Found some people worth plugging before story time, artist that I stumbled across that are doing some really fucking cool stuff. First check out Doodlebrain, no idea what his real name is. He’s got some strong, strong sketches on his site and I need to find out what else he’s up to – his bots' sketches have a very dynamic pop. Jason Sho Green has a great style, a voice in his work that’s hard to ignore. I love the stuff he does on wood boards and for you people that like nice art on your walls he seems to sell prints at a very reasonable price. Anyway, just throwing some new finds at you.
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Back at the beginnings of this year-long experiment I talked briefly about the day I adopted my current namesake, The Moose in the Closet. As I mentioned, The Moose was born in the summer of ’96 at a barbeque to celebrate the end of high school and the last summer all of my friends will spend together.

We were grilling up some burgers, drinking some beers and listening to some music. We jacked a microphone in and I just started doing some silly-ass freestyles that were getting the people laughing. G said we should be taping this, so we got an old Memorex, popped it in and hit record. We threw the Beastie Boys’ THE IN SOUND FROM WAY OUT in the CD player and I made the introduction that will one day become the mantra of The Church of Moose.

“The Moose in the Mother-Fucking Closet is about to drop some shit. G, drop a beat, yo.”

G hits plays and I start spitting the lyrics to DOGFOOD, the very first Moose in the Closet song recorded. The song wasn’t about eating dogfood or comparing anything to dogfood. It was about chilling with the dogfood. It got some good laughs, so I decided to do another.

The second song was RAVIOLI. We threw in James Brown's (my mother fucking man) SEX MACHINE and I sang along with James.

Get on the scene, like Chef Boyardee.

It was glorious.

Make your raviolis. Raviolis don’t burn it baby. Don’t burn my raviolis. I’ll fuck your ho, I’ll fuck your ho …Get up’a! Cookin’ Raviolis. Get up’a! Cookin’ Raviolis…

After I spit RAVIOLI, The Moose had fans – it was no longer a novelty act.

We wanted to keep going but we needed refreshment. B, G and I went into B’s car to drive on over to the 7-11. My neighbor’s skanky friend wanted to join us and we told her she could as long as she agreed to flash whoever we told her to flash. She happily agreed and we let her in the car.

Well, we stopped alongside every person on the street and commanded the girl to flash them. We walked into the 7-11 and told her to flash the clerk, a customer and the camera. We would pull alongside cars, honk our horn and have the girl flash them.

The Moose turned into a fucking party in one night – I was a goddamn rock star.

Upon returning to the party I got right back up to the mic and freestyled SESAME’S TREAT: A MAN’S BIG MEAT, a homoerotic freestyle dropped over that techno song, SESAME'S TREAT (which looped the Sesame Street theme song).

Groover was cute, had a big cock, in the ass of snuff-a-luff-a-gus fucked Big Bird, bookbag, Bert and Ernie shooting jizzum, the rizzum, the izzum boogidy-boogidy-boogidy-boo. I fucked you. Yeah. What? DOGFOOD!

Lyrical. Fucking. Genius. In the immortal words of Vast Aire, “A pigeon can’t drop shit if it never flew.” And I was flying that night, entertaining the people at the barbeque, having girls flash at my beck and call and, in turn, I was dropping hot shit.

We ended the night with a disappointing attempt at a song. By then most people were gone and we were all beat, it had to be past 4AM. It was to the X-files theme song for Christ’s sake and it was just me basically talking about X-files in the same voice Sen Dog used when he dropped it for Cypress Hill.

The remaining few of us crashed after that. RJ got head from my neighbor and no-one wanted to touch the skanky friend. I was content with become an overnight sensation. It would grow. Soon I would have thirty, thirty-five fans. But the Moose will never record another album with G on the deck – instead he joins R.A.I.L. (Random Acts of Illegitimate Lyricism), with B on guitar and Jeromeo on drum machine - but that’s a story for another day.