Chris MotherEffing Riordan

Chris Motherfucking Riordan is a bad ass barrel-chested punk from Utica New York who stomps up and down the New York State Thruway like he owns the Empire State. And, in a way, he does. He has bitches lined up and ready to service his undercarriage from Buffalo to Manhattan and back again. He can't figure out if he likes the bitches in Buffalo or Manhattan better, so he is building a treefort smackdab in the middle of the state to keep his stuff in while he taxes the females from endzone to endzone. He doesn't have a lot of stuff, and is trying to get rid of even more as we speak. He has lots of stuff to sell you, ranging from stereo equipment to unused rap lyrics to a whole bunch of baseball cards that his parents just forced him to remove from their attic. If you are interested in purchasing any of his personal items, with an autograph for a few bucks more, please contact him at [email protected] Motherfucking Riordan is one of the most fascinating beings to ever exist. There is nothing he cannot do once he puts his loco-motive of a mind to it. This is a train you cannot derail, and the caboose is just as deadly as the engine. If you stand in his way, there is no cow catcher to scoot you to the side. You will simply be crushed and dragged along his path. If you try to jump a car and hitch a free ride, you will be flicked off like a flea and forced to collect what is left of yourself from the prairie. If you think you are all sexy looking in a conductor's hat, he might let you all aboard and toot his whistle - but the minute you try to slow him down or break his stride you will find yourself weeping over a shoebox full of letters and pictures which serve as your only reminder of the magical times you spent with him. There are 7 different exgirlfriends who will attest to this once placed in an iron maiden and forced to tell the truth for the first time in their lives.Train analogies aside, Chris Motherfucking Riordan is a musical mastermind. His Business Manager Mike Dziok once told him he needed to stop "being a rapper one day, a punk rocker the next day, then a hippie, then a skateboard guy, etc. etc." Chris Motherfucking Riordan put him on a year-long time out shortly thereafter for failing to understand the gravity of the situation. It is a law of physics: Chris Motherfucking Riordan falls where he wants to fall. One day he can write the most bangingest underground hip hop anthem of our time, have his producer Mr. McFeely ring up Kappy B to get a dope fresh opposite-of-wickitywack beat and record it within two hours of his arrival at the soundlab in Saratoga Springs, NY. The next day, he can pick up his acoustic guitar and write a chillingly dark folk song about the Holy Ghost spooking out evil-doers in a haunted carnival. And then after that, who knows? Maybe he will put trucks and wheels on his old skateboard deck and ollie over your mom's tits! Maybe he will find the person who stole his BMX, scoop his eyes out with a spork and show him how an endo is *really* done (i.e. foot in the forks till it bruises and grinds to a halt, back wheel two feet off the ground for about 7 seconds and then whipped around at a 45 degree angle). Or maybe he will decide he wants to spend the rest of his life as a wedding emcee called Mister Afternoon but then give up after one single job because the wedding photographer complained to the bride's mom about the emcees drinking problem!You just can't tell with this guy, and that's what makes him not only dangerous but downright loveable. Say it loud, say it proud: YOU ARE HOT FOR CHRIS MOTHERFUCKING RIORDAN. Get it tatooed on your forehead, carve it into your depressing pasty white forearm, print it on a sticker and slap it on your neighbor's cat. You can admit it now, or you can admit it later in the concentration camp where all Anti-Riordans will eventually be forced to live out their sad and miserable lives on a crust of bread and one scoop of Riordan a day.The Revolution will be televised.