jmix robbed for 15 gs, officially joins 2pat 007 schreibs on pac donkey list.

[doublee313]

leave jmix alone, hes a good guy!!

Great alias Hack...

lmao...the irony of this post here.

Irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All irony is a variation on a sort of existential poker-face. All U.S. irony is based on an implicit ‘I don’t really mean what I say.’ So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: ‘How very banal to ask what I mean.’

The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of ‘anti-rebels,’ born oglers woh dare to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse single-entendre values. Who treat old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point, why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk things. Risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. The new rebels might be the ones willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘How banal.’ Accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Credulity. Willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows. Today’s most engaged young fiction does seem like some kind of line’s end’s end. I guess that means we all get to draw our own conclusions. Have to. Are you immensely pleased.

Uhhhhhhh.  Huh?

[Hack Wilson - real]

leave jmix alone, hes a good guy!!

Great alias Hack...

lmao...the irony of this post here.

Irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All irony is a variation on a sort of existential poker-face. All U.S. irony is based on an implicit ‘I don’t really mean what I say.’ So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: ‘How very banal to ask what I mean.’

The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of ‘anti-rebels,’ born oglers woh dare to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse single-entendre values. Who treat old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point, why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk things. Risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. The new rebels might be the ones willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘How banal.’ Accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Credulity. Willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows. Today’s most engaged young fiction does seem like some kind of line’s end’s end. I guess that means we all get to draw our own conclusions. Have to. Are you immensely pleased.

Uhhhhhhh.  Huh?

lmao


dubcc is such an interesting forum sometimes

[daytondanger]

leave jmix alone, hes a good guy!!

Great alias Hack...

lmao...the irony of this post here.

Irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All irony is a variation on a sort of existential poker-face. All U.S. irony is based on an implicit ‘I don’t really mean what I say.’ So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: ‘How very banal to ask what I mean.’

The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of ‘anti-rebels,’ born oglers woh dare to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse single-entendre values. Who treat old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point, why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk things. Risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. The new rebels might be the ones willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘How banal.’ Accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Credulity. Willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows. Today’s most engaged young fiction does seem like some kind of line’s end’s end. I guess that means we all get to draw our own conclusions. Have to. Are you immensely pleased.

Uhhhhhhh.  Huh?

Real niggas be articulate.

[bigpimpin20]

anybody know from where jmix got those 2pac instrumentals playing in his videos?

[U.N.T.O.U.C.H.A.B.L.E.]

leave jmix alone, hes a good guy!!

Great alias Hack...

lmao...the irony of this post here.

Irony tyrannizes us. The reason why our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying is that an ironist is impossible to pin down. All irony is a variation on a sort of existential poker-face. All U.S. irony is based on an implicit ‘I don’t really mean what I say.’ So what does irony as a cultural norm mean to say? That it’s impossible to mean what you say? That maybe it’s too bad it’s impossible, but wake up and smell the coffee already? Most likely, I think, today’s irony ends up saying: ‘How very banal to ask what I mean.’

The next real literary ‘rebels’ in this country might well emerge as some weird bunch of ‘anti-rebels,’ born oglers woh dare to back away from ironic watching, who have the childish gall actually to endorse single-entendre values. Who treat old untrendy human troubles and emotions in U.S. life with reverence and conviction. Who eschew self-consciousness and fatigue. These anti-rebels would be outdated, of course, before they even started. Too sincere. Clearly repressed. Backward, quaint, naive, anachronistic. Maybe that’ll be the point, why they’ll be the next real rebels. Real rebels, as far as I can see, risk things. Risk disapproval. The old postmodern insurgents risked the gasp and squeal: shock, disgust, outrage, censorship, accusations of socialism, anarchism, nihilism. The new rebels might be the ones willing to risk the yawn, the rolled eyes, the cool smile, the nudged ribs, the parody of gifted ironists, the ‘How banal.’ Accusations of sentimentality, melodrama. Credulity. Willingness to be suckered by a world of lurkers and starers who fear gaze and ridicule above imprisonment without law. Who knows. Today’s most engaged young fiction does seem like some kind of line’s end’s end. I guess that means we all get to draw our own conclusions. Have to. Are you immensely pleased.

Uhhhhhhh.  Huh?

Real niggas be articulate.

quick question, are you an escapee from any mental institutions?

[daytondanger]

quick question, are you an escapee from any mental institutions?

Get humble. we're all narcissists, but
you take the cake, you
take it and eat it and spit it back in the face
of the last person who cared and whose time you could waste.
I'll watch you fade away from the fire on the bridge that
you burned, that
I didn't try to put out, because
it was-is inevitable
for me: non-worshipper of the air
you breathe, it is inevitable that eventually
I will sink into the ground where
your substandard friends reside, where
you ground them into your heel because
no one's good enough for you.

The only one who has a chance
is a replica of yourself, and I am tired
of dragging you away from your pool
of tormented reflections, I am
tired
of soaking my shirt with your snot.

oh-and that party, the one I didn't plan for you?
did you stop to think for a minute who would come?
no one. you are so tortured
poor thing, you just can't stand
all the fake, directionless, faux-acquaintances that
remind you so deeply of yourself.

If I were you, I'd be in denial too.

So I didn't
say happy birthday, and I'm sorry. Truly.
But I did spend the money I don't have to drive the car that needs gas to pick you up and buy you cigarettes and buy the alcohol and buy your night.
If it wasn't that night, it was another one.
But I did always remind you that you are loved, that you are powerful, that you are strong
that you can overcome the brick walls staring youin the face.
But I did pick you up on the side of the road at 2 in the morning,
But I did look deep in your eyes and love your wounded demons,
But I did come over and calm you down before the cops came and
arrested you.

I may have moved away, I may not have the money or time
to give you what you want, but I gave you my love.
I gave you my support. I gave you everything I could.
and we loved each other.
But you needed me more
then I needed you.
You were a big part of my life, but you weren't
all of it
like you are asking to be. (and I won't apologize.)
Yes, perhaps I came off as dismissive
because you're not used to lives refusing to revolve
around the sun of your problems.

But I understand, because you don't understand
what it's like
to be an adult
and have responsibilities, to
have budgets and schedules and
an ambition my mommy can't pay for.
you had to be a man when you were a child, and now
as a man
you are but a kid
reclaiming your lost innocence.

I understand, but you made your choice.
and I don't feel like changing your mind.
Though I will always love you and your twists and turns
that aren't as complicated as you think.
I love your passion even though it doesn't reach
very far. I know you're trying. I've seen the stone well
of your deepest wisdom, your unloved vulnerability,
and I've loved. And I've wished
that there was some way to convince you
how appreciated you are, though you'll never
believe me.

I will love you from afar darling, so I won't be told
I'm not enough for you.
I'll return to the beautiful chaos of our friendship
when you put it in perspective, and when
the cup of my patience refills, because
despite everything
YOU ARE WORTH IT.

[makaveli..]

3weres jmix

[U.N.T.O.U.C.H.A.B.L.E.]

quick question, are you an escapee from any mental institutions?

Get humble. we're all narcissists, but
you take the cake, you
take it and eat it and spit it back in the face
of the last person who cared and whose time you could waste.
I'll watch you fade away from the fire on the bridge that
you burned, that
I didn't try to put out, because
it was-is inevitable
for me: non-worshipper of the air
you breathe, it is inevitable that eventually
I will sink into the ground where
your substandard friends reside, where
you ground them into your heel because
no one's good enough for you.

The only one who has a chance
is a replica of yourself, and I am tired
of dragging you away from your pool
of tormented reflections, I am
tired
of soaking my shirt with your snot.

oh-and that party, the one I didn't plan for you?
did you stop to think for a minute who would come?
no one. you are so tortured
poor thing, you just can't stand
all the fake, directionless, faux-acquaintances that
remind you so deeply of yourself.

If I were you, I'd be in denial too.

So I didn't
say happy birthday, and I'm sorry. Truly.
But I did spend the money I don't have to drive the car that needs gas to pick you up and buy you cigarettes and buy the alcohol and buy your night.
If it wasn't that night, it was another one.
But I did always remind you that you are loved, that you are powerful, that you are strong
that you can overcome the brick walls staring youin the face.
But I did pick you up on the side of the road at 2 in the morning,
But I did look deep in your eyes and love your wounded demons,
But I did come over and calm you down before the cops came and
arrested you.

I may have moved away, I may not have the money or time
to give you what you want, but I gave you my love.
I gave you my support. I gave you everything I could.
and we loved each other.
But you needed me more
then I needed you.
You were a big part of my life, but you weren't
all of it
like you are asking to be. (and I won't apologize.)
Yes, perhaps I came off as dismissive
because you're not used to lives refusing to revolve
around the sun of your problems.

But I understand, because you don't understand
what it's like
to be an adult
and have responsibilities, to
have budgets and schedules and
an ambition my mommy can't pay for.
you had to be a man when you were a child, and now
as a man
you are but a kid
reclaiming your lost innocence.

I understand, but you made your choice.
and I don't feel like changing your mind.
Though I will always love you and your twists and turns
that aren't as complicated as you think.
I love your passion even though it doesn't reach
very far. I know you're trying. I've seen the stone well
of your deepest wisdom, your unloved vulnerability,
and I've loved. And I've wished
that there was some way to convince you
how appreciated you are, though you'll never
believe me.

I will love you from afar darling, so I won't be told
I'm not enough for you.
I'll return to the beautiful chaos of our friendship
when you put it in perspective, and when
the cup of my patience refills, because
despite everything
YOU ARE WORTH IT.

thank you for the confirmation

[jmix]

I did not spend a dime for that material. you MF's hating are tripping. The ones on here saying some TRUTH? Thanks for your support! word.

hack you a dipshit. I guess I should be honored someone resized my youtube pic, photoshopped it to a poster, i never really saw .. to hate? that is lamer than no pussy at an orgy. Hack knows.. anyway? lmao on a whole thread.

15k? haha that shits is ridiculous.

[Hack Wilson - real]

lmao i didn't make that poster you pussy, and quit lying we know you used daddy's credit card while he was on vacation

[jmix]

lmao i didn't make that poster you pussy, and quit lying we know you used daddy's credit card while he was on vacation

My father died in 2001 you faggot.

You just fucking mad that you aint shit.

I mean that in the nicest way possible, you piece of shit.

[jmix]

ill show you what REAL pull looks like homie, that pic of me you posted? it will be removed and not BY you.


watch.

[jmix]

anybody know from where jmix got those 2pac instrumentals playing in his videos?

Johnny J gave them too me.

[Hack Wilson - real]

ill show you what REAL pull looks like homie, that pic of me you posted? it will be removed and not BY you.


watch.

J Snitch lmao


you mad

[IDidIt4TheNetFame]

stop being so mean hack.

Jesse is misunderstood, hes a great guy. Sams a lucky girl to have him and there 4 kids in there lives.I was over there house last week, we had pop tarts and solo for dinner, it was delicious!!

stop being a meanie!!!