TERRY SCHIAVO IS DEAD!

Published under username Fred Durst Has A Posse

Fuck you religious right! She's finally kicked the can!

Hah-hah, made you look...

Seriously though, I'm glad they pulled the tube. I don't trust nothing that bleeds for seven days and starves for thirteen and doesn't die.

After this post, Fred Durst Has A Posse was mysteriously anonymized...

Behind the Lyrix with The Durst--Part One

Published under username Fred Durst Has A Posse

As a service to K5, myself, The Durst, will be personally going over my albums, in depth and in detail. This is in order to give new insight about what was going on mentally with me at the time I produced the album, in order to give my listeners new context. See, I understand when a new Limp Bizkit cut comes out, people get all lost in the hype and immense popularity of the songs, and forget that real emotion and real thought go into the creation.

This week, I'll start with selections off the critically acclaimed and bestselling album Chocolate Starfish and The Hot Dog Flavoured Water...

Though it garnered huge raves in the music media, after the juggernauts that were "Three Dollar Bill Y'all" and "Significant Other", some people thought that "Chocolate Starfish" was a slight let down. Now, this was when the album first came out, cuz Starfish is the kind of album that has a complexity that doesn't sink in right away. You gotta let it play a bunch of times before it's impact really sinks in.

Another thing that was artistically controversial about Chocolate Starfish is that it was one of our first attempts at a concept album. We wanted this to be our Pink Floyd moment: to have a record that stands along side Darkside of the Moon or The Wall. What was the concept? What is behind the Durst Code?

First of all, the character of The Chocolate Starfish figures prominently. Many people didn't know what the Starfish was about. Well, simply, the Chocolate Starfish is my anus, but you're not supposed to get that right away. It goes back to my roots in Kappa Tau Alpha house back in college, when you didn't wash your drawers, you got a brown stain in them that looked like a "chocolate starfish" (it was also mentioned in a hazing ritual which I'm bound by tradition and decency not to repeat here).

Why do I create my anus as a prominent character in a rap metal album? It represents my belief that everything in the world is shitty. In the first cut of the album (well, second if you count the intro track with the alien sayin' "Bizkits in the house...") called Hot Dog, I use the F-Word about 26 times. I was in a fucked up state during that song. For one thing, everybody was fucking with me. Especially that pissant Trent Reznor. Just cuz he has his own label on Interscope (I was VP there at the time and he publically stated that I was "an ignoranus").

Now, I just gotta say, Nine Inch Nails is the most PUSSY and WHINY bands I've ever heard. I have more respect for fucking Justin Timberlake than Reznor and faggit buddies. So I take his song "Closer" where he says "I wanna fuck you like an animal" and turn it around back at him. "You wanna fuck me like an animal" cuz that's where all his hate comes from. Trent Reznor is gay folks. Gays like NIN. A gay guy at a Bizkit show would be drowned in the porta-potties cuz we believe in Manhood.

Well, I gotta get going. Tomorrow, I'll discuss the brilliant sophmore track on the album "My Generation."

The Bitchslap.

Published under username Fred Durst Has A Posse

As most of you know, I've been having problems with my privacy being invaded. In a country where the government can just look through a database and find which kids to send to war or a company mailing list on who to sell Fubu Gear to, information is flying all through the air. The only defense we have against Big Brother 2005, is the rule of law.

Therefore, any site that posted video of my privacy being invaded, is gonna have to pay me $80 million dollars.

That's right, motherfucker. My million dollar attorneys are gonna bitchslap upside your 'fro with a subpeonea. By the time I'm done with you in court, you'll be bankrupt in legal fees, while I'll be sitting in my pool, drinking pina coladas and getting my dick sucked by Britney Spears and Halle Berry (at the same time.)

You might call me a sellout and say I'm just hiding behind my lawyers. Bullshit! Lawyers are some of the most gangsta people I've ever met. I see this suit as being able to fuck shit up from the inside, using the tools of the Man against him. There's so much fucked up shit going down in this world. I mean, come on peoples: Iraq is Whack.

If you want to stand up for freedom on the Internet, for the right to privacy for you and (especially) me, then don't be a buster. GET THE FUCK UP and get behind this suit.

187, muthafukka

Published under username Fred Durst Has A Posse

One of the things that's made me a celebrity is the fact that I say shit how it is. You get nothing but Durst, unedited, strait from the cerebral cortex. I don't mince words. I mince minds.

That's why I've got to come back atcha with the Truth. You're probably gonna hear about this in the news tomorrow. I just had to make sure you heard it from me before you heard the fakeness of sucker-haters. I think, you'll agree, my actions were justified.

R U ready? Can U deal wit da Real?

So I was up in the Lime Lounge in Jacksonville (you probably never heard of the place because it's very exclusive. It's a place where people like me and that fagwad Billy Corgan hang out at.) I was just sitting with my apple martini, maxing honeys for my next video shoot, when this dude comes up to me and asks me for my autograph.

Now, usually, I don't give autographs. Most of yous never been famous, so you don't know that you have mothafuckers coming up to you every day, even when your maxing honeys, trying to get your name on a piece of paper. But my real fans have decided to rizpect that, and they leave me alone for the most part, so I decided I'd give this sucker his autograph. I reached for the pen he was holding my way, when he pulled away and laughed.

"Just kidding, Durst. You suck," and he walked away.

Let's examine the mentality of the sucker-hater: this guy dressed all up nice and must have paid the bouncer a shitload of bling to even get let through the door here, just so he could dis The Durst.

Well, that apple martini really fucked up my senses. I was raging. I ran up behind him as he was walking away and tried to punch him in the back of his head, but the little latina bitch he was with saw me coming and screamed, so he ducked away. What a pussy...having to be saved by his bitch.

Anyway, he was like, "You stupid fuck, slap you like a little bitch."
And I was like, "You think my lyrics is just words. Like the songs says, motherfucker, I'll skin you raw with my chainsaw, bit..."

Before I could finish, he sucker punches me up in my face, chipping both of my front teeth. I stumble backwards, falling through a glass table, which jams shards of glass through my t-shirt. I feel like fucking hamburger. I feel like Tyler Durden must feel after a fight, only I feel nothing but humiliation and pain.

Even though this punk started the fight, the bouncers grab me and throw me out the club. "We're through putting up with your shit, Freddy," they said, as they chucked me out on the sidewalk. Just wait until I tell Carson Daly about this. These two motherfuckers will be in the unemployment line.

Anyway, I run out and get in my Ferrari. I'm bleeding all over the leather bucket seats, still thinking about that yuppie motherfucker in the club. I drive around the block and put my lights off, Boyz in the Hood style, and wait for that yuppie to come out the club.

So I'm waiting until like four in the morning till I see this fucker stumble out the club. That Latina bitch he was with was gone. Didn't even have enough flavor to keep one beaner chick with him all night.

Right when he gets out into the middle of the street, I hit the lights and start gunning the car right towards him. He aint shit but a deer in the headlights. I got the Smiths blasting on my stereo. "Bigmouth Strikes Again", which is appropriate cuz this motherfucker has a big mouth. Only I'm not joking when I say I want to smash every tooth in this motherfuckers head.

I hit him at like sixty miles an hour. There's a crunch, and blood splatters all over my car. His skull cracks on the windshield and I see his fucking eyeball fly out of his head. It was sweet.

Anyway, he flew over the car, and was laying in the street like a piece of dogshit. I put the Ferrari in reverse, and back up over him. Felt like going over a speedbump. Now that I'd sent this yuppie fuck to sleep with the fishes, I felt justified. I felt like tyler durden watching buildings collapse.

I started to hear screaming around me. That's when I put the Ferrari in gear and booked it out of there. I don't know if they got my plate numbers, but you may be hearing about me in the evening news tomorrow.

Anyway, I just wanted you to get the real.