Albums of the Year

All I can say is that some people have horrible taste

If you can name the people in the pictures above, then I'll say with 99.9% certainty that you follow hip-hop fairly closely. And if you have their posters hanging on your wall, than I'll say with 99.9% certainty that you write for Pitchfork, Stylus, or some other hipsters-hating-on-hipsters music-criticism internet (well, except for 50. Everyone hates him.) And just so we're clear: no, I don't consider Ian to be part of this questionable- bad-taste-having group. He's a perspective- and humor-lending contributor.

For the uninitiated, going clockwise, that's Mike Jownes, Paul Wall, Young Jeezy, Juelz Santana, Mr. Cent, and lil' Lil' Wayne. You might want to commit these faces to memory because you're staring at Hip-Hop 2005, in all of its depressing glory. Well, I should say most--there were, of course, other names and other stories. But 2005 was primarily a year of southern ascendancy and east-coast studio thuggery. Everywhere you turned, if it wasn't the lazy drawl of Houston's candy-painted, cough-medicine-driven vehicular opulence then it was the not-that-menacing thug bluster of 50 and every mixtape aspirant trying to follow dude's formula for New York success. And if you weren't hearing that, then you were probably shivering amidst the howling winds of the snow storm that blew in from everywhere: all anyone wanted to rap about--in New York, Virginia Beach, Atlanta, Louisiana--was coke.

Of course your boy boy had this to say to that (well, for the most part): *shrug*...*yawn*...*sigh*. As far as I'm concerned, hip-hop was mostly horrible this year. While there surely were a number of exciting songs, and even some good records, most artists continued to demonstrate just how far they have strayed from album making. In this era of for-radio music, a time during which gimmick rappers like Mike Jownes can become household names, the admirable ability to construct an entire album with sonic cohesion and some sort of narrative arc while actually spitting something of interest is too infrequently manifest. And even the better albums are too often filled with repetitive and irksome rhymes (like, oh, I don't know, The Documentary, perhaps?).

Now look: I have a Dip Set song as my second-favorite track of the year; my favorite rapper spits all kinds of nonsense all the time; and I just did a mini interview in which I lauded informal, playful hip-hop. My favorite records include irreverent, goofy, catchy joints like The Low End Theory, Buhloone Mind State, and Things Fall Apart. So please don't think I have taken my place at the internets podium and am screaming down some supercilious castigation. I am not asking that everyone attempt to pick up the Public Enemy torch. I don't think that would be much fun. I'm just asking that rappers think a little more. Take a little more time to write rhymes; to pick beats; to sequence tracks. I mean, are we really supposed to care about Paul Wall and what it do for over an hour? Or how hood Fat Joe thinks he is while using embarrassing production caricatures? Or how lyrical Chamillionaire wishes he were?

Alright, enough ranting. Let's get into the snark and the sap--well, not yet. I am posting my lists now and will add the commentary later today when I have a moment. Sorry; j-o....

Below, please find an attempt to catalogue some hip-hop releases from 2005 using a fairly arbitrary stratification system. I haven't included every record or even all of the joints that I heard. As always, let's discuss and/or fight in the comments section.

Albums That Just Stunk, Regardless of What Else You Were Told
- Young Jeezy, Let's Get It: Thug Motivation 101
- Fat Joe, All or Nothing
- The Away Team, National Anthem
- 50 Cent, The Massacre
- Juelz Santana, What the Game's Been Missing

Albums That Should Have Been Better
- Kanye West, Late Registration
- Blackalicious, The Craft:
- Thyrday, Perfection Experiment 2:
- Little Brother, The Minstrel Show:
- DangerDoom, The Mouse and the Mask:

Albums That Were Better Than You Wanted to Admit
- Get Rich or Die Tryin' Soundtrack
- Black Rob, The Black Rob Report
- Dwele, Some Kinda
- Nujabes, Modal Soul
- Trife and Ghostface, 718: Stapleton to Somalia

Hot Mixtapes
- Raekwon, The Vatican Mixtape
- The Clipse, Got It 4 Cheap, Vol. 2
- Purple Ribbon All-Stars, Got Purp?, Vol. II
- Nas and Dirty Harry, Living Legends
- Rhymefest, Rhymefest

Top Ten Albums of the Year
10) The Game, The Documentary
9) Blueprint, 1988
8) GZA and DJ Muggs, Grandmasters
7) Slim Thug, Already Platinum
6) Raheem Devaughn, The Love Experience
5) Beanie Sigel, The B. Coming
4) Little Brother, The Minstrel Show
3) Common, BE
2) O.C., Starchild
1) Slum Village, Slum Village

Great News If You Hate Me...

Great job, Michigan Football; Now look what you've done!

...Michigan lost to Nebraska in the 2005 Alamo Bowl. Michigan is now completely irrelevant. Move over, Tennessee!

In related news, it's 1:07 AM, and I have already emailed Bill Martin inquiring about which changes will be implemented during this off-season. I haven't heard back yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if Martin were out in Windsor right now picking up Canadian chicks with lines like "I can go all night; I'm slower than Prescott Burgess reading a run to the outside," "I'd take you back to my place, but Michigan can't finish," and "If we go with the donkey punch, can I call you Lloyd Carr?"

If you're a glutton for punishment, check out Schembechler Hall. And if you are basking in the glory of the latest Michigan embarrassment, feel free to pile on while you're visiting. I'll make it over there later if I'm not lying dead on the floor in about ten minutes.

Station Break

Today, I had intended to post a retrospective addressing some of the crap that overran hip-hop this year, but I am going to have to push that into tomorrow's omnibus year's-best albums post. Sorry.

NBA Quick Hitters

Boo effing hoo...

Amidst the cavalcade of year-end posts, I thought we could get back to the everyday business of Straight Bangin' with a few NBA-related items:

- Not that anyone needed another reason to loathe Pat Riley--the arrogance, the treason, and the dishonesty were already compelling--but this nonsense about Shaquille O'Neal not getting enough calls and preparing for the supposed undue punishment he sustains each game by practicing against sumo wrestlers is perhaps stupider than anything Danny Fortson has said, Ron Artest has done, or Ruben Patterson has slept with. Shaq gets hit a lot; I won't get all disingenuous. But has Riley watched Shaq play offense? On plays when he isn't using his off arm to clear out or hook a defender, he's spinning into that dude while deliberately throwing his elbow into someone's face. If Riley really wants to simulate game conditions in practice, why doesn't he tie down Alonzo Mourning, get Shaq to punch 'Zo in the mouth--check that; I'll do it--and then ask Alonzo to play defense. That would probably be a more faithful reproduction of a typical Shaquille O'Neal experience.

- If you'll recall, Michael Olowokandi was the Straight Bangin' preseason "Bitch in Yoo" award winner after Alvin Gentry decided that he could call the 'Kandi Man a "pussy" in Sports Illustrated without fear of repercussion. Well, I don't want to say it was a prescient pick, but... (scroll down)

After fouling out in just over 13 minutes of playing time in his team's loss Friday to the Blazers, T'wolves center Michael Olowokandi suggested coach Dwane Casey hadn't done enough to work the refs. "I wish someone would have stood up to [the refs] the way their coach [Nate McMillan] did," he said.

Oh, Michael, I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were disclosing wish lists. Hmm, I wonder what's on Dwane Casey's wish list--maybe a seven-foot, former number-one-pick center who could actually score more than seven points and grab more than five rebounds each game? Maybe a $6-million center who wasn't a locker room cancer and constantly on the injured list? Poor Michael, if only Nate McMillan were your coach...

Actually, at this point, Kandi would fit in with the Blazers. Let's make that happen.

- Because I know you were wondering: What's the basketball equivalent of throwing your hands up in befuddled disgust? How about a starting lineup of PG Stephon Marbury, SG Quentin Richardson, SF DAVID LEE, PF Antonio Davis, and C Jerome James. That's a disgruntled, shoot-first point guard; a tweener shooting guard who's been horrible; an energy guy; a geriatric with rapidly diminishing skills; and an out-of-shape retard. How about asking five-foot-nothin' Rudy Nate Robison to guard Grant Hill? It's so bad that at one point, the shamelessly homerific Knick announcers even had to mention how unhappy Stephon looked, and these are people who are effectively paid to lie, to piss on people's ears while claiming that the rain is coming down hard.

Brown DMC has no fucking clue what to do with these Knicks, and I have never seen a more joyless collection of players. They don't play defense, they have no offense, and they don't even try hard. Isiah, DMC--you guys are the best. Thank you for ruining my life.

- No way!

Welcome to Straight Bangin'

Hello internets travelers,

Some of you may have come to Straight Bangin' because this is a regular interwebs stop for you. But others may have come here by following the helpful link posted over at SI on Campus. If that's the case, then you're probably looking for the "Most Annoying of '05." You have not strayed off of the path. Please see the links below; they will get you where you want to be. (And please note: Those Notre Dame fans who have arrived here to help explain why Charlie Weis really is messianic can find the appropriate forum right here.)

(Oh, and one more thing--Peep game: Can't Stop the Bleeding. A phenomenal site.)

- This Week's Posting Schedule

- Ten People Who We Saw Far Too Much of in 2005

- Ten People Who We Need to See Much More of in 2006

- Songs of the Year

Songs of the Year

A few quick awards and then the top-fifty songs of the year. We can discuss in the comments section. Enjoy.

The "I Can't Believe She Wore That Too; What a Slut!" Award, pt. 1
So who jacked Raphael Ravenscroft first?

Beanie Sigel, "Feel It in the Air" vs. Black Rob, "Permanent Scars"

The "I Can't Believe She Wore That Too; What a Slut!" Award, pt. 2
Is there really such a paucity of good ideas that they had to use the same sample and name their different songs the same thing?

Juelz Santana, "You Gonna Love Me" vs. Da Backwudz, "You Gonna Love Me"

The "I Can't Believe She Wore That Too; What a Slut!" Award, pt. 3
Who used the "Wildflower" by New Birth sample best?

a) Jamie Foxx - "Unpredictable"
b) O.C. - "Going Nowhere"
c) C.L. Smooth - "Such a Long Time"

The "Wasn't This Shit Hot, Like, Ten Years Ago" Award
What happens when you jack the Native Tongues style? Little Brother's "Still Lives Through"

And sticking with that theme...

The "Shareef Abdur-Rahim" Rapper Who Ruined the Most Tracks Award
Joe Scudda, come on down! He ruined no fewer than five tracks--Big Pooh's "Scars"; Little Brother's "Lovin' It"; Cesar Comanche's "Big Game Hunters"; Legacy's "I'm a Star"; and the Away Team's "On the Line" (at least, what was left of it after Sean Boog got on it and did his worst).

The "Ryne Sandberg" Most Disappointing Comeback Award
The Fugees, "Take It Easy"

Top Ten Club Records:
10) D4L - "Laffy Taffy"
9) Busta Rhymes - "Touch It"
8) 50 Cent - "Disco Inferno"
7) The Game - "How We Do"
6) Nelly ft. Paul Wall, Ali, Gipp - "Grillz"
5) David Banner - "Play"
4) Juelz Santana - "There It Go (The Whistle Song)"
3) Youngbloodz - "Presidential"
2) Amerie - "One Thing"
1) Ying Yang Twins - "Wait (The Whisper Song)"

Top Fifty Songs of 2005:
50) C.L. Smooth - "I Can't Help It"
49) T-Pain - "I'm Sprung"
48) The Perceptionists - "People 4 Prez"
47) Qualo - "Warrior"
46) Talib Kweli - "Fallen Star"
45) Mathematics ft. Inspectah Deck, RZA, Ghostface - "Strawberries & Cream"
44) Blue Davinci ft. Jadakiss - "Look in Your Eyes"
43) Juelz Santana - "Mic Check"
42) Tony Hussle - "She's a Virgin, Too"
41) T.I. - "ASAP"
40) Trife ft. Ghostface, "Cocaine Trafficking"
39) Young Jeezy ft. Jay-Z and Fat Ass - "Go Crazy (Remix)"
38) The Coup ft. Black Thought and Talib Kweli - "My Favorite Mutiny"
37) Cesar Comanche ft. Edgar Allen Floe - "Miss You (Remix)"
36) Papoose - "Sharades"
35) Black Rob ft. Ness, Chopper, Babs, Aasim, "Team"
34) Jay-Z - "Dear Summer"
33) Gorillaz ft. De La Soul - "Feel Good, Inc."
32) Raheem Devaughn - "Guess Who Loves You More"
31) O.C. - "The Professional"
30) Dwele - "Know Your Name"
29) Kardinal Offishall - "When I'm Angry"
28) GZA - "Smothered Mate"
27) Nas - "My Will"
26) Freeway - "In These Times"
25) 50 Cent - "Hustler's Ambition"
24) Sleepy Brown - "Me, My Baby, and My Cadillac"
23) Mobb Deep - "Outta Control"
22) Jim Jones - "Baby Girl"
21) AZ - "AZ's Chillin'"
20) Slim Thug - "The Interview"
19) Mariah Carey ft. Jadakiss, Styles P - "We Belong Together (Remix)"
18) Common - "Chi City"
17) Edan - "Beauty"
16) Bobby Valentino - "Tell Me"
15) DangerDoom ft. Ghostface - "The Mask"
14) The Allies - "Change Ya Ways (Be Careful)"
13) Rhymefest ft. Kanye West - "Brand New"
12) Slum Village - "05"
11) Ghostface ft. Raekwon - "Kilos"
10) The Game - "Church for Thugs"
9) Raekwon - "Treasurers"
8) Geto Boys - "G Code"
7) Common - "It's Your World"
6) Little Brother ft. Elzhi - "Hiding Place"
5) Kanye West ft. Nas, Really Doe - "We Major"
4) Beanie Sigel ft. Sadat X, Grand Puba - "Bread & Butter"
3) Three 6 Mafia - "Stay Fly"
2) The Diplomats - "Don't Fool with the Dips"
1) Ghostface - "Be Easy"

* This is approximate; some songs technically may have originated in 2004
** The club records could likely make the top fifty, but the idea was to show some love for as much music as possible.
*** I could have included anything with Ghostface on it

Ten People Who We Need to See Much More of in 2006

Just as there are always those people who you see too much of in a given year, there are also always those people from whom you'd like to see more. Whether it be talent, insanity, beauty--there is an elusive something that makes you pine for another glimpse, another story, another performance.

I have no idea if the following people are actually gonna be big in 2006. Nor have I included all of my favorite personalities--like Michael Jackson or Bobby and Whitney--because we already get plenty from them. That said, were I in charge, we'd be exposed to the group below at a clip something like the frequency with which we're forced to endure those annoying-ass Mike Krzyzweski recruiting videos American Express commercials.

10) Charlie Murphy

I need to be honest about something that will likely get me pilloried by hip-hop bloggers and the denizens of the internets metacritic credocracy: I never really liked Chappelle's Show too much. It wasn't bad, it certainly had its moments, and I think Dave Chappelle is funny. Plus, any show that gave us "The Food" can't be anything but good, on balance. But most of that show's sketches were always funny premises that either lost their hilarity quickly or didn't have much to begin with. They were the sorts of ideas that, objectively, your brain could appreciate as being humorous, but they consistently failed to elicit an involuntary laugh. Some shows you can't help but laugh at. Chappelle's wasn't one of those. At least not for me.

But that's not to say that I didn't love Charlie Murphy. The dude's ethos is just hysterical; you can't picture him in your head and not chuckle. Physically, he's so awkward, and that off-kilter state is simultaneously insincere and disarmingly authentic. He's baffling and alluring and menacing and inviting. I mean, look at the picture above. Is he actually smiling? Is he faux-smiling and about to do that ridiculous, understated head shimmy of his? Is he about to smack you upside yours?

Without Chappelle's Show on TV, this dude needs an outlet. I mean, he was even funny in the sterile and underwhelming Roll Bounce. Put Charlie in or on something.

9) Jay Dee

How many contemporary producers do you know that can put out beat records that are more interesting than 90% of the regular albums that get released? How many can also rhyme? Maybe Kanye, and I am skeptical about whether or not he could make an engaging beat tape. That's not to say that Kanye doesn't make good music (at least, when he's making real hip-hop and not that bullyshit lullaby-rap we're supposed to be loving), but his production is not as intricate as Dilla's. Nor is his as gritty; Jay Dee has a raw, tattered sound that lends his shit character. Hip-hop could use more of that as it is overrun by the candy-paint puddles accumulating in Houston-area parking lots where we find ass-ugly grill-festooned rappers posted up and the hollow gutterism of Connecticut-based facsimile thugs.

8) Rhymefest

C-h-a-r-i-s-m-a. More of what the game's been missing.

7) Ron Artest

I know he got that dope-ass haircut and was involved in a fisticuffs situation at the end of 2004, but really, the dude hasn't been around much. At least, not on a basketball court. When he's not suspended he's hurt, and when he's not hurt, he's exiled. It would be nice to have Ron Ron back on the court taking threes (some ill advised), driving his sinewy frame to the basket for athletic finishes that someone so big shouldn't be able to put together, and making opponents crazy as he semi-legally kicked their asses on defense. Also, he's the only guy I can think of who, in one night, could put on a one-man defensive clinic; enter himself in one of Qyntel Woods's special functions and beatdown a pit bull; move three or four units; and conduct a bizarrely intimate and frightening interview during which he gave introspective and deranged quotations that would make Mike Tyson seem boring.

6) Jackie Christie

Just please read this article:

It all started in Canada, while Doug was playing for the Toronto Raptors, when the Christies developed a system of communicating during the games. “It started out as a joke,” says Christie. “If I pounded on my head that meant ‘drive it to the hole and dunk it.’ If I was giving the peace sign that meant ‘take the three-point shot.’” She says her husband came up with blinking his eyes three times to say “I love you” but says, “we laughed about that one because I couldn’t really tell what he was doing.” Now, at various points during the game, he raises his index finger and pinkie as a sign of his love to Christie and the children. “It keeps him grounded and keeps him from being emotional so that he can think clearly, perform his defense, and keep going.”

And now tell me: Do you really think we don't need more Jackie Christie? I thought there was going to be a reality show about the Christies called "Whipped" or "When Crazy People Copulate" or something like that. What happened? I'd quit my job to watch.

5) Raekwon

Did anyone have a better 2005 while everyone went on not caring? This dude put out heat, either on his own (New shit! New shit...) or with his friend Tony. And yet, no one seems to really want to talk about it or think about it. I guess that's what happens when the Wu-Tang recedes into history and you make records like Immobilarity and the Lex Diamond Theory or whatever those abortions were called. Here's hoping that Cuban Linx 2: The Purpler Tape drops in 2006 and helps the Chef kick his game up a notch. Bamn!

4) Sienna Miller

Just look at this woman. In 2006, she needs her own cereal box, clothing line, NASCAR hood, t-shirt to be worn across the Parcells bosom (that would be massive exposure), video game, promotional cup at Burger King, Notre Dame coaching job, halftime show at the Super Bowl, sideline-reporter gig, I Love the (Insert Decade Here) post-commercial featurette, Fandango paper-bag character, chance to win the game against the Michigan defense in the final two minutes, Larry Brown-style voracious self-absorption, and sex tape. That would pretty much be the best thing for all of humanity. It's decided.

3) Darko Milicic

Oh Darko, you get me every time with that coy smile and those strikingly mismatched eye brows and hair. I have never seen a player who seemed like he couldn't care less every time he got into a game and then whined that he didn't get to play more. It's probably the greatest example of third-person cognitive dissonance I have experienced, and it is excruciatingly fascinating. I hate him for it, and yet I yearn to yell at my television as I watch him get pushed out of the paint by Jerome James, out-hustled by Erick Dampier, or manhandled by Kwame Brown. Free Darko, indeed.

2) Nelson de la Rosa

I thought we were gonna see the little person take off as the must-have accessory of 2005 once Pedro brought his chemical curl and pet human being to trend-setting New York, but then they had that falling out and Nelson vanished like a midget at a tall-person conventio--well, you know what I mean. I had a stool, some Ikea children's utensils, and some size 3C baby Jordan XIs all set, ready to be used by my own 20-odd inch person. But then the fad stopped before it got started and I was totally effed. Please come back, Nelson, please. You were so much fun, and no one exploited you or made you feel like anything other than a cute, little, don't-you-just-want-to-eat-him-up peer. Was that really so bad?

1) Dave Wannstedt

Alright, I'll just come right out and say what you're all thinking: Yes, I am unhealthily obsessed with Dave Wannstedt. There's no shortage of proof. But here's the thing: Just when we were getting to the good stuff and Pitt was 0-3 with a nationally televised blowout loss to Notre Dame, a shocking loss to Ohio, and the ugliest loss ever to Nebraska, this motherfucker won four of the next five and finished a relentless-lampooning-immune 5-6.

No one in Pittsburgh is talking about Wanny when Dorsett and Marino come up, but he wasn't sent back to the Dave Campo Ranch, either. That conditional acceptance meant that we, the schadenfreude-loving, retread-coach-hating public were deprived of all-new, never-before-seen "I'm completely in over my head and can only puff out my cheeks and sigh" defeatist faces that only an abject incompetent like Wannstedt could have summoned. I mean, it's not a coincidence that in nine out of ten pictures, this guy is vacantly staring out beyond the camera while tightening his eyes and turning down the corners of his mouth. If you were a football coach who couldn't win many football games and somehow never went without lucrative employment, you'd always look like you were trying to pull a grenade out of your ass, too.

But, that's the nice thing about hope--it springs eternal in the breasts of men. There's always next year...

Got Some Free Time?

Peep game: Sample Spotters.

I don't know how often it's updated, but it's got some good info.

Ten People Who We Saw Far Too Much of in 2005

It happens every year. Certain people, either justifiably or otherwise, become wildly popular, and then mainstream media and marketers, ever reactive if nothing else, pimp the shit out of said people, inundating everything with far too much of these theoretically high-demand personalities. Remember when the Backstreet Boys were everywhere? Or when we were forced to endure Kelly Osbourne's ubiquity? How about when Roseanne could do no wrong? Or when we thought it was a good idea to let Kobe make a rap album? I know: it hurts. So often, we just want to grab ourselves of old, shake the shit out of those motherfuckers, and ask, "What is wrong with you?!?!"

Well 2005 was no different, replete with celebrities who received far too much exposure and wasted more of my, and your, time than I'd like to admit. What follows is not a list of ten people I hate most or a list of ten people who are destined to fall off. This is just ten people who we saw too much of, heard too much from, or read too much about in 2005*. Kanye West would have been included, but you're not supposed to write anything bad about overrated, arrogant, attention-loving, supposed geniuses. Oh, and fuck a Big and Rich for ruining the opening of College Gameday. Forever.

10) Will Ferrell

This inclusion really hurts because I love Ferrell; I still can't make it through more than three sentences without invoking Anchorman. But we need to be honest: it was too much (and too bad) in 2005. A few years ago, after he had dominated Saturday Night Live and turned in some effing awesome character work in Austin Powers, The Ladies Man, and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (he's the best part of this movie), Ferrell fans seemed like a growing cabal comprising all of those proverbial "smartest kids in the room"--he was unequivocally celebrated as one of the funniest mainstream performers who most people still didn't think too much about. He wasn't a star big enough for your parents to really remember who he was, but when people saw him, they smiled with anticipation because they figured he'd be funny. After Zoolander and Old School--movies that also helped introduce the Ferrell-Wilsons-Stiller-Vaughn comedy galaxy--though, Ferrell was suddenly huge and everything written about him always made mention of the seventy-six trillion movies he had coming out soon.

2005 helped knock that number down to something like 75,999,999,999,995. Kicking and Screaming stunk; Bewitched stunk; The Producers doesn't look like it's worth seeing; and Ferrell was good but not great in Wedding Crashers, a movie I had to try to laugh harder at just to help it meet my (unrealistic?) expectations. On top of being in so many movies, Ferrell was seen in so many places: He was chatting about USC; he was on every talk show possible; he went to all the awards shows; he was on magazine covers--it was just too much. Next year, he needs to be doing less and giving us more laughter.

9) Gwen Stefani

Look, she's not hot; the Harajuku thing is obnoxious; her music is disposable (the opening monologue from Things Fall Apart? Anyone?); and she dresses like she's trying out for a gay-pride parade. Worse, she traipses around, preening and posing as though she actually believes she's a doll that's come to life, a female Pinocchio. What the fuck? And why is it that I am never invited to the annual meeting when everyone decides who we all have to unconditionally adore? What was said when she got nominated? We need a quirky blonde girl who both mainstream radio can wrongly conflate with hip-hop and those phony pop-culture television "pundits" on VH1 can cite as fashionable and cool when attempting to seem ultra hip. Gwen seems like a great choice: she's not as pretty as we wish she were; her music isn't as good as we wish it were; and from what we can tell, a significant part of her catalogue is all about the Indian guy she used to date and still makes music with. What a star!

8) Bill Simmons

I can go one of two ways on this: long (like, 10,000-word post) or short. I'm choosing the latter, as I am just 24-years-old and have a lot of time left to write about this dude. When I started college in 1999, I loved Bill Simmons because his writing was relatable, he was really funny, and he wrote about sports. Now, none of that is true: he is increasingly detached from reality, his jokes have gotten stale, and he generally writes about himself. Most of his music references cause cringing, most of his pop-culture references cause eye rolling, and most of his sports stories cause vomiting ("As one of the twenty remaining NBA fans..."). Worse, though, he now has his own sub-site on ESPN.com, he has his own tab on the front page (next to Scoop's, though, which could be seen as a subtle insult), and he wrote a book that allowed him to take a book tour. That's way too much exposure for a guy who peaked about five years ago and can't write anything too good unless it's a mailbag column (and to be fair, his last one was amusing).

7) Jamie Foxx as Musician

Like, he knows he's not really Ray Charles, right? And, um, he knows that his music isn't really too good, right? Yes and yes? Well then why is he always running around singing everywhere? Why wasn't he wearing a shirt at the MTV Video Awards? I feel like Foxx should go the T-Pain route and start introducing himself as "J-Foxx, Acta Turnt Sanga." I think Foxx is a pretty good actor--I really liked Collateral; he was good in Jarhead; he was a convincing Tookie; and I can always watch Booty Call--but he should quit singing so much. Core competency, Jamie, core competency...

6) Lance Armstrong as Superhero

I know that Lance gets the Kanye treatment and that you can't "say" anything bad about someone who had cancer, but I've always been troubled by the deification of a guy who was having a very public affair for a long time. I mean, Bill Clinton gets impeached for getting an extramarital blowjob while this dude is runnin' up in Sheryl Crow while he's still married to someone else, and yet he's an unconditional American hero? I ain't havin' that.

5) Stewart Mandel

An affront to journalism, Northwestern University, and college football, Stewart Mandel is everything that's wrong with writing on the internets, all the way down to his terrible headshots. He's reactionary, excessively snarky, and often writing just because he can. Intermittently bitter and lazy, Mandel usually gripes about the standard, contributes to the conventions of a mainstream which he often tries so hard to deride, and leaps to the unsubstantiated or illogical with pride. If this were happening once a week, Mandel would be a laughable dweeb, some annoying, erroneously arrogant writer aspiring to be perceived as a credible journalist. That would be funny. But this wannabe college-football "expert" writes every motherfucking day of the week. Every day! That's five-days-a-week drivel. Mandel's daily tripe is the interwebs equivalent of a rapper trying to put out a new album every year--for whatever reasons, he just doesn't have enough good ideas to validate the project, and instead of something thoughtful, valuable, and memorable, you get a lot of wasted time and you resent him for it.

4) Robert Novak

Stop snitching!

3) Charlie Weis and Notre Dame Football

I'm pretty certain that Charlie Weis has a wife. I think her name is Maura. I could be wrong, but this is the information I'm going with. Why am I writing about her? Well, I guess I just wonder if she is satisfied. You know, sexually. I mean, her husband's dick is in so many mouths so often that I can't imagine he has much left for her.

2) 50 Cent

We all know how I feel about 50. Dun makes some nice club records, but mostly, his music is mediocre or worse. I could live with that if that were the extent of his influence. I mean, there are a lot of popular rappers whose music I don't really get into. But oh no. 50 had to make beef the vehicle for record sales. He had to perpetuate every stupid convention of hip-hop's thug-fantasy subculture. He had to make a movie; a book; a video game. And, worst of all, he had to pick a nickname for idiot white people to butcher as they called him "Fiddy." Let's just say that it was a tough year if you don't like 50 Cent, because this motherfucker was literally everywhere: at the movie theater, at the book store, at record shop, at the mall, at the club--you name it.

1) Terrell Owens

This is self-explanatory, isn't it? Please just go away, T.O. Play, don't play--whatever. Just stop making news. ESPN can't help itself...


*N.B.: George Bush and Rene Zellweger are permanent members of this list. I hope that they both die of gonorrhea.

Diggin'

Sonic spelunking

More coming later today, but until then, listen to these. Recognize any of your favorite songs?

- Billy Cobham, "Heather"

- Stylus, "Hangin'" (snippet)

Christmas Is Not the Same Without John Tesh

Who composed the greatest theme song in television history? You guessed it...

John Tesh, "Roundball Magic"

(Stop. Do NOT continue reading until you have clicked on the link directly above these words. Once you've clicked on it, follow the instructions and download John Tesh's "Roundball Magic." This post sounds better when accompanied by that joint. I'll wait...

OK then.)

If there really is a war on Christmas (which war? And eff a Jackie Mason) then I suppose I am part of the problem, a willing soldier. I have nothing against Jesus, and I have no problem with people celebrating his birthday, I just don't prioritize the religious aspects of December 25th. Instead, my attention is usually occupied by an event that I consider to be even more worthierest of a holiday: The NBA's annual return to network television.

For as long as I can remember, I have celebrated Christmas not with trees, stockings, and niceties, but with threes, Stockton, and rivalries (take that, Steve Rushin). While the 82-game schedule and the November-April regular-season calendar may, in fact, render Christmas-day games mostly insignificant in the standings and the playoff races (excepting tie-breakers, of course), there has always been something inexplicably special about the NBA's Yule-time offerings. And it's not just me: The NBA has an entire website dedicated to today; Jack McCallum wrote about his five most-memorable Christmas-day games. It would be convenient and indulgent to wax nostalgic about the romanticized basketball of my youth--Michael writing his legend; the epic Eastern-Conference wars that made every game a battle; the old powers of the West, like Utah and Houston and Seattle--when attempting to explain why a single day of late-December basketball is so significant, but that would be obfuscatory. The NBA on Christmas is still so special; it's still so important.

So no, it's not only, or even mostly, about the past. How can it be--how can we find another way to repackage the gripes about how much better it was back then--when the L just had a week like the one coming to a close today? Detroit's 21-3! Vince dropped 51; AI 53; Kobe 62 in three quarters! LeBron just grew up a little bit, closing out playoff teams on the road (Chicago) and at home (Indiana)! There are exciting stories emerging or finding definition on a nightly basis in the Association. The league is giving its fans so much to follow, to care about, to love.

And that's the point. There are so many better answers for the question of why the NBA on Christmas means so much. All of those phenomena are the reasons, and having all of those reasons is phenomenal.

Each year on Christmas, the NBA crosses the threshold of meaning, changing from an amusing early-season spectacle into a gripping mid-season drama. Now is the time when the stories feel real; when the doubts of the early going foment into full-blown concern; when skepticism about perceived improvement morphs into excitement. We've read a few chapters, the book is getting good, and we suddenly have a lot of time to bury our noses in the pages. College football is ending; the NFL regular-season is all but done; no one follows hockey; and not even the hot stove gives off enough heat to steal our attention for too long. It is almost like validation of the L and its minions from sports media that are so often so happy to denigrate the league, prop up false idols (I'm looking at the NFL on this one), and waste our time looking ahead to other things. But on Christmas, the NBA's the thing.

For years, the media have announced this annual transition and measured an NBA season's growth with the symbolic: televising nationally significant basketball games on the L's network partner. This year will be no different, and again, this year will be a little diminished.

Despite all of its wonderful stories and the excitement it engenders in me, the NBA will be less than it should be this afternoon when it welcomes us to a day of hoops heaven. John Tesh won't be a part of the proceedings. It will be a coronation without trumpets; circumstance without pomp; Hulk Hogan as something other than a real American hero. And it shouldn't have to be this way.

When NBC was the L's network partner, all NBA games started the way that they should have--with a rousing, emotionally visceral rendition of the greatest theme song in the history of television, the NBA on NBC's signature sound, John Tesh's "Roundball Magic." Quite simply, it's a soaring, majestic tribute to basketball: simultaneously up-tempo but steady; a composition in parts that mirror the rhythm of an Association game; urgent; aggressive; seductively energetic at times, beautifully melancholy at others. For years, "Roundball Magic" was the perfect aural cue, a song so thrilling that it definitively separated basketball from all else; it was a sonic appositive, a dash followed by an exclamation.

But times have changed, and musically challenged ABC now brings us our basketball. Though the substance of the day shall be no less enthralling, one can't help but notice both the deafening silence that now introduces us to the basketball and flat, empty sonic mosaic that keeps us company throughout the broadcast.

As you watch the Pistons, the Spurs, the Lakers, and the Heat today, keep John in mind and ear. It's just not Christmas without him.

Programming Notes

Hey Team,

Here's how Straight Bangin' is runnin' shit for the holiday season:

Today: You're reading it (sorry)
Tomorrow: Christmas Is Not the Same Without John Tesh

Awards Week (!):
Monday: Ten People Who We Saw Far Too Much of in 2005
Tuesday: Ten People Who We Need to See Far Much More of in 2006
Wednesday: Hip-Hop Retrospective Part I: Songs of the Year
Thursday: Hip-Hop Retrospective Part II: The Wackness Is Spreadin' Like the Plague
Friday: Hip-Hop Retrospective Part III: Albums of the Year
Saturday: Drinking
Sunday: Recovering...and then drinking
Monday: Football!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gullier Than We Thought?

The most dangerous party promoter/fashion designer in America.

Um...one time is an accident; two times is a coincidence; three times is a trend. Do not hang out with this man.

Mike Tice, Genius

From whom would the Vikings' players have gotten the idea to party on a boat with girls in bikinis?

So I am probably writing about this Mike Tice story too late to "say" something like "Pot, meet Kettle," but I encourage you to insert a different saying with analogous meaning. And please, look at the picture and caption above and ask yourself if you see a pattern developing. I can only hope that Koren Robinson comes to camp next summer, demands that 40-percent of the plays be called for him, and then gets ripped by Tice for being selfish. I also want to know: At what point does Tice get Wayne Fontes off the hook?

What Is a Negro Hipster?

Probably hanging out somewhere on Rivington

Following my anti-hipster diatribe (Humanity Critic, thoughts?), The Assimilated Negro wrote:

"I'm intrigued by the 'negro hipster' as well. It seems a little redundant. I actually brought it up on Gawker recently, and was pointed to some "major" negro hipsters, to prove they definitely exist. How they are created is a different story. Are they the latest evolution. Raceless. Advanced assimilated negroes? Are they bamboozled? I don't know. I don't know any personally. I want to though. I want to find out the scoop."

I don't know that I have an answer. The question of how one finds a "negro hipster" presupposes that a "hipster," by definition, is not black. In theory, I think that being seen as a hipster is a raceless distinction, but that may be naive. Or, to be more generous to myself, perhaps the notion of racelessness has just been rendered obsolete by actuality, by what's practiced. I don't think it's racist to say that most people likely summon the image of some jerk-off white dude when thinking of what a hipster looks like.

I'd also add that the internets--especially those that traffic in hip-hop music, hip-hop news, and hip-hop happenings--have perhaps embedded, deservedly or unfairly, a perceived racial condescension in the elemental identity of the hipster: So many people who bear some or all of the hallmarks of hipsterdom also seem engaged, to varying extents, by hip-hop and harbor a certain fascination with a racial "other." I'm particularly intrigued by this notion because to affect the aesthetic of the hipster, one almost tacitly concedes a mocking or insincere adoption of some synthetic identity. Coupled with the celebrated senses of irony and sarcasm that have emerged as pillars of the hipster movement, this inauthentic embrace of something different appears to have great potential to lead many down a path toward racism and/or ignorance. Thus, a black hipster may almost be an oxymoron or, as TAN would term him or her, an "advanced assimilation."

Like I said, I don't have an answer, and I'd love to read what others think. For the time being, though, let's agree to meet at one point: Will.I.Am is probably a "negro hipster." His vest is tight (), his pants are usually cropped, he is liable to wear three different sets of socks, he always rocks those stupid knit hats that Common got from Erykah Badu's grandfather's closet--you get the picture.

Mr. Big Shot = MVP

The most valuable player in the league? So far, I'd say so. Who is playing better? Who has hit more important shots? Who else is 12-2 on the road (!)? And who else is on a team that never loses? Oh, and one more thing: The Pistons should have beaten the Grizzlies in regulation because Pau Gasol was about two steps from China on that game-tying shot.

I gave her sixteen ounces/Told her, "Hold Daddy Down"/And I'll meet you in a week...
- Have you ever worried that you were crazy? Well, fret not: you're probably not as sick as I am. Schembechler Hall has that story and more.

- If you're looking for a girlfriend online, make sure you don't start dating your mother (thanks, dudes).

- Everyone is linking to this video, but it's awesome. Best Saturday Night Live skit since Ferrell left.

- The Chappelle Theory

- Peep game: Big House Football

- Peep game: The Music Plays On

Some Choice Reading

Game recognize game

- Want to know what's happening in the world? Tired of the journalistic malaise and poor judgment that have become the institutional values of The New York Times? Read Notes from a Different Kitchen as often as possible. It's like the, um, CNN for the liberal hip-hop community?

- The new Michigan looked like the old Michigan this weekend. Read the recap, kids.

- Peep Game: Model Minority

- Peep Game: The Drizzle

I Went to the Lower East Side and All I Got Were These Lousy Hipsters

Seriously, what is wrong with you people. (And thanks for the picture.)

It is no longer current to hate hipsters. It can't be when your bosses send you emails and derogatory jokes about them. But that makes the vitriol no less right; this post no less cathartic.

I had the misfortune of spending time on the Lower East Side--the Manhattan capital of hipsterdom--this weekend, baited by a promise of hip-hop and switched as I found myself somewhere with a hookah and a lot of people wearing things that they probably spent far too much time looking for to complete a "look". You know you've got a problem when you're surrounded by people who, respectively: look like they are attempting to portray what Run DMC would have worn had its member been Russian air force pilots; look like they think that the West Staines massive is accepting members; look like unathletic Jewish basketball players from 1976; and/or look like Helena Bonham Carter in Fight Club. And worse, when all these bizarrely dressed, self-congratulatory people think that they're just so ironically hilarious.

Here's a newsflash: You're not. Not funny, not amusing, not cool, not revolutionary. Continuously searching for the most random sartorial antiquities or pithy t-shirts is not really impressing anyone. A lot of that shit went out of style for a reason. And as one who worries about how he looks and loves clothes, I can understand putting some thought into one's presentation and wardrobe. But there is a fine line between wanting to look good and seeming like just another contrivance; between expressing your identity and losing it as you chase a synthetic one.

And please, please, please stop pretending that so much of the stupidest hip-hop is so good. I like to dance, can appreciate a good party track, and recognize the escapist allure of studio-gangsterism more than most, but that doesn't mean that everyone has really missed the boat on Lil' Wayne. He and all those other dudes just don't make very good records. Sorry to burst your bubble. And stop with that Hollertronix shit, too.

OK, let's move on. That felt good.

Big Poppa, throwin' n***as off a cliff:
- Ghostface Killah ft. Raekwon, "Kilos"
So I didn't realize it until this weekend, but I had been living under a rock for a few months and totally missed even more 2005 hotness from Rae and Ghost. Some white dude named Moss produced this children's-song-turned-welcome-to-the-coke-game heatrock, and it's reminiscent of the ambient soul music common to so many 1970s movies. You'll like it if you're into the Chef and Starks. The beat can become a little too understated (at least, in between the vocal samples), but it also showcases the MCs' flows pretty well. As usual, these two basically just kill anything they're on together.

- AZ ft. Notorious B.I.G., "Still Alive 2006"
Do you like football? Nachos? The beat from "Broken Language"? Regardless of your answers for the first two questions, if your answer to the third is "yes," then have I got a song for you: AZ and Notorious B.I.G. spittin' street verses over a gully beat and dapping up Ron Artest. What's not to like? I think this joint came out a few months ago, but I seemed to miss this one, too. I need to start "buying" more mixtapes, I guess.

- Big Sty, "Cry for Us"
Do people really know Big Sty? I wrote about him once before when I had heard his track "Still a Problem" and the shit he was talking about 50 and Eminem (most of which I agree with). I don't know anything about him and have heard two tracks. I mostly liked "Problem", and I like this one. First of all, it's some real talk about George Bush. I don't know that you can always distill contemporary politics into rhyme-friendly rhetoric for rap songs, but the underlying biases that seem to color all of Bush's policies lend themselves to this sort of a political track. Second, this joint samples one of the great love ballads of the 80s, Heart's "Alone," and it's as though Sty were reading Straight Bangin' and using some of the ideas generated here.

Making a topical song like this always invites ridicule, as critics like to pick apart the content and mock the adaptation of hip-hop conventions for such obvious (and slightly unsophisticated?) political expression. I wish that weren't the case, though, because if people want to complain that hip-hop means nothing and has lost the capacity to advance significant messages, then they can't also always tear down all attempts to the contrary. Also, is a lyric like "Stop treatin' us like we ain't important/The government's supposed to be here to support us/But when we needed you, you just ignored us" so different from "I like Nike, but wait a minute/The neighborhood supports, so put some money in it/Corporations owe/They gotta give up the dough/To my town/Or else we gotta shut 'em down"? I am not comparing Big Sty to Chuck D or diminishing Public Enemy. Rather, just because this track wasn't made twenty years ago by the patron saints of "political" hip-hop doesn't mean it can't mean something or can't be good. What has Jim Jones or 50 Cent said about Hurricane Katrina? Isn't 50 a Bush fan?

- Lord Sear, "Backpack Skit"
Consider this a corollary to my rant above. This shit cracks me up, and I hope it's not just a New York thing. By the way, Lord Sear will be with MF Doom, Peter Rock, Big Daddy Kane, and Little Brother in concert on 1/26 at something called the Nokia of Times Square. Whatever. Tickets are here.

The NBA Is Better Than Anything You Like

I mean, come on. That is just too perfect.

If you're like me, you've been watching the Pistons all season with a sense of wonderment. Objectively, it's not really surprising that the Pistons are as good as they are: In this era of free agency and flawed-fundamentals professional basketball, a championship nucleus that has been in place for three seasons and trusts its ability to win by executing basketball basics has an inherent advantage. But then you have to consider who these Pistons really are--a resilient group that has oftentimes created its own adversity (consciously or not) so that it could subsequently generate the motivation necessary for winning. It has been a lovable, maddening team that will win eight out of ten games against better teams and then drop six out of seven while playing the Knicks and Hawks of the league. Succinctly put, things are rarely easy with the Pistons.

But that hasn't been the case this season. While racing out to a league-best 16-3 mark, the Pistons have looked, well, like a finely tuned machine. When cut to the core, this team may still be a scrappy gang of underdogs best epitomized by Ben Wallace; however the gang has been closer to the Dip Set Byrd variety than the Get-Along kind. (Sorry, I just had a Bill Simmons/Scoop Jackson moment--a tired AND semi-incoherent reference. I have no idea what I just "said." I simply have Anchorman and the mantra "byrd gang" stuck in my head and needed to momentarily relieve myself. Ay!)

In previous seasons when Brown DMC was still the coach, it took Herculean efforts to reach 100 points; guys would get yanked if they weren't "playing the right way" and running DMC's unimaginative offense; and every deficit engendered anxiety because you never knew when the isolations and curls would stop working. These are not those Pistons. These Pistons score--Detroit is the seventh-highest scoring team in the league. These Pistons run--off of steals, misses, and even makes. And these Pistons control a game--you rarely get the sense that Detroit is losing at any given time because of anything that an opponent is doing.

Best of all, though, these Pistons are fun to watch. They genuinely seem to enjoy playing with each other; they play hard; and they have so much personality. Just look at the photograph above. Or, consider that on a night when their PG scored 28 points, he handed out 19 assists, three of the other four remaining starters still hit for double figures, all but the offensively inept one shot better than 50% from the field, and said offensively inept starter showed up in red goggles that he must have found in his cereal box that morning.

In what other league is a team this good also this charismatic? Jesus Christ, I love the NBA!

My only concern with the Pistons is that their field-goal-percentage defense has slipped to 16th in the league at almost 45% per game. But, it's still early...

Googlezon?

Yeah, but do you have these?

So I thought I had seen just about every email forward in the world until I got this one yesterday. I am pretty embarrassed because I'm "told" that this thing came out last year. Where was I? And a better question: Where were you? Why weren't you people sending this to me? Jerks...

I can only imagine how nuts the technofile internets were going when this debuted on interwebs throughout the world. I really like this, mostly because it is admirably prescient to some extent; it does an excellent job exploiting information; it smartly preys upon the anxiety engendered when we consider the direction in which media and information aggregation are headed; and it seems semi-plausible. At least, parts of it do.

B-Boy Survival Rap:
- Kobe's jersey is the fifth-best selling? WTF? How is it that I only know one person--The Buckets, who insists that Kobe couldn't rape anyone since he's so hot--that actually likes this motherfucker? Who's buying his jersey? The guy can play, but he's so horrible otherwise.

- Chauncey! My god.

- I saw Syriana over the weekend (best movie I've seen this year), and I found the most resonant point--intentional or otherwise--to be that poverty is poverty across the globe. The supposed clash of civilizations between the secular West and the Muslim world seemed much less about ideology and much more about opportunity. Sure, oil companies and the politicians they influence are motivated by profit and power dressed up in the soaring, disingenuous rhetoric of liberty and modernization. But that, though depressing and seemingly accurate to a frightening extent, was obscured in my mind by the universal truth that poverty fuels anger, hopelessness, and violence. Are our domestic transgressions born of resentment and despair--murder, assault, theft--really so different from the terrorism seen abroad? If you're without money, unable to get a job, and divorced from your family, might you summon the will to commit a terrible act of violence if a rationalizing ideology promised the requisite emotional relief? I am not absolving the maliciously exploitative, but I also, now more than ever, think that the epochal conflict of our time is really a manifestation of poverty-bred frustration.

And when you read articles that demonstrate the United States' inability and unwillingness to address domestic poverty, is it any wonder that we're bereft of answers for the same problems abroad?

- Schembechler Hall, on and poppin'. And you know I'm a hater like Star and Buc!

- Red Reporter is looking for sports-blog awards nominations. Hollerate.

- Peep game: Styles.By.The.Gram

- Peep more game: Winged Helmet

- And even more game: Peace, Prosperity and Paper

Is King Kong a Racist Movie?

Now eligible for the fellowship

I don't know the answer. But seriously, the bad people in Peter Jackson movies are always dark. Regardless, go see this shit. It, like, rocked.

So Soulful

You can't hear this record and not feel good.

If you're like me, you waste a lot of time that you should be using for the purpose of sleep to instead go "diggin' in the crates" internets for soul records that you either didn't know you liked; knew you liked but didn't know who sang the songs; or didn't know you liked until a rapper found a way to give the song what PR guru Paul Wilmot, in the course of a conversation with Bruno, might call a "second moment." All of these hours, either wasteful or productive depending upon your perspective, have only fueled my burning interest in music. (And that's not to be confused with the "burning questions" that the conventions of journalism dictate that we ask at the outset of any given sports season. In fact, I have some burning questions for the commissioner of the dodgeball league in which I'll soon be playing. For instance, can I drop out immediately if it's only hipsters playing? And if not, must I wear a tweed blazer to each game while oh so ironically extolling the virtues of Juelz Santana?)

Both sadly and fortunately, most of my friends and colleagues don't have similar taste in music, though. Some know more about 80s pop than anyone else I know; others are on the cutting edge of the alt-folk-country-sub-pop-rock Ann-Arbor hipster scene (they even made a quiz about him); and then there are those that either fall somewhere in between (one, for instance, insisted that she was really into Baltic clarinet-driven music after falling in love with some Albanian dude; another worships Aerosmith for reasons that escape me) or, to quote my father, are "really into the British sound." Some are into hip-hop, but few really like hip-hop and soul music to the extent that I do, and that absent social outlet for this passion is part of why I like the internets so much. There is no shortage of people with similar taste.

The one benefit of my relative-to-my-friends'-and-co-workers' rogue music taste is that when said people want to hear some new stuff, they might approach me with questions and requests, and I am always far too happy to accommodate. Most of them probably don't want an entire album of songs in which the term "skeet" is prominently used, but if they do, I can make it for them. I can't properly convey just how much I enjoy indoctrinating people, (over) exposing them to the music that fills up so much of my time. It plays into my controlling nature, I suppose. You want to hear some new hip-hop songs? Great, I have four cds for you. I might even throw in a few R&B compilations just because.

Mix making really is one of the great, underrated activities--it's almost always fun and you can convey a surprising amount of thought both through the actual songs and the time invested in the process. People really appreciate something that seems to have required some mental effort. You can also amuse yourself as you navigate your way through problems like "How do I make this accessible without making it boring? I don't want to just flex knowledge; I want to honor the request." Plus, it is a perfect outlet for nostalgia: You can fondly reminisce about the girl to whom you used to want to sing Jodeci's "Feenin'"; the nights you spent tooling around Cape Cod in your friend Jamie's car pumping () "Money, Cash, Hoes"; the basketball games for which you'd get ready by listening to Bone Thugs' "Body Rott"; the homework you'd get done while making grade-school mixtapes featuring Dre and Snoop's "Deep Cover"; etc.

I mention all of this today because someone recently asked me for some new music, and I've been putting together mixes. Thus the process is on my mind.

Here's one I just assembled. Enjoy.

Soul and R&B Classics
1) Al Green, "I'm a Ram"
2) Luther Vandross, "Never Too Much"
3) The Delegation, "Oh Honey"
4) Ray Charles, " I Got a Woman"
5) Rick James, "Mary Jane"
6) Curtis Mayfield, "Choice of Colors"
7) Brothers Johnson, "Strawberry Letter 23"
8) Floaters, "No Stronger Love"
9) The Commodores, "High on Sunshine"
10) Ike Turner, "Getting Nasty"
11) Isaac Hayes, "Walk on By"
12) Otis Redding, "It's Too Late"
13) George Jackson, "Aretha, Sing One for Me"
14) Marlena Shaw, "California Soul"
15) The Originals, "Sunrise"
16) Maze (ft. Frankie Beverly), "Before I Let Go"
17) Ohio Players, "Funky Worm"
18) Juicy, "Sugar Free"
19) Roy Ayers, "Everybody Loves the Sunshine"

Saddest Video Ever?

For the next remix of Jadakiss's "Why":
Why'd they have to make the NBA lockout?
Why'd Shawn Kemp eat so much and get himself knocked out?

Shawn Kemp - WATCH THIS VIDEO

Best in-game dunker of all time? Damn...

Thought Dump

The GOP must give really good hand jobs. Look at this motherfucker smile!

Quickly, because I am tired:
- Fuck a Joe Lieberman. And it's not just because we disagree on foreign policy so often. I can't stand how the guy wraps himself in his tallis all the time, as though forcing Judaism into public life balances the ubiquitous Christianity and makes the unholy mingling of the sectarian and the secular ok. I haven't written about politics in a long time because I get so worked up as I look around me and see a country that is so disappointing. But how can you not freak out when people who have stolen the perception of being true "patriots" and vilify all dissenters perpetrate the most un-American and dispiriting acts? When they ignore science for myopic patronage?

- Six-week NBA all-star ballot:

East starters: Chauncey, AI, Bron Bron, Paul Pierce, Jermaine O'Neal
East reserves: Rip, Ben Wallace, Gilly Arenas, Antawn, Wyade, Bosh, Redd

West starters: Nash, Kobe, Dirk, Brand, Duncan
West reserves: Camby, TMac, Baron Davis, KG, Ray Ray, Tony Parker, Shawn Marion

- Much ado about nothing: I hate Pat Riley; he's a great coach; this means nothing until the playoffs. Media, find something else to write about. Need a story? Who's better: Joe Johnson or Boris Diaw?

- Want to bet that the Knicks would be better with a PG who didn't dribble too much all the time? Let's get Isiah to acquire Earl Watson and we'll see what happens...

- Didn't I write this? I don't think that or this is happening...

- ...but he is leaving. Watson, Richardson, Artest, Frye, and Curry with Robinson, Davis, Ariza, Lee, and Butler off the bench. I would rather watch that each night.

- This shit regarding Talib Kweli, from the latest Spitkicker newsletter, had me laughing:

"His new CD Right About Now is in stores right now is in stores now (sic). Support a great project.

Kweli just finished doing a commercial for the BIG 10 Sports Conference. He will be the new face of the Big 10 until 2007. Now that's BIG!"

What the fuck? Is Lloyd on the next Blackstar album?

Bucket Blogging: Tired Ideas?

Whatever you've done to my sister seems to be working.

A note to Straight Bangin' readers:
It's a family thing now.

The post below was written by my sister, The Buckets. She is smart, funny, perspicacious, and in possession of mostly good taste. She reads a lot more fiction than I do, she knows more about television than you do, and she is obsessed--like, perpetually on the verge of hysterics--with this mythic connection she has invented called "buddies." She'll have to explain it because I won't do the concept justice.

Going forward, I am hoping that the Buckets can be a regular contributor to Straight Bangin'. Her contributions will be called "Bucket Blogging," and I am hoping she can contribute two short essays per month. Her availability fluctuates, though, so please don't consider the preceding sentence to be a scheduling promise. She can write about a lot of things--music, novels, Nikes, Kerry Kittles--and I am hoping that she can lend an occasional alternative voice to this site. She and I may often disagree or, conversely, may regularly agree to an alarming extent. It depends on the topic. But she will be interesting; I can say that with certainty.

Please enjoy her work and let me/us know what you think. The only thing you can't say is that Adam Brody and Rachel Bilson are going to break up. That might cause the J Bucket to cry.

Big up, Bucket head.

Why does it always come down to W.E.B.?

Something I have always prided myself on is my loyalty--my loyalty to my favorite celebrities that is. Since the smash success of “I Believe I Can Fly” in 1997, R. Kelly has been high on my list of favorite media personalities. I mean, I spent several hours hypothesizing what the "R" in his name stood for. (I decided it was "Richard" and was pretty sad when I heard that it actually it wasn’t.) Through all the child pornography allegations, the many times he has emerged from the closet, the ridiculous masks, and the heartbreaking split with Jay-Z, I have stood by him. Naturally, I was pretty excited to see him at the center of controversy in last week’s installment of Scoop Jackson’s “Only in America.”

Yet, as I continued reading the article, and as the discussion digressed further and further from Robert’s actual actions, Scoop began to lose me, and not just because Robert wasn’t at the center of each paragraph. Besides the fact that I found the piece hard to follow and lacking a good sense of cohesion (how can he expect his readers to follow when he writes, “And honestly, even this deep into this column, I don't know what to say”?), I was really disappointed when Jackson played the W.E.B. Du Bois card. Why do all issues surrounding race lead back to rhetoric over 100 years old?

African Americans surely face many struggles each day to an extent that I probably don’t really understand, but I am still pretty certain that every problem is not a result “double consciousness.” The notion of double consciousness was introduced by Du Bois in 1903 and is what Jackson is referring to when he says “duality of being black in America.” Jackson is one of many modern (and boy do I mean many) journalists, novelists, and political scientists to return to Du Bois’s arguments when talking about blacks. Repeatedly employing the rhetoric that was introduced in 1903 signifies that almost nothing has changed for blacks since then. Can this really be true? Furthermore, continuing to reference double consciousness perpetuates the sad thought that there is still little hope for the full integration of blacks into American society; blacks will always remain in a state of isolation while trying to find out what their blackness means in the American setting.

What about what Barack Obama said in his keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention? He preached that America needs to work towards a society in which middle- and upper-class blacks are not faced with “acting white,” a place where “slumming” is not an issue. The constant evocation of a Du Bois’s double consciousness is a constant dismissal of Obama’s suggestions. How can someone like Obama ever achieve the presidency, for instance, when whites and blacks alike continue to return to a doctrine that precludes America from ever existing as a country that can accommodate blacks and whites equally? I am not naïve enough to believe that within the next 10 years the chronic racism that permeates this county will desist, but constantly reinforcing that blacks are inexorably defined by their race does not help.

Maybe everything I have just said is completely off base. Maybe the doctrine of African American journalists, novelists, and political scientists hasn’t changed in 102 years because the status of African Americans has not changed in 102 years. Maybe double consciousness is reinforced because that is how African Americans can survive. But if the rhetoric does not change, how can they?

Perhaps I am tired of W.E.B. Du Bois because of my four classes this past quarter at college (GO U NORTHWESTERN), three were in English and two of those examined Du Bois. The one English course that didn’t was a course that only covered American urban history through 1880. Otherwise, I am sure W.E.B. would have been there, too. (In case you're wondering, the fourth class was French. I am really, really, really, really, really horrible at French, so it’s possible that we talked about W.E.B. and I just missed it.) Either way, there is no shortage of Du Bois discussions in the academic world. And if the world of higher learning is still stuck on one man’s ideas, how can we expect anything else of the general population? Maybe I shouldn’t have expected so much of Scoop Jackson.

In any event, I just set my TiVo to tape R. Kelly’s performance on Saturday night. I’ll let you know how I feel about that after I watch.

Ron Artest: Coming to New York? Going Crazier?

He'll probably want to live in Queensbridge when he comes home. BEST NEWS EVER!

Remember when Ron Artest shaved "Tru Warier" into his head a few weeks ago? At the time, it seemed like a good bet that it would be the craziest thing he did for the remainder of 2005. Well, luckily for all of us here on Earth, Ron's planet is using a different set of customs, one that places a premium on always doing something crazier than the last thing. Punch a fan? Be clear that you want to come back to play so that you can promote your record label. Shave said record label's name into your head? Request a trade while throwing yourself under a bus and saying hilarious, semi-accurate, semi-insane things like:

"I'm so demanding of the ball. It's not my fault," Artest told the Star. "Every time somebody is on me it's a mismatch. It messes up the offense. I like Coach [Carlisle] as a person, but I don't like playing for Coach. I like my team, though."

(Emphasis added.)

Thank you, god, for creating Ron Ron. I can only imagine what you must be like if Ron is made in your image.

By the way, how would such a trade work? Ron's salary numbers:
2005/06: $6.5m
2006/07: $7.15m
2007/08: $7.8m
2008/09: $8.45m (Player option)

Is there anyone on the Knicks whose salary and position are the same? Yes, sort of:
- Jamal Crawford: $6.48m; $7.2m; $7.92m; $8.64m
- Quentin Richardson: $6.85m; $7.48m; $8.1m; $8.82m

Is this actually gonna happen? I have no clue. I don't know Ron Artest, Larry Bird, Rick Carlisle, or Donnie Walsh. I am inclined to think that this is the kind of, um, "colorful' episode that comes with Artest, and that it will be addressed through meetings with the aforementioned brain trust and Jermaine O'Neal, the team's leader and its best player. I also suspect that Artest will be mollified to the extent that it's ever possible, and that tonight's incident will just be fuel for off-season speculation.

But that said, maybe Artest's latest self-immolating controversy is the flaming verbal straw of discontent that will finally cause Indiana's front-office camel to collapse in the desert of frustration and decide to recoup something of value for a talented but disruptive player. Crawford's salary matches up better than Richardson's, but both are fairly close. Neither of the Knicks is a defender who should even be mentioned in the same paragraph as Artest, and neither has the same versatility on offense. But both can score and offer outside shooting. Q can even rebound when he's healthy and being used properly.

I don't know that the Pacers can get equal value for Artest from the Knicks because, well, the Knicks don't have many desirable wing players. But I do think that there is a market for Artest, despite his baggage. The Pacers would just have to be resigned to the fact that they wouldn't be able to get back the same combination of offensive skill, excellent size, and defensive ability. Those players are few and far between, and most are either much more expensive or just not available. Some teams that could, though, offer something that the Pacers would want; offer something at approximately the right salary numbers; and offer a decent atmosphere in which Ron Ron could win and get the ball--Dallas (for Marquis Daniels and Pavel Podkolzin), Portland (for Darius Miles), the Clippers (for Corey Maggette). I don't know that any of those deals is realistic, but the numbers certainly work, and in each instance, Indiana would be getting back an athletic swingman.

In a perfect basketball world, I'd like to see Artest in Cleveland. He'd do a little bit of everything for a winning team and would significantly improve the perimeter defense. But the numbers don't match up and there probably aren't enough touches there.

We shall see...

Don't Fuck Up Rotation

Hell Rell, the star of this post, does NOT tolerate youknowwhat

We major.

And no, I am not just dropping opaque hip-hop references with Scoop Jackson-like frequency, attempting to "write" my way out of the convoluted morass of my obvious points, trite racial ideas, and worthless opinions. By that--"we major"--I mean...well, you already know: I'm kind of a big deal, leather-bound books, apartment, Baxter, etc. I've been busy. Sorry.

I will say, though, that if you're gonna be occupied by work, basketball, and company-sponsored benders, there are worse enduring images to leave than Pacells making out with men and modeling his Tuna Collection line of pants and shirts that just don't ever look right and nicely accentuate a man's bosom. (Also, here's an idea for a drinking game with potential that is still just in its nascent stage: Which is worn higher, Lennox Lewis's cup or Bill Parcells' shorts?)

I will get back to some real sarcasm and rambling this weekend. In the meantime:

- You know that high-school basketball team I helped coach last weekend? Well, I will have even more to "say" when I get a chance, but let me tease you with this fucking awesome anecdote: The team I help coach is composed of rich kids, almost all of whom are white. Many of the other teams in the league are also composed of rich white people. For most of these kids, the code of the streets in which they spend their time consists of things like how to order at Starbucks and what you do with your UGGs when some other person is wearing the same pair. There is little concern for what your peers may or may not tell the police.

And that's why I was dying as some spectator at the game sat around wearing a "Stop Snitching" t-shirt all afternoon. I can only imagine what insider-trading transgressions parents thought were being disclosed in private and raising this spectator's ire.

- My man Ian () has some new gig popping off at Stylus. Let's hope that he was hired as the Evan McGarvey replacement. You know all that carefully crafted "alternative" hip-hop criticism that seems like an embarrassing, self-involved, written-for-hipsters, I'm-cooler-than-you contrivance of some dude who has disingenuously decided that the Dip Set really is a movement and that Mike Jones is a better MC than AZ? Well, McGarvey seems like he has been reading the manual. Check out #27.

- Here's what Sports Illustrated's Marty Burns wrote on Monday:

"The Pistons showed what they are made of once again by coming back from a 15-point deficit in the first half to win at Chicago on Saturday night."

Here's what I wrote on the Saturday prior:

"Here's why the Pistons are the best team in the NBA: After coming back from a double-digit deficit in the first half, the Pistons came out in the third quarter and just decided--I mean, they made a unilateral decision--to end the game."

As Hell Rell might say: my shit is copyrighted: ASCAP. Anyway, Burns also said this:

"It's beginning to look as if only an injury could derail the Pistons, and that's a long shot since their starters never seem to get hurt."

Or, when put another way, we now know who to blame for the inevitable injury that will derail this incredible start.

- Peep game: Sunny Brooklyn

The Sports Stat of the Year

Suddenly, this picture takes on new meaning, doesn't it?

From today's New York Times:

"In his six seasons without Belichick--in New England and Dallas--Parcells has lost more games than he has won. His Belichick-less record, 44-47, is worse than Dave Wannstedt's career record or Wayne Fontes's or Jim Haslett's. Without his old understudy, Parcells has won as many playoff games as Bruce Coslett or Butch Davis: none."

Emphasis was added to words that, in my mind, are so completely nuts that I can't even think of the best joke because so many keep crashing into each other. Worse than Dave Wannstedt? That's like being told your acting is worse than Mischa Barton's; like being told that your personnel moves make Isiah Thomas's look like Joe Dumars's; like being told that your lyrics are more foolish than D4L's; like being told that your boat is less buoyant than the Titanic. Holy shit!

I mean, can this possibly be correct, right?

<

And P.S.: Johnny has found the college-football equivalent of wearing a Mike Dunleavy jersey.

Pluggin' Like De La

A sarcastic, embittered voice of dissent...all born of love and impossibly high standards.

There has been a bevy of activity in Schembechler Hall. Please join me over there for thoughts about Michigan basketball's win over Notre Dame; thoughts about this weekend's college football and my latest BlogPoll ballot; and thoughts about Michigan's sucktastic bowl game.

A Quintessential Saturday?

Here's what I did today. Or, as it is otherwise known: Reasons Why I Don't Have a Girlfriend:
1) Watched UNC-Kentucky. Um, do the Wildcats have any kind of post game?

2) Served as an assistant coach for my friend's high-school basketball team. More on this soon, as it warrants some further dissection.

3) Watched the Scottie Pippen portions of last night's NBA coverage on ESPN that I had recorded. Lots of salivating and excited screams of "Scottie!" accompanied this activity ().

4) Watched Michigan-Notre Dame. Lots of snide comments regarding the Michigan football team accompanied this activity.

5) Watched UCLA-USC. At one point during this game, USC was called for a penalty, and following the play, Reggie Bush walked over to the sideline. As he got there he was greeted by his coach, Pete Carroll, and Carroll was doing this really weird thing with his mouth. Like, the corners were turned up, his lips were open a little so that one could see his teeth, and his eyes had this sympathetic look in them. I think it's called "smiling." Is that right? Like, are there college football coaches who help their players have fun, even when things aren't going so well? It must make it hard for the players to be nervous and tight, no? I can't imagine that Carroll is too successful at what he does. And by the way, let's change the word "disrespected" to "UCLA'd." Did USC even dress a punter this weekend? My god.

6) Watched Oklahoma-Villanova. 'Nova is such a fun team.

7) Watched parts of Georgia-LSU and FSU-VaTech. More on that tomorrow on Schembechler Hall.

8) Watched Pistons-Bulls. Here's why the Pistons are the best team in the NBA: After coming back from a double-digit deficit in the first half, the Pistons came out in the third quarter and just decided--I mean, they made a unilateral decision--to end the game. What a fucking undressing. I LOVE the Pistons.

Now I'll go get drunk at a friend's birthday party.

Semi-Quick Reads

Can't stop, won't stop

Plug:
Check out Schembechler Hall for some UM hoops follow up.

And also...
I haven't written a ton about the Pistons yet this season because: a) so much of what I have written in the past seems just as relevant now as it did when I first composed my encomiums, and I don't want to be that redundant; b) everyone else in the world has written about these defiant, motivated, newly potent Pistons so far. I figure that after two or three more weeks, there will be some larger issues worth examining, either as the Pistons continue to distance themselves or as they come back to the pack and show some vulnerability.

In between time, though, you MUST check out Detroit Bad Boys. This is a major "peep game" moment, if you will. Just a fantastic site.

You might also consider reading Ian Thomsen's latest piece about Darius Miles. First, it's billed as "Nate McMillan is at the heart of Darius Miles' rejuvenation with Portland this season." When, exactly, was the juvenation of Darius Miles? Hasn't he kind of underwhelmed for a while? But more importantly, it contains awesome stuff like this:

> "Miles has discovered inspiration in Portland, though he doesn't necessarily find it in his opponents. Instead, he remains angry at the Blazers' front office -- specifically at team president Steve Paterson and GM John Nash. Miles believes they forced then-Blazers coach Maurice Cheeks to start Shareef Abdur-Rahim at small forward last year ahead of Miles in order to make Abdur-Rahim more tradeable, thus consigning Miles to 27.0 minutes as a backup. When his year-long frustrations bubbled over into an argument with Cheeks, Miles felt that management failed to support him when the spat was made public. It became a huge mess in Portland as the Blazers tried to rescind their fine to Miles, leading to complaints from Cheeks that his authority was being undermined, while Miles felt that his reputation was being tarnished unfairly...

"...I respect the owner a lot, but the GM and the president? It is what it is,'' says Miles. "A lot of the situations last year were not really handled professionally. There was a lot of blame on me, and I was upset because I was taking all this heat, but at the time it was not really my team.'"

I added the emphasis. But more importantly, That's a joke, right? Miles is lucky that he wasn't suspended for thirty games for what he did. I know that hurling racial epithets and profanity at one's coach doesn't get him suspended in this NBA of the overpaid, but considering Portland's supposed dedication to an image overhaul and Cheeks's outstanding character, I would have understood if drastic recourse had been summoned to shepherd the situation through its denouement.

And this:

> "It's no secret that Miles was re-signed by Portland to a six-year, $48-million contract in summer 2004 at the command of owner Paul Allen, who apparently loves Miles' fluid versatility and upside."

Are "fluid versatility and upside" euphemisms for "tweener build" and "inconsistent jumpshot"?

And this:

> "We've turned to Darius to be our go-to franchise player--him and Zach [Randolph]--because we have no other choice,'' says [Nate] McMillan."

Nothing like a ringing endorsement from the coach, huh?

Dirk Nowitzki: Sofa King We Todd Ed?

If he used any internets, he'd know that you can't shove a ball up your dick...I don't think

Between the photo seen above and the Artest photo, this has been a good week in basketball blog photography.

Moving on: Dirk Nowitzki might be a moron. I can't say I'm totally surprised, what with some of those awful coifs, the unfortunate earring era, and his laughable attempts to stay in front of people when defending on the perimeter.

I'm also still dying from laughter and an all-encompassing feeling of some kind of discomfort as I recall his quotation as he left the court at halftime of the 2003 NBA all-star game. When asked about the potential for a lineup of Yao at center, Shaq at power forward, Duncan at small forward, Nowitzki at shooting guard, and KG at the point, Dirk chuckled and blurted out "That'd be hilarious." On the surface, there's nothing wrong with that; the quotation is not so funny. But--and this is important--you need to try hearing that in your head with Dirk using the most Euro accent possible and markedly failing to enunciate so that there are no gaps between the words. Do that, and you can hear that, really, he replied, "Thaabeillarous." I don't know if that's funny when read; maybe you had to be there have been watching it on television. Luckily, I was, and it's funny.

But here's the point: Up until today, I only sorta thought that Dirk was like a German, naturally white version of Michael Jackson (and I mean blissfully ignorant, not conspicuously pedophilic). Now, I have no doubt.

Each week, Sports Illustrated runs a feature called "The Pop Culture Grid," in which it asks four athletes a series of questions relating to the zeitgeist. There are word associations (Jennifer Anniston is...); either-ors (WWE or Ultimate Fighting?); and regular, open-ended questions (What's your favorite type of cookie?). Dirk participated this week. Here are two questions, in bold, with his answers after the colons (excluding this one-->):

Last time you voted: "I have never voted in my life."

Favorite website: "I don't check the [interwebs], only e-mail."

Excuse me? Look, we need to be clear on a few things:

1) There are plenty of people who don't vote, but they're either known as "idiots" or they live in places like Brunei (or they're black people who live in Ohio and have to wait in line for hours and hours). Everyone else votes. Dirk is not black and is not from a place bereft of democracy, so what's his excuse? Political disillusionment?

2) There are plenty of people who can't find or can't use an internet to "surf the web," but they're either really old, living in Bangladesh under three feet of water, or Amish. Dirk is 27, so it can't be the first one. And I will bet all of my worldly possessions that he has never been to Bangladesh or spent time among the Pennsylvania Dutch. So again, what the fuck is his excuse? Saying that you "don't check the [internets]" is perhaps the most ignorant thing I have ever heard of. It's the sort of infuriating, entertaining, and hilarious ridiculousness that the NBA hasn't seen since...last month (see: Fortson, Danny)? So maybe the NBA is filled with colorful characters, but still, this is absurd. To check email but not internets is actually sort of hard--especially in this era of targeted advertising--unless Dirk has set up Microsoft Outlook to download his emails from a manually entered email server. And on top of all that, it's kind of sad: you can't have a good email laugh with Dirk after watching great videos or checking out awesome links.

Finally...

3) YOU DON'T READ THE INTERNETS?!?!?!?!

So can we all agree that Dirk might not be scoring a 2300 on his SATs like Summer Roberts does next week on The O.C.? As Mr. Jackson Jefferson would say: "Not reading internets is ignorant. Come on Blanket, let's plaaaaay!"

File It Under "No Shit"

With the game on the line, KVH needs to ride pine. Please see the sign: No punking out in crunch time

If there were ever a statistic that measured the decline of one's skills when comparing performance in the fourth quarter to that of the first three, Keith Van Horn would perhaps be the all-time leader. He is not a fourth-quarter player. At least, not since college. I can't watch Dallas-San Antonio and not come back to what has basically become a universal truth.