,’ stand up and start choking her like this”
5. When the rest of the cast and crew challenged his choice of ending he wielded two sharpened stainless steel pasta spoons and whipped them around at people. No pasta was served with these spoons. Only revenge, complete with omega-3’s.