Mug Nug

Tyler Owen Tupper’s Dying Wish
December 30, 2008, 1:38 am
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Let it be known to all that Tyler “Tip Top” Tupper wills his tombstone to read.

“The Experiment is Over. Somebody give me a Home Brew.”

Once a week I will walk to Tyler’s grave and empty a home brew in his memory.  There is no need for flowers, just home brews.

I have a feeling Greg’s last wishes will be similar. Oh and Tyler is not actually dying yet, just making wishes.


Hey, we can post pictures…
December 30, 2008, 12:10 am
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Dreamy Ryan Sobotka.

Dreamy Ryan Sobotka.

Brother Sport
December 29, 2008, 1:17 am
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One night, on the bear skin rug by the heart, Panda Bear and Avey Tare decided to host an Orgy.

The invitations went out, gilded, and half the Brooklyn scene RS-muthafucking-VP’d.

Grizzly Bear was there, with stow-away Department of Eagles. The Hold Steady had to play Letterman, but Bradford Cox couldn’t keep still his enthusiasm. The Dirty Projectors make weird music and weren’t invited. And colorblind as Panda was, he couldn’t stoop to let malt-liquor swilling fried-chicken kicking TV on the Radio show up.

So it was basically Bradford and his boy-choir harem, that guy from Grizzly Bear, Avey Tare & Panda Bear.

Drinks were clinked, toys were kink, and Bradford jacked off in the sink.

“Euuuhhh,” said monsieur Marfan.

“Open up your throat,” said Avey and Panda in tandem (bicycle).

“Guy, I uh,” mumbled a red-cheecked Grizzly Bear, “I’m gonna go…the wife and all…”

“UHH…uhh…EUeehehhEEEEE! EE!!!,” went Bradford. Preoccupied. As usual, I might add.

Then they all sucked Pitchfork’s fat, veiny cock and laughed all the way to the bank.

The end.

December 29, 2008, 1:02 am
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Greg came back from California today.

Atticus Finch would let Jem and Scout win at checkers.

Lisbon is the capital.

Clayton never ever ever takes off hi hat.

The vaporizer bag is named Elizabeth.

An umbrella has lights attached.

Blue Velvet was pseudo-inspired by a place near our home.

The window blinds don’t work as well as other window blinds normally do.

And we suffer from a recalcitrant prudishness.

Merry Merriweather Post Pavilion Day Post
December 29, 2008, 12:57 am
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“Open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr open up yr,” goes the stereo.

“Bum bamm bum,” goes the feet.   All 12 of them.

“Whose feet,” asks Iocasta.

“Ours,” says Oedipus.

Like Sophocles at Burning Man, AC smacked a djembe into subservient post-sexual schmazznagorria.  With x-tra schmazz.

First it was slow, then it was slower, then we fell asleep, but our ears woke up for the last song, and  groove groove grooved it to a Buzz Lightyear infinity.  We think, what superlatives and stretched metaphors the press will reach towards?  Huh? Betcha they won’t cite a Pixar movie.  Betcha million bucks.

~Avey “Thomas” Tare

Ladies look out
December 29, 2008, 12:45 am
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It’s time at the M’Nug that we make the decisions for Rashid. The big ones.

Ya dig?

He needs a kid. One child. 9 months + 18 years = a person that can invite him to live in the US of A.

But in other new news: we are drinking.

Mug Nug World Tour!
December 24, 2008, 9:35 am
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The Mug Nug is a house connected to another house with roughly 9-13 people residing on either sides at any given time. There are sisters, brothers, Haiku, boyfriends, Daddy, girlfriends, Pushpin, Kumars, Gayda… basically one big crazy family.

My name is Bradley, I have an Imac.

I will end with whatever our cat pushpin has to say:

“Here’s what I hope will happen on this trip,” Pushpin says. “What I hope will continue to happen, because it’s already starting to happen. All of us are beginning to do our own thing, and we’re going to keep doing it, right out front, and none of us are going to deny what other people are doing.”

“Bullshit,” says Karl

This brings up Pushpin short for a moment, but she just rolls with it.

“That’s Karl,” she says. “And he’s doing his thing. Bullshit. That’s his thing and he’s doing it.”

“None of us are going to deny what other people are doing. IF saying bullshit is somebody’s thing, the he says bullshit. If somebody is an ass-kicker, then that’s what he’s going to do on this trip, kick asses. He’s going to do it right out front and nobody is going to have anything to get pissed off about. He can just say, ‘I’m sorry I kicked you in the ass, but I’m not sorry I’m an ass-kicker. That’s what I do, I kick people in the ass.’ Everybody is going to be what they are, and whatever they are , there’s not going to be anything  to apologize about. What we are, we’re going to wail with on this whole trip.”

—This is what Pushpin actually said:

“tgfgnvb vdfbkipuyy6yy6yhh bbhvmk,,30  7”