Say No To Obamacare

New video from UCB Comedy:

Space Bears Video Game Music

One of my life goals is to write video game music. Here’s my idea for a video game. It’s called Space Bears.

It’s the year 3213. On a planet much like earth, except that it’s dominant species is bears and not humans, a civilization of bears finds itself overcome by crime, corruption, and other social contagions. But it wasn’t always like this.

Twenty years ago, the Space Bears lived peacefully on their planet, in a state of Hybernation (an atmospheric anomaly unique to the Space Bears planet in which a dense stratosphere surrounds the planet that is impenetrable by foreign ship or rock). However, this period of peaceful Hybernation ended when the corrupt but doltish Minister Bear brokered a deal with several neighboring nations, allowing them access to the planets abundant resources.

This is where we meet the Space Bears adversaries. The most innocuous is the Moon Coons, who are scavengers that live in slums, most of whom entered the planet by hiding in spaceship cargo. The next is the Robo Crocs, who have not made the Space Bears planet their own, but periodically stop by for menace and marauding. The next is the Cyber Pigs, the capitalists who have taken to draining the Space Bears planet of its natural resources. Their presence is felt by the many large pump jacks that clutter the once idyllic countryside. Finally, and most importantly, we have the Alpha Sharks. The Alpha Sharks originally negotiated with Minister Bear and convinced him to end Hybernation. The Alpha Sharks are imperialists and they have several military bases on the Space Bears beloved soil.

The objective of the game is obvious: the Space Bears must overthrow the greedy Minister Bear, rid their planet of it’s parasitic guests, and reinitiate Hybernation.

I wrote sweet space beats and epic synthphonies for it, so c’mon, we’re halfway there! Let’s do this!

I dedicate this album to one of my heros, Nobuo Uematsu.

Download the album here.

Or listen to each individual songs below:

1. The Beginning

2. Adventure Motif

3. Moon Coons Motif: Street Life, Or, Hot Gravel, Cold Stares, Dirty Games, and Rotting Marrow.

4. Uncharted Terrain

5. Robo Crocs Motif: It Takes A Pillage To Raze A Village.

6. Cyber Pigs Motif: Make Bank, Get Buck.

7. Love Motif: This Is What Love Felt Like In The 80’s.

8. Alpha Sharks Motif

9. Boss Level

10. Battle

11. Pyrrhic Victory

Williamsburg Love!

This is an internet commercial I did for 184 Kent Ave
It’s part of an ad campaign called Williamsburg Love.

Sierra Needle: In Defense Of My Decision To Break Off My Engagement To Mortal Kombat Heartthrob Sub-Zero

Greetings Blogliterati!
Sierra Needle is back from an extended emotional hiatus (a traumatic experience at a Lady Foot Locker left her reclusive and unresponsive for several months). In Defense of my Decision to Break Off my Engagement to Mortal Kombat Heartthrob Sub-Zero is Ms. Needle’s self-righteous, petulant, and morose Mea Culpa to the star-studded and wildly publicized termination of her engagement to MK stud farm Sub-Zero. This is her first album since she and the indubitable Chip Fantastic parted ways.
Make sure to check out her long anticipated collaboration with Mortal Kombat’s Liu Kang (TRACK 6). An excerpt from a GQ inteview with Liu Kang reads: “‘Ms. Needle, she approach me with idea for music. I accept, but on one condition,’ Mr. Kang says, sipping a virgin daquiri, eyes following passerbys on the boardwalk in the quaint Jersey beachtown where he has retired. ‘I write my own lyrics.’”

Album Art for In Defense Of My Decision To Break Off My Engagement To Mortal Kombat Heartthrob and Hero Sub-Zero

1. Frost Bites

2. Chill Wind (Trip Hop Track)

3. You Are Not A Ninja (Intro to You Are An Assassin)

4. You Are An Assassin

5. Chapped Lips

6. Liu Kang’s Aria

7. Spring Thaw

You can download the album here.

Tennessee WilliamsBot (Beta)

Guys! I was trying to invent a toaster that didn’t talk back so much (mine is giving me a lot of shit these days), but I accidentally invented a robot that writes Tennessee Williams plays! I’m calling it Tennessee WilliamsBot (Beta). You just give it a subject like “the tedious and treacherous degeneration of my relationship with Mortal Kombat heart throb and masked assailant Sub-Zero” and you’re in for a bona fide knuckle crackin’ Tennessee Williams good time! It runs on aged cognac and stolen glances from troubled women. In celebration of the forthcoming Sierra Needle album, “In Defense of my Decision to Break my Engagement to Mortal Kombat Heart Throb and Masked Assailant Sub-Zero,” I have put the aforementioned subject into the Tennessee WilliamsBot (Beta) and it spit out this monologue! Enjoy! Also, if you have any subjects you would like submit to the Tennessee WilliamsBot (Beta), let me know. It is in beta testing right now so we’re really letting this 001010 have it.

Emily [lacing a modern corset in a full-length mirror]:
We met at a derby party in Chattanooga, Sub-Zero and I.
A mutual friend introduced us. I was rootin’ for the underdog – a round-bellied stallion by the name Swell Ole Coot – knowin’ full well how endearin’ the fair sex is when she’s cheerin’ for the losing team. He kept steerin’ the conversation toward some three button fatality he was workin’ on where he decapitates his opponent then limbos with their spine. He thought my insecurity was aloof and I thought his costume was mysterious. You’re right, Jack, the relationship was based on false pretenses from the start.
We jump’d right in, head first, like that boy that drown in stony falls crick leavin’ them sisters and their po’ mother. It was one of those whirlwind relationships that lookin’ back only lasted as long as it did on account of both of you not wantin’ to be lonely. You know the type, Jack.
He got mean ‘round the third month. So did I, though. I only got about two an’a half months of behavin’ in me before my true nature shows through like black underwear ‘neath a first communion dress.
He started tryin’ to grow a moustache. He couldn’t grow a full beard, being as his hair grew in this weird growth pattern. I knew it bothered him. He took it real personal, like it meant he was less of a man. I can’t say I let him know otherwise. It annoyed me he took it so personal.
That tiny moustache. That meager assembly of man boy hair. That thin and moth-bit drapery that tickled my own upper lip like a tiny army of queers with a bag of feathers. And the giggles it caused in my un’specting person.
That moustache an’ all the trouble it started.
You make a point, Jack, and a good one at that. “If’n’it wasn the moo’stash, it’d be the dishes or the late nights or the motorsickle he buy on a whiskey-soaked impulse.” You’re right. I know you are. It’s a wonder we never shacked up when we had the chance, Jack.
In the end, though, it was the moustache. That dang moustache he just couldn’t grow. And yet, the harder it was to grow, and the more failure he faced in tryin’ grow that moustache – he had pinups, Jack, pinups on the refrigerator and all over the walls… men with moustaches that curled an’ bristled an’ birthin’ forth from every dimple and pockmark – the more he took’t out on me. An’ you know how willful an’ petulant I can be, Jack. You learned that quick.
That moo’stash, Jack… the way he’d look at in the mirror… the way he pampered and coddled that thing, Jack… any girl could be so lucky to have care taken a’ her the way he kept after that moo’stash. I’d catch him talkin’ to it, cooin’ words of inspiration and ‘couragement. Whisperin’ sweet conspiracy to that stunted and lame baby of his. “Mighty fine, you are. Ev’ry day get a little bigger, a little bolder. Soon enough you’ll be crawling down the corners of my mouth, meetin’ at my chin. Yessir you give a peacock a reason to wash and iron it’s feathers.” Caught him down right singing it a lullaby one time.
Well, I made a mistake though, Jack. A big one. One big enough to stop the moon in it’s tracks. I told Scorpion.
Now understand, Jack, Scorpion and Reptile were Sub-zero’s best friends. But the three of them, Jack, the three of them got on like schoolgirls wantin’ after the same boy. The three of them, they squabbled like starvin’ hogs over a chicken-pecked cob o’corn. They were best friends, sho’, but they ne’er let their mask down, not even in eachothers comp’ny.
You’re right, Jack, in questionin’ my motives. Sure, I can pound my fists in the dirt and say ‘It wasn’t my fault! Blame that devil child cap’n morgan and his persuasive kiss!’ But in the end I was lookin’ to saba’toge it. The same way daredevils and stunt doubles are really questin’ after their own death. Oh and I let Scorpion have me, Jack, anally, which really pissed Sub-Zero off.
Good men can only stand so much betrayal. Bad men, even less. And Jack, Sub-Zero was a bad man. I may be a bad woman, but Sub-Zero was still a bad man. Both of us, rotten to the core like a couple of apples e’en a squirrel wouldn’t sink a tooth in.
An’ what’s to be done, when everything’s come undone? I’m too ole to go back to sharing molasses pancakes and stealin’ kisses from the shop boys my daddy hires. You by my side though, Jack, makes me feel strong. I still don’t know why the two of us never met by stony falls crick at midnight and made some mistakes. All these years an’ you never married Jack. The town talks, Jack, but I don’t listen. Let the town talk themselves into the cold mossy ground. I know you ain’t touched like they say you are. I know you ain’t light in the loafers or stealing eggs from the hens, neither. It’s a wonder you never had me, Jack, anally. It’s an honest to God wonder

“Sometimes I Don’t Know” – Hilltop Scene – Rough Cut

Antonucci and I team up again for success, glory, and stuff that makes mom’s feel like all the handisnacks and wet naps were worth it. This is from Steve Levine’s thesis film called “Sometimes I don’t know.”

Passin’ On Class

Mike Antonucci’s Senior Thesis Film. I did some voices and music. Mike Antonucci is fantastic.

An Excerpt From “The KGBirds and the KGBees: Growing To Maturity Without Upsetting Mother Russia’s Core Party Values”

Congratulations! You are at the starting line of a fun, flirty, and very sweaty, race. The race to maturity! So throw those elbows cause last one there’s a rotten yam! Caution: Curves Ahead!
I know, I know: it’s scary. But don’t worry, the Party has put together a guide to make sure you mature without betraying the core values that have shaped you and to which you owe 95% of the fruits of your adult labor.

Your First Period:
You’re a woman! Okay, how to deal with this mess we call womanhood, right? We won’t lie. You will be tempted by Western products who’s marketing leads you to believe they offer convenience, style, and comfort. However, the domestically produced, state-endorsed MyFirstRag ™ will provide you with the relief you need without all those fussy strings and sticky wings. MyFirstRag™ is easy to apply. Simply drape the one size fits all rag over your underwear, shoving the excess into either pant leg, or let it peek over the edge of your pants (a style made popular by Yolanda Petrova, Siberian musk deer wrestler).

Breasts:
Everyone’s body is different. Some girls develop large breasts, others develop really large breasts, and still others develop really really large breasts. But the point is that no matter how different you seem, you are all the same in the eyes of the Party.
That’s why the people that brought you MyFirstRag™ have come up with BoobHammock™, a one size fits all undergarment made from the finest recycled potato sacks and oxen bridles. BoobHammock™ provides so much support you will find yourself saying “who needs comfort? I know that everything good requires personal sacrifice!”

Boys:
Perhaps you’ve already noticed this change. Perhaps you were just walking by your sister’s room, like you do everyday, and you caught a glimpse of her poster of heartthrob and beard model Ivan Stetslavsky. Normally you appreciate the thick and tangled pelt that clings to his face like a frightened water shrew, but in an aesthetic and emotionally detached way. On this particular day, however, you find yourself imagining what those bristles would feel like against your own cheek. Suddenly, your imagination takes you to a cold and damp shed where Ivan, wearing little more than a few pairs of long johns, teaches you how to chop wood or remove a bear trap from your leg. This is normal. Plenty of girls your age will be having the very same fantasy. And that’s okay! As long as your fantasies conform to the ethos of our Great Party, of course.
In order to help you, the Party has scripted several adolescent “Fantasies” you can indulge yourself in without treading the fine line between “thinking” and “thinking for yourself”:

1. Your Volga has broken down on the side of the road. The guy driving the tow truck is super cute! The two of you bond over things like music and how the only reason your car broke down to begin with is because foreign imports are weakening the domestic automobile industry.
2. You are at the bank, donating sixty percent of your annual income to the Party. The teller is so hot, with stern eyebrows and a quirky harelip. He is aroused by your patriotism. He takes your innocence, along with several other men who work equal shifts and are allowed a fifteen-minute break every four hours.
3. You write a blog post questioning Russia’s purported use of energy resources as a political weapon. The KGB agent that knocks down your door, handcuffs you to your toilet, and finds the subscription to the Economist you hide under your pillow is so cute! He gives you something much more interesting blog about then boring politics.

Sex:
Presumably you’ll fall in love with and marry a nice party boy and produce ample fodder for the all-consuming furnace that is our Russia! But it would be naïve to assume that you’re not going to have to deal with sex before then.
Let’s say you saw a bootleg episode of 90210. You feel seduced by their western follies, drawn to their reckless self-indulgence. If you do decide to become sexually active, it is important to be prepared. Luckily, from the comrades that brought you MyFirstRag™ and BoobHammock™ comes Baby-B-Gone!™. It’s simple. One little pill knocks you out long enough for Party Agents to arrive, perform a slightly invasive procedure, acquire the fertilized egg, transport it to a laboratory hidden in a snow dune guarded by snow ninjas, and use the stem cells to genetically engineer an army of Siamese quintuplet fighting machines. All this so you don’t have to miss a day of sixth grade!

STD’s:
You’ve heard about STD’s, but how do you know if you’ve got one? STD’s come in all shapes and sizes, but mainly they’re rectangular, folded sheets of paper, clandestine in both publication and distribution, containing words like “private property,” “free-market,” and “let’s use our Christmas bonuses to buy that third car we don’t need but really want.” If you think you have an STD, you probably do. Destroy it in a fire and tell the authorities.

Choosing a Political Party:
Just another stage of becoming a woman, right? Wrong. It is probably the most important stage! Sometimes you have to ask yourself ‘is it worth the seizure of my family’s grain ration to search for any titles containing the word ‘representative democracy’ in my local library”? Other times you have to ask yourself “whatever happened to that boy who kept inviting me to secret meetings in the stock room of that dry goods store that burned down in that mysterious oil rag fire?” Still other times you might want to ask yourself “is heavy labor in the middle of a Siberian tundra as fun as it looks on the popular sitcoms ‘Gulag Riddance!’ and ’30,000’s Company!’?” Everyone’s body is different, and it takes time to find the political party that fits your unique blossoming garden. So go! Explore! Have fun! Be young! You are standing at the frontier of self-discovery! Just make sure that self you discover is a squeakless gear in a slow and antiquated machine.

Things I Am Having A Hard Time Finding Someone To Do With Me

1) Go To Peru.
2) Shrooms this Saturday.

The Laments EP

Everyone’s favorite interstellar seamstress of sine waves is back with perhaps her most somber album yet. Sierra Needle, with the help of the recently incarcerated Chip Fantastic, tackles a few of the weightier cosmological quandaries, such as Why Do Burritos Fall Apart? and What Would We Do, Baby, Without Us?
Enjoy!

1. Lament for the Finishing of a Sandwich

2. Lament for the Browning of an Avocado

3. Lament for the Falling Apart of a Burrito

4. Regarding My Decision to Abandon My Family and Loved Ones in Pursuit of the Last Living Dinosaur

B SIDE: Upon Learning that T. Rexes were not the Terrible Predators we all thought they were, but instead Simple Scavengers