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Hate Therapy

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About Hate Therapy

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  1. Man I totally disagree. Too many shades of grey to believe in such a black and white idea like that.
  2. Yo I hear this point of view, and I love & respect bombing, but in 2004 NY I think the graffiti perspective is skewed. Rocking real pieces with foundation, structure, control, style, and innovation is no cake walk. That shit takes years on top of years to develop. There are writers who can invent (or be handed down) a solid throwup & tag and maintain a hardcore presence through bombing for years -- and they no doubt receive deserved respect -- but this sidelining pieces in the name of hyping up bombing shit is kinda immature and ignorant. But it's a popular outlook right now, and what happens as a result is you get a whole crop of young writers coming up who have the balls to bomb in public but lack the skill to do it with real style and flare, which turns the streets into a toyfest. As a statement that isn't meant as a disrespect to cats who've been strictly bombing for years, because that's their thing and they do it well, but I think it's a fact about the current generation.
  3. On another 1991 note: Here's the ingredients of a Burger King strawberry milkshake: amyl acetate, amyl butyrate, amyl valerate, anethol, anisyl formate, benzyl acetate, benzyl isobutyrate, butyric acid, cinnamyl isobutyrate, cinnamyl valerate, cognac essential oil, diacetyl, dipropyl ketone, ethyl acetate, ethyl amyl ketone, ethyl butyrate, ethyl cinnamate, ethyl heptanoate, ethyl heptylate, ethyl lactate, ethyl methylphenylglycidate, ethyl nitrate, ethyl propionate, ethyl valerate, heliotropin, hydroxyphenyl-2-butanone (10 percent solution in alcohol), a-ionone, isobutyl anthranilate, isobutyl butyrate, lemon essential oil, maltol, 4-methylacetophenone, methyl anthranilate, methyl benzoate, methyl cinnamate, methyl heptine carbonate, methyl naphthyl ketone, methyl salicylate, mint essential oil, neroli essential oil, nerolin, neryl isobutyrate, orris butter, phenethyl alcohol, rose, rum ether, g-undecalactone, vanillin, and solvent.
  4. Wait... The first 1991 thread was a fuck-up, though. There was only meant to be one, which I suppose makes this thread a bit more 1992, or 3, respectively.
  5. Yeah, I guess you're right. Nice use of abusive commentary. *Although saying something is "so 1991" is even more 1991.
  6. 1991 After considering someone's comment, this shit has been changed to the "1991" thread, and is a dedication to that one kraeon54648694424 guy who always posts the random heavy metal pictures on here with the unrelated quotes underneath them.
  7. I fucked up, sorry
  8. There's this strictly-beer bar in Cali I used to stay drinking at, and they had a beer "menu" -- all types of beer and a short description of how they're fermented and whatnot. Pilsner Urquell was on the list and had the highest recommendation possible, It said something about the beer winning a bunch of international awards or some shit. I really don't know what the fuck they were talking about but I know I drowned in that shit on occasion. The champagne packaging is truly a gentleman's choice.
  9. Ballantines, Pilsner Urquell ... You sound kinda official. I remember I used to bring home 40s of Steel Reserve and get tanked in front of my computer. Those WEREN'T the days.
  10. Chisme is just non-stop. Way too much flavor.
  11. Word to trains. Cars are dope but transit riding is ESSENTIAL. Me and my boy were coming home from NY on NJ Transit once and found a STOCKPILE of unused round-trip tickets. We rode it back and forth for weeks, scheming on spots non-stop. Chilling out with headphones and a 40 on NJT is definitely what's up.
  12. You act like that's a bad thing. Trias are the come-up when you find them somewhere rackable. Don't sleep.
  13. A kindergarten teacher? That story was out of control. Not long ago there was some crazy older woman who grabbed me off the street and DEMANDED that I suck on her bachelorette friend's candy necklace, but the thing looked like it had already been gnawed on by 15 rabid bikers with gold fronts and braces. When I respectfully declined she grabbed at my sweater like a pole in a hurricane and pulled me towards her. It was an all-out tug-of-war before I finally freed myself and fled for public transportation. Women over 30 are fucking animals.
  14. My birthday as well. I never do shit on my birthday. Although night before last I DID drink a bottle of rum, 3 cups of vodka, handled a 40 in the doorway of a "chic" yuppie hangout, shouted obscenities in a crowded social function, passed out on the floor of a semi-artsy coffee-shop-cafe-type place and woke up on a random couch in the same location 5 hours later. I actually went straight to work after that. God bless cell-phone alarms.
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