Anti-Half Beard? Hola, Bojour, Hi Haters...
More like Anti-Piracy...
I feel like expressing an opinion right now, no story, no legend, that shit will come later.
Maybe a brief history...I have been downloading illegal copies of all sorts of shit since the days of dial-up...cue sound

However I would like to point out that if I really enjoy an artist and the work they do, I will pay money for their work. It's rare, but I will.
I would like to talk about two artists, that I believe are doing things right. What is right, you ask? Well look, once a media, take music for example, becomes so FREELY available, it becomes harder for that artist to be motivated to make more music. Take Hip Hop for example, records sales have never been lower than they are now. Everyday though new Hip Hop is leaked on the internet or available for free download some where.
I feel like all these artists are trying to make a hit record, to make that fast cash. And I don't blame them, who knows, maybe some day Half Beard will make a record...can you hear it?
My problem with all this music being released on a daily is that it is starting to lose its originality. Generally it all sounds the same, change the beat up a little, rearrange the lyrics, recycle those rhymes...It's like a god damn production line.
But let me get on task and talk about these two very different ends of the spectrum, but with the very same goals in mind.
Chamillionaire - if you don't know, Google bitches.
Metallica - again if you don't know...actually if you ain't never heard of Metallica, go kill yourself.
So both of these artists are doing what is called "building hype" for their new albums. Dropping singles before the actual album releases. Now how does this differ from most artists? Well generally an album will leak way before it's actual release date. See:Young Jeezy, The Game, Guns & Roses(which really hasn't fully leaked, and really who cares anymore). These are just a few examples.
Now Chamillionaire has done something genius as far as I am concerned. He stated that his new mixtape would be available for free on his website. It's not. And as of right now, as far as I know, It's not available anywhere for free online. You know he made money this way. For those that simply could not wait, they bought the album online. Obviously no one has it yet. Or it would be available. Maybe some people do have it, and just won't rip it, who knows. All I know is that I am probably going to buy it, and I haven't bought a cd in years.
Metallica...same kind of scenario, but they have been pretty much the pioneers in this whole anti-piracy thing. But as of late they have been quoted saying they are trying to use the internet to their advantage. Google them and see for yourself the ways they are using the internet. Exclusive listening sessions online, etc.
The reality of all this, and the point of my post is that artists need the internet.
People like DJ khaled say "Fuck you bloggers...", while artists like Joe Budden start internet revolutions by broadcasting live studio sessions.
The internet is not going anywhere, bloggers and nerds and pirates are not going anywhere, once people have a hard copy of your music, it's going to be online, its just a matter of time.
These artists that have their music leaked(S.L.U. see music previous post), need to take these guys as an example, if you didn't leak it yourself, someone close to you did. You want to stop piracy? Call chamillionaire and ask him how his new shit, a mixtape, didn't get leaked early. Ask Metallica why their new shit hasn't leaked yet.
Music needs the internet, but it also needs new creativity. You have to give people a reason to buy your shit.
I apologize for this post in advance, I know it is a little far off from my usual topic, but hey I'm Half Beard, I do what the fuck I want, I ain't scared of you(R.I.P. Bernie Mac)!

I woke up this morning feeling refreshed.  Unusual for me. While in this perky and upbeat mood, I decide maybe a little fresh air and some exercise might be good. I strap on my shoes.
Nice right? Limited edition suckas.

Now for some reason I've always been a fan of basketball. And I got skills. I ain't no MJ, but I got skillz. When I get a little low on cash I like to go down to the local court and hustle some fools for some cash. Yea, I'm that dude. I got a good partner as well...maybe you heard of him...Wesley Snipes. When we playing he goes by Sidney Deane...don't ask me why...I told him it was a gay alias. I'm sure you've heard that Wesley..er..Sidney...is having a little legal trouble, so he is more than ready to get some cash on the court. So he picks me up bumping that new shit...maybe you heard of it...
We head down to the court...group of dudes already playing there...just perfect.
Sidney drops me off about a block away. He drives off knowing he needs to come to the court in about 20 minutes.
I walk up, and just like any where else I go, the music stops and everyone stares. I can hear them talking.."What the fuck...that dude has a Half Beard..crazy ass dude"..it doesn't bother me...I've put up with it my entire life. I ask to join the game, of course they laugh and say no.
Just like clock work Sidney rolls up. He gets out, asks to join, they tell him he needs to get a partner...he says "I'm trying to play for cash, and I will bust yo ass with who ever you stick me with". Again like clock work, they point to me...they always point to me.
Long story short, they left the court, leaving us with 5 bills a piece. Not enough for Sidney's lawyer, but there is always other games.
Of course Sidney, however, is betting man like myself. Not to mention a shit talker. He is a little upset we didn't destroy them in the game. Mad cause I didn't dunk on fools. "What Half Beards can't jump?" he says to me. Pfft I say knowing damn well I could stretch out my Half Beard and dunk all day, but we both know the kind of attention that would bring, scientists..etc.
Well of course I'm like man you know I can dunk I just choose not to. I don't want to draw any more attention to myself.
"I got 500 that says you can't" he says.
Needless to say, but I'm going to say it. I went home empty handed, lost my 5 bills because I didn't use my Half Beard. I could have you know, but I guess I got something in me that doesn't like to cheat. Well I don't like to cheat at most things. You know how women are. Like Lays, betcha can't eat just one...
Sorry I got way off topic there, but losing that 500 means I will be working for the pussy, not buying it.

You know, my brush-in with the halfbeard got me thinking. Obviously, there is more of us out there. But I was wondering, who were the halfbeards of the past? Are there successful halfbeards out there in this modern day world? So, after an all night bender, I hit the Museum of American History, like any normal person would do. Because dammit, after a night of drinking Schlitz and banging hookers, I kinda want to learn about our founding fathers.
So I get there, and pay the allotted donation. You know, $5 for kids, $10 for adults, $7 for seniors, and $26.83 for halfbeards... damn, i got hosed. Anyway, I found out that there are a ton of halfbeards out there, past and present, that make the country run. As a matter of fact, one of the first patriots of our day, Sam Adams, was a halfbeard. And brewed his own beer to boot. A fine man he was...



Another one, one of the fathers of flight, Wilbur Wright of the Wright Brothers fame was a halfbeard.



Here's one that surprised me. One of the major leaders in the civil rights movement, not only was for equality for black people, but also halfbeards...



Major political figure, Ted Kennedy, is a halfbeard...



And pop star icon of the 60s, Tito Jackson, is a vibrant halfbeard...



I never knew there were so many out there. I learned so much that day at the museum, that I just couldn't wait to get home and drink all of my knowledge away. Actually, that's not possible, since my halfbeard, not my brain, stores 90% of my memories.

I hope you are as thrilled with the news that halfbeards can thrive in a society not yet ready to accept them. It's too bad us halfbeards will have to just end up killing ourselves off. We have a lot we could contribute to society... can't think of many examples at the moment, but i'm sure we do. Well kiddies, it's off to the fridge...

Apparently there can be only One.
If you haven't noticed, I've been gone for a bit. Well I died. Thats right, dead. How did I die? Well I know I told you about how they kidnapped me last week, well they did it again, but this time they went too far. I think their plan was to just to humiliate me...but things went wrong...you see they stripped me down, tied my hands, put one of those big ass signs on me (the sign read "Half Beard's are Half Beards, they need to die"...yea real creative), they also tied me to the bumper of the van. They kicked me out the back and told me I better start running. As I stand up, they start driving, one dude had a mega phone yelling "Look at the Half Beard, ha ha", the guy driving must have been drunk, he was swerving all over the road. So the first turn he takes he cuts off a semi, semi can't stop quick enough, Half Beard doesn't react quick enough...splat. Yea I know. Stupid way to die.
So I died. Death was weird...Sean Connery was there telling me I had no choice but to go into the light.
I break out of the morgue and head back to my apartment. During my walk, my spidey senses start tingling...I feel like I'm being followed. I stop and look around, nothing there. Keep walking. I see an alley coming up, I know this neighborhood so I know it's quicker to walk through the alley. As I turn the corner, I take a shot in the gut. Here we go again I think to myself, it isn't bad enough these bastards got me killed, now they are going to mess me up again. I look up and see this real crazy looking 7 foot tall dude...and guess what...he was a Half Beard.
I got pretty excited right there, I truly haven't met any other Half Beards. But he hits me again, all excitement gone.
So we duke it out in the middle of this alley for awhile. Pretty closely matched, I think my Half Beard may be a little more coarser than his though.
He stops all of the sudden...takes a few steps backwards, I'm thinking good we're done, now we can drink...
Not the case...this dude whips out a 3 foot straight razor...unfolds it...points at his Half Beard, points at me, "There can be only One Half Beard!" he shouts...I'm a little slow friends,I did just come back from the grave, and I'm still trying to figure out how he got such a big straight razor, well as he is charging at me it occurs to me that he is going to try and shave off my Half Beard...
I whip out my portable Sawzall, do a little tuck and roll past him, jump up and start to choke him out, he drops the big ass razor, I start to shave his Half Beard, it's not working though, the Beard just starts to regrow, I realize I need to go deeper, I start to break the skin...
In one quick swoop it's all over. His Half Beard falls to the street, he falls to his knees...
I drop my Sawzall...spidey senses start to go crazy(I don't really have spidey senses, but you know that feeling).
Lightening...that's all I remember. Lightening, I don't know where it came from, but it was everywhere.
Talk about a fucked up weekend though.
Dead - Alive - 3 Foot Straight Razor - Lightening.
I guess there can be really only One Half Beard.

It's Friday folks. And what does that mean? Absolutely nothing.
At least that's how I felt when I woke up this morning. Then it happened. The little red phone, that sits in my one room apartment, in the corner, on a carefully stacked tower made out of beer cans, rang. At first I really didn't notice. I was preoccupied with trimming my Half Beard. I brushed it off, turning the Sawzall I use to shave, off only for a second. Then it happened again, the phone rang. I ran to the phone, picked up the receiver,silence. Fucking douche bag I say, and slam down the phone. It's a rotary phone mind you, so I can't use *69 or any of those other fancy tricks, like caller id. So Half Beard half shaven, I grab a beer, of course. I get curious at this point because only a few people actually have the number to the little red phone. Back in the day when I was saving asses, the mayor and other high paid assholes would call me on that line to ask for help.
In mid thought, the phone rings again, this time I dive like a crazy man, spilling my nice tower all over the room.
Who is on the other end you ask? Well none other than Bruce "I can't decide if im good or evil, I miss my daddy, I hate furry little bats" Wayne. Im really quite speechless at this point since I haven't spoke to him since that whole Cat Woman incident. I'll tell you more about that later, but let me get to the point of his call. He is all in a frantic rage, speaking in questions and riddles. He is on the phone literally saying to me, "Whom,Who,What,Where,god dammit, Why, How,To whom it may concern,Bats, god damn bats I tell you"...I yell into phone to get his attention, " Bruce you little rich bastard shut the fuck up, what is the problem man?" "Again with the questions!" he says to me. I hang up.
This shit is ridiculous.
My fax starts to ring at this point(how do I have my fax connected to my rotary phone? Don't worry about it, Im Half Beard), you will never guess what comes through. This :
Holy bird flu Batman! Is it true? Does the one and only Batman need Half Beard's help in figuring out who Batman is? Or is this just some lame attempt by Batman to have me help him catch some guy named the Riddler? Who knows? Will Half Beard ever know? Will the corner bar ever get Schlitz on tap? Will the real Slim Shady please stand up? Who the fuck cares? Anyone? Is there anybody out there?
Whoa.
That Riddler is a powerful dude. No wonder Bruce was acting the way he was. At this point Im not sure I much give a damn. Maybe I will think differently in the morning. Saturdays...ahh...gotta love Saturdays.

So you may have heard already, but they may have found the Bigfoot(his real name is Bob) that I got into a little scuffle with down in Georgia. You see, Bob, he is a Bigfoot...and well Bob has a temper...
Everything was going fine...Jack Link jerky...Schlitz(Bob drinks deer piss...he loves the stuff, I won't touch it though) and some good conversation. You know how it is, you start drinking, get all pissy and start getting competitive...
I showed Bob just how tough my Half Beard truly is, I pulled a couple trees right out the ground, and well Bob tried to show me how tough he was, by challenging my Half Beard to a MMA style fight.
I tried to warn Bob that my Half Beard has a mind of it's own and is not to be fucked with. Deer piss talking, he was like "Ugh Og Half Beard weak and puny Ag"...(yes I laughed too). So I hit him with a Spinning Half Beard...
I didn't think he was dead...I hope these guys are wrong...Bigfoot funerals are no fun.

Here is a photo of Bob...unfortunetly it does appear that my Spinning Half Beard took him out...

Some days don't feel right. Either it's too bright out, too cold out, or the halfbeard too itchy. The Schlitz is warm and the hot dogs are cold. Can't get to sleep because you're too exhausted from drinking. Ran into one of those days about 4 years ago. Started out as any normal day should, get up, lay a duce, pick at the zits beneath the halfbeard, and then go about your day. Walk down to the newsstand, grab a paper and a cup of joe, then quickly spike it with what is remaining of your beer from the walk down. Just watchin the people do their little dance on the sidewalk. Seriously, jim and alice are a couple of hobos not far from here, they do interpretive dances for change. They aren't bad, need a little work, and with practice could go far in the world of street performers. But I digress... Today it seemed everyone was ripe with halfbeard hatred. It may come as a shock to some of you, but most people are scared of halfbeards. Don't know what to make of 'em, not realizing that I did not choose to have this curse, and sometimes blessing, that it was given to me, as i like to think, a gift. It is a gift, at least that's what i have to tell myself, because if it were up to Jackey McAsshole over there, i should shave it and never tell anyone. But hell, the groupies love it, or "Halfies" as they are known. You know the type of women, the one's who only shave one leg, or only shave half their snatch. Now, those are the freaks if you ask me.
Again, back to the original story, i was minding my own business, watching joe and alice do a dance about ATM fees, and this guy walks up to me and just starts talking. And not even conversation, I'm telling you, just random words are coming out of his mouth in no sensible order. "Hey, transistor frog meaty albino dishwasher vacation yellow." So like any good American would do, i started to walk away, hoping that he doesn't get any of his crazy on me. He starts to follow, so I turn the corner, and he bum rushes me, and hauls off and cracks me upside the head, and shoves me into an open van. I'm being held down by 3 guys, all of whom are named Stan (which is what it said on their "Hello, my name is..." stickers). The guy who originally attacked me is still talking gibberish, and proceeds to pull fake beards out of this box in the van. And one by one, the men are pasting the beards to me, anywhere they can put them. Once i am covered, they throw me from the speeding van, shouting their gibberish all the way. I tuck and roll, come to a stop, and look down at my fake beard encrusted body. I proceed to get up, pull off the fake beards and brush myself off. Halfbeard hate crimes are the weirdest. Oh, look, there's a bar in front of me. I wonder if they sell Schlitz...

Middle of the afternoon...half in the bag...that means drunk to you kids...I feel like I need to elaborate more on my life...ha ha...the "Life and Times of Half Beard"..."As the Half Beard Turns"...oh man I could go on forever...
Anyways...I wasn't always this back stabbing, deceitful and shady(hmmm...that sentence reminds me of song...), I used to be a real good guy. You see much like some Super Hero's my Half Beard has the uncanny ability to grow on command...weird? I think not.
See now I could bore you with stories of heroism and courage, how I saved this person, fought this bad guy, saved the world...blah blah blah...I mean shit, I'm Half Beard...you just know I'm the shit.
Picture me rolling six pack in hand...stupid ass cat stuck in a tree...without missing a beat my Half Beard grows and grabs that stupid cat out of that tree... I drop his ass from 6 feet though, just to make sure that whole landing on their feet thing still works. Damn I say as it does and his furry tail runs off.
But yea I did all that "Captain Half Beard" shit...It was fun for awhile...I mean I got pussy every night...women kinda like the Half Beard...motorboat anyone?? You feel me I know it...
But listen Super Hero's don't get paid man. You gotta have that "others are more important than me" shit in your heart...well that ain't me...I gotta eat you know, plus rent...and I can't fly...sure I can swing around on my Half Beard just fine...but after about the first 15 minutes I start getting a neck cramp, swinging around on a Half Beard makes me lean to the left...shit hurts.
Well listen I gotta run to the corner store...running a little low on that drink...I'll be back when i get back...maybe I will tell you some real stories...

So I thought I would share myself a little more with you today...apparently that type of thing, sharing, is healthy...I'm not convinced. Here it goes though...I don't remember my childhood all that much...probably because most of it was so traumatic that I blocked it out completely, they say that's not healthy, what I do remember though is that I have always been Half Beard. Yes thats right, always. L O L you say? Damn kids and their internet lingo...but it's true, since birth I have been Half Beard. Poor Mom pushing that through, all rough and unshaven, that's gotta hurt.
The other fact I know is that I have always drank beer, preferably Schlitz. Neigh you say? I feel as if you may be challenging me and rest assured Half Beard is always up for the challenge. Here my friends I present you with the proof you have all longed for, Half Beard as a baby(look at that rack on Mom, nice huh)...

Sleep. It never comes soon enough and always leaves before it should... I turn myself, the coolness of the grass on my face vanishes, and is replaced with nothing. I stir, pick the twig out of my halfbeard, get up and go inside to the fridge. I crack a beer, and rummage through the contents of the fridge, yet nothing seems appetizing. I can still taste it, an odd combination of dirt, blood, and gummie bears. I had been there once before, and never did it cause the destruction of buds like it did this time. A mix between hot wax and glue, not sure of whether it was solid or liquid. I light up another cigarette, and take a big swallow of Schlitz. Still doesn't kill it. My head is pounding. I close the fridge, and wander back outside. I need to do this. Should I ask for my money back? One thing is for sure, I'm never eating at that burrito stand again.

I am, I are, I can Half Beard. How do I know these things? Better yet, how do I know these things to be fact? I'll tell you. I woke up and headed to the Jon, you know how it is, morning wood...banging headache...the taste in your mouth would be rotten ass, but your tongue is like a piece of leather...
After I finished my morning piss and shit, I headed to the sink for a drink of water. My fuzzy eyes caught a glimpse, but it didn't register, I finished sucking on the lime encrusted faucet, checked the mirror again, this time rubbing my eyes. There staring back at me was some kind of Half Bearded freak...just then it occurred to me that I was looking at myself. I shot myself one of those John Travolta Saturday Night Fever smiles.
I went to the fridge and grabbed myself a beer, sat down and decided today would be the day that I chronicled my life. I figure hell, I've been through some shit, someone has to find it interesting.