Late-lunch Linkage

I took a late lunch/early dinner today, and thus, I am posting some Monday isht late as well. As I had assumed they would be, the Academy Awards were awful. I only watched the first half of the event, but that was plenty. Chris Rock had his moments (the job-performance analogies regarding Bushie; the man-on-the-street interviews at the Magic Johnson Theater) but was pretty underwhelming (and, if we're talking about that lame bit with Adam Sandler, Rock was just bad); the wrong movies and people won (Foxx should have gotten Best Supporting Actor and Cheadle should have gotten dapped up for Best Actor); Scorsese and The Aviator got robbed; Halle Berry's hair was bad; there was too much of an overrated thing (Beyonce, whose vapid personality and mumbling drive me crazy); and Ron Burgundy was nowhere to be found. Lame.

Other stuff on this mind today:
- For all of Microsoft's villainy (the proprietary software, the ruthless business practices, etc.), reading something like this makes me think that Bill Gates is a study in personality dichotomy, simultaneously corporate titan and altruistic humanitarian. Good for him, not only for the financial commitment, but more so for publicly stating that this country is not honoring its responsibility to its citizenry by providing even an adequate public education. It would behoove the nation to do so. If you're unconvinced of Gates's merit (however tempered it may be), check out Slate's top-sixty philanderers philanthropists. (Do you think we could convince the President that those two words are synonyms? I do, although maybe his family's wealth has brought him in contact with the word "philanthropy" often enough for him to be wary of the ruse.)

- Speaking of philanthropy, I am sure that any payment will simply be a magnanimous gesture since Kobe's innocent, right? (I'm sure my sister would say so, although, she also loves this guy.) If-I-were-David-Stern-for-a-day edict 7,839: Next season, every Los Angeles Lakers game will be played in Denver.

- It's one thing if the government is going to suppress free speech, manipulate the media, hold prisoners without charges or access to lawyers, constantly lie to the public, invade a country without cause, and kidnap innocent people to torture on foreign soil if it all helps fight terrorists (or tourists, or terraces--I don't really know since Bushie is inarticulate and enunciates poorly). But, I cannot stand for the government failing to actually do one thing that is beneficial or fortifying. I mean, with all due respect to those people in the red blazers who always look tired or annoyed or apathetic, it's not like we even have a crack airport-security system. Honestly, when I was flying back from vacation a few weeks ago, I think I saw a guy carry a sword up to the gate. Maybe it was just a really ornate piece of metal to hang on his wall, I don't know. How hard is this, people?

- Good for the Times. The fuck-you-and-your-laws Republicans are out of control. As I always observe, isn't it funny that the party that claims to be comprised of the true patriots is always the one working outside of, stretching, or breaking the American system.

- No upset here. Straight chalk.

- Jackogate Update: Got Milk? Are you serious? Actually, I thought the story was going to say, "When an image of a woman with bare breasts came on the screen, Jackson quickly covered his eyes with his hands and started wailing, 'I'm scared, I'm scared! Seeing breasts is ignorant.'" So, maybe it's not that bad...no, wait, it's bad. The infantilized adulthood of Michael Jackson really is a spectacle. I love the man's music, and this entire episode (read: everything that's happened since Bad came out) is just sad.

- My man Brother B over at All Thangs Funky sent me this link. WTF? And what I really want to know is, how do I get put on?

Street Wars, Son!

What's beef? Not this. Rap Math: 1 God MC + 1 MC + 1 Asshole + 1 Fat Ass = Who cares?

It's on and poppin'! (Well, some of the participants and some non-discerning hip-hoppers might think so, at least.) First, 50 dissed Fat Joe, Nas, and Jadakiss. And deeen, Fat Joe struck back at 50 on the radio. Aaaand deeeeen 50 struck back at Fat Joe on the radio (link courtesy of Trickology).

As I have already written, though, this is all meaningless because: 1) Hip-hop beef is so trite at this point and is manipulated to help move units (listen to 50's interview if you're skeptical); 2) Only an idiot who believes/agrees with Kay Slay that this "beef" is one of the biggest things in New York in years even cares about this in the first place; 3) "Piggy Bank" has to be one of the worst, least offensive "diss" records I have ever heard; 4) While 50 may be a prominent hip-hop artist who exerts influence over mainstream culture, he's a mediocre emcee whose album is atrocious and whose gimmicks have already turned off the real heads; 5) Fat Joe is desperately yearning to be relevant, and it's never gonna happen--his flow is weak; his writing is weak; his catalogue is weak; 6) Jadakiss and Nas haven't fired back yet, so obviously this theoretical war in the streets is meaningless to the only two men involved who can claim to matter at all; 7) This will all become a foggy memory after 50's album slows down, Fat Joe's album stinks, and some real music comes out this year.

Bearing all that in mind, let's start off the week with some music that might make working this morning a little more palatable. The common thread here? These are all joints that have been sampled by "influenced" 50 and his crew or Fat Joe, so let that also inform your judgment of 50, Fat Joe, and their lyrical gangsta. (Although, to be fair, dude 50's been shot and used to slang (slung?)):

- Natalie Cole, "Inseparable" (See: Lloyd Banks, "Karma")
- Barry White, "It's Only Love Doing Its Thing" (See: 50 Cent, "21 Questions")
- The Commodores, "High on Sunshine" (See: Fat Joe, "Walk On By")

7:25 PM Update: Nas says here that he really isn't looking to battle, although "you know his record." Mixed message aside, it seems like he's deading the beef before it takes off. [sarcasm] Man, that next Fat Joe club joint is gonna be so hard! [/sarcasm}

And, 9th Wonder always cites Pete Rock as his idol. To my knowledge, the two had not worked together or spent time in any studio anywhere until after The Listening hit. So my question is this: When was the beat for "It's a Love Thing" conceived? I'll guess after Little Brother made "The Listening," making the former track some kind of pupil-becomes-teacher homage. Listen to the final fifty seconds of the Little Brother track and then the introduction to the Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth joint. They're damn similar samples/loops/chops if not the same:

- Little Brother, "The Listening"
- Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, "It's a Love Thing"

Sunday Links and Movie Thoughts

Is it voyeuristic to watch the movie industry masturbate?

Make sure to note the updates about Cornel West/Little Brother and Michigan Basketball if interested, but for everyone else, here's some other, varied reading:

- As I noted the other day, the conduct of the United States' intelligence agencies (this article is of paramount importance), specifically the C.I.A., is not only inhumane but probably illegal.

- Jamie Foxx has come a long way since The Players Club, huh? His come up and crossover augur well for Kevin Hart. Riiiight.

This has to be the first time in a while that I have almost no interest in the Academy Awards. Yeah, there will be some hot women, my man, some nice clothing, and some funny jokes, but the 2004 crop of movies really didn't capture my attention. I thought that The Aviator was the best movie and that Don Cheadle was the best actor. If the former and the latter win their respective categories, I really won't have much to gripe about. Also, I stole this from Too Smart, but here's my take on the 2004 movies:

- What is with so-called adults liking Harry Potter movies so much? I admit to never having read the books (actually wanting to know things, I am compelled to read The New Yorker, The Economist, and books about real-life subjects, not some child-oriented, mystical boarding-school realm), so maybe "I just don't get it." But come on. I've seen these movies. They are entertaining, but they also have no edge and too many characters that work much better on the page than on the screen. One of the best aspects of the Lord of the Rings trilogy--a real man's book-to-movie adaptation--was that the characters, as presented, had tremendous depth. Some of that, of course, is because J.R.R. Tolkien could kick a J.K Rowling's ass all over the fantasy-literature universe in an Archangel Gabriel-battles-Satan kind of apocalyptic showdown (oh, the hallucinatory violence!). But some of it also owes to superior story telling from Peter Jackson. (And yes, the Rings movies are not without their flaws.) I acknowledge that Harry Potter movies target a different demographic than Lord of the Rings movies do, and that is fine, but adults need to stay in their lane. Besides, Potter wasn't even the best "kid's" movie of the year. Pixar's talented employees continue to provide the schematic for child-oriented movies that also resonate with adults

- When assessing House of Flying Daggers and Hero, and I think I preferred the latter, but it's close. (Quick side story: Some of the warm feelings I harbor for Hero stem from the fact that Andrew and I sat next to Laurence Fishburne in the theater when I saw it. Only in New York. And by the way, after laughing hysterically throughout the trailer for Taxi, Fishburne turned around to shout at his friend seated in the row behind ours, "Yo, I gotta see that!" How can such a smart, perspicacious actor have such deplorable taste?)

Are Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy so incredible in these Before movies that a fucking cult following has sprung up? There are so many people who have this cutesy adoration for these fucking movies. I'll take Jake Hoyt.

Here’s the real top-ten list:
10) Fahrenheit 9/11 - Specious arguments? Yes. Over the top? At times. But this was a movie that said important things about President Bush, the military, and America's general ignorance and apathy that are not honestly said often or loudly enough.

9) House of Flying Daggers - Visually stunning and far more intricate and layered than Hero. Sadly, the incoherence of the final thirty minutes marred this film and lent it an unintended, comedic this-is-obviously-a-foreign-film feel.

8) Collateral - Great performances. I loved Foxx, and I thought that playing a perhaps-psychotic villain suited Cruise, allowing his exaggerated acting and facial expressions to seem more natural than they usually do when he portrays characters--like Ethan Hunt or Nathan Algren--the audience is supposed to like. I often like Cruise movies in spite of him, but not this time. Also, Michael Mann did a wonderful job creating palpable senses of urgency and anxiety; this joint was smartly directed.

7) I *Heart* Huckabee's - This movie could have been better given the idea and the cast, and in some ways, it felt empty if one sought to dissect all of what was said. However, I found it to be subtly funny and emotionally accessible in an odd fashion. I'd like to watch it again so that I could further articulate why I enjoyed it so much.

6) Hero - This may have been one of the most beautiful movies I have ever watched. The use of color was dazzling and the story, though not especially enthralling, was still rousing. Isn't it sad that Jet Li's next movie features him wearing a dog collar the whole time? I think he's better than that, and I hadn't before seeing Hero.

5) The Incredibles - Only intended for children at the most superficial levels. On top of masterful animation, The Incredibles succeeded because the content was universal and the characters, though archetypical, were relevant and sweetly portrayed.

4) Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy - I can't explain this choice. I just worship Will Ferrell. His comedic audacity is hilarious, as is the way that he wields juxtaposition and irony. Anchorman was rewarding for the viewers who could tell that as Ron Burgundy was brought to life, Ferrell knew just how ridiculous the character and movie were. Being let in on the joke but now knowing where it's headed is so satisfying.

3) The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou - This was not Wes Anderson's best movie. Nor was it as funny as Rushmore or Royal Tenenbaums. However, it was still plenty funny, and the characters had a lot going on beneath the surface, making lame and obtuse the assertions that this was just a pastiche of the absurd and idiosyncratic. I thought that the sense of loneliness and the desire to feel connected, both experienced by so many of the characters, were affecting in the same way that they are when expressed in Edward Hopper's paintings.

2) Hotel Rwanda - This was not a triumph of imagination given that the film was based on a real-life tragedy. Instead, Don Cheadle gave a great performance, and Terry George communicated to a mass audience an atrocity that has been neglected and too easily forgotten. I had never cried while watching a movie before.

1) The Aviator - Howard Hughes was a fantastically fascinating fellow who was brought to life very well by Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio. The sets, the costumes, the cinematography--what a great movie! I could have watched three more hours of it.

Last four out (to borrow from the NCAA Tournament parlance):

1) Friday Night Lights - Derek Luke performed well, as did Billy Bob. This was especially touching for those who read the book.

2) Control Room - Obviously slanted, this movie still made a number of good points about the horrendous American media coverage of the Iraq "war."

3) Garden State - Much has been said. I liked watching it, despite the readily apparent flaws and from-a-certain-mold feel.

4) Kill Bill, Vol. II - I thought that Vol. I was better, but some of this film's shortcomings may be endemic of sequels.

Pleasantly Forgettable: Cellular (Maybe the worst trailer ever for a movie that wasn't nearly that bad); Bourne Supremacy; Starsky & Hutch (I love this out-of-nowhere Stiller/Ferrell/Wilson/Vaughn/Bateman(?) comedy nexus); Meet the Fockers (a pretty decent sequel); The Girl Next Door (I adore Cuthbert)

Most Disappointing:
10) Ocean’s 12

10) Troy

9) The Village

8) The Terminal

7) Dodgeball: A True Underdog Story

6) Napoleon Dynamite

5) The Ladykillers

4) The Woodsman

3) Team America: World Police

2) She Hate Me

1) Spider-Man 2

What were they thinking?!: Man on Fire; Catwoman; Van Helsing; The Day After Tomorrow; Envy; Soul Plane; Fat Albert; Jersey Girl

- Six of diamonds captured! But don't worry, the country is still a mess, and the region just got less stable. Looks like that meeting with Putin went really, really good (video), er, well.

- Yes! Just what I wanted to hear. Nothing will be better than losing in 2008, also. I will NOT vote for this lying, gutless woman in a primary.

- I just caught the my first glimpse of MTV's My Super Sweet 16. It was some chick named Ava's party . I only saw the last five minutes, but it was all I needed: That show is sickening. One day, someone will write a definitive book about MTV and its societal impact, and I hope that the thesis shows MTV as one of the most exploitative, condescending, smug cultural forces in history. How can so many people rejoice in seeing the bar set lower and lower? And don't get it twisted: I like me some MTV. I was all about Yo!, I still like Real World (although this Philadelphia season has been terrible), and the music awards are always a spectacle.

Maize Rage

Daniel, you'll be back next year. Will I?

Wow, Michigan basketball is a mess. Last night's loss to Northworstern was just embarrassing--who loses to the Wildcats by 16? Who falls behind 30-6 to start the game? On January 15th, Michigan was 12-5. Today, Michigan is 13-16 having dropped eleven of its last twelve, a stretch that includes a ten-game losing streak that UM only broke because it played hapless Penn State. Michigan has fallen so far so quickly because its leading scorer, Lester Abram has been hurt all season; its best player, Daniel Horton, has been suspended after getting arrested for (and ultimately pleading guilty to) domestic assault; and its coach, Tommy Amaker, might be incompetent. In Amaker's defense, he has not had a complete roster (other players have also missed time with injuries) and has been forced to play four walk-ons, but that also owes to his inability to adequately recruit. Why doesn't Michigan have Division 1-caliber basketball players?

The real question now becomes: Will Tommy Amaker be Michigan's basketball coach next year? I can't see him getting fired, but morale is low, and the UM administration has never made basketball the priority it needs to be if any coach is going to succeed at a school that does, primarily, worship the football program. Thus, there are rumblings that Amaker might be headed back to the ACC (he played at Duke) to replace the equally underwhelming Pete Gillen at the University of Virginia. I will keep my eye on this, but this is a rumor that has been circulating on the myriad internets, so if there is smoke, there could be fire. Maybe Amaker's departure would be best for him and for Michigan, because the man can't coach for shit.

Can We Get a West (DNA) Test?

Imagine a father-son collabo with Cornel's words and Kanye's beats!

So a while ago, I read this article (scroll down to the last three paragraphs) and said to myself, "Nah. Get your mind right, mami." But then tonight, I read this post at Bol's (check out the comments section) and looked up the Cornel West entry in Wikipedia. Granted, Wikipedia is an open-source online encyclopedia, so the information may not always be the most reliable, however its proprietors take down ridiculous or malicious content very quickly. I ain't sayin' nothin', but I'm sayin'...

In the meantime, I'd like to add one more hip-hop note/rumination: Phonte Coleman of the mighty Little Brother crew is totally slept on. The Listening was an underground and so-called "backpacker" classic, but LB doesn't get the shine that it deserves, Phonte least of all. I know that 9th Wonder parlayed LB's success and the respect engendered by the strength of The Listening into some acclaim, notoriety, and a few choice assignments (like producing for the Jigga Man, although why 9th and Jay would choose a simple R. Kelly loop that anyone could have made over a lush and layered 9th Wonder heatrock, I don't know), but what about Tay Gravy? Is it because 9th uses the same drums on so many tracks? Because Little Brother isn't hard? Because their sound can get repetitive for those who aren't true admirers? Phonte's collabo with producer Nicolay, Foreign Exchange, produced one of last year's best records, Connected, and he still doesn't get dapped up. His flow is measured and versatile; his rhymes are relatable and witty; he can be hilarious at times given his perspicacity; and he just has a genuine hip-hop microphone ethos. I mean, is there any other emcee who sounds more hip-hop than Phonte?! I am posting three links to some Phonte joints that give some insight into his versatility and talent. As an unabashed Little Brother fan, I will have more to say on them (and their crew, the Justus League) later on, but for now, this is a good start. After Common and Ghostface, Phonte might be my favorite emcee today. Fo' real.

- Phonte and (wack-ass) Joe Scudda - Groupies (Insult added.)
- Little Brother and Kanye West - I See Now (Kanye's kinda funny on this joint, too.)
- Little Brother - Whatever You Say (Little Brother talks about everyday shit, and it works.)

Damn, I'm tired...

A Good Walk Spoiled

"If awkward writing, specious arguments, and plodding exposition are your things, then this book and its author are for you!" - Joey, Straight Bangin'

Mark Twain once called golf "a good walk spoiled." I have come to the same disappointed conclusion about Dr. Todd Boyd's auspiciously titled and poorly written Young, Black, Rich, & Famous. Any time a book promises to "[explore] and [analyze] the culture of the post-soul young black male" and "[chronicle] how basketball and hip hop have gone from being reviled by the American mainstream to being embraced and imitated globally," I'm down. Sadly, Boyd does not honor the promise made by the book's packaging and jacket literature. Instead of presenting a smart articulation of the relationship between basketball, hip-hop, marketing, capitalism, and American culture, Boyd meanders through 185 pages neglecting to fully examine his subjects and their context, insinuating himself into the narrative too often, and summarizing arguments with colloquial and effectively meaningless tripe like, "This is the image [Michael dancing to music in the locker room] of Jordan of which I am most fond. The pre-'90s Jordan, when he was a young cat in the game just trying to find his way. No unrealistic pressure, no unbelievable expectations. Just basketball and kickin' it with the fellas."

As I wrote last week when expressing my dismay about the NBA All-Star Game halftime show, the connection between the NBA and hip-hop is very real, and that bond has produced both positive and negative repercussions for the league and for black America, particularly urban blacks. Boyd successfully chronicles the nascent stages of this cultural fusion, courageously depicting the limited opportunities for and ugly stereotypes about African-Americans that prevailed throughout the 1950s, '60s, 70s, and 80s. It is not easy to tell an anonymous audience that white America has persistently perpetrated a series of serious wrongs against black folk, not when so many people talk about civil rights, racism, and equality as though these issues were resoundingly resolved by 1968. He also smartly discusses the traditional ways that black culture has been seen and accepted, if at all, by mainstream, white America. Boyd falters, though, as he attempts to make the reader understand why feelings engendered by the legacy of racial intolerance and myth have manifested themselves in the brash machismo of the hip-hop era. Instead of immersing readers in a vicarious exploration of how it feels to be perceived as lazy and undeserving, how it feels to be neglected and discriminated against in so many ways, Boyd instead asks readers to trust him, offering "insights" like "game recognize game" when explaining shared respect among black men. While I or other well-versed hip-hop heads may understand all of that term's nuance and applications, employing it when supposedly authoring a book for universal consumption is just silly. Even for me, that sort of writing was a hollow and unsatisfying substitute for the more thorough analysis that Boyd's subject deserves.

The other primary shortcoming of this book is that it makes a number of arguments that are just ridiculous: Isiah Thomas and Dennis Rodman were correct that Larry Bird was really not that good, and certainly wasn't worthy of inclusion when discussing a preeminent talent like Magic Johnson (um, Todd, even I, one who constantly bemoans the actions and biases of white people, can see that Larry Bird was an all-time great); no black man could ever ask another for his shoes because it would be the ultimate debasing experience (sneaker culture notwithstanding, apparently); the media harped too much on Bill Laimbeer's father working as a high-ranking executive at General Motors, tacitly implying that Laimbeer was one of the only players in the league who may have been paid less than his father was (because it's not like NBA players are among the richest people in the United States or anything). Any circumspect individual with some modicum of knowledge about the NBA and hip-hop likely can see that Boyd's specious conclusions are (hopefully) not errors of his intellect but of omission. He needed to have spent more time, words, and pages establishing the entire context in which the reader needed to understand his theses, because as written, Boyd's book makes him appear to be delusional, foolish, and myopic.

The silver lining of all, this, though, is that it makes the University of Michigan look better when set in relief of two of its football rivals: How could the University of Iowa have ever given this guy a Ph.D., and what kind of school is USC that this "hip-hop professor" is celebrated so thoroughly?


Jus' blaze...
- 8:11 PM Update: I just got a new Roots three-disc remix and rarities compilation. It's aight, although nothing groundbreaking. The first track posted is the group's rendition of the Doug E. Fresh/Slick Rick classic, "The Show," and the second is a remix of "Proceed IV" with a sweeping horns sample that I'm feelin'. Let me know what you think (all audio links will be active for seven days):

The Roots - The Show
The Roots - Proceed IV (AJ Shines Without a Pause Remix)

- Send this bumper sticker to our troops in Afghanistan: "My money and my resources go to Iraq." And I continue to wonder if the United States won't just decide to liberate Lebanon and Syria within the next four years.

- I gotta shout out my man, the hilarious and irreverent Bol Guevara, for adding this joint to his site's blog roll. (And I think after that sort of praise, he'd want me to throw in a "no homo" just so no one gets anything twisted. I'm hesitant to do it because I am not into that practice, but as a courtesy, I will make this one exception. And if you have no idea what I'm talking about, read this. I absolutely agree with the author.)

- Hackneyed, Irrelevant Beef Alert: Fat Joe strikes back at 50. (Audio courtesy of Cuban Links.) How might this play out? I would wager that the mixtape circuit will heat up, Hot 97's Summer Jam will attempt to fan the flames(it needs something to hype up), and there will be crew beefs, maybe even a posse physical altercation backstage or at a club somewhere. But, it will all be meaningless because, who gives a shit about sellout, not-that-good 50 and still-searching-for-Pun's-rhyme-book Joe? Tell 'em why you mad Update: Having figured out how to make audio available, I provide you, the reader, with 50's incendiary lame track, "Piggybank."

- This is obviously not the whole story, but it is troubling nonetheless. Race-based HIV/AIDS-infection studies should not be conducted in a data vacuum, either: Given the disproportionately high incarceration rate among urban black men (a result of so many discouraging and ignorant social biases), wouldn't requisite correlates include how many new cases of HIV/AIDS were contracted by African-Americans while in prison and the percentage of infected African-Americans who have spent time in prison (because it might not always be possible to isolate when infection occurred)? I can't but think that the hip-hop community's pronounced homophobia contributes to this sad phenomenon. Perhaps more gay people would take steps to protect themselves if doing so would not result in alienation or degradation within their social milieu.

- Reinvigoration? Growth? Gentrification? Pick one.

- The iPod's ascendancy is no longer in dispute (if it ever was).

- If gorillas can make this sort of thing happen, maybe I ain't really mad at animals.

- FlameOn JamesOn: JamesOn Curry will be the reason that Oklahoma State beats Kansas in Lawrence tomorrow. Mark it down.

Stop smiling, you idiot!

Raptors? Check. CBA? Check. Pacers? Check. Knicks? Check. What else can I ruin?

Pictured above is the stupidest GM with the worst judgment in the history of the NBA. Take a good look at a con man: Isiah Thomas, New York Knicks general manager. Yesterday, continuing his admirable effort to get the Knicks $3,429,058,732,145 gazillion over the salary cap and about fifty years away from being able to contend for a title, Isiah traded three bums for two bums, two bad draft picks, and $32 million more in salaries. Here's what the Knicks now look like. (Update: Chris Mannix, who I think is limited, articulates Isiah's idiocy well at the end of his article..) The fire and venom flow through me today, and I'd write more, but I'd likely get arrested or blow an alibi I might need at a later date.

Meanwhile, a Knicks Atlantic Division rival, the Philadelphia 76ers, is now more respectable and will likely win the division. I posted yesterday, though, that this improves the Sixers but hardly makes the Eastern Conference the Beast(ern). And by the way: The Western Conference just got one more almost-franchise player. At least The Buckets can be happy: buddies were reunited.


I hear it too: The sound of you passing to Mike Bibb, er, Allen Iverson at the top of the key in crunch time.

(Sarcastically) Moving Along

- An amateur comedian but always funny, my man Sheraz sent this along today. It's funny because it's true.

- Michigan got a new defensive-line coach. He is supposed to be good (and he better be since a dominant defensive line is what wins BCS titles), although he is also not much of a recruiter.

- So even though Bushie's trip to Europe was intended to repair the fractures in the United States' relationships with its "allies," this idiot is already issuing ultimatums? Is the idea that by June, once European intervention fails (partially because the U.S. won't be a team player and acquiesce to some other country's plan even though this nation routinely demands that of others), the U.S. can get sanctions implemented so that Iran can then violate that accord and the U.S. can invade bring democracy somewhere else? Well luckily, we, the "liberators," will be greeted with terrorist attacks roses. Does this sound about right to anyone else? I bet that our international reputation will be sterling by then, also.

- This is sickening. Is the scare-tactics method the sole operational modality for conservatives? I guess it's probably just easier to frighten and intimidate people than have public discussions and abide by the law because those sorts of activities invariably include awful things like logic, altruism, compassion, and (insert antonym for "hypocrisy" here).

- So while this is happening in the UK (50 Cent is so awesome, and he's great for hip-hop), our Senate wants to help the gun industry. The Republicans who run the federal government are mind-boggling. Their party is the one that theoretically appeals to people who care about morality and want to get "tough on crime"?! To me, this is a part of the larger "tort reform" issue. Democrats are always accused of getting in bed with those [sarcasm] terrible [/sarcasm] trial lawyers, yet isn't it just as bad that the Republican party has dedicated itself to shielding every industry possible from civil judgments? In our nation, lawsuits are a check on the power of the corporation, and most business-law professors would tell you that. Industries can't be simultaneously deregulated AND insulated from public accountability. I didn't read about trial lawyers in Book II of Paradise Lost, but cot'damn, they've really been cast as devilish.

- Jackogate Update: This jury sounds like it might be inclined to see Michael as a good guy. I am sure that Kobe's testimony will help put Michael over the top.

- Jay Update: When I went down for my obligatory visit and purchase today, Jay was going off--Where have you been? I don't buy this cake for anyone else. YOU'RE COSTING ME MONEY!--on someone. Could he be the Concession Nazi?

New Link

I've added The Low End Theory to my blog roll. It seems like that site will be focusing on music and will have lots of nice downloads. I recommend it.

More substance soon (almost lunch time)...

Dispatch from the Interscope Plantation

“…What makes it cool to be a gangsta/What makes it cool to be a thug/What is it that’s so cool about possibly gettin’ hit in your head with a slug…” - Saigon,"Slap Niggas"

So, what's the hottest shit in the streets (and the MTV studios) right now? The Game's The Documentary and 50 Cent's just-leaked abortion of an album, the aptly titled Massacre (because he kills himself--zing!). I have a hard time writing about these two--and the entire Shady/Aftermath/G-Unit/Interscope Mafia--because so much vitriol fuels my thoughts that the ideas bubble up too quickly and my mind becomes a boiling mess of vituperation.

I can't stand 50; I can't stand The Game; I can't stand Eminem; I can't stand Young Buck; I can't stand Lloyd Banks; I can't stand D12. All of these dudes are sexist. All of them make music that is stupid, "talkin' 'bout gats in their raps" as the Notorious might have said. We know: you sold/sell drugs; women aren't good for much aside from sex or cooking; you will go after anyone who comes at you, and anyone standing next to the fire could get burned. All of these stars are prominent perpetuators of the studio-gangster phenomenon that dominates commercial hip-hop. And all of them have run out of things to say but keep getting paid for making the same records over and over again. I also can't stand that faux-epic, wanna-seem-menacing synthesizer sound that they have all cultivated as part of their image. However, having said all that, I will try to be articulate as I ride out on give some brief reviews of both aforementioned albums and beatdown examine their respective "authors." (James Joyce just rolled over in his grave; I can't believe that word could apply to him and to 50.)

First, let's touch The Game. As I see it, The Documentary is seventeen instrumentals with the same verse looped over each song because Game has nothing to say. Every verse is the same m-f'ing content: He's from Compton; he dickrides for wishes he were from the East Coast; he considers his ass to be the epitome of gangster rap, the musical successor in the gangster line of kings started by Eazy-E, Ice Cube, and N.W.A., continued through Snoop Dogg and 2Pac, and modernly revived through 50 (even though 50 is not from the West Coast and is not a good emcee); he rolls with the G-Unit and gets his beats from Dre (as if those two things prove that he is a prodigy). That's it. He says nothing else, and even worse, he is obnoxious when running his mouth and exhausting his portfolio of themes. Honestly, how can one person’s music be so popular despite seeping so thoroughly with damnable vainglory engendered by a fortunate association with preeminently successful predecessors who have now, admittedly, plugged him into their formula and are, in effect, babysitting his ass? And, how fucking infantile is this dude that his album is essentially a self-indulgent stroll down his personal music memory lane. He CONSTANTLY invokes Biggie, Pac, Eazy-E, etc. I mean, I had all those N.W.A. tapes too. And?! He is awful, and the only redeeming quality on the record is the production. Kanye brings it; Just Blaze brings it; Dre brings it. Hot beats, idiot emcee.

I can't even be that nice about 50. His album redefines garbage. The nicest thing I can say about the record is that without ever hearing it, I knew what it would be like. So, in some regard, it met my expectation. But, as Jason Jackson used to say on the NBA 2Night, dat not good! This album is a mess: the beats are boring, generic, loud, and emotionally hollow; the verses are awful, with 50 doing his best Ja Rule imitation when he isn't spouting the usual thug bluster. (And of course, he starts beef with Nas, Jadakiss, and Fat Joe. As my man DSeib has said, let's hope that Nas and Jay-Z lyrically slaughter 50 and the G-Unit.)

Honestly, 50 should not have made a new record. He should have just sent radio stations and MTV his old shit but told them that is was new, and then had it sold to the adoring public that will get on some bullshit anyway. I mean, who can listen to this music and think it's good? Wannabe gangsters? White suburbanites who think it makes them all "real" and "hard"? Condescending, idiot frat boys who like to play beirut to it (and I am not knocking the game, but rather the behavioral modality)? Club DJs? This music is awful. It's not even pleasant pop music. A track like "Disco Inferno" is something I'd dance to in the club, but it is boring, and I'd rather hear "How We Do," some Diplomats, or even something all crunked up.

As for the title of this post, I stole the imagery system from little-known and little-regarded (for good reason) rapper Big Sty, who tears into 50 on a track called "Still a Problem." As Sty sees it, 50 sold out to come up by signing with Shady/Aftermath, and Sty perceives Eminem ("...Eminem stands for Master Marshall...") as the guy calling the shots for 50 and the G-G-G-G-G-G G-Unit. I think that 50 has a little more savvy than he's given credit for, but I tend to agree wit Sty.

50 (and his posse), just like Game, sold his soul to the devil, whose name happens to be Jimmy Iovine and whose chief lieutenants are Eminem and Dre. I guess that would make Dre the H.N.I.C. if we want to extend the imagery system and get into a more historical and political discussion. (I think that one could make a credible assertion that Dre, seeking to get the most out of his musical system of the gangster, has effectively positioned himself as an arbiter of popular taste and a gatekeeper, giving opportunities to some, but only within a framework for success that promotes his sound.) Perhaps the word "plantation" is too charged given the ugly history of racial exploitation in this country, but I do think that Sty likely voices an opinion that is held by more than just a few--that this white guy (Eminem), one who has already co-opted hip-hop, is now also calling the shots for the most prominent black artist in the industry. I'd even augment the argument by adding that there is something that strikes me as pernicious about Eminem using his considerable influence to make money off of and force such a vacuous and ugly version of hip-hop down the throats of mainstream America. Why couldn't Em have teamed up with better emcees (like Talib and Common) or more interesting musicians (like the Roots)?

All that said, there might be some unrest within the ranks. Apparently, there will be an article in the next Vibe that details 50's annoyance (nascent beef?) with The Game because 50 feels that The Game runs his mouth too much. Pot, meet kettle. I mean, at this point, Ed O.G. and Common are the only rappers 50 hasn't been gunnin' for. Don't try to pop off, neither!

Also happening today:
- Having destroyed a cell phone yesterday by immersing it in a hazardous substance, and now fearing that I have effectively estranged a number of people who have been in my life phone, all I can say is, "Oh, the irony" since I was laughing about the this sort of sucker's plight yesterday (Alanis, take notes).

- Just because CWebb is now a Sixer, why is everyone clamoring that the East is suddenly a beast again? I've gotten like three emails about this today. Was Webber really the key determinant of the Western Conference's domination? If I had to rank the NBA's top ten teams as of this afternoon (and I am asking myself, "Who would prevail in a seven-game series?"), I'd have it like this: 1) San Antonio; 2) Detroit; 3) Phoenix; 4) Miami; 5) Dallas; 6) Philadelphia; 7) Houston; 8) Sacramento; 9) Seattle; 10) Chicago. This is a debatable list, and some of the choices were hard (after the top seven, there are probably six or seven teams who could jostle for those last three spots), but by my count, that's still six teams from the West. On top of that, Minnesota could still make a run if it can swing some kind of a deal today or if Kevin McHale is really a coach. I will say, though, that the East's future is bright (Indiana, Chicago, Washington, Miami, Philly, Detroit, Orlando, and Boston all could be good teams for a few years).

- This is eff-ed up.

- BC Dot C has got to be fired up about this news because it will affect his pool.

- There is some wit and some humor present in this piece, but it also has that smug, condescending tone adopted by so many mainstream writers when discussing hip-hop music and culture. We all agree: traveling with an omnipresent entourage, wasting money on opulent frivolity, and promoting socially destructive ideas (see discussion of 50 Cent above) are all stupid. So why not write about something else or stop pretending that hip-hop is so narrow. You're not "down" just because you've got jokes and use some lingo that you learned while reading about Curtis Jackson and Andre Young.

- How's that whole war on terror thing working? Is terrorism even declining in target areas?

- Just a perfect parody (and I'm not even Asian).

- Vernacular Watch: You're an Ashcroft. (Spotted by this guy.)

Episode III Spoiler Strikes Back

That's right; the spoiler site is working again. Peep game.

The FHA continues to rear its ugly head

- Not to get all Brandon on your asses, but reading this article was a mildly depressing experience. Having studied under (maybe I should more accurately describe the enthralling experience by writing "having prayed at the alter of") Matthew Lassiter, I am not at all surprised that so many Americans continue to both love the car and loathe the city. However, the unfortunate legacy left by the Federal Housing Administration is astounding and too commonly neglected. I will not say that the FHA was solely responsible for so many of America's problems (fossil fuel dependence; racism; regionalism; failing schools; excessive consumerism; etc.) since World War II and contemporarily, but it was a catalyst or exacerbating factor for many of these issues, and I'd argue it was among the three most important domestic policies/laws since 1945.

- Related to the preceding topic, of course, is the rise of the Sunbelt. And what better way to illustrate the phenomenon than this contrast: While New York is mired in stupidity and raising insightful unpatriotic children, Atlanta is getting its mind (er, trains) right.

- Just as Jacob Rubin and I forecasted in junior-year A.P. macroeconomics upon news of the then-impending implementation of the Maastricht Treaty: The euro is coming! The euro is coming!

Funny Story:
As is common in most Manhattan office buildings (even a Class-Z, foul-smelling, ventilation-deficient, dreary building like the one where I work), my workplace has a lobby concession stand. (Quickly, for the real-estate heads, like my parents, who may be reading this site: is my building-class nomenclature correct? Is "Class-_" capitalized?) And, as is also common, it is owned and operated by an Indian immigrant. While I am not one to stereotype (although, I am certainly racist--how often do I sit around my house cursing the day that white people decided to exploit hip-hop?--because, to be honest, who isn't?), I have found that a number of these ethnically Indian concessionaires can be a little possessive and a little obsessive. (Anyone who has heard me fondly reminisce about my summer spent frequently visiting the Yarmouthport 7-Eleven with my beloved Donkey Man knows that I am no stranger to this phenomenon.)

The man from whom I currently make my spot-market soda and snacks purchases is a guy named Jay. Jay is fairly affable, although he is not much of a conversationalist. This latter attribute is bad for me because, like my father before me and his mother before him, I enjoy talking to strangers as I make my way through the service economy. From what I can tell, Jay spends all of his time sleeping, eating, working (and sometimes he'll multitask and listen to the radio while he works), reading the New York Post, playing pool, or drinking Beck's. That's it; that's the list. What did you do last night, Jay? I played pool. What are you doing this weekend, Jay? I'll sit around the house and drink some Beck's, maybe play some pool. Did you see any movies lately? No. Did you watch the Knicks game? No. You get the picture. Given that we don't have much to talk about (I mean, the weather is always happening and I like beer, but not that much), we spend most of our chit-chat time talking about me (my job, when I am going to get married, why I chose whatever tie I happen to be wearing), what I am eating, and what I am drinking.

I mention all this because Jay and I have some modicum of a relationship (I wouldn't really say we're "friends"), but it's nothing too substantial and it's certainly not unique. However, given Jay's perfect attendance record and ridiculous prices (mom-and-pop concession stands need to charge higher prices if they want to compete with the big-box bodegas that dominate the New York petty-expense culinary market), I feel compelled to give him my business, exclusively. At some point, this loyalty was misinterpreted by Jay as tacit acceptance on my behalf that a daily transaction had become a compulsory component of my work experience. This is very, very bad.

If I am sick one day, I hear about it the next day. Where were you yesterday? I buy ginger ale just for you, and if you don't come--come on, Man! If I am not in the mood for a beverage and a snack, I hear about it. What, just an orange juice? What about a Twix; you love Twix! Come on, Man! If I commit the sin of one-stop shopping and bring in a beverage with my lunch, I hear about it. (Why? Because Jay's stand is immediately adjacent to one of the building entrances, and he has an eagle eye for outside purchases.) What, did you think I ran out of juice? I keep it here for you! Come on, Man! It's like he's the Indian Ike Turner.

Anyway, I was sick on Friday, my office observed the Presidents' Day holiday on Monday, and I was not in the mood for a snack yesterday, so of course, I got the guilt-trip routine today. But, worse than that, my co-worker got it, too. Juwan went down to Jay in the morning to get a cup of coffee and Jay immediately launched into the whole thing. Where's Joey? He's sick? I haven't seen him. Did boss fire him? Is he on vacation? I didn't realize that Jay and I were dating. Juwan came up stairs visibly shaken by the encounter, and it was obvious that the emotional weight of my relationship with Jay was too much for him to carry. Not wanting the pressure to become too unbearable or the anxiety of concessionaire-customer discord to disrupt my whole day, I ventured down to the lobby around noon. It was awful: Where you been, Man? What is going on? I've had ginger ale for you; I've had Twix. If you don't come, how I'm supposed to make money? I support local business; don't front on me. I know, I know, but come on, Man! You are a part of this business. I am just trying to make a living, you know? And more than that, you don't call; you don't email; I don't know where you are; you probably stayed out late all weekend. I bet that you even bought soda from some chickenhead who you don't tell me about. What's his name? I'll kill him! You don't tell me how you feel; you don't tell me how the ginger ale tastes; you don't tell me what else you might want to drink. I can give you some space if you need it, but you have to communicate with me. What is going on?

Not looking for any beef, I apologized for my thoughtless behavior (my body should never have succumbed to the flu) and paid for my ginger ale and muffin. I know that some people might think it was weak of me to have just given in to his pressure, but you guys don't know Jay like I do, and you don't hear the things that he says to me when we're alone. He's a really sweet guy once you get to know him. And for the record, the bruises on my arm, back, and legs are from when I fell down the stairs after trying to change a light bulb.

It's May 19th Already?

Casting these two actors in your movie could cause it to malfunction.

WARNING: The link posted below will take you to a website that purports to have Star Wars: Episode III spoilers, including a plot narration, motion-captured photographs, and some video. It takes a long time to load, and maybe it is all a fabrication, however that seems dubious (trust me). So, if you don't want to know about the final (mercifully) installment of the horrible prequels (although, this one has me pretty excited), do NOT click on the link. For everyone else, enjoy...

Star Wars: Episode III? (Link courtesy of Funkdigital)

Update: Attack of the Drones:
Looks like that Star Wars spoiler site wasn’t long for this world. I wouldn’t be too surprised if George Lucas, in a rare moment of sanity, made sure that the site with the entire movie spelled out spoilers was, um, sealed in carbonite? (Alright, that was a lame Star Wars joke. Sorry.) Anyway, I hope at least some of you got to see it.

Also:
1) I have added a subscription service to this website provided by Bloglet. If you enter your information in the box on the left, you can receive email notification when this site is updated.

2) I have added Haloscan commenting and trackback to this site. Readers can still post comments, but now I can do a little more research as I try to figure out if anyone who I don't already know comes (or links) to this site.

3) I have added a button link to my site's XML syndication for anyone using an aggregator or news feeder. Left-clicking on it will open a new window with the XML formatting while right-clicking and selecting"Properties" will give you the feed address.

Lunch-time Links

Weekend grocery shopping fell victim to the confluence of my illness, the bad weather, NBA All-Star festivities, the beer in my system, and general laziness, so in the absence of foodstuffs available for lunch (which will be arriving at my home this evening courtesy of Fresh Direct), I hit up Chipotle today (again). For those who have had a Chipotle burrito, my question is simple: Is there a secret, addictive ingredient in the food, like, say, crack? Good lord, this stuff is so good! I swear that the ingredients are laced with something...

Anyway, I had some random thoughts for this afternoon:

- The geriatric community never fails to reinforce my disdain for the elderly. On her own seemingly sporadic schedule, a 65-year-old-ish woman named Barbara comes to my office as some kind of "intern." I'd say she shows up at work twice a week, although when, why, and for how long are complete mysteries to me. Ostensibly, she comes to help out My Boss (or "M.B." or "My" or "Boss," but we'll leave her unnamed) in her mission to serve the peeps, both those of New York and those people (pariahs?) who inhabit an altruistic reality that has not relegated rational, deliberative thought to the periphery of policy and politics, you know, alongside things like civil rights, valuing intelligence, valuing competency, believing in meritocracy, believing in social welfare, and believing in equity. Those ideals have yet to become anathema, or at least unspeakable offenses, for at least a few of us in this country. But anyway, Barbara theoretically comes to my office to help M.B. However, from what I can tell, she really comes to use my computer, make my desk a mess, learn how to use a computer, and hum indecipherable melodies at an obnoxiously high volume.

For instance, I am currently working at my colleague Juwan's desk because while I was in the bathroom for a total of three minutes, Barbara managed to close everything I was working on, open up eighty-five other applications, crash the computer, reboot it, strew papers about an otherwise clean work surface (recognize!), unleash a torrent of computer-related questions, and hum some bizarre song so loudly that I couldn't hear myself speaking on the phone a minute ago. What is with old people acting like fucking children?!

- This sounds like the beginning of the end (as if Eddie Jordan's departure, Jason Kidd's discontent, or the 11-39 record weren't already ominous harbingers). I am officially putting Byron Scott on the Dave Campo Memorial Update Your Resume watch list. This guy is right there with Campo in the hall of fame. And so is this guy.

- At this point, is anyone else starting to suspect that Paris Hilton is famous solely for the purpose of creating controversy (nudity alert)? Like, do Page Six, Gawker, Defamer, et al. pool together some money each month and send her an entreaty like the grateful supplicants they should be?

- Those of you who have inquired about my relationship with (former Wingate Kirkland Camp Director) Jim Wolfson and his next career choice may want to read about his new job: What, exactly, is a life coach?

- I love two things: I love my wife, and I love science. All joking aside, this is so fascinating.

- Disappointed That Such Transparent Pandering Actually Is Working Department: You cannot be serious. Shame on Clinton for her dishonesty and ideological infidelity, and shame on anyone who actually buys into this ruse. She's a fugazi.

- This information item, something which you may know of by its more popular title, "the best news ever," continues to buoy my spirits. How satisfyingly absurd.

- And finally, here's how President Bush plans on getting his asinine social security changes implemented. In some ways, this is the appropriate karmic fallout from the corrupt Medicare bargain. Real mature, Bushie; real mature.

Update: Barbara just froze a second computer. Who is this person, some kind of technology Job? Stay away from the office, and take your techno-disasters with you.

6:53 Update: I am 100% with this plan. (Props to TPM for finding this.)

Monday Rumblings and All-Star (W)rap Up

If you disparage this man or his Association, then you get the Ralphie Treatment. Understood?

- I was going to front like I am smart and edumacated by summoning finding on the internet some awesome, that's-totally-on-point quotation about disappointment (you know, some Victorian junk like "I am but a visage of contentedness, my countenance betraying the cruel sorrow of dashed expectation that now consumes this diminished and sadly human vessel"). But in the wake of the collosal letdown that was the 2005 NBA All-Star Game, I will stick with the understated: Last night did not meet expectations. Things were looking promising while the Diggler warmed up because his hair was completely nuts, and it seemed like, while his peers opted to debut new sneakers, he was debuting a new, totally Euro, this-is-part-of-Diggler's-cheesy-appeal hairstyle that was heavy on the hair gel, but then time ellapsed and it turned out that he had simply taken a shower right before he made his way onto the court. Really, Dirk's hair was a perfect microcosm for the event: An auspiscious beginning gave way to a bland reality. Instead of going on about this, I'll let Marc Stein and Marty Burns speak for me. And yes, my personal highlight was when Kobe got booed by the Colorado fans. If only he could have been wearing the same outfit he had on during his more notable sojourn to the Rockies.

- What I do need to address in my own words, though, is the abomination that the NBA called a halftime show last night. What was that?!?!?!?! Isn't Leann Rimes over? Who are Big and Rich? And more importantly, I thought we had an agreement; infidelity doesn't fly around here! Didn't the NBA marry hip-hop a long time ago? That marriage was working well for everyone, especially me. But then, things (might have?) changed. The popular theory, of course, is that since the brawl between the Pistons and Pacers, the NBA has had to re-assess its marketing association with hip-hop culture. Plenty of NBA polemicists, hip-hop polemicists, racists, and even rational critics have all seized upon this point: the brawl was, in retrospect, to be expected from a league dominated by players of the "hip-hop generation" who lead their lives in socially irresponsible fashions that are fueled by pop culture and nearly inimicle, if not foreign, to many (white) basketball fans.

I agree with some of these arguments to some extent: The NBA of Magic Johnson is no more. The NBA of Michael Jordan is no more. The NBA of Allen Iverson is the NBA of the immediate past, the present, and, likely, the future. What I find problematic about the shift is that many of the players now in the L have less education, less time spent having received good coaching, less time spent in organized basketball, and less time spent maturing in socially constructive environments (because the NBA really isn't one). This has led to worse basketball played by players who understand the game to a lesser extent and are also poorly equipped to receive instruction, make life decisions, and accommodate the demands inherent to their positions of wealth and fame. I would also agree that under the umbrella of "hip-hop culture," there exists a cotarie of destructive and ugly cultural phenomena that have been both propogated and promoted by a number of people across various industries, including the NBA, all while trying to make money.

It's no secret that a lot of throwback jerseys, and pinwheel hats, and sneakers are sold to the same people who happily consume hip-hop music, many of them black and many of them living in the loci of black America, urban environments. It's also no secret that in these communities, public education is horrible and neglected, and the social networks are not populated by an overwhelming majority of intact families and people with advanced degrees. The net result is that many urban black folk are the de facto targets of an unrelenting and often insidiously sinister American consumer culture that preys upon impressionable and uneducated people, rarely using that influence positively. (These impressionable people, of course, can also be white and suburban. As proof of the phenomenon elsewhere, I give you Ashlee Simpson; I give you NASCAR; I give you Carson Daly.) While I won't excuse all bad behavior or be condescending and claim that black urban dwellers can't know any better, I will say this: When Interscope records (run by a white, Jimmy Iovine) is setting the course for pop culture by promoting an "artist" like The Game--one who recently told Vibe Magazine that gangbanging is a good thing--or Eminem--who constantly fantacizes about killing his mother--I find it impossible to isolate the NBA as the sole purveyor of socially unacceptible behavior or black people as those inherently likely to to engage in stupidity and criminality. (Besides, George Bush, who is white, has turned a blind eye to genocide in Sudan, has enabled thousands of murders in Iraq, and his "war" overseas has spawned a number of video games, so what does that say about his values?)

And I will also say this: I think that discussing the brawl, and an NBA culture and population that inevitably (as some have said) created such an ugly incident, in the context of a deficient value system is racist. It's far too easy for too many people to use "NBA" and "hip-hop" as euphamisms for black. I will not refute the notions that hip-hop is, in some ways, fundamentally black; that the NBA is predominantly black; and that hip-hop is a prominent black cultural contribution, but to skew discussions of improper culture and behavior in a manner that isolates black people and makes "black" synonymous with "NBA" and "hip-hop" is hurtful, ignorant, and infuriating. There are a lot of dumb things in hip-hop (the mysogeny, the violence, the disdain for academic success), but they are not the only aspects of the music and culture. There are a lot of elements of hip-hop (the music played at arenas, the celebrity partners, the fashion) in the NBA, but they are not the only cultural touchstones. Nothing in this discussion is absolute, and to cast the NBA as a black league whose players are all misfits who engage in the deviant behavior glorified in only some hip-hop music is a horrible offense. My man Michael Wilbon explains this and gives the discussion even more angles in a way that is better than anything I can muster.

Meanwhile, this article is a partial articulation of why it got to the point where people can so easily use coded language to criticize the NBA and black folk. As stated above, the NBA and basketball, overall, are dominated by black people.

- Speaking of Denver and the country music awards that were staged during last night's halftime, Curt, Andrew, and Michael each owned one of these. LOL.

- I suppose that this asshole can get away with his incredulity-engendering routine since he likely can't spell hypocrisy. He probably doesn't realizes that the gist of his message rings hollow with smart people and Russians given that most of what the great, democratic father advocates for Russia does not exist as it should in the United States. Or even worse, as always, he probably just doesn't care.

- It's great/to be/a Michi-i-gan Wolv-erine! Buck the Fuckeyes!

Beans

"Fill in the blanks and drop blocks like Tetris...You couldn't break up the towers with Tomdonavich (sic) or Osama bombin' shit..." Once again, it's on! I "acquired" the new Beanie Sigel album, The B Coming, this morning. So far, my mind is still intact and has not been blown, although the overall sonic arc of the record is better (read: more consistent) than those on The Truth and The Reason. The improved musical continuity on this "album" is counterintuitive, though, because from what I can tell, it was cobbled together, what with Beanie being in prison, the beats coming from a wide range of producers, and the album's best song having been originally recorded leaked in 2003. And of course, one other joint was leaked in early 2004. (I guess the lesson is this: Don't go to prison and expect to put out a record in the usual fashion. Just ask Shyne.)

Whereas The Truth was filled with really struggling beats that bore the unmistakable sound--formulaic; nondescript; worthless ("Mac Man" comes to mind)--of the Roc-a-fella Expansion into Superfluousness heyday (Oschino, Sparks, Chris, Neef, Amil, Rell, Christion); and The Reason was a disjointed showcase for in-house producers Kanye West (y'all may have heard of him) and Just Blaze (y'all better have heard of him) (and to a lesser extent, guys like 88 Keys who contribute some quality beats that either didn't work with the rest of the album or with Beanie's vocals and flow); The B Coming appears to be a fuller effort, an actual concerted attempt to find beats that worked with the rhymes. And, as stated before, this phenomenon is a disconcerting paradox given all of the factors working against this mixtape record.

(Sidebar: What's sort of funny and very telling about Beanie's earlier records is just how formulaic the production sounds. The Roc-a-fella label was so sonically incestuous that a song like "I Don't Do Much" is just a poor simulacrum, sort of like a "Change the Game" lite; "Mack and Brad" is criminally just a predecessor to "Beanie (Mack Bitch)." Yo Dame, in retrospect, some shit was kinda weak, huh?)

I am still forming a final opinion, although I know that one obstacle to unequivocal enjoyment will be that Beanie's gangster routine--his "artistic" raison d'etre--is played out. Oh well.

New Link

If you check the links I list on the right side of this template, you'll notice that I have added Yoni Cohen's excellent College Basketball blog. This site is awesome, and I recommend it to everyone. Enjoy. As for the All-Star Game, I will be posting about that and other stuff tomorrow. In between now and then, I offer this for consideration: Do the deplorable ethos of the G-Unit, the dislikable predictability of Eminem, and the generally negative influence on hip-hop of Interscope Records all reflect poorly on the undeniable talent and accomplishments of Dr. Dre? I usually consider Dre a sacred cow, but the more I listen to the dross that Dre's musical progeny produce, the more I start to project my frustration and animosity onto him. How do I resolve this issue? Anyone else feelin' me on this one? I posted a profane tirade about The Game here, and this angered denunciation is really just the beginning of my feelings. I will try to post a more coherent analysis in the near future.

2/21 Update: I have also added Catchdubs and Cuban Links to the blog roll. Peep game.

Freakin' the 'Nique

Don't forget who's been talking you up, buddy...

Allow me to get this out of the way right now: NBA All-Star Weekend is ALWAYS the truth! And this year, shit is back like cooked crack. (As a corollary, amidst my excitement and street realness, I must ask the rhetorical: What's really 'hood!) Yes, certain events like the "celebrity" basketball game (why is Ryan Cabrera playing basketball on television?!) and that lame Shooting Stars junk are jokes (and honestly, why aren't more people beating down the doors on Fifth Avenue and demanding that the NBA cease and desist from choking the WNBA down our throats?). But, the Rookie Challenge, Dunk Contest, 3-Point Shootout, and, of course, the actual All-Star Game are all very good events that aptly serve their respective (showing off skills and talents) and collective (showcasing the essence of the game, the League's ethos, and the individual personalities who make the NBA so engaging) purposes. (The jury is still out on the functional though bland Skills Challenge.) As one who is already inclined to promote the positives and neglect the negatives of all things NBA, I am not the unbiased observer some might want for a truly objective analysis of the All-Star jawn, but that said, I have been impressed so far. And even better, the most enjoyable part of the this (long) weekend is yet to take place.

So again, what, specifically, has been ('h)(g)ood? Well, let's see...

Rookie Challenge:

Keep winning those, because La La won't be putting anything on the mantle

If on Friday ain't nothin' had been 'bout Carmelo (except this and this) up to that point, Mr. Anthony changed that. As pictured above, Carmelo was the MVP of the Rookie Challenge, his 31 points (and the presence of a next-level teammate who is also playing tonight) helping to lead the Sophomores to a 133-106 victory over the Rookies. It was nice to see 'Melo My Man succeed given that his star's shine had all but faded through the first half of the season, although there was something decidedly synthetic about the accomplishment. Other take-aways from the game: The more rigid structure and more competitive nature of a regular-season NBA basketball game sometimes obscures just how incredibly athletic these players are; Ben Gordon is just a ridiculous scorer; Andre Iguodala is all the athlete that the Notorious A.I.L. and I thought he was when we anointed him the most physically gifted player in college last year (might he be a twenty-first-century Scottie if he can get a real J?); in a game filled with sick dunks and amazing athleticism, the best play was Tony Allen's soaring put-back jam early in the first half; LeBron and Dwyane Wade were definitely saving themselves for the varsity scrimmage tonight; Chris Bosh is my man; Dwight Howard and Josh Smith were AAU teammates last year (!); I think I'd really enjoy playing with Josh Howard; P.J. Carlesimo, do NOT update your resume, because coaching the Rookies is not something you want to be advertising.

Dunk Contest:

Not the best Smith, and not the best dunk, but still pretty awesome

Although Magic Johnson and everyone else did their collective best to ruin things by over-hyping the event and its significance with the incessant claims that the dunk contest "was back," it was, indeed, a great event this year, and the NBA's governors seem to have figured out how to resuscitate an event that was dying. But first, there was, sadly, an event drawback: The not-so-great white hope, Chris Andersen. Andersen has hops, and he's provided his share of highlight-reel material, but he is not dunk-contest material. He's a tattooed freak show who needed eight attempts to complete one (lame) dunk, and even worse, he is just the latest example of a white person trying his best to ruin something that I love.

(Now that that's out of the way...) Josh Smith, Amare Stoudemire, and J.R. Smith put on a nice, nice show last night, the emotional apex coming when (Josh) Smith performed an homage to one of the most underrated players of recent time, Dominique Wilkins, by throwing down a nasty, emphatic windmill jam while wearing a 'Nique jersey. I lost my shit when that happened, and the high preponderance of memorable dunks was really great. (And of course, this was Smith's signature moment.) Josh was my pick to win this event since December (I think that the Jigga Man deserves some dap, too) and he did not disappoint. If he gets a jumper, watch out. Let's just hope that he doesn't punk out like Vince.

What a nice capstone event for the preliminary all-star proceedings. May we all enjoy a great game tonight (and a few Dirk-a-licious quotations; cue Sager).

And I'm sure you would agree/It couldn't fit more perfectly/Then to have a world party on the day you came to be...

...Happy Birthday to you.

Today is the J-J-J-J-J-J J Buckets's birthday, so holla at a (my) sister and give her some dap. She is now 19. Her favorite TV show is O.C.; she loves the Roots; she is in love with The Rapist and R. Kelly for reasons that escape most humans; and she is the best sister imaginable. Make sure to mention buddies.

Update: The O.C. character quiz. Which character are you most like? I got Kirsten. WTF?

20-Year-Old G.O.A.T.?

Completely switching gears (and perhaps expository styles), I am fucking geeked up today (despite a pestering and lingering flu/cold) because this coming weekend is always one of the five best each year. Why? It's NBA All-Star Weekend! (And what are the other four? The opening weekend of the NCAA Tournament; the Masters; The opening weekend of the Michigan football season; and the opening weekend of the NBA playoffs. That's it. That's the list.) I almost can't properly express why this event is such a big deal for me, but here is a list of reasons, one that I will leave for you to sort your way through and find the cohesion and synergies that arise from the coalescence of all these attributes: The actual all-star game is usually a high-scoring, entertaining affair replete with bitch-ass jerks like The Rapist getting shown up by peeps like my boy TMac throwing himself off-the-backboard alley-oops; all of the elite players debut either new sneaker models or new colorways for pre-existing models; the city which hosts the event--Denver enjoys the privilege this year--becomes the epicenter of the hip-hop-basketball matrix; the stories from the parties are always ridiculous; the players use all the camera time as a chance to show off their wardrobes, and NBA players' fashion styles run the gamut from awful to inspired; the weekend is, effectively, a celebration of the NBA, and nothing makes me happier than seeing the L get some love; my idol and spiritual mentor, top-five Jew David Stern, holds his annual State of the Association address; trade rumors will be flying since the trade deadline is next week (and how awesome will it be if JKidd gets traded to Minnesota, simultaneously rejuvenating KG, torpedoing the Nets, and functionally ending the Vinsanity revival, leaving Vince to do what he does oh so well, pout and get hurt?!); etc.

I will write more about the NBA over the weekend, but for now, here are some picks at the "midway" (teams have played more than 50-percent of their schedules) point of the season:

MVP: LeBron James, Cleveland Cavaliers. Sports Illustrated said it best this week (subscription required): 'Bron might be well on his way to being the best player ever. I can't believe I just wrote that, but it seems undeniable. His numbers are sick; his body is unreal; the proverbial "intangibles" are there. There is a looooooooong way to go, and without winning at least five titles, he will get plenty of resistance from the MJ minions (and I am likely one), but the kid is fucking nuts. As for the here and now, Cleveland is a dog team that LeBron (averaging 25.4, 7.1, 7.7) has carried to relevancy, a 30-21 record, and the fourth seed in the Eastern Conference were the playoffs to commence today. Read that last part again--Cleveland started Sasha Pavlovic last night because its usual go-to scrub, Ira Newble, is hurt.

Rookie of the Year: Emeka Okafor, Charlotte Bobcats. This one is easy. Okafor has put up solid numbers (including a string of nineteen consecutive double-doubles) and has made the expansion Bobcats far more competitive than many expected the team would be.

Defensive Player of the Year: Tim Duncan, San Antonio Spurs. For whatever reason, Duncan has sort of flown under the radar this season, so far. His numbers are fine, his team is the league's best, and he hasn't sustained a significant injury, so I can't attribute the lack of attention to anything other than the usual: his muted personality. (I expect that we will be hearing more about Duncan down the stretch as the Spurs rap up the league's best record and get ready for a title run). Regardless, the man's a defensive force. He is second in the league in blocks per game and is the anchor for a team that is surrendering the second-lowest field goal percentage. The easy pick for this award after the first few weeks of the season was Andre Kirilenko, but he's been hurt for so many games. He might surge in the second half if his bum knee and bum ankle hold up.

Sixth Man of the Year: Hedo Turkoglu, Orlando Magic. Hedo has been a major part of the Magic's resurgence, giving it consistent scoring and improved defense off the bench. Given a real role and steady playing time, he's also improved his floor game as a passer and one who is aware of the action around him.

Most Improved Player: Dwyane Wade, Miami Heat. This might be an odd choice given that Wade was already a good player, however this year he has taken the proverbial "step up" to (again) the proverbial "next level." (What is it with basketball announcers and talking heads? No one can think of an original or even less amorphous way to discuss a player getting better?) He has become a dominant force at both ends of the floor, capable of taking over a game with his play-making, scoring, tempo orchestration, and defense. I would be remiss were I to neglect that Shaquille O'Neal's arrival in Miami was a catalyst for Wade's improvement, however Shaq isn't the one who has consistently finished around the basket after getting hit by bigger players; Shaq isn't the one who has improved his jump shot; Shaq isn't the one who has displayed the ability to put up numbers in every category he wants; Shaq isn't--well, you get the point. Wade is an all-star and has been among the ten best players all season. That's an improvement for anyone not named Kobe, TMac, Garnett, Duncan, Shaq, or Kidd.

Biggest Flop: Carmelo Anthony, Denver Nuggets. Again, I am forced to ask, wha' hap'ned? Seriously, what's the issue here? I am sad to say it, but 'Melo My Man may be in possession of a bad attitude. This summer, when obstinate and selfish Larry Brown was sitting 'Melo, Wade, 'Bron, and Amare on the bench and presiding over a fucking abomination, 'Melo was the most vocal malcontent. And that came in the wake of his public sulking after not initially being selected for the team--"Ain't nothin' 'bout Carmelo" was the quote, I believe. Well, given a stellar rookie season during which he led Denver to the playoffs, a championship pedigree, and a healthy portion of humiliation and, subsequently, motivation, Carmelo was all set to have a big season and establish himself as a perennial all-star. Did it happen? Ish don't think so. His shot selection stinks; his defense is lazy; his attitude is negative; and he is not a galvanizing presence in the locker room. 'Melo is certainly capable of fixing these many deficiencies, and he is still very young, but right now, his ship is adrift without direction.

Biggest Fugazi: Tim Thomas, New York Knicks. Tim Thomas is a fugazi. I know it, you know it, KMart knows it. A typical Tim Thomas performance: Looks good in pre-game drills, although misses some lay-ups (likely due to lack of concentration); forces an early jumper after tip off (probably just trying to find a rhythm); on the way back down the court, starts to wonder how he will spend all the money he's stealing from the Knicks and let's his man nail an open shot; after a few possessions relegated to spectator role by "shoot first, ask questions later" Jamal Crawford, decides he's gettin' his the next time down the floor and commits an offensive foul after dribbling directly into four players clogging the lane; taken out and replaced by Trevor Ariza, prompting certainty that the coach isn't letting Tim play his game; fixates on the shiny diamonds on the earring worn by the pretty lady sitting courtside; falls asleep for a minute; wakes up and asks Moochie Norris what quarter it is; gets back in game and allows his man to beat him down the court because Tim is arguing with the ref about an obvious foul that he missed on the previous possession when Tim shot the ball directly off the side of the backboard...

Total fugazi.

All-star game MVP: LeBron
Three-point shooting champ: Ray Allen, Seattle Supersonics
Dunk content champion: My man Josh Smith (!), Atlanta Hawks
Potential for funniest halftime quotation: Dirk Nowitzki, Dallas Mavericks (see: 2003 All-star-game halftime interview with Craig Sager)
Most annoying rapper who will be in attendance: Fat Joe

I'd also like to note (with supreme, numbing anger and, paradoxically, some kind of sick satisfaction) that the Knicks placed three players on the starting five of Sports Illustrated's "All-Red Ink" Team: those players who are the most overpaid given their relatively paltry production. This year's squad features gimpy Anfernee Hardaway ($30 million remaining over two years), gimpy Allan Houston ($57 million remaining over three years), and brain-dead Tim Thomas ($27 million over two years). And P.S.: The Knicks are 5-18 since Stephon Marbury anointed himself as the best point guard in the league. What an awesome team.

Africa is Dying Slowly

On this Friday I am also pondering two other issues, both important to me to varying degrees, although one is without the same external significance as the other. The first one I will deal with in this post, and it is the underlying problem that permeates this article without being explicitly mentioned: Why isn't there a greater emphasis placed on managing the spread of AIDS and treating those infected with the disease in Africa? Or, put another way, Wha' hap'ned? Was a cure for AIDS discovered? If so, I missed the news of this event, and even worse, it seems as though he or she or they who discovered the cure has/have acted quite miserly during the dissemination phase. If not, why doesn't this issue arouse a greater effort from those in positions of power who could be doing more to control a horrible disease that is easily spread and for which there is no cure? Or, like December's tsunami in Southeast Asia is quickly becoming, is the festering AIDS epidemic a real problem that receives meaningless lip service from public figures who, insidiously, erode the significance and urgency of the matter through their steady torrent of insincere acknowledgments? I mean, I feel as though Tara Reid might likely show up on some red carpet somewhere soon, half in the bag, one breast hanging out, and say something like, "I just want to say that we all need to pray for The Tsunami victims and we need to fight AIDS in Africa. And tonight, I'm wearing Marc Jacobs and really looking forward to the Maxim after party." Thanks, Tara.

If she were to say that, though, it would likely be one more mention of the problem in Africa than President Bush has ever made. Because women having, um, you know, rights over their own bodies is such a horrible idea; because the United States would never want to assume the role of cultural avatar for such an ridiculous notion; and because it's better to pretend that sex doesn't exist than to actually teach kids about it, the United States provides woefully inadequate levels of support to African governments and Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) who might attempt to treat and curb the spread of AIDS with things like condoms and proper sex education. Bushie has presided over a U.S. administration that has cut almost $40 million from foreign aid programs intended to help reverse dangerous population trends, and this administration would rather tacitly foster squalor and death around the world than betray its ultra-conservative domestic voter base that finds abortion and anything else related to family planning to be anathema. Bush is so committed to this value--and I'd like to note that the American Heritage Dictionary defines "value" as "a principle, standard, or quality considered worthwhile or desirable" to illustrate that the deaths, mutilations, and diseases which arise partially in the absence of internationally funded health programs that have been discontinued or crippled given their family-planning components (abortion, contraception, etc.) are viewed as concomitant damage if not desirable--that the United States government does not give money to any programs that promote contraception, does not allow groups that receive U.S. money to talk about these issues (the so-called Global Gag Rule), and does not give a shit about people dying because they live in medical and educational vacuums that the U.S. could readily fill.

I could go on and on about this issue, but I will conclude this discussion (for today) with this stuff: 1) If you don't think that the AIDS epidemic in Africa requires more attention and more foreign resources, read this; 2) There are some obvious discussions that emerge from this Times article--like whether the mechanics of providing aide in places like Malawi would inevitably lead to a project-defeating or -altering culture clash; what role the U.S. should have, generally, when suffering arises around the world; and whether the U.S. should readily seize opportunities to perpetuate the "White Man's Burden" role--but I imagine that there is some way for the U.S. to insinuate itself into a healing process that could be minimally intrusive and overwhelmingly positive (like funding NGOs with established connections in afflicted areas); 3) Would the United States' foreign policy be so indifferent to millions of terminally ill people were the population in possession of less pigment and located in Europe?

Unrelated to what was just discussed, peep this, also of note, which my mother sent to me: Social Security Calculator.

Still Mourning Elvis's Passing

Excepting for actual tragedies like Cuttino Mobley being traded away from Steve Francis, Heidi Klum dating Seal, and 9/11, was anything worse than the day that Elvis Mitchell left the New York Times? Mitchell was (is) a fantastic, eloquent writer whose soaring vocabulary, hip personality, eclectic interests, and vast cultural knowledge all worked in concert to endow his movie reviews with a sublime resonance born of a shared connection between author and reader. Yes, this guy gets it! Really, reading a review that he wrote was like speaking to a witty and insightful friend whose intelligence and charisma were enrapturing and astounding. He had (has) a wonderful gift in that he manipulated the written word in a manner that made the text come alive and envelope the reader in a pseudo-conversation (albeit one that featured a long monologue from Mitchell).

The sadness that his departure engendered in me has lingered for a long time, partially because I no longer have my usual Friday-morning conversations with an author who had come to be a dear friend, and partially because his replacement, Manohla Dargis, routinely defines with her writing's myriad and off-putting shortcomings the massive void she has struggled to fill. Given that today is a Friday, I am again reminded that life presents one fewer simple pleasure, and to better understand why I don't like Ms. Dargis, I give you her mechanical, rudimentary-film-student, barely-out-of-college-sounding, we-can-see-you-thinking, colloquial review of Collateral, a movie that I thought was very, very good.

Once again back, it's the incredible!

(N.B.: As a general rule, when certain conventions just do not make sense or are simply unpalatable, I strive to avoid those that are most trite and frequently perpetuated by my cohorts who populate our shared milieu. For instance, I have never owned a Dave Matthews Band album despite having grown up on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, slept away at a summer camp, and attended the University of Michigan. Dave Matthews Band sucks. This site is a microcosm for my life, and thus to the extent possible, I will decline participation in some of the more hackneyed practices found throughout the blogosphere. That said, I present, herewith, the obligatory "Introduction post.")

So, what's the deal with this site?
I have always found myself to be unique (and I do not mean that in self-aggrandizing fashion, so don't get it twisted). My sensibilities, tastes, interests, and opinions, though often coherently organized and linked, are not always those one might expect from someone "like" me. I am not always a revolutionary, and I harbor plenty of ideas and feelings and perspectives that would not differentiate me from another person "like" me (however you want to set those parameters). But, I also can be quite aberrant, and I have found that my askew ethos often isolates me, usually in a neutral or positive fashion. I hope that this website is an accurate reflection of that singular (no s-a) vantage point, and that this can be a blog that people read hoping to find a minority (or at least humorous) perspective, if not something wholly original.

Right, but what's the deal with this site? What's it about?
This site is about what I'm about: Basketball; hip-hop; culture; politics; the University of Michigan; New York; The New Yorker; sneakers; my family; my friends; Tyra Banks; Saturday nights at bars; Saturday nights at home; etc. This is a place for people to share my experiences, and I think that consistently visiting this site will help readers cover all the bases, because there are many.

Give us the usual shit...
Location: New York City
Age: 23
Gender: M
Shirt size: 16; 33
Love: Tribe; Will Ferrell; Brooks Brothers; imo orange juice; the Knicks; Jon Stewart; Thundercats
Hate: Racism; cold weather; George W. Bush; dogs; (the) Ohio State (joke of a) University; idiots;
Now listening to: The Game, The Documentary
blahblahblah...

Are there any rules?
That might seem like an odd question. It's just a website. Of course there aren't any rules, and fuck this dude if he thinks I'ma follow some rules just 'cuz he says so. He's lucky I'm even peepin' this shit. There is probably just one rule: Take your time. Don't judge this site, its content, or its author too quickly. And once you do judge, perhaps you'll consider continuing to read. As stated above, it may take some time for you, the reader, to get to know me, the author. And thus, a fleeting glance or some brief attention paid toward your screen while your browser has happened upon this site may not produce an impression that is accurately indicative of me. I will not apologize for being me, but I also appreciate dialogue and discussion.

Anything else?
I am done with this introductory shit. Just read and you'll get the picture. However, I suggest visiting my previous site to find out more about me, as I wrote there sporadically. And by the way, I am a pretty sarcastic dude who doesn't get easily upset, so maybe a lot of what I write will require you to read with some sense of nuance and appreciation for the ridiculous, the ironic, and the absurd.