What everyone remembers is that an Irish kid touched his records while they were moving, and for some reason this was worthy of special recognition. So they called him the Scratching Champion…or something. It’s not like he got a crown. Some say it’s a meaningless title, like Miss Universe or Lieutenant Governor.
You, gentle reader, might as well be ITF World Champion. It’s just that easy! At any rate, almost no one who saw his performance that day would agree to speak about it. One observer, wishing to remain anonymous, had this to say: “He’s no Qbert, but one thing’s for certain—his scratch-pickle isn’t invisible. We kept asking him to put it away...I mean, there were ladies present!” Local police confirmed at least part of this story.
According to Constable Snil Atkerston of the F— Police Department , there indeed were ladies present. He remembers at least two, and one of them wasn’t half bad looking. A brunette, possibly. But he was mostly looking at her legs. The bottom line is this: you don’t know DJ Flip.
You can’t know him. And you should be very thankful for that fact. I wish I had never met him, had never been asked to write these notes, had never been added to his infernal MySpace page. The taint of it is like a stink-palm I’ll be shaking for the rest of my days, and I’ll never be clean again.
As for Flip, he was never clean to begin with. He’ll go right on his merry way, living it up like some pill-addled leprechaun, stinking of shamrocks and shoe-leather. He even named his company LuckyCharm Records. I mean, seriously…we get it.
Ireland. I’ve heard about it. It’s in all the crosswords. The answer is EIRE…or ERIN.
It depends. So there you have it…or do you? Obviously you don’t. Regardless, DJ Flip is here, and he’s a hundred and fifty percent in-your-face at all times. He says what he wants, when he wants, where he wants, to who he wants, and then he also says why he wants…uh, something, and sometimes he says how he wants it, as well. He covers the spectrum.
He runs the whole gamut…or is it gauntlet? What’s the phrase again? I always think it’s the one, but it’s really the other…damn it! Well, never you mind, because DJ Flip certainly wouldn’t. He’d just keep scr-scr-scratchin’ and zigga-zag cuttin’ and reverse crab-hamstering, or whatever it is he does, and he would look up at you with those laughing Irish eyes, and he would smile. He would smile. The author would like to thank Grip Grand, who he actually is. Read more on Last.fm.
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