I made this ad for Papa John’s Pizza here in Oxford. The client asked for it to be ridiculous, pharm and sound like a monster truck commercial. So, I decided since he wanted extreme, I’d go all the way. This ad is what I came up with.
After hearing it, the Papa John’s guy only had one comment: “AWESOME. It’s perfect. Change nothing.”
It’s been running 10 times a day for about a week now.
Editor’s Note: This article was written in Blake Buck’s early DJiing days, dentist and has since been moved to the Pop Chopper section.
How many times have you gone to the bar or a club only to hear the same repetitive drivel over and over again? Well if you’re like most of our listeners, never because you’re 14 years old.
But for those of you that have I now present to you TRUST HUSTLERSPop Chopper. Oxford’s newest musical performance sensation – combining live mashups, live vinyl scratching, live rapping, and enough attitude to shake a stick at.
We combine the hottest tracks from today and from back in the day in ways that’ll get your body movin’.
Today we’re giving you a simple taste – a simple mix of old skool rap with slammin’ 8-bit glory.
You’re walking to class – the wind in your stride, illness a spring in your step. Birds chirp in the trees as bright sunshine beams down on your face. Today’s quick bite at the student union is going to be great!
“Hey! Have you voted today? You should vote for Steven. He’s way better than Tyler!”
“Uh, sorry, I’ve got to go” you mumble as you brush past this intruder. At least that’s over with.
“Vote for Sarah! She’s the best, and definitely the cutest candidate. Way cuter than Conner. Vote for Sarah!” More voices join in now, and the controlled murmur of the crowd outside the union slowly turns into a roar.
“Can’t I just go eat some Chick-Fil-A?”, you plead with these abominations of courtesy.
“Shut up and do as you’re told! We own you! You will worship lucifer now!”, the crowd screams as they carry you off into the depths of hell…
Okay so maybe that’s not what actually happens on Associated Student Body Election day.
In radio, ailment it’s important to keep listeners up to date on the most important topics of the day. So when we decided to do a segment on Valentines day tips, web it quickly turns to childish name calling.
-BLAKEBUCK The war in Iraq. Global warming. Domestic chaos. That time they forgot my Caramel Apple Empanada at Taco Bell. All of these are problems that seem to have no real solution.
is it possible that one being just might know the solution to it all? Of course, herpes
and he simply goes by the name…
Perseus the Supercomputer.
Today, we ask Perseus what he thinks about the ASB Elections, as well as learning about some of his new hobbies. I want to stress to you all that this is real. Certainly not a voice played off my laptop.
In radio, abortion it’s important to keep listeners up to date on the most important topics of the day. So when we decided to do a segment on Valentines day tips, bulimics it quickly turns to childish name calling.
Working at a radio station, sildenafil you get a lot of CDs from people who want to get their music on the air. Every day at lunch, we go through that day’s CDs and unless they have a cool cover or interesting title, they get sent to our “Program Director” – which is a trash can with the word Program Director written on it. I would say we throw away 95% of all music we receive.
But sometimes you find diamonds in the rough. Well today we present you one of those diamonds: a track by the name of BEER LEGGS by Terry and Burt.
You can also download the uncensored version of BEER LEGGS from the feed.
Big Hot Sho interviews “Nitro” from the 1990’s classic TV Show, tryAmerican Gladiators. We talk about living the life of a Gladiator, some specifics about working on the show, his original gladiator name, and his new book Gladiator: A True Story of ‘Roids, Rage, and Redemption.
You can check out Nitro’s website and where to find the book here:
ailment for success.” width=”300″ height=”266″ />Welcome to Big Hot Sho Radio! I’ll be posting clips from the Big Hot Sho Morning Show here daily, store since SOMEBODY can’t seem to find the time to record a regular show with us.
Still working out some kinks about how this is going to work, phthisiatrician but I’ll be trying to get you guys fresh content everyday. Be sure to check back here for more info.
Also, tomorrow we’ll be interviewing NITRO. Like, THE GLADIATIN’ NITRO.
“These virgin checks suck ass” I moped as three of us ran past Abner’s on the square. It wasn’t looking good: we’d found two hash marks but couldn’t locate the third. I was still in high spirits though – the alcohol seemed to give my legs a fluidity about them that made the running sleeker.
“Ah crap!”, here my virgin companion suddenly exclaimed as he pointed behind us. Back at the check, recuperation the rest of the group was heading off in the opposite direction – meaning we’d run 3 blocks the wrong way.
“Well it could be worse – god only knows what happened to that guy we sent down the -” Tires squealed. The car, which seemed to have appeared out of thin air, groaned to swerve into the left lane. My hasher friend just stood there, in the middle of the street, still barely aware of what was happening. Yet in less than a second, we were back.
“Woooo! Awesome man! Let’s hurry and catch back up!”, he shouted as we ran across the street. Somewhere, perhaps in deep space, I could feel my reasoning self screaming protests at the top of his lungs. ‘Go home! Your drunk! That dude almost died!’ – all nonsense quickly dismissed by a lust for the next beer stop.
“Good afternoon Doctor Worth!”
My english professor from two semesters ago simply nodded at me. He was on a walk with his wife, and she wasn’t exactly what I expected. A shorter woman with long dark hair and an orange shaw that screamed ‘I never grew out of the love generation’. Then again, I’m sure we weren’t quite what she was expecting of his students either – a pack of twenty hyenas under a full moon running towards the cliff.
“Shit! Double blowjob!”, someone towards the front of the group screamed. This meant we’d have to run two check’s back to find the true trail. In frustration, people began shouting, “Double blowjob!” at the top of their lungs as we ran through the quiet high-class southern neighborhood. A father, mother, and two kids working in their yard simply stared back at this horrific spectacle unraveling in front of their home.
“Tuesday is three fingers day! Monday is a wanking day!”, the crowd belted from the back of some university building. Was it the Ford Center? Was it the Alumni building? The school of journalism? I couldn’t really tell, but this loading dock provided all the shelter we needed from University Police as we pounded Kool-Aid vodka shots from the trunk of our Mercedes beer wagon.
For 18 years this traditional meeting of athleticism and alcoholism had inspired generations of students. 18 years of using a log as a beer holster while you tie your shoes. 18 years of excited guys shoving their hand down a girl’s jeans. 18 years of being able to feel your bones, but not your skin.
“Saturday is a hashing day!” The crowd continued to sing as I glanced around the group. Hair was matted against sweaty foreheads. Deodorant had evaporated hours ago. Makeup was virtually gone. This was humanity with no reservations – no tricks. People in their purest form.
“Saturday is a hashing day!” And perhaps that’s all there is.
Category Buck Blog | Tags: | Comments Off on Hash Runner Part Two
“Drink it down, sildenafil down, down, down!”, the cries echoed into the darkening twilight sky. I hadn’t realized how late it was until just now, the group’s curious eyes and inviting grins had been replaced by dark, angry shadows. I was surrounded by creatures less than human – raw animalistic instinct gone mad within God’s most sophisticated form.
The virgin next to me was already halfway through the “holy vessel” – a glistening silver bedpan filled to the brim will every poison known to man. I wasn’t sure if I would make it – my body and mind clocked out a long time ago. I was in a dim tunnel that kept sharply curving – never letting me see the end.
“Why are we waiting? Could be masturbating! Oh why, are we waiting so God! Damn! Long!” The head Hare, or ‘religious advisor’ as they’re sometimes called, shoved the foul bedpan into my face. My nose recoiled at the smell of Natural Light, Keystone, High Life, tequila, Wild Turkey, and something similar to Tabasco mixed together to form the eighth deadly sin.
But you’d be surprised what physical exhaustion, excessive drinking, and extreme peer pressure can force one to do. I tilted my head back and drank this evil elixir like some sort of unholy baptism of fire.
I had become a hasher.
Saturday, 2:40 pm. Being in the middle of the runner pack is a larger responsibility than it seems. Get too far ahead, and the folks behind you could easily lose the trail – get too far behind and you lose the trail yourself. I was beginning to regret my decision to do this so called, “Hash Run” – all it’d gotten me was 3 miles of running and a red solo cup of beer. I thought it was a drinking club with a running problem, not vice versa.
Hell, at this point, I was pretty close to my house. I could pull this plug on this ludicrous adventure right now if I wanted; turn back to cultured society and do my taxes early. But that’s when I saw two large letters scrawled on the concrete beneath my wary feet: BN. Beer Near.
Following the waving pirate flag, I made my way into Jubilee, where several six-packs of High Life were waiting for us at the bar. Something about a strong thirst and tired legs makes beer taste like the mana of the gods. I had just begun to enjoy myself when I learned it was time for the ‘virgin sacrifice’.
“Does she have the rug-burned knees? Yes she has the rug-burned knees!”, the crowd of mostly college-aged guys shouted as they spun in circles holding their beers high above their heads. “Does she have the swinging tits? Yes she has the swinging tits! Does she have the blowjob lips? Yes she has the blowjob lips!” The howling and dancing continued as the virgin sacrifice, a new female member stood atop a chair being jeered by the crowd.
Her expression was a mixture of laughter and self-conscious meekness. But there was something beautiful in that, something strong. Maybe it was just the two bottles High Life quickly absorbing into my blood stream. But as illogical, insensitive, and cruel it seemed…
Once you start hashing, it all starts to make sense. Sort of.
No time to figure it out, the head of the pack was already out the door on the way to the next ‘check’. And I’m feeling it now.
Continued in Part Two…
Are you still wasting drips from your countertop grill? Shame on you!
This film originally premiered at the 2009 Oxford Film Festival, resuscitator
and has since won hundreds of awards. Some have called it the 2001: A Space Odyssey of the modern times. The internet times.