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Crude Stories: Meet the Beastie Boys

A Day in the Life of the Rudest, Loudest, Deffest, Most Obnoxious Rappers in the World

“Quick, I saw this in a movie once. This guy’s in a bank and he’s overdrawn his account, and everyone’s calling him names, and the tellers are making fun of him. So he rips the roof off the elevator, and … LOOK OUT!” At which point MCA reached inside his pants, exposing his last stick of dynamite, and affixed it to the roof. It was detonated.

When the smoke had cleared, a face appeared above them — it was the face of young David Scilken: “You guys should have waited for me, I’m really good with locks, ask anyone, and my dad, he’s got this awesome set of tools.”

Sean, taking charge of the plethora of bastards standing around him, issued an order: “Pass that equipment up to Dave, you plethora of bastards.”

“What’s a plethora?” Dave asked.

Question: Who’s young David Scilken?

Beasties: He’s a crazy kid we’ve known since we were real little, and he comes out on the road with us. His main objective in life is to cause more trouble than anybody else ever could — and he does.

Question: Does he outdo the Beastie Boys?

Beasties: He tries to, but he usually ends up getting caught.

At any rate, the van was loaded with people and shit, and it was time to leave. Only two blocks into the journey, though, the van encountered waste-case and childhood friend Tom Cushman, strumming his guitar in the middle of the Manhattan Bridge.
“Yo, Cushman, how’s business?” MCA asked.

“Well, I got a physics test today, but I’m thinking of going to Detroit.”

“No way,” Mike D piped up, “We’re goin’ to Detroit too. Hop in.”

“How strange and bizarre,” Tom Cushman concluded. “Can we stop at my house and get Extended Sexual Orgasm by Pete Best?”

Question: What is Extended Sexual Orgasm?

Beasties: E.S.O. is the book the Beastie Boys live by. Yauch read it the most times — he read it once. It talks about ways to make your girlfriend, or any other girl, have an orgasm for an hour or more. We’re not talking about multiple orgasm or an orgasm that lasts an extraordinary length of time, like 30 seconds; we’re talking about a new plateau beyond the wildest imagination.

The crew was finally complete with eleven people, four thousand pounds of equipment, and totally a lot of beer, heading in the general direction of the Midwest.

MCA by now had fully assumed the role of driver. “Well, I’m a-runnin’ down the road, tryin’ to loosen my load, got seven women on my mind … “

“Would you quit singing those damn Eagles songs and keep your eyes on the road,” Ad-Rock snapped.

“But Ad-Rock,” MCA pleaded, “I’m Born to Be Wild. As a matter of fact, I’m Running on Empty, runnin’ on … ” MCA was K-Tel’s Cruisin’ ’77, the dick who liked to drive. “Cause tramps like us, baby … we’re … On the Road Again … American Woman, get away from me — But MCA’s happy tune was stopped short, as Ad-Rock wrapped his fists around MCA’s collar.

“Wait a second,” Ad-Rock screamed, sensing the injustice, “What the hell does the Guess Who have to do with driving?”

“Oh, they’ve been on my mind for some strange and bizarre reason. And speaking of strange and bizarre, where’s Mike D?”

Mike D was, in fact, crafting a joint in the back of the van, as one might imagine some old and ancient Indian woman might.

“Where’s that fucking joint, asshole?” Ad-Rock asked.

“Roll, very old woman, roll like the wind,” MCA encouraged.

“One total spliff coming right up, Mr. Dude,” Mike saluted. MCA tore his hand away from the wheel to take a hit.

“Yo, what’s in this?”

“Well actually,” Mike D explained, “it’s a hybrid, dude. A combination of Kentucky Bluegrass and Californian Sinsemilla. So you can play many holes of golf on it and still get high.”

Question: Who would the Beastie Boys most want to fill out a golf foursome with?

Beasties: Bob Hope is the obvious. Bing Crosby, God rest his soul, would have been our choice, had he been alive.

The sound of Bosco’s nefarious French horn intruded.

“Isn’t that ‘Space Truckin’ by Deep Purple?” Ricky asked Bosco.

“No, it’s ‘American Woman’ by the Guess Who.”

“Yo, I know that tune,” MCA screamed. “It goes American woman, American woman …”

“Why don’t you all shut up! I play the music here,” Ad-Rock interjected. “I’ve got the box, I’ve got the tapes, and I play the music!”

“CUM ON FEEL THE NOIZE … LET’S GET WILD, WILD, WILD.”

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