You think you know Disfunktional? B**ch, you wouldn’t know Disfunktional if it walked up naked and slapped its a** in yo face! The legend of the Disfunktional Phamily is long and arduous, and just like all great stories, this is how ours begins… With an a** in yo face! Take a seat now my friends, and journey with me way back in time to the year 2000 A.D. Times were quite different back then. This was soon after the dreaded “Y2K” disaster that left the world in shambles, and cities were populated largely by roving bands of post-apocalyptic gangs wearing rusty hubcaps and other post-apocalyptic accessories for that neat post-apocalyptic look popularized by post-apocalyptic fashion revolutionaries such as Mad Max, the Road Warrior, and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. Deep in the depths of the industrial megavillage known to most as “Detroit” was a storage facility, which was guarded during the nighttime hours by a strapping young security guard named Bob Roxxx. Now, young Roxxx was a master at his field. Although he still goes unaccredited for his achievements to this date, he was actually the pioneer for the method of bashing up his security check-in device so he could just drive around like a lazyass, instead of walking like he was paid to do. Yes, he was THAT good. ‘The Night’ started just like any other. Bob clocked in. He ate a Twinkie or two. But as he prepared for his nightly on-the-job nap, something happened. Something that not even Bob was prepared to deal with… The storage facility was about to be accosted by the mysterious man known only as The Naked Bandit! Dun dun dun. The Naked Bandit was a vile, vicious man behind a rash of attacks all across Detroit. He would sneak up, suddenly rush out, then – BAM! – the victim would be left dazed on the ground like my Uncle Jimmy after a weekend coke bender with naught but the image of The Naked Bandit’s deadly a** plaguing their thoughts. Bob Roxxx knew that not even his master security guard skills could stand up to the menace of The Naked Bandit. He ran for his life, his mind in a panic as his life flashed before his eyes… His momma tucking him into his warm, cozy bed as a child. His first kiss. That time he pissed all over the floor and had to lean against the wall to avoid falling in the toilet when he was wasted the other night. But he knew there was no escaping the evil that was emanating from the depths of the Bandit’s dirty, hairy a**. Right about here is where our story begins. Actually, it began several paragraphs ago… But this is where it REALLY starts. Because like all great stories, this is how ours begins: With a** in yo face! Except, as great as it may be, our story actually doesn’t start this way. Whether it was fate, divine intervention, a streak of good luck, or maybe just a filthy crackhead with a cardboard breakdancing square, Bob Roxxx escaped the terror of The Naked Bandit’s horrendous a** that night. Actually, now that you mention it, I believe it truly was a breakdancing bum that set forth the events that lead to the formation of The Phamily… And so this is where our story begins: With a** in yo face narrowly avoided due to the breakdancing of a crackhead. Except the story began several paragraphs ago. So anyway, this is how our story begins: As Bob Roxxx frantically attempted to escape the danger of The Naked Bandit dashing towards him with full-on penis-flopping action, the breakdancing bum slowly hobbled out of the shadows over to his usual late-night breakdancing location. As Travis – this wasn’t the crackhead’s name, but all the other crackheads called him that for some reason – set down his cardboard and began his pre-breakdancing stretches, Bob Roxxx, shortly followed by The Naked Bandit, rounded a corner of a nearby warehouse at full speed. But Travis took little notice. Trained by years of tutelage under the great crackheaded breakdancing bum known only as The Great Crackheaded Breakdancing Bum, all that was on Travis’s mind was to begin his nightly ritual. He began with a simple backspin, a mere 4 revolutions. Travis wasn’t a show-off. By the time he moved on to some flic-flacs and a handglide transitioned into a hollowback, Roxxx and the Bandit were standing dumbstruck, utterly entranced by the dirty dancing of the dirty crackhead Travis. So, this is how our story begins: With a** in yo face narrowly avoided due to the breakdancing of a crackhead. Again. Now, to the beginning of the story. As Travis continued his breakdance, The Naked Bandit walked up to the cardboard square and complemented Travis on his sweet skills. Actually, I think the Bandit just pushed him off and dropped a big doo-doo on it, but it’s all good Baby Baby. So that’s where our story begun: After some a** in yo face narrowly avoided due the breakdancing of a crackhead, Bob Roxxx and the Naked Bandit bonded, becoming fast friends. Years later… or maybe it was just the next night, I don’t fucking know… But anyway, some time later, Bob and the Bandit went on an adventure. Actually, it was less of an adventure, and more of a late-night Wal-Mart shoplifting spree. On this spree, the duo procured a keyboard. They thought it would be fresh to play with and make some sweet jams with. But this wasn’t no fancy-smancy keyboard, just a shitty Casio with one of those little fake scratching things. The Naked Bandit was quoted as remarking, “Word,” with a look of profound approval upon his countenance. They began performing on the corners deep within the heart of the ghettoes of Detroit. They named themselves Disfunktional Phamily, after the Bandit’s sick obsession with double penetration. It took much deliberation, but Roxxx finally conceded to at least using the initials to make a different name. As for where the handicap logo came from, well… The Bandit has fetishes far more disturbing than mere double penetration. After two weeks of performing for and being pissed on by bums (none of which could breakdance, just in case your wondering), they realized they forgot to put out a container for people to throw money into. Disheartened, they decided to quit stealing batteries for the keyboard and call it quits… COULD THIS BE THE END OF THE DISFUNKTIONAL PHAMILY?! Tune in tomorrow, same fucking time, same fucking channel, or some sh*t like that! …or just keeping reading. Go ahead and grab a sodie-pop if you’re getting thirsty. So now, this is where our story begins: With DP calling it quits in shame. Wait, no… I think it started with… eh, y’know what? F**k it. But anyway… right about here is where Disfunktional Phamily receives guidance from a mysterious shadowy figure and everything turns out alright. So, as Roxxx and the Bandit walked away from their dear little keyboard with the little fake scratchy thing, a mysterious shadowy figure approached to give them guidance. He talked of the wonders of microphones, mixing boards, and how to shimmy back and forth like Axl Rose. Uninterested, the Disfunktional Phamily ignored him and walked away with their heads hung lower than your mama’s wrinkled, sagging teats. That is, until they found out about all the free beer, food, and sluts. Next thing you know, The Naked Bandit and Mr. Roxxx were on their way to the studio. After a long talk the Bandit, Bob made him put some damn clothes on. People were getting very uncomfortable around the Bandit, especially first thing in the morning. So distraught about having to wear clothes, he changed his name to Smoky and the Bandit. But after a lawsuit that was quickly handled out of court with a kick to The Naked Bandit’s shins, he settled for the name Trajik. That name reminded the former Mr. Bandit of the tragedy of being forced to wear clothes, losing the name Smoky, and the fact that everyone was catching onto his “Man, these undies are chaffing me” ruse he used to feel the fresh summer breeze on his man junk just one last time. It wasn’t long before Bob taught Trajik the ways of the Tree People of Lower Antquinanananda, and his name once again became Smoky… but not really… please just call him Trajik, especially if his mom is around okay dude? But anyway, their visit to the studio was quite fruitful. They enjoyed the artistic process of stepping up to the mic and making a bunch of animal noises… Then one fateful day – and this is where the story really begins: with the amusing sounds of rhinoceri in heat – these noises eerily resembled verses depicting pure hardships and tales of life gone wrong. NO HYPERBOLE here, man. Yes, I will wait while you look that up in the dictionary. So here’s where our story begins: At the end of the story. There you have it: The Legend of Disfunktional Phamily. So what does DP sound like anyway? Well… it’s kinda like your moms and pops fighting in an enclosed box, which 2 Norwegian lesbians eat, probably with some kind of nasty Norwegian fish sauce or some other weird sh*t they eat there… but they sh*t it out on the sidewalk after a quick round of hopscotch, and then that stinky old dog that always tries to hump your leg comes by and takes a piss on it. And then – this is the key element here, so pay attention – you gotta go up to the gas station and get one of those shitty free oil funnels, stick it in that nasty pissed on pile of crap, and put your ear up to it. It sounds just like that… EXCEPT BETTER! Don’t believe me? Try it. I bet you thought you wouldn’t hear the ocean in a seashell either you stubborn bastard. So, did you try it yet?... You nasty f**k! I thought you stopped playing with sh*t back in elementary school! Butt seriously now, Disfunktional Phamily sounds nothing like that. DP is hard-hitting beats, sick twisted rhymes, and a big ol’ sweaty sack slapped in your face. The Phamily has been spotted everywhere from the stage at Harpo’s, to the dumpster out back at that place next to Harpo’s. When they’re not out sifting through used medical waste for those occasional nuggets of joy, they’re busy playing at venues all across the Detroit Metropolitan area. My best advice to you: Sit back with a fat bag, a 40 of some cheap malt liquor, maybe a few hot sluts, and enjoy the experience that is the Disfunktional Phamily!