It is now ready and done deal. This blog is moving to where it is supposed to start from the beginning - http://kostura.com. So should anyone bothers to read this one - please use the new location :)
-Kosta
----------------
Now playing: Forever Slave - Dickhead!
via FoxyTunes
Sunday, November 9, 2008
Moving this blog to a new home
It is now ready and done deal. This blog is moving to where it is supposed to start from the beginning - http://kostura.com. So should anyone bothers to read this one - please use the new location :)
-Kosta
----------------
Now playing: Forever Slave - Dickhead!
via FoxyTunes
-Kosta
----------------
Now playing: Forever Slave - Dickhead!
via FoxyTunes
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Send Me Your Money :)
Lights, camera, silence on the set
Tape rolling, 3-2-1 action
Welcome to the Church of Suicidal
We'll have a sermon and a wonderful recital
But before we go on there's something I must mention
An important message I must bring to your attention
I was in meditation and prayer last night
I was awakened by a shining bright light
Overhead a glorious spirit, he gave me a message and you all
need to hear it
"Send me your money," that's what he said
He said to "Send me your money"
Now if you can only send a dollar or two
There ain't a hell of a lot I can do for you
But if you want to see heaven's door
Make out a check for five hundred or more
"Send me your money," do you hear what I said?
"Send me your money"
Now give me some bass, um yea that's how he likes it
Now give me some silence, for all you sinners
Now give me some bass, yea that was funky
Now take them on home Brother Clark, send me your money
Here comes another con hiding behind a collar
His only god is the almighty dollar
He ain't no prophet, he ain't healer
He's just a two bit goddamn money stealer
Send me your money
Send it, you got to send it
Send me your money
You hear what I'm saying?
Send it, send it
Send me your money
How much you give is your own choice
But to me it is the difference between a Porsche and a Rolls Royce
I want you to make it hurt when you dig into your pocket
Cause it makes me feel so good to watch my profits rocket
Send me your money
Now dig in deep, dig real deep into your pocket
I want you to make it hurt!
We'll take cash, we'll take checks
We'll take credit cards, we'll take jewelry
We'll take your momma's dentures if they got gold in them
So whose gonna be the next king of the fakers
Whose gonna take the place of Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker?
See my momma, she didn't raise no fool
Couse you can't put a price on a miracle
Amen
Tape rolling, 3-2-1 action
Welcome to the Church of Suicidal
We'll have a sermon and a wonderful recital
But before we go on there's something I must mention
An important message I must bring to your attention
I was in meditation and prayer last night
I was awakened by a shining bright light
Overhead a glorious spirit, he gave me a message and you all
need to hear it
"Send me your money," that's what he said
He said to "Send me your money"
Now if you can only send a dollar or two
There ain't a hell of a lot I can do for you
But if you want to see heaven's door
Make out a check for five hundred or more
"Send me your money," do you hear what I said?
"Send me your money"
Now give me some bass, um yea that's how he likes it
Now give me some silence, for all you sinners
Now give me some bass, yea that was funky
Now take them on home Brother Clark, send me your money
Here comes another con hiding behind a collar
His only god is the almighty dollar
He ain't no prophet, he ain't healer
He's just a two bit goddamn money stealer
Send me your money
Send it, you got to send it
Send me your money
You hear what I'm saying?
Send it, send it
Send me your money
How much you give is your own choice
But to me it is the difference between a Porsche and a Rolls Royce
I want you to make it hurt when you dig into your pocket
Cause it makes me feel so good to watch my profits rocket
Send me your money
Now dig in deep, dig real deep into your pocket
I want you to make it hurt!
We'll take cash, we'll take checks
We'll take credit cards, we'll take jewelry
We'll take your momma's dentures if they got gold in them
So whose gonna be the next king of the fakers
Whose gonna take the place of Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker?
See my momma, she didn't raise no fool
Couse you can't put a price on a miracle
Amen
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
IF
IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!
Класика
Когато времето е хубаво е настроението ми е готино, това е музиката която ме прави happy. И маха глави. :) А Dave Lombardo прави чудеса зад барабаните.
Brother, My Cup is Empty
Brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I am the captain of my pain
Tis the bit, the bridle,
The trashing cane
The stirrup, the harness
The whipping mane
The pickled eye
The shrinking brain
O brother, buy me one more drink
I'll explain the nature of my pain
Yes, let me tell you once again
I am the captain of my pain
O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I cannot blame it all on her
To blame her all would be a lie
For many a night I lay awake
And wished that I could watch her die
To see her accusing finger spurt
To see flies swarm her hateful eye
To watch her groaning in the dirt
To see her clicking tongue crack dry
O brother, buy me one more drink
One more drink and then goodbye
And do not mock me when I say
Let's drink one more before I die
O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
Well I've been sliding down on rainbows
Well I've been swinging from the stars
Now this wretch in beggars clothing
Bangs his cup across the bars
Look, this cup of mine is empty!
Seems I've misplaced my desires
Seems I'm sweeping up the ashes
Of all my former fires
So brother, be a brother
And fill this tiny cup of mine
And please, sir, make it whiskey
For I have no head for wine
O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
I counted up my blessings
And counted only one
One tiny little blessing
And now that blessings gone
So buy me one more drink, my brother
Then I'm taking to the road
Yes, I'm taking to the rain
I'm taking to the snow
O my friend, my only brother
Do not let the party grieve
So throw a dollar onto the bar
Now kiss my ass and leave
O brother, my cup is empty
And I haven't got a penny
For to buy no more whiskey
I have to go home
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Ливърпул - обратно към това което правят най-добре :)
Или по-точно да губят спечелени мачове. Божке. 70 минути мачкаме Тотнъм, сто хиляди положения изпуснати и най-накрая загуба.
Еееееееех..... мъка, мъкаааааааа.
Нищо де - живот и здраве, остават достатъчно мачове докрая на сезона за да се навакса.
Еееееееех..... мъка, мъкаааааааа.
Нищо де - живот и здраве, остават достатъчно мачове докрая на сезона за да се навакса.
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